Oh No! ...Oh Yes.

I saw 'em.  With my own eyes.  Yep.

Stretchmarks.  Even though I've been lathering up with creams and goops and oils and lotions.  Mr. F. walked into the bathroom to witness my poochy lip and asked what was up.  I showed him.  And he said, "Love marks!!"

Me: What?
He:  Love marks.
Me:  No.  Stretch marks. {with my lip still sticking out in the old elocution way}
He:  No, love marks--they show how much you love us because you are sacrificing your body for our family!  They are beautiful!
Me:  No, they aren't.
He:  um... well... At least we live in an age of technology, so if you wanted to you could have them lasered away.
Me:  I don't like that response AT ALL.
He:  Ok.  I've told you they are beautiful.  And you didn't like that.  I've told you they could go away, and you don't like that.  What do you want me to say?
Me:  I don't want you to say anything!  I don't want them here in the first place.
He:  {walks away}

...............................................

I know I was being a brat {you're probably thinking another b-word}.  Even in the moment, I knew it.  And vain.  It's just so hard to wrap my head around this idea of sacrificing myself for another.  Marriage--and motherhood--will teach me, if I let them.  Living on my own, I never recognized so many opportunities to be selfless.  Opportunities for vanity or selfishness to surface in me, and choose the better rather than the base.  But, over and over again in marriage and as I grow into motherhood, these moments present themselves.  And I'm so thankful to have such a kind and gracious husband who is patient enough to wait for me to come around.

And I hope that this new year with every new moment, I choose the better.  I hope to choose love and grace and goodness rather than myself and vanity and unkindness.

A friend and I were hunting for a theme for this year.  Something to encapsulate getting rid of indecision, the possibility that this year could really be the end of the world, and the urgency to live in the moment.  And here's what we got:

THIS IS IT.

THIS IS IT: Commit to give back to my community somehow.

THIS IS IT:  Drop vanity and pick up beauty.

(Vanity's only skin deep.  Beauty's to the soul.)

THIS IS IT:  Learn to take better pictures.

(You're having a baby for crying out loud.)

THIS IS IT:  Finish those diapers you've been making.

THIS IS IT:  Love the people in your path 

with every word and action.  

Every day.

THIS IS IT:  Live like only certain things are eternal.

Expensive People

The expensive people are those who, because they are not simple, make complicated demands--people to whom we cannot respond spontaneously and simply, without anxiety.  They need not be abnormal to exact these complicated responses; it is enough that they should be untruthful or touchy or hypersensitive or that they have an exaggerated idea of their own importance or that they have a pose--one which may have become second nature but is not what they really are.  With all such people we are bound to experience a little hitch in our response.  In time, our relationship with them becomes unreal.  If we have to consider every word or act in their company, in case it hurts their feelings or offends their dignity, or to act up to them in order to support their pose, we become strained by their society.  They are costing us dearly in psychological energy.  

The individual who is simple, who accepts themselves as they are, makes only a minimum demand on others in their relations with them.  Their simplicity not only endows their own personality with unique beauty; it is also an act of real love.  This is an example of the truth that whatever sanctifies our own soul does, at the same time, benefit everyone who comes into our life.

The Passion of the Infant Christ, p.82, by Caryll Houselander     

I read this a few weeks ago, and it stuck in my brain.  I keep going back to it.  The only thing I will add is that it really is a gift to be simple.

Image:  Edouard Manet - Woman in a Fur Coat in Profile

Hi, I'm Anna. I'm a Sugar Addict.

Confessions of a Sugarholic:

This last weekend, while in Charleston, there were just too many goodies.  And on the way out of town, we happened upon a sweet shop.

Isn't the courtyard dreamy?  Who could pass it up?  Not I.  So we stopped--just to look.

But then they had those cupcakes with sprinkles!  You know I'm a sucker for sprinkles.

I don't mean to be misleading.  I'd eaten about a sweet a day during the entire weekend.  Tuesday, I was really good.  Back on the wagon.  All day.  Not an ounce of sugar.  But then...

Mr. F. flew his new bird for the first time.  You must understand, he's been training for this new machine, and he's been attempting the flight since mid last week.  But every time there was maintenance required or bad weather or maintenance required.  So, he'd been anticipating this flight for a solid week.  And today he flew!  And everything went swimmingly!

So I baked a cake and gave him a card.  Just as a happy.  And it turned out fabulous!  

When he came home, he found the cake and said, "What's this?"

And I said, "Oreo Cake!  Because you are the best pilot around."

And he said, "But we can't have sugar."  {how awesome that he, in solidarity with me and Fünf, refuses sweets too.}

And I said, "But today's special.  You flew!  And you're home in one piece!"

And he said, "How do you find a way to make every day special?  And to you, special equals sugar."

Here, I just started crying.  Partly because I was sad we didn't get to eat the cake.  But also because I realized that when thinking of a way to create a little happy for Mr. F., I always think of sweets.  Perhaps because I rack my brain for the happiest small thing he could walk in the door to find, and I  would spin giddy over sweets.  So, I was crying because I couldn't get past what I wanted.  And therefore, I couldn't think of what he would want.  

ugh.

I tried to explain all that.  And he said the happiest thing he could find when he walked in the door was me.  I'm his happy.  what?  How am I so lucky.  

But the point is:  I need help--with the sugar thing and with thinking outside myself.  

The sugar thing:  I've decided to start a food journal.  Hopefully, this will keep me focused on 100 grams of protein and all the other true goodies, and not on the sugar goodies.  

The thinking outside myself thing:  ideas?  Other than the obvi.  Seriously.  When you want to treat someone or celebrate an achievement, what do you do?  I'd love to hear non-food ways to happiness.  

All that was yesterday.  Before bed, we had a piece of cake.  And Mr. F. took the rest with him to work today.    And I'm starting anew:  Protien-focused.  Vegi-focused.  Fruit-focused.  Fünf-loving.  And my antenna are up for the little things that make people around me happy.  

Sprinkles Make Everything Better

Yesterday, someone said "confetti," and it made me think of confetti cake.  And then I started thinking about nothing but confetti cake.  I started rationalizing that I could turn my craving into a sweet for Mr. F.  I would make him a confetti cake.  (Here's the first clue that things aren't right:  selfish motivation for a "kindness" to someone else.)

I even found this really great recipe, but we didn't have sprinkles.  So, I'd just hop into the grocery when I was done with my imperative errands.  I'd make one of those cute pendant banners declaring Mr. F's awesomeness, and he'd love it and whisk me into his arms, and I wouldn't feel pukey, and we'd laugh and kiss...

Back to reality.  My errands took longer than expected, so my window of not feeling icky was shrinking.  I went to the grocer anyway, but by the time I got there, I was overwhelmed with nausea.  I don't vomit.  I just sit there in the car dry heaving.  And then I get all hot, and that makes it worse.  I eat some watermelon I have in my purse and drive home.  No sprinkles.

At home, I take a nap and think about what a great idea confetti cake is.  Everything takes longer these days.  And I'm a slow-mover to begin with.  By the time Mr. F. gets home, I'm braiding some thread to have a multi-colored string for my pendant banner.  Thankfully, he's engrossed in conversation with someone on the tele.

I scurry to put my pendant together and sprinkle the cake.  Wait.  I never got sprinkles???  What is wrong with my brain!?  So, I stick the chop sticks holding my banner into the plain ol' cake, and-- VOILA!

Wait.  What?

Maybe it's because of the jacked-up pendant, or the lack of confetti-ness about the cake, or the fact that my hubby likes chocolate--not vanilla, or that I get more sick with sweets--for whatever reason, the cake is still sitting on the counter just like this 17 hours later.

It sounded like a good idea.  earlier.

{images from here and there}