I’m still getting used to my post-pregnancy body. The transition back to my old weight has been challenging, and while I’m making progress, it is going SLOW. I bought a few clothes, mostly for work, in my “new” size, but for the most part, I have refused to purchase a new wardrobe. I don’t want to make it easy for myself to accept this body. I’d rather suffer with months of having nothing in my closet that fits or looks good on me, than talk myself into believing that I can be satisfied as a bigger person than I was before I had a baby.
This can be a double-edged sword though, because as I lose weight, things start fitting differently. And the bar for which I measure my progress, and what actually looks good, has changed dramatically. I no longer know if what I put on actually looks good on me or just better than it did a few weeks ago.
The other day, as I was getting ready to go out somewhere with Roger, I decided to try on a pair of what used to be my “fat jeans”. I was elated to find out that I could actually button them! And once I got past the awful realization that these were the jeans I used to curse myself for filling out, and are now something I’m trying to shrink into, I actually tried to talk myself into believing that I looked good in them.
I asked Roger for his opinion, and got the proverbial “you look beautiful, Baby”. Sigh. I needed the truth. Everyone knows that just because you can get into something, doesn’t mean that it actually fits. Thinking that they did was just temporary fashion insanity on my part. Frustrated, I changed. Roger, perplexed at my moodiness asked me why I was upset…after all, he had told me I was beautiful and looked great…isn’t that what I wanted to hear?
Well…yes, I did want to hear that I looked good, but I also wanted those words to be the truth…and they weren’t. The truth, in this case, was more important. I needed not to publically humiliate myself.
This got me thinking about all the times I’m asked for my opinion. I used to warn people not to ask me what I think if they were going to get mad at me for saying it. And, like Roger, I often feel like it’s a “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” scenario. Most people don’t really want the truth. They want other people to validate their behavior or tell them the same lie they are currently telling themselves. “Beth, what do you think?” is normally not what people say to me when they want to know my honest, no-holds-barred, opinion. Somehow, I’m supposed to figure out what lie it is I’m supposed to tell, and then tell it convincingly enough that the other person actually believes that it’s what I think. Very rarely, does my honest opinion coincide with what someone actually wants to hear.
Anyone who’s paid attention might notice that I rarely ask people for their opinion. Not because I don’t care what they think and not because their opinions aren’t valid, but mainly because I don’t want to put anyone in a spot to feel like they have to compliment me. If I’m confident in what I’m doing or wearing, I really don’t need anyone else to validate that for me. Sure I love being genuinely complimented. But, if I have to fish for it, it’s not genuine. Having people be insincere in their praise is more frustrating than ego-boosting.
And for the times that I’m really not sure…like with the blue jeans…I really really want an honest answer. It’s frustrating that, most of the time, I can’t get one. I don’t like being the person who has to give the constructive criticism, (which is why I only share my opinion when directly asked for it), so I understand that a lot of people find it difficult not to say they like an outfit when they really hate it. But, if I ask for an opinion, it’s because 1) I really need an honest answer and 2) I value the person enough to hear what they have to say and use the advice in a constructive way. And I know it’s not always easy. There’s always the question, “Will saying this actually help?” If the answer is no, by all means find something nice to say and move on.
Anyway, I digress. I told Roger that I’m not like other girls. When I ask him what I look like, it’s because I really want to know. He must notice that I don’t ask him for his opinion on my looks very often. And yes, it’s true that if he tells me I look awful, I might get upset. But that’s because the truth hurts and not because I need him to tell me lies. Being upset is just frustration at me. I wouldn’t take it out on him.
Alas, he doesn’t believe me…
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
A Rose By Any Other Name...
After 16 months and 1 day of marriage, I have finally changed my name. The process has been both unremarkable and shockingly emotional. I have never put too much weight on my name. I like my family and the last name is just fine. It’s common and easy and very hard for little kids to make fun of. Yet, there was never any question when Roger and I married that I would take his name. I’m untraditional in a lot of ways, but I did (and do) feel strongly about having a family with the same surname.
So, what took me so long? Convenience. We got married just before the holidays when things were hectic. We were traveling and I needed plane tickets and an ID with a name that matched. Then when things settled down in the new year, I was commuting to work 2 hours each way. Leaving as early as 4:30 am and coming home around 7 or 8 pm every day, did not leave me much (or actually any) time to get to the social security office. Add to that the fact that Sacramento is one of only a handful of places where the social security change must be done in person and changing my name quickly turned into a seemingly impossible feat.
As the months wore on, the importance of changing my name waned for me. I started to wonder what the big deal was. Our friends and family addressed mail and introduced me using Roger’s last name. I changed my Facebook profile to reflect his name. At times, I even hyphenated my last name with his in my signature block at work. So what if legally I still used my maiden name? Well, it was a big deal to Roger. He started wondering if the inconvenience of it all was more of an excuse not to do it then an actual roadblock. And I admit that I started wondering that too. Suddenly, I noticed my name everywhere. It was on my driver’s license, the title to both of our cars, on our mortgage. It’s on bank accounts and credit cards. It was on diplomas and my PE license. It was even in published work of mine. I realized that my name preceded me at work. People had heard of me and my (old) last name had a really good reputation attached to it. I did an experiment at work one day. I used Roger’s name to identify myself when I made phone calls. It amazed me how many people were unavailable to speak to me. Calling back just a few minutes later and identifying myself with my last name…people were suddenly available and willing to talk to me. And before too long, I actually considered that changing my name wasn’t as important as I thought it would be. The symbol of our union did not have to be reflected in our names. We are a family, we know that we love each other and that’s all that matters.
Well, it all came to a head when Kaelyn was born. As far as the hospital was concerned Kaelyn was born to me….with my last name. They would not admit her using Roger’s name, even though that was what he had listed on her birth certificate. To make matters worse, at one point a nurse came to tell me that if I wasn’t married to Roger, he would have to take a paternity test and then we’d have to petition the court to have her last name be the same as his. And when I told her that we were married, she paused. I half expected that she was going to tell me that we had to prove it and provide our marriage certificate before we could name our daughter. (Luckily, my word that our marriage was legal was good enough). Still, Kaelyn was admitted under my name…which meant that anyone who called to check on her while she was in the NICU and didn’t use my name, was told that she didn’t exist. My last name was prominently and boldly displayed on her crib. I saw the hurt in Roger’s eyes when he saw that for the first time and immediately regretted that I hadn’t taken care of things before she was born. At that moment, I made a promise to all three of us that I would fix it.
Unfortunately, it still took me six months to do it. And now that I have, I’m wondering what the big deal was. I managed to slip into SSA after work one day, just before they closed and today, I took a couple of hours off work to go to the DMV. Sure, I still have to get a new passport, credit cards, and PE stamp, but all that can be done over the phone or through the mail. All in all, this was easy.
And as far as my identification at work goes…well, I admit that I considered using my maiden name. But, I’m still the same person and I figure it should only be during a short period of transition that I won’t be immediately recognized by my name. I’m still the same person. Everything that I’ve accomplished in the past is still my accomplishment, even if I did do it under a different name.
I love my husband and our family. And when Roger looked at my list of agencies and people I had to contact and forms I had to fill out to get my name changed, he was awed. When he grabbed me in a tight hug to thank me for going through this process, I beamed. For me, this process is truly a labor of love and the fact that my husband understood that, made all the trouble worth it!
So, what took me so long? Convenience. We got married just before the holidays when things were hectic. We were traveling and I needed plane tickets and an ID with a name that matched. Then when things settled down in the new year, I was commuting to work 2 hours each way. Leaving as early as 4:30 am and coming home around 7 or 8 pm every day, did not leave me much (or actually any) time to get to the social security office. Add to that the fact that Sacramento is one of only a handful of places where the social security change must be done in person and changing my name quickly turned into a seemingly impossible feat.
As the months wore on, the importance of changing my name waned for me. I started to wonder what the big deal was. Our friends and family addressed mail and introduced me using Roger’s last name. I changed my Facebook profile to reflect his name. At times, I even hyphenated my last name with his in my signature block at work. So what if legally I still used my maiden name? Well, it was a big deal to Roger. He started wondering if the inconvenience of it all was more of an excuse not to do it then an actual roadblock. And I admit that I started wondering that too. Suddenly, I noticed my name everywhere. It was on my driver’s license, the title to both of our cars, on our mortgage. It’s on bank accounts and credit cards. It was on diplomas and my PE license. It was even in published work of mine. I realized that my name preceded me at work. People had heard of me and my (old) last name had a really good reputation attached to it. I did an experiment at work one day. I used Roger’s name to identify myself when I made phone calls. It amazed me how many people were unavailable to speak to me. Calling back just a few minutes later and identifying myself with my last name…people were suddenly available and willing to talk to me. And before too long, I actually considered that changing my name wasn’t as important as I thought it would be. The symbol of our union did not have to be reflected in our names. We are a family, we know that we love each other and that’s all that matters.
Well, it all came to a head when Kaelyn was born. As far as the hospital was concerned Kaelyn was born to me….with my last name. They would not admit her using Roger’s name, even though that was what he had listed on her birth certificate. To make matters worse, at one point a nurse came to tell me that if I wasn’t married to Roger, he would have to take a paternity test and then we’d have to petition the court to have her last name be the same as his. And when I told her that we were married, she paused. I half expected that she was going to tell me that we had to prove it and provide our marriage certificate before we could name our daughter. (Luckily, my word that our marriage was legal was good enough). Still, Kaelyn was admitted under my name…which meant that anyone who called to check on her while she was in the NICU and didn’t use my name, was told that she didn’t exist. My last name was prominently and boldly displayed on her crib. I saw the hurt in Roger’s eyes when he saw that for the first time and immediately regretted that I hadn’t taken care of things before she was born. At that moment, I made a promise to all three of us that I would fix it.
Unfortunately, it still took me six months to do it. And now that I have, I’m wondering what the big deal was. I managed to slip into SSA after work one day, just before they closed and today, I took a couple of hours off work to go to the DMV. Sure, I still have to get a new passport, credit cards, and PE stamp, but all that can be done over the phone or through the mail. All in all, this was easy.
And as far as my identification at work goes…well, I admit that I considered using my maiden name. But, I’m still the same person and I figure it should only be during a short period of transition that I won’t be immediately recognized by my name. I’m still the same person. Everything that I’ve accomplished in the past is still my accomplishment, even if I did do it under a different name.
I love my husband and our family. And when Roger looked at my list of agencies and people I had to contact and forms I had to fill out to get my name changed, he was awed. When he grabbed me in a tight hug to thank me for going through this process, I beamed. For me, this process is truly a labor of love and the fact that my husband understood that, made all the trouble worth it!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Nostalgia
Lately, thanks to reconnecting with an old high school friend, I’ve been reminiscing about the four years I lived in Crestview, FL with my parents…the place I called home for years (it was my home of record when I was in the AF), and where I will take my child to visit her grandparents.
Here is what I remember about those times:
Not believing, that out of all the places we have ever lived and visited, my parents decided that I should spend, what I considered to be at the time, the most important years of my life in Lower Alabama (North Florida Panhandle).
Thinking I would never use words and phrases like “ya’ll” and “hissy fit”. Being wrong about that.
Not wanting to make friends with anyone there…feeling different, and I hate to admit, better than everyone else.
Finding best friends anyway.
Spending nights with Heather and Melanie…then going home and talking to them on the phone for hours.
My father picking up the extension and yelling at me to hang up.
A crush I had on a boy, that I didn’t tell a soul about.
Feeling heartbroken when he asked someone else out instead of me.
My first real kiss.
My first real boyfriend.
Beth’s hat scandal.
Dressing up as Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (I was Grumpy,) but I don’t remember why we did that.
Helping Julie run for Student Council President…she won!
Being told by my homeroom teacher that I had “a good head on my shoulders” and therefore should enter the Miss Teen Florida pageant.
Laughing about that in 1st period.
The time that Heather found a lizard on her leg in the cafeteria.
Being on the Volleyball team and eating my lunches with the rest of the team in the “Varsity Room”.
Winning State Runner up in Basketball my sophomore year.
Meeting and talking to Kelly Slater during that tournament. Not knowing who he was, not even after his friend tried to tell me.
Crying the day Heather moved to Australia.
Going to barn dances in Alabama with Melanie and her family (they were a band).
At one of those dances, I found a boy who I thought was cute and telepathically willed him to ask me to dance. When he did, I decided I didn’t like him and spent the rest of the night (and subsequent dances) trying to avoid him.
My Ford Mustang…which I would always lock my keys in.
The Mustang blowing up in the post office parking lot. I remember I was there with Julie, but I don’t remember why.
Heather making me see Crybaby because she loved Johnny Depp so much.
Making fun of Melanie for liking the New Kids on the Block….and secretly liking them myself.
Having a huge crush on the Bowflex guy.
Calling the local radio station on Labor Day and telling them I once had a job wiping horses’ nostrils.
Riding horses with my neighbor.
Being accepted to West Point and “accepting” the appointment in front of the entire school at the awards ceremony.
Someone telling me afterwards, that they didn’t know I was smart. I wasn’t sure whether I should take it as a compliment or be offended.
Slamming the door in Buck’s face on Halloween.
Feeling like I had my whole life in front of me and the whole world to conquer.
The funny thing is, I look back at those times as happy, carefree and worry free. But, I’m not sure that I realized how happy I was back then…at least not until it was gone. I think that nostalgia is a great feeling, but at the same time, it doesn’t do much good to reminisce about the past, unless you can use the memories to help in the future. I sort of remember being impatient in those days, just biding my time and waiting for my life to start. Now, I look back and miss those times. I wish I knew back then, that my life already started, and taken more time out to enjoy those times a little more than I did.
I’m pretty sure, that one day (probably sooner than I realize), I’m going to look back on today and see it as one of the happiest times in my life. Watching my baby girl discover new things…stumbling into parenthood with the love of my life. Roger and I learning who we are as a couple…experimenting together with new recipes, working on our house and our yard…dreaming about our future.
It’s easy sometimes to let my worries about the future override me….will Roger and I become victims of the economy? Should we take less trips and spend less money just in case? I constantly say I can’t wait until Kaelyn holds her own bottle, or is potty trained…when she won’t wake me up at 4 in the morning, etc.
I can spend so much time reminiscing about the days gone by or looking forward to a future that I can convince myself will be even better than today, that I don’t take time to realize, that this is the moment. That all the past has led up to my life today, made me who I am, and that one day, in the future, I will look back at today with those feeling of nostalgia.
I will miss these days. I am content with how things are. I will appreciate this moment. I have arrived.
Here is what I remember about those times:
Not believing, that out of all the places we have ever lived and visited, my parents decided that I should spend, what I considered to be at the time, the most important years of my life in Lower Alabama (North Florida Panhandle).
Thinking I would never use words and phrases like “ya’ll” and “hissy fit”. Being wrong about that.
Not wanting to make friends with anyone there…feeling different, and I hate to admit, better than everyone else.
Finding best friends anyway.
Spending nights with Heather and Melanie…then going home and talking to them on the phone for hours.
My father picking up the extension and yelling at me to hang up.
A crush I had on a boy, that I didn’t tell a soul about.
Feeling heartbroken when he asked someone else out instead of me.
My first real kiss.
My first real boyfriend.
Beth’s hat scandal.
Dressing up as Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (I was Grumpy,) but I don’t remember why we did that.
Helping Julie run for Student Council President…she won!
Being told by my homeroom teacher that I had “a good head on my shoulders” and therefore should enter the Miss Teen Florida pageant.
Laughing about that in 1st period.
The time that Heather found a lizard on her leg in the cafeteria.
Being on the Volleyball team and eating my lunches with the rest of the team in the “Varsity Room”.
Winning State Runner up in Basketball my sophomore year.
Meeting and talking to Kelly Slater during that tournament. Not knowing who he was, not even after his friend tried to tell me.
Crying the day Heather moved to Australia.
Going to barn dances in Alabama with Melanie and her family (they were a band).
At one of those dances, I found a boy who I thought was cute and telepathically willed him to ask me to dance. When he did, I decided I didn’t like him and spent the rest of the night (and subsequent dances) trying to avoid him.
My Ford Mustang…which I would always lock my keys in.
The Mustang blowing up in the post office parking lot. I remember I was there with Julie, but I don’t remember why.
Heather making me see Crybaby because she loved Johnny Depp so much.
Making fun of Melanie for liking the New Kids on the Block….and secretly liking them myself.
Having a huge crush on the Bowflex guy.
Calling the local radio station on Labor Day and telling them I once had a job wiping horses’ nostrils.
Riding horses with my neighbor.
Being accepted to West Point and “accepting” the appointment in front of the entire school at the awards ceremony.
Someone telling me afterwards, that they didn’t know I was smart. I wasn’t sure whether I should take it as a compliment or be offended.
Slamming the door in Buck’s face on Halloween.
Feeling like I had my whole life in front of me and the whole world to conquer.
The funny thing is, I look back at those times as happy, carefree and worry free. But, I’m not sure that I realized how happy I was back then…at least not until it was gone. I think that nostalgia is a great feeling, but at the same time, it doesn’t do much good to reminisce about the past, unless you can use the memories to help in the future. I sort of remember being impatient in those days, just biding my time and waiting for my life to start. Now, I look back and miss those times. I wish I knew back then, that my life already started, and taken more time out to enjoy those times a little more than I did.
I’m pretty sure, that one day (probably sooner than I realize), I’m going to look back on today and see it as one of the happiest times in my life. Watching my baby girl discover new things…stumbling into parenthood with the love of my life. Roger and I learning who we are as a couple…experimenting together with new recipes, working on our house and our yard…dreaming about our future.
It’s easy sometimes to let my worries about the future override me….will Roger and I become victims of the economy? Should we take less trips and spend less money just in case? I constantly say I can’t wait until Kaelyn holds her own bottle, or is potty trained…when she won’t wake me up at 4 in the morning, etc.
I can spend so much time reminiscing about the days gone by or looking forward to a future that I can convince myself will be even better than today, that I don’t take time to realize, that this is the moment. That all the past has led up to my life today, made me who I am, and that one day, in the future, I will look back at today with those feeling of nostalgia.
I will miss these days. I am content with how things are. I will appreciate this moment. I have arrived.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Balancing the Scales
When I was a little girl, I remember my mother explaining the signs of the zodiac to me. Mine, Libra, meant that negotiation, compromise, and balance were my strong suits. And for the most part, this has proven to be true in my life.
As a project manager, this has made me very good at my job. I have the ability to recognize what, at a minimum, each party needs in order to move along and do their work. In any work related conflict, I can usually negotiate and propose solutions that will get the job moving and normally, I can work things out where we are all happier, more efficient, and therefore, more productive.
To this effect, I’ve always been rather proud of myself. But, in the last few years, after a lot of reflection, I’ve come to the realization that my work skills do not translate well into my personal life. When it comes right down to it, I am the way that I am, and I like it. Regardless of what anyone else might think of me, I just plain don’t want to change….except that I do. Now that I have a family of my own, a loving husband, and a beautiful daughter, I don’t want to treat them like a project I manage…I wouldn’t be able to do that anyway…at least not effectively.
I’ve realized that, like most people, my impartial view of the world can get very hazy when looking at it through the veil of my own emotions. And, because of that, my great ability to compromise is pretty much non-existent in my personal life. The problem is, I’ve always liked things a certain way. I’m “type-A” all the way. Before Roger and I got married and he moved in, I had a certain idea about how his stuff would integrate with mine. I expected that the house would stay the same level of clean and organized as it was when I was single…and when Roger had a different idea, I couldn’t see how his way could possibly be better than mine. And to make it worse, I will irrationally think that if he doesn’t do something my way, he’s purposely trying to upset me, or doesn’t care enough to try. This is ridiculous thinking, especially considering that those aren’t at all my thoughts when I don’t do things his way.
A small example is how we do laundry. I have three hampers and as clothes get dirty, I put them in the appropriate one (whites, colors, darks). On laundry day, I take one hamper to the laundry room and throw it all in. No sorting, no mistakes, not too much work. Roger, on the other hand, doesn’t see the importance of pre-sorting. His method is to throw his clothes into one hamper and on laundry day, sort and clean the clothes.
At work, I tell people that I won’t micromanage how they do their jobs…as long as, at the end of the day, the job is done right and it’s on time. This method works well and it does a lot for the sanity of all involved. So, why can’t I employ this method at home? Why can’t I tell Roger, that he can put the clothes in whatever hamper he wants as long as at the end the laundry is done correctly?
Don’t get me wrong…Roger and I don’t fight about these things. Our transition into married life and as parents has happened relatively smoothly. But, I’m realizing that the transition might have very little to do with me and everything to do with him. He would do anything to make me happy and small things, like the laundry, are little sacrifices he’s willing to make to show me he does care. And I want to do the same for him. I want to show him that because I love him, I won’t waste my time on these unimportant nuances. I’m lucky to have a husband that helps me clean, so when it’s my turn to do the laundry, if I have to take an extra two minutes to make sure that his red sweater doesn’t get mixed up in our white socks, then that’s what I’ll do…without complaint.
Roger and I have grown tremendously as a couple and even more so in the months since we’ve been blessed with Kaelyn’s arrival. As a person, though, I still have a lot of growing to do. Having someone to change for, makes the process a lot easier…and the fact that he has never asked me to change, makes it all the more necessary.
As a project manager, this has made me very good at my job. I have the ability to recognize what, at a minimum, each party needs in order to move along and do their work. In any work related conflict, I can usually negotiate and propose solutions that will get the job moving and normally, I can work things out where we are all happier, more efficient, and therefore, more productive.
To this effect, I’ve always been rather proud of myself. But, in the last few years, after a lot of reflection, I’ve come to the realization that my work skills do not translate well into my personal life. When it comes right down to it, I am the way that I am, and I like it. Regardless of what anyone else might think of me, I just plain don’t want to change….except that I do. Now that I have a family of my own, a loving husband, and a beautiful daughter, I don’t want to treat them like a project I manage…I wouldn’t be able to do that anyway…at least not effectively.
I’ve realized that, like most people, my impartial view of the world can get very hazy when looking at it through the veil of my own emotions. And, because of that, my great ability to compromise is pretty much non-existent in my personal life. The problem is, I’ve always liked things a certain way. I’m “type-A” all the way. Before Roger and I got married and he moved in, I had a certain idea about how his stuff would integrate with mine. I expected that the house would stay the same level of clean and organized as it was when I was single…and when Roger had a different idea, I couldn’t see how his way could possibly be better than mine. And to make it worse, I will irrationally think that if he doesn’t do something my way, he’s purposely trying to upset me, or doesn’t care enough to try. This is ridiculous thinking, especially considering that those aren’t at all my thoughts when I don’t do things his way.
A small example is how we do laundry. I have three hampers and as clothes get dirty, I put them in the appropriate one (whites, colors, darks). On laundry day, I take one hamper to the laundry room and throw it all in. No sorting, no mistakes, not too much work. Roger, on the other hand, doesn’t see the importance of pre-sorting. His method is to throw his clothes into one hamper and on laundry day, sort and clean the clothes.
At work, I tell people that I won’t micromanage how they do their jobs…as long as, at the end of the day, the job is done right and it’s on time. This method works well and it does a lot for the sanity of all involved. So, why can’t I employ this method at home? Why can’t I tell Roger, that he can put the clothes in whatever hamper he wants as long as at the end the laundry is done correctly?
Don’t get me wrong…Roger and I don’t fight about these things. Our transition into married life and as parents has happened relatively smoothly. But, I’m realizing that the transition might have very little to do with me and everything to do with him. He would do anything to make me happy and small things, like the laundry, are little sacrifices he’s willing to make to show me he does care. And I want to do the same for him. I want to show him that because I love him, I won’t waste my time on these unimportant nuances. I’m lucky to have a husband that helps me clean, so when it’s my turn to do the laundry, if I have to take an extra two minutes to make sure that his red sweater doesn’t get mixed up in our white socks, then that’s what I’ll do…without complaint.
Roger and I have grown tremendously as a couple and even more so in the months since we’ve been blessed with Kaelyn’s arrival. As a person, though, I still have a lot of growing to do. Having someone to change for, makes the process a lot easier…and the fact that he has never asked me to change, makes it all the more necessary.
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