dirty looks

Just because you don't say anything doesn't mean that you are not being judgmental. Why do you feel you can judge me? I am a stranger. Parenting. Actually parenting. You are a single woman. Maybe you are a parent. But you are not the parent to my child. You are not. So back off!

Okay, rant over.

After work I stopped by someone's house and bought a new kitchen table -- craigslist. But it didn't all fit in my car in one trip. So I promised Ladybug that we would go out if she was good and didn't complain. And it worked. She stayed in a good mood. So after I shoved the last chair in my car I we stopped at McDonald's. And that is where she started to lose it. She was wandering while I was ordering. She wasn't paying attention while I was getting drinks. But I remained calm.

Then she picked a table. She slid her drink across the table. It fell onto the seat. The lid fell off and soda went everywhere. But I remained calm.

I asked her to slow down and be careful. Think before acting. I know this is hard for a 5 year old. We went back to the drink fountain and got more drinks. She picked a new table. She placed the soda on the table.

Or maybe I should say that the placed the soda half on the table. And it fell on the floor. I sighed. I said her name. The lid stayed on this time. Soda did not go everywhere. I picked up the cup. And as I stood back up I looked straight into the face of the woman at the next table. And she was disgusted. At me. I assume. At least she was looking at me. With utter disgusted.

Oh, because I am not suppose to get annoyed that my child does the exact thing she just got asked not to do again? Because I am correcting my child? I didn't yell. I didn't tell her she was stupid. I just let her know that she is expected to slow down. Think. Be careful.

I ignored her. We had a good dinner. We laughed. We talked. She stole my french fries. It was nice. I liked the photo artwork on the walls. We talked about it.

As we were getting ready to leave we were cleaning up the table. I grabbed the trash and Ladybug bent down to pick something off the floor. She picked up a french fry off the floor. And it was centimeters from her mouth when I said in a stern voice, "Don't even think about it!" She stopped.

I looked up. Straight into the same woman. Looking straight back at me. With utter disgust. Again. Because I am parenting?

Back off!

Mean Mama

deep thoughts

Tonight we had to run errands. I promised Ladybug McDonald's if she just worked with me on it. She did fairly well. So we went to McDonald's.

We sat down with our food. She was facing the TV. So she was focused. On the TV. Finally she asked me what was on the TV. I turned and looked. CNN. Now why would CNN be on a TV that little kids would be watching? But then again... maybe it was the best choice. Haiti and Cholera were the topic of the night.

Ladybug: What are they talking about?
Me: Well there is a country called Haiti and there are a lot of people getting sick there.
Ladybug: And they are falling down?
Me: Yes. Some are dying.
Ladybug: Why?
Me: They are getting a disease called cholera.
Ladybug: How do they get that?
Me: With dirty water, I think.
Ladybug: So they need clean water?
Me: Yes.
Ladybug: We should help them.
Me: It's not that simple.
Ladybug: Well, we have a big family. We should all work together and help them.

Now how do you argue against that?

Later we were driving home when she started talking again.

Ladybug: Mama, what does "ishi" mean?
Me: It means that everything is okay.
Ladybug: And you told me that as a baby?
Me: Yes. You would calm down if I whispered "ishi" to you.
Ladybug: How long did it take you to get me?
Me: Well, from the time I decided to adopt from Africa to the time you came home was about 1 year.
Ladybug: And I wanted a blonde mommy? I mean white mommy.
Me: Well not really.
Ladybug: But I wanted to be blonde.
Me: Not really. Before you met me all the people you knew were your color. You were scared of white people.
Ladybug: But I am not now.
Me: No.
Ladybug: I want to go back to my country.
Me: Okay. We can take a trip back to Ethiopia when you get a little older.
Ladybug: I mean to live there.
Me: When you are an adult you can decide to live where ever you want.
Ladybug: I want to speak my language.
Me: Great. You can learn Amharic. You can speak more then one language.
Ladybug: I won't need English.
Me: Well you don't have to give up one language to learn another.
Ladybug: I want to be able to talk to my brothers and sisters.
Me: Honey, I don't know if you have brothers and sisters.
Ladybug: But I want them.
Me: Well, we can look for your first family. We can find out.
Ladybug: Hey Mama, you can learn Spanish if you want.

And she is only 5.

Mean Mama

Fashion

I am not delusional enough to believe that I have any real sense of fashion. I know what I like but I think that almost everybody else thinks I am crazy for liking what I like.

Ladybug on the other hand... well lets just say she has her own sense of style.

I had to go out the other weekend and buy some new clothes for her. She won't stop growing. Only it is not "up" she is growing. Buddha belly is making a return.

She fell in love with one of the skirts I bought. Blue velvety skirt to the knees with a cute ruffle. And today she finally got the chance to wear it. I was in the shower when I heard her in my bathroom. I peeked out.

Me: Go get dressed.
Ladybug: But I want to wear the blue skirt.
Me: So put it on.
Ladybug: oh.

She ran off. I finished my shower.

As I am getting dressed she yells out to me again.

Ladybug: Mama can I ask you a quick question.
Me: Yes.
Ladybug: What color shirt would go with this skirt.
Me: Anything but black (she has been into black lately). And make it short sleeve - it is suppose to get hot this afternoon.
Ladybug: How about this one.
Me: (I am in my room, she is in her room. We can not see each other) I can't see whatever "this" is that you are holding up.
Ladybug: Oh

She comes to me. She holds up a yellow shirt. Surprised. Not what I thought she would pick out. But it works. Mostly. I guess. Remember, I have no sense of fashion.

She gets dressed. I get dressed. I make lunches. I pin her hair down to her head (took braids out and washed it last night. Combed it all out last night too -- drama! Put in large chunky braids for one day until I can do something pretty with it. She woke up with the braids going in every direction which is making her look a little like Medusa.)

I look down at her feet. She has put on sneakers. Nice velvet skirt. Sneakers? And not just any sneakers. The grungy, dirty, brown, gross sneakers. Why?? Because they have Barbie on them.

UGH!

I made her change her shoes.

Mean Mama

learning to read

Ladybug is finally willing to try to learn to read. She has no tolerance for making mistakes so she gives up quickly. But at least she is willing to make a try. This is a step in the right direction.

She knows her letters.

She knows the sounds each letter makes.

She is getting the concept of sounding it out (oh how that phrase brings back nightmares for me).

But something is getting lost in translation.

Ladybug:
nnnnnnn
oooooooo
tttttttttt

nnnnnn
ooooooo
ttttttttt

nnnnnn
ooooooo
ttttttttt

indoor!

Me: (If I could show you a picture with my eyes crossed I would). Um.... No. How did you get from N-O-T (sounds) to indoor?

Ladybug: Oh I give up!

Me: Try again.

I am so not a teacher.

Mean Mama

peanuts

We did a little shopping today. I am trying to prepare for the holidays. Halloween is coming right up and Thanksgiving is just around the corner. As we were checking out at the store Ladybug asked for a treat. I must have been having a weak moment and I agreed. She asked for M&Ms. I agreed. She grabbed the peanut M&Ms.

I was surprised. I know she loves M&Ms but she always gets the plain one. I told her that the ones in the yellow bags have peanuts in them. She grabbed the yellow bad. Okay. She likes peanuts. She likes peanut butter.

We got in the car. I opened the bag. And we got on the road. In traffic. On a Saturday. It took some time to get home. When we were almost home she handed me the bag of M&Ms and said she was done. I took the bag. I was surprised because there were still M&Ms in the bag.

I looked inside. There were no M&Ms. There were just peanuts. She had sucked and nibbled all the candy shell and chocolate off of every peanut and then stuck the peanut back in the bag.

Mean Mama

Magical families

I was sent a link on facebook. A lot of my facebook friends are people who don't really know me. There are a lot of fabulous people there. And I enjoy them. But they don't know me. Just as I don't really know them. As a result I get lots of links that I am not really all that interested in.

But sometimes I get one that catches my attention. Magical Families. What is Magical Families? Well check it out for yourself. http://magicalfamilies.wordpress.com/

Now how much fun would it be to have adoptive families descend upon the most magical place on earth. One long weekend in Disney World. Can you imagine? Families made from bonds and not blood. Kids who don't look anything like their parents running the place. Imagine being a place where you family is not the minority. Just for a weekend.

This sounds like fun.

And let's face it, Ladybug will think she has died and gone to heaven if she gets anywhere near Cinderella.

Guess I need to figure out a plan to go.

Mean Mama

Going green

When I started dieting last spring I knew that had to start drinking more water. Not only did I need to stop drinking other things but I needed to just drink more water in general. So I made the commitment and I bought 2 Camelbak bottles. These are great bottles. I suck on them all day and I get far more water in without really working at it. And I don't go through bottles of water.

When I bought them I promised myself they were for water only. And I have stuck to that. I only put water in them.

The other day I decided that it was time to clean the bottle. No, this was not the first time. But as I cleaned it I realized that it didn't look really like new. And it is not new. But I continued my inspection. It wasn't new. But I think that is scum on the bottom of the bottle. Oh. It was! I cleaned. I scrubbed. That is just gross.

Tonight I filled the bottle up with water again. And I sat with it in front of me. For quite a long time. I just could not bring myself to drink out of it again. I tried. I couldn't. I decided that maybe I needed to clean it out with bleach. I even found the bleach. But I didn't use it. I just took it all apart and and scrubbed again.

But this time I also decided that I needed to clean out the straw. How do you clean out a straw. I run water through it. I squirt soap into it. And it runs clean. So it is clean. Right?

Well, then I got a bright idea. I needed to clean it. I decided to stick q-tips down the straw to see what comes out on it. I mean, it is clean. I just cleaned it. So imagine my surprise when I saw the nice little q-tip come out the other end of the clean straw bright green. No joke! Like a stop light green. Like astro-turf green. Like algae green.

Any wonder why I have been sick???

Mean Mama

It's all in your head

When I was a teenager I developed a problem with my stomach. Every once in a while I would get sharp, debilitating pains in my stomach. It would feel like someone was stabbing a knife into my stomach. I would double over in pain. Nobody could figure out what was wrong. They would come. They would go. No idea what caused them.

It was all in my head.

Almost literally. Eventually I understood that my stomach pains was not physical. It was physical but the cause wasn't physical. I got those pains because something was bothering me. Something I didn't want to face. And the pains would come and go until I figured out what the issue was. The pains disappeared once I figured out what the problem was.

Then when I was in college I stopped having stomach pains and instead would develop canker sores in my mouth. During really stressful times I would have multiple ones at a time. During finals one semester I counted 11 separate canker sores in my mouth. Painful. But it was better then what was to come.

I haven't had a canker sore in about a decade. So I moved on to cold sores. Also painful. And oh so attractive. Big, painful, and out there for everyone to see. It has been about 3 years since I have a cold sore.

So what is my body's new way of slapping me across the face and telling me to figure it out? Hives. Fun. For the last couple of years I would randomly break out in hives. Red, itchy, splotchy bumps. On my jaw. On my chin. On my neck. Attractive. NOT! But manageable. Until last night.

Last night I found myself itching. Beyond control. By the time I was practically insane because I could not stop myself of itching, it had spread. I had it from my finger tips to my shoulders. From my chin down my chest. Down my back. My entire torso and arms were completely covered in hives. Completely. Not an inch was not covered in hives. And it was driving me insane. I had no benedryl in the house. And my child was in bed so I could not just pop out of the house. But eventually I remembered that I had some claritin. Not the same but it worked. I took some and went to bed. I work up red but no hive. And I was happy.

But they came back. So I bought some benedryl. No more red. No more bumps. No more splotches. Mostly no itchiness. But while I can feel the hives being suppressed by the drugs I can feel it still. My skin is hot. I looked up hives on the internet today. They said the only part of the body that can not ever break out in hives are soles of the feet or palms of the hands.

I beg to differ. My feet are fine. But I have huge problems with the palms of my hands.

I have not changed shampoos or soap. I have not changed laundry or dish soap. I have not changed lotions or make up. No new medications. No new foods.

I am pretty sure this is all in my head. And my challenge, if I choose to accept it (like I have a choice), will be to figure out why. Is it money? Job? Changing a job? Moving? Child? What?

Why can't life be easy?

Mean Mama

Special Needs

There have been some really rather heated discussions on some of my groups this week. I have stayed out of it. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I am not really known for keeping my mouth shut but it seems to be happening lately. They are all good discussions but sometimes I take a statement out of context and all of a sudden what is written does not make any sense. And I have to wonder if it is what they meant to say.

In order to understand my state of mind you must first know what I did yesterday. I was sick. Fevers, chills, aches. Overall miserable. So I set the child up with movies in the living room and retreated to my room. One of the major disadvantages to being a single mom to an only child is that when I can not crawl out of bed she gets a lot of screen time. She loves it. I don't. When I retreated to my bed I took my computer and I watched a few movies on instant Netflix. One of the movies I watched was Babies. Let me just say, every person who is a parent, wants to be a parent, is considering being a parent, or knows a parent should watch this movie. It makes you think. And the little baby from Africa is so freaking cute and just loved watching her.

The discussion on my group started (I think) on the topic of ethics in adoption. Things like agency fees and practices, relinquishment, and disruptions came up. In the midst of all this someone said something like (and this is not a direct quote) every international adoption should be considered a special needs adoption even if the child is completely healthy because they haven't experienced everyday things like watching television, using a telephone or even riding in a car several times a day.

Crickets...

When Ladybug came home at 21 months she had never seen running water (even her orphanage did not have running water because the streets were under construction and the water had been turned off for a few months), she had never seen a televisions until the plane ride home (I had to turn it off because she kept hitting it and annoying the guy in front of us) and had ridden in a car only a few times. But everything was a phone. She held everything up to her ear and babbled. So that made her special needs? Don't get me wrong -- I am not offended by the term "special needs." I just don't think it is appropriate to be so broad in our definitions. As a matter of fact I think that making the definition that broad makes it very egocentric. If a child has not had all the advantages of an American childhood they are special needs? Because they do not have everything that we do?

Who said our life is the best? Who said the American life is the standard? And everyone who does not have that is less? Special needs? It just doesn't sit well with me.

Ladybug is not an easy child. She has a stubborn personality that challenges me. I struggle. She is even diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. She was adopted. From Africa. As a toddler. I am still trying to see anything that makes her a special need. She is a child. A little different from the norm or average. But every child is a little different from the norm or average. Maybe every child is a special need? But don't call her special needs just because she was born somewhere other than America.

Mean Mama

Another weekly update

Again I felt disappointment when I stepped on the scale this morning. I shouldn't. But I did. I had hoped that by this morning I would be down to 262. That would get me out of the morbidly obese category. Lofty goals. I didn't make it.


Still 3 more pounds to go. And I am running out of time. I will end phase 2 on the 26th before I take a break for the holidays. I had hoped to be in the 250's (preferably the low 250's) but the time I took my first break. I am adjusting my goal. Just let me be out of the morbidly obese category please.

The excuse I have this week is that I have been sick. I actually didn't get out of bed yesterday. That could not have helped the calorie burning.

The good news:
This diet women average .5 pound weight loss per day. In the last 7 days I have lost 3.4 pounds. So I am only .1 pound behind the average. I can be proud of that.
Yesterday I was down an extra .6 pounds more then I was today -- so more money went into the piggy bank for Project Hopeful.
I am still filling the piggy bank with money that I have found around the house, car and purse. So far this hasn't cost me anything.
I am feeling better -- at least I am out of bed -- so maybe I can have a strong surge in weight loss this last 10 days and get out of morbidly obese. Only 3 more pounds!

Since October 1st I am down 9.2 pounds. Not bad. And even better.... back in April when I started this diet I weighed 293.8 so I am officially down 28.8 pounds this year. Not huge (at my weight) but so much better then if I had not lost anything. So I will be happy.

Mean Mama
PS - 9.2 down, 115 to go.

That's not fair

That is Ladybug's latest favorite phrase. Everything... "That's not fair!"

Not to sound like my father but... whoever told her that life was fair -- lied. Life is not fair. And she is not an equal.

No, Honey. We can not got out for dinner. That is not fair.

No, Honey. You must do your homework first. That is not fair.

Please put your sneakers on so we can leave for school. That is not fair.

Honey, I am not going to crawl in bed with you tonight because I feel sick and I don't want to get you sick. That is not fair.

Life is not fair. And if she expects it to be fair she is in for a life time of disappointment. I hope this is a short phase.

Mean Mama

social skills

I have been worried about Ladybug these last few weeks. I am not the most social person. I enjoy my alone time. I don't like parties. I know that Ladybug is not like that. So when I decided to let her go out and meet the neighborhood kids I thought it would be simple for her to make friends.

I live on a 1 block dead end street with only townhouses. There are a lot of kids. Four doors down from me is a family with 5 girls. And that is just one family. They are all elementary school age. They all go to her school. I am not sure if there are any that are in kindergarten or not but they are roughly the same age. So I threw her out the door and told her to go make friends.

But she didn't seem to make friends. They ignored her. Walked away from her. Walked around her. She said hi. She waved at them. She tried. But it didn't seem to work. She has been having all these issues at school too. So I began to wonder if she wasn't as social as I thought. Or, even worse, what if I had to teach her social skills? Talk about the blind leading the blind. For about 3 weeks I let her go out and play with the kids after she finishes her homework. And they just run away from her. Except for the one kid who asked if he could have her bike. Permanently.

Last night I was sick. I picked her up from the after school program and I was not looking forward to cooking dinner. Ladybug asked if we could go out for dinner at a fast food joint. No. Please Mama! It turns out it is fundraiser for her school. So I agreed.

We walked in and there was a chorus of kids who shouted out her name. Some were excited to see her. Some asked her to sit with them. Some hugged. She table hopped. She played in the jungle gym. She greeted kids who came in after her. She was social. She had friends. She had a good time.

So what does this all mean? It means I live on a street with a tight click who is unwilling to accept a new kid in. Exclusive. Snobby. Hateful. And my child just may be normal after all.

One worry gone.

Mean Mama

Jeans!

Last Christmas vacation, while I was out of town and eating more food then most thought was possible, I discovered that my jeans were getting way to tight to be comfortable. Hard to move. Hard to sit. I was gaining weight at an alarming rate. I didn't think I could make it one more day without another pair of jeans. A pair that fit. One that would allow me to sit in my car for 18 hours and drive home without doing serious damage to my internal organs.

So I stopped at Walmart and bought a pair of jeans. I didn't try them on. I bought a pair that says that they have roomy hips and thighs. I bought a pair that was in the size that should fit me. I ran in. I bought. I ran out. When I got back to my friend's house, I tried them on. They would not go up over my knees. Not joking. Not exaggerating. I have hips. I have thighs. Lots of both. Thank you German birth mother for passing those 2 lovely things on to me.

I thought about giving the jeans to my friend. Who is roughly the same size as me (maybe a little smaller) but completely different body shape. She has skinny legs. I have tree trunks. But I ended up throwing them in my suitcase and bringing them home. I hung them in my closet -- with the tags still on. And there they remained.

Today is Friday. So I can dress casual in the office. And it is chilly. So I decided to wear jeans. I pulled out a pair. A pair I had little hope of fitting into. I wore these jeans on a cruise in 2004. At that time I weighed about 30 pounds lighter then I do now. They did not make it over my knees this morning. De Ja Vu!

I pulled out the Walmart pair. Nearly a year of hanging in the closet. They came up over my knees. They made it over my thighs. They slid over my hips. They buttoned. And zipped. They fit! They tags came off.

It wasn't until I got into the office that I realized that they don't really fit. You see, they are too long. About 5 inches too long. So I have the back of the hem tucked into my clogs and I am walking on the hem. But they fit. And I look good in them.

Mean Mama

getting in trouble for doing the right thing

I was on my way to work today. I was driving along a 2 lane road (one lane in each direction). A car was approaching me. She slowed down and she put her turn signal on to make a left hand turn. The SUV behind her slammed on her brakes. I could see the woman in the SUV yelling at the car in front of her. The front car waited for me to pass by before making the turn. And as I passed the SUV the woman turned and flipped me off.

Really?!? I get yelled at for following the rules? Or do I need to go back to driving school?

Mean Mama

looking through race colored glasses

This past weekend Ladybug was invited to a birthday party. It was a small birthday party. It was not a new friend from kindergarten. It was an old friend from preschool.

I like the friend. I think she is good for Ladybug. They are opposites. B is control, reserved, shy. Ladybug is not. I think they are good for each other.

Ladybug was the only "non-family" person invited to the party. All the other kids were cousins -- or long family friends (several generations of the families being friends) that have been nominated to be a family member. But since Ladybug is not shy -- she fit right in. I was the odd ball -- the only person who was not African American.

Ladybug is not at the point where I just drop her off at a party. I stayed. And socialized with the moms. Well, I tried. But I am not very good as chit chat. At some point Ladybug came running up to me yelling, "Mom!" I responded and she walked away.

The woman standing next to me eventually picked her chin up off the ground and asked me if I was really her mom. Yep. I get it. Ladybug is dark. I am pale. Even B is lighter skinned then Ladybug. How could Ladybug be biracial? Adoption never occurs to her.

Later I was sitting on the deck socializing. B's mom (A) was in the yard talking to the "chin on the ground" lady when I heard her -- because she made no attempt to be discrete -- say to A, "That white woman said she was that little girl's mom." A just responded that I was. She looked up at me. And "chin on the floor" lady continued, "No A, she (pointing to me) said she was her (pointing at Ladybug." A just responded, "Do you think she would lie about something like that?" And A smiled at me and walked away.

Mean Mama

depressed

I couldn't blog last night. I was too depressed. Really.

I know the feeling of depression. There was a time in my life that I was clinically depressed. My official diagnosis was severe episodic depression. Or something like that. I lived with it for a while. And it got worse... and worse... and worse. Until is desperation I finally ended up in therapy. I have never been opposed to therapy. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure everybody good use some time with a good therapist. I signed up for therapy. But my therapist didn't think she was going to be enough for me. She immediately gave me a referral to see a psychiatrist for possible medication.

I went to the psychiatrist's office determine that I did not need meds. It didn't matter that I couldn't make it through the day without breaking down. I didn't need meds. I was strong enough to get through this without the crutch of meds. And I walked out of the psychiatrist's office with a prescription. Prozac. Small dose. He promised me I wouldn't be on it long. And I counted on it.

Prozac takes some time to build up in the body. So it wasn't like a popped a pill and I felt fine. Actually for the first week I didn't really feel anything different. Maybe more hopeful but still depressed. The second week on the meds I got angry and agitated. Seriously. Everything pissed me off. I think I experienced my first road rage that week. At a school bus driver - who was doing exactly what she was suppose to be doing. People breathed wrong and I got angry.

I was just beginning hoping the meds would help a little. And by the end of the week I was sure it wasn't going to work. I was sure the meds needed to end. But my psychiatrist and therapist asked me to see it through. So I stuck with it. Please understand that I was not suicidal at any time. I was depressed. I wanted to feel better. I wanted the pain to stop. But I did not ever want to end it all.

The meds kicked in on a Sunday. Easter Sunday. I felt it kick in. And I relaxed. Everyone saw it kick in. I was having dinner with a friend and her family and she was worried I wouldn't make it through the meal. But the meds kicked in and everything was fine. It is not suppose to happen like that. But it did. As soon as it kicked in my psychiatrist began talking to me about going off the meds. No, he wasn't trying to be cruel. It is a short term med. He was preparing me. But I told him there was no way he was taking it away from me.

I did the therapy. I took the meds. I made changes in my life. I got better. And about a year and a half later I went off the meds. I was on much longer then anticipated, and much longer then my psychiatrist wanted. But it worked. And when I went off, I was fine.

But I have never forgotten that feeling. When I am making major changes in my life -- like moving, changing jobs, and becoming a mom -- I am hyper-vigilant about my emotional state. It has been nearly 15 years since I had that depression. But I would know that feeling again in a heart beat. I will never forget it.

I was depressed last night and it paralyzed me to function in a way I normally do. But it was not a true depression. I just felt so much doubt at my ability to be a good mom.

My sweet Ladybug had a bad day at school. She pushed a boy in her class. She didn't care he was a boy. She is not timid. She actually got sent down to the principal's office this time. And a report was put in her school file. "Aggressive behavior towards other student." Great! Lovely. What have I done wrong? How did she learn that was acceptable. They categorized it as a minor offense, meaning she was sent back to class and I did not get a phone call. When I talked to her about it she refused any responsibility. She swore it was his fault. I didn't buy it. I asked her to draw a picture of apology for the boy. She didn't want to. I gave her a piece of paper. She crumpled it up and threw it on the floor. I refused to give in. She cried. I was calm. Eventually she got another piece of paper and did the picture. But she was not happy about it.

But that wasn't the whole day. Later in the day she got caught again. This time it wasn't physical. Kind of. Apparently another child -- a girl this time -- upset her. So she gave her a dirty look and stuck out her tongue. The teacher saw it. At least there was no trip to the principal's office this time. I asked her about it. She denied it. I asked her to explain. She swore that she stuck her tongue out at the wall... because she didn't like the color. Seriously. She told me that. And she expected me to believe it. .... I didn't. We were at dinner when I was trying to talk to her about it. She turned her back on me. Literally. I asked her to face me. She did. She crossed her arms across her chest and gave me a dirty look. So I sent her to bed.

And I felt depressed. I questioned my ability to be a good mother. I don't know what I am doing wrong. But I feel like I am doing something wrong. I must be. Why is she so angry? So defiant? So prone to fighting? I mean, she isn't even a teenager and she is acting like this. How will she act in 10 years? How can I change it? What do I need to do to help her. It makes me sad to feel so lost about how to raise my child.

But I snapped out of it. She had a good day today. She clung to me at bed time tonight. And I hold my breath waiting for the next time she decides not to play by the rules.

Mean Mama
PS - 7.2 down, 117 to go.

Weekly Update

First I would like you to meet my new best friend...

In keeping with my desire to also be debt free I knew that I would need to be saving my nickles and dimes for this challenge as I went along. So I bought this cute little piggy bank. It was Target so it was cheap. But it caused much jealousy from Ladybug. She now has "piggy bank" on her Christmas list.

So this is the help my dear sweet little blue pig will provide. Each day I get up and weigh myself. For every .1 of a pound that I change from the previous day's weight I must put in at least $0.10 into the piggy bank. My scale changes weight in .2 increments. Here is the kicker -- in trying to keep myself motivated -- I need to put in money if I lose or I gain. So if I gain and lose the same pound for weeks I must put in money. If I stay the same -- no money goes in. This might mean that Project Hopeful will want me to keep changing weight in either direction but I am hoping they will still feel encouraged to help me lose it.

So what was my success for the week???? See for yourself.



Down a total of 5.8 pounds. Not nearly as good as I would have hoped. But still good. I will be happy with this. For now. I did cheat, as I confessed. But I didn't even touch the ice cream or cake at the birthday party yesterday. Which was great for me. The other set back (which I know is TMI) is that I got my period. It is hard enough to lose weight. Near impossible to do it when you have your period. And on this diet -- forget about it.

So that means that I am making progress. I am 6.8 pounds away from leaving the category of morbidly obese and moving into the plain old obese category. Have I mentioned that I am short, too? Maybe by next update I will be obese??? Oh the goals I strive for! LOL

I will keep you posted.

Mean Mama
PS- 5.8 down and 118.4 to go!

New Goal

I am inspired again. This time my inspiration comes from another blog I read earlier this week. The writer blogged about finally becoming debt free -- except for the mortgage. I want to do that.

I don't have a mortgage. But I have debt. More debt then I care to admit to myself. Like so many people I live pay check to pay check. In my job I analyze other people's financials. I can not tell you how many people live in debt. Not just mortgage and car loans. Credit card debt is astronomical. How does a family of 4 with an annual income of over $200,000 manage to have over $80,000 worth of credit card debt? And it is not just one client. It is a lot.

So many of us live to our means or beyond. I look around me and see people with nice toys and wonder how they are doing it. I am guessing that I would be horrified to see most people's credit card monthly statements. Hey, I am horrified to see mine. I can complain all I want about the interest rate but the reality is I wouldn't care what that interest rate was if I had a zero balance.

In my defense, I have been trying to pay off one of my credit cards. Once a year. I get my tax return and I put at least 90% of it toward the credit card. But then something happens. Like this past spring my car kept breaking. And it all went on the credit card. And, to make matters worse, I then bought a car. Adding a whole new debt to my pile of debt.

I recently got a bonus at work. Unexpected. I threw 2/3 of it to one of my credit cards. The other part went towards monthly bills. The only problem is that the person who is responsible for the financials in our office didn't do her job. She didn't reconcile the accounts -- for months. So she didn't catch the $20,000 error. So the boss gave us all bonuses because he had extra money. And then the error was caught. So I will not get the normal Christmas bonus. Christmas will be lean this year.

So here is the plan:

Mortgage -- I don't currently have one. Which is a problem. It means that I throw money out the window each month and build no equity. Stupid. Own. Don't rent. I need to buy (of course this is dependent on the getting a new job and moving).

Car loan -- I need a reliable car. I have a reliable car. I have a car loan too. And I am at the beginning of the loan. At least I was smart on not getting a $400 monthly car payment. I will just live with it and look forward to not have the debt in 5 years.

School loan -- I am really not sure how I managed to go back to school last time. But I did. And now I have school loans. I also have the degree. I have been paying on it since graduation -- except for the 12 month break when Ladybug first came home. I currently have 2 loans that total $10,152.65. Not bad for a school loan but I still need to get it paid off. I am giving myself a goal of 4 years.

Credit cards - I have 2 credit cards. The combined total is $6,776.48. Oh there is a part of me that was just relieved when I totaled that number. It could have been so much worse. It has been worse. And the other part of me is truly disgusted. It is unacceptable. I pay about $250 a month in credit card payments. And that is just to keep it even. If I pay the minimum payment (according to the credit card statements) it will take me 27 years to pay it off. 27 year!!! I promise not to use the credit card. Unless necessary. Like the car needs to be fixed. Or if I need to buy groceries and I don't have cash. If I can't afford it, I don't buy it. I promise to pay more then the minimum payment. I am giving myself a goal of 2 years.

Medical bills -- yes my health insurance sucks. I have been working on paying this. Ladybug's last physical was in February and I am still paying it off. My insurance sucks! But I am almost done. $60.29 left to pay. I promise to finish paying this by the end of the year.

That's it. And maybe if I have no debt I will feel less stress. And maybe I won't be such a ...

Mean Mama

Project Hopeful

Announcing the recipient of my donations for my weight loss challenge. Project Hopeful -- http://projecthopeful.org/

There are a ton of good options out there. It was hard to decide. But they met my requirements.

They are about adoption. They help a population that needs help. One of the co-founders has a large family (La Mama Loca likes that) and one is a single mama (I like that). They have children from Ethiopia. They are a small organization. And they want my money.

I have 4 people (including me) who have agreed to do this challenge with me. Will join me? Pledge to a healthier life to help children with medical needs be adopted into a family that will help them have a healthier life.

By the way, I am back on track with my diet -- a one day vacation.

Mean Mama
PS- 6 down, 18.2 to go

Naming

One of the hot topics on one of my groups this week is naming. Should an adoptive parent change the name of the child that they adopt or should they keep the name that they were born with? I am a firm believer that there is no wrong answer for this.

I am not on the fence about this. I have one foot firmly planted on both sides of the fence. Keep the child's birth name? Absolutely! Change the child's birth name? Absolutely! How can I have such a stance?

I was removed from my biological family at 5.5 years old. I was 7.5 years old when I was placed for adoption with my family. When my parents had gotten married (about 3.5 seconds before we were placed with them) my mother did not change her last name. So when my sister and I were placed we knew we were going to change our last names and we were also clear that we wanted different last names. Apparently, according to my parents (who are divorced and still agree on this story), that I also decided that I wanted to change my first name. I don't have a real memory of it but always assumed it was their idea. Either way, I wanted to change my name. I remember that. Clearly. My sister entertained the idea but in the end she decided to stick with her name.

I took my time deciding on my name. I remember conversation after conversation about it. The reality is that I really wanted one name. I knew it was the right name for me. But it was also very clear that my father really wanted another name. He didn't put a lot of pressure on me but still it was clear. In the end, in an effort to please my new family, I picked the name my father wanted. When the adoption was finalized, I got a new name.

However, it never felt like me. Oh, don't get me wrong. I answered to it. It was a natural thing. But there wasn't a time in my life that I did not think about changing my name again. I already did it once, why not again? And when I was about 25, I did exactly that. I changed my name to the name I had wanted when I was 7 years old.

So when I was getting ready to adopt I immediately began picking out names. Of course I was going to change her name. She was going to be my only child, likely. Of course I was going to change her name. It is a parent's right. Right? As a single person it should have been easy to pick a name. I just needed to pick one I liked. I did not need to compromise with a partner. But as a single person, because I had no designated partner to compromise with, everybody thought that they had a vote in the naming process. But eventually I picked a name. A first name I liked and a middle name that was a family name. And then I waited for the referral call.

When I was on the phone with my agency learning about my daughter and looking at the first photos of her on the computer my certainty changed. I learned her name. I learned the meaning. And I instantly wondered if I was making the right decision to change her name. Within 24 hours I had decided that I needed to wait until I met her before deciding if I was going to change her name.

Part of it for me was that she was not an abandoned child. She was a child who had lived with her loving parents for 18 months and was named by them. It was also a connection with her culture. It was also a unique name. She would be the only one in her class. Guaranteed. I liked that idea. I grew up in a world where many kids were named Kimberly or Christine or Lori. I didn't want my daughter to have a name that every other child had. And, I admit, one of my concerns was also that her name was also unusual. What if kids made fun of it? What if she was discriminated against because she did not have an all American name?

Well it turns out that her name is actually unusual in Ethiopia. As a matter of fact, most Ethiopians think I am saying her name wrong or don't know how it is spelled. And I find myself correcting Ethiopians. Her name is Ethiopian, just not a common one. Her name is never used in America. But it is also more simple then some of the other kids in her class. In a sea of Jamaiyas, Ezekiel, Hithas, and Sarais, Ladybug's name is not any more unusual then those.

In the end, I kept her name. And the ones I picked out for her. And never regretted it. She is her name. It fits. And I don't regret it. At all.

And as this topic heated up this week on the group I thought back on all of that. Change the name. Don't change the name. I have no problem with the decision either way. But I have a problem with some of the excuses people use to justify their decision. If I changed her name, would that make her less black and therefore not as likely to suffer discrimination? No. If I changed her name would I feel less bonded to her? No. If I Didn't change her name would she have a better understanding of her culture? No. Do I think you should pick a name purely so other people will never mispronounce it? No. Change the name because it is right for your family. Keep the name because it is right for your family. Simple.

As I was putting Ladybug to bed tonight she asked me why I gave her her name. I looked at her and told her I didn't. And of course the next question was "Who did?" So I reminded her that it was her first parents. Another advantage of keeping her name was that tonight she got another deeper understanding to her life. We talk about adoption regularly but as she grows she slowly gains understanding one straw at a time about her life. That simple questions led to me recounting to her what I know about her life and how we met. For me, keeping her name brought us just a little bit closer together tonight.

Mean Mama

Being honest

I am told that I must be honest about the diet.

So... I cheated yesterday. It wasn't a big cheat. But this diet is very unforgiving. I am great at this diet while at work. I mean, I can only eat what I brought with me. There is not kitchen stocked with food there. And I am poor so I can't just pop out to get some junk -- usually.

I made dinner last night. I had dinner within my diet guidelines. And I made Ladybug a cheeseburger and slices of green peppers (not nearly as loved as french fries). She ate about 2/3 of her cheeseburger when she announced she was done. We are not members of the clean plate club so I just reminded her this was dinner and if she was going to be hungry later she needed to eat now. She said she was full.

I let her go play as I sat at the table and read a local parenting magazine.

And her cheeseburger sat across the table from me, talking to me. Seriously. "Eat me!" "Eat me now!" In that voice from the venus fly trap plant in Little Shop of Horrors. Really. I could hear it. Or maybe I was hallucinating.

So I ate it.

I know it was wrong. I knew it at the time. But I could not (or did not want to) stop myself.

I stepped on the scale this morning and ...

Up .4 of a pound.

That is not a big gain. And I can lose it quickly again. And I will not beat myself up for it. But I will not cheat again. I will not cheat again. I WILL NOT CHEAT AGAIN. It is only 20 more days of dieting this round. 20 days! I can do this.

Fingers crossed for a more successful day today.

Mean Mama
PS- 5.2 down and 119 to go.

Sleeeeeeeep

Last night has to have been my worst night of sleep in such a long time. I admit I went to bed a little late. And I must stop doing that. But that was just the beginning.

Around 3am I noticed that Ladybug had at some point crawled into bed with me because she now cuddled up to me. Her sweet little hands caressed my face and I drifted back to sleep with my hand on her hair. But a few minutes later she woke me asking if she could go back to her room. I, of course, said yes and she crawled out of bed.

I tried drifting off to sleep again but she seemed to be making an awful lot of noise in her room.

Me: Honey.
Ladybug: Yes.
Me: Come here please.
Ladybug: Ok.
..........
Me: Honey
Ladybug: Yes
Me: Are you coming here?
Ladybug: Yes.
.........
Ladybug: Yes Mama.
Me: What are you doing in your room.
Ladybug: Playing.
Me: Honey, it is 3:00 in the morning (like that means anything to her). Please go to bed.
Ladybug: Aawwwwww!
Me: Honey, it is dark outside. Everybody else is asleep.
Ladybug: Not the people in China.
Me: .... Okay but everybody here is. Please go to bed.
Ladybug: Where?
Me: Here. Your Bed. You pick just go to sleep.

And she trotted off back to bed.

At about 5:35am she was back in my room.

Ladybug: Mama?
Me: Yes (please read this with a whiny voice)
Ladybug: Can I get up now?
Me: No.
Ladybug: This is taking forever.
Me: Honey, it is still dark out. You need to sleep. I need to sleep!
Ladybug: Fiiiiiine.

And she trotted off to bed again.

At just before 7:30am she was back in my room.

Ladybug: Mama?
Me: (Why? My alarm hasn't even gone off. I opened one eye)
Ladybug: Can I get up now. It is light outside.
Me: Yes.

She happily went to play in her room and I rolled over. About 30 seconds later my alarm went off.

So so so tired.

Mean Mama
PS- 5.6 down and 118.6 to go!

Cooking with the Bug

Last night I decided to try a new approach with meals. Ladybug is a junk food junkie. If it has fat, sugar or carbs she wants it. Even better if it has all 3. If it has a hint of healthiness she wants nothing to do with it. And she is getting chunky.

She refuses to eat anything healthy so eventually I cave and give her junk food. She can't go without food. Right?

Wrong! I shouldn't give in. Because eventually she will get hungry enough to eat what is given to her. I will try to be strong. I will try.

So last night we (read this as me -- she is 5, she has no decision making authority) to make apple and sage pork chops. She was required to help. I chopped. She stirred. And complained.

Eeewwwww!

Gross!

This is disgusting!

And that was even before I had the pork chops in the pan. So we had an attitude adjustment. Be positive. And I will say -- she really tried. You could tell it was hard for her but she made an effort.

I also thought this cooking experience might be good for her to understand the time it takes to prepare food. She asks for food and she wants then. She doesn't even want to wait 30 seconds it takes to heat something up in the microwave. We worked well together. I let her mess up. I let her make a mess. And she learned quickly.

And when dinner was ready we sat down to the table with a healthy meal. She took one bite. That's it. One. Announced it was yucky.

So I stuck to my guns. I didn't make her eat it. I just reminded her this was dinner. There would be no more food. And if she asked for food again, I would serve this to her. She agreed. But she didn't eat. And she didn't ask for more food.

I did notice that she ate of her lunch and snack today -- including the carrots.

One day down -- a life time of good eating habits to go.

Mean Mama

Another sister please

Oh she is focused! Really focused. Which I am glad to see because she gives up so easy most of the time. But I wish she had another focus.

Ladybug: Mama, I need someone to play with.
Me: So go make friends with the kids on the street.
Ladybug: No, I don't mean that.
Me: So what do you mean?
Ladybug: I mean I need someone in my family to play with.
Me: So you want to go visit K (her only cousin -- who lives far away).
Ladybug: No! (there are issues between them)
Me: Then who?
Ladybug: I mean someone who isn't a part of my family who will become a part of my family. Like we have to get on a plane and go really far away to get. And we adopt her. And she becomes a part of our family. Like from Africa. And then she is my sister.
Me: You know you will have to share your room if we do that?
Ladybug: What?!

I don't think she could be more clear in what she wants but she might need to think it all through a little more still.

Mean Mama
PS-4.4 down and 119.8 to go.

earned it again

I earned my title again this evening. Which is not surprising.

Ladybug and I headed up to her room to go through her clothes. She is growing out of clothes at a rapid rate. I walked into her room and discovered a ... disaster. So I asked her to clean it. I started to help. But I discovered that every storage unit, bin, bucket, and cranny in her room was stuffed full of crap. With no organization.

So I took every storage unit, bin, bucket, and cranny and dumped it in the middle of the room. We cleaned and sorted and organized. When it was about half way done she announced she was done and I could finish it.

What?

But I didn't lose it.

I just fine. "Please go brush your teeth, go potty (when will I stop using that word), and get in your pjs.

And she did. Well that didn't work. So when she had a mouth full of toothpaste I called out to her. "Honey, anything I clean up now is getting thrown away."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

And back she came to help me clean and sort and organize.

Mean Mama

Cooking Ethiopian

One of the things I will miss most during this diet is Ethiopian food. It does not meet the diet restrictions. At all!

After Ladybug came home I decided I should learn how to cook Ethiopian food. I mean, in my area there are several Ethiopian restaurants where I live so we could always go out but I thought it was important to learn. The first time I took Ladybug out for Ethiopian food I realized how important this was going to be for her. She had been home about 3 months when we out with friends. When they delivered the food to the table she looked at me. She looked at the plate. She looked back at me. Then she reached into the plate and took the tiniest piece of injera possible. She slowly stuck it into her mouth and tasted it. Then she dove head first into the plate. She loves loves loves Ethiopia food. Won't touch Mexican or Chinese food but she would eat Ethiopian every day if I would make it.

I tried making injera. Twice. It was a disaster. Injera is the spongy, pancake like bread that comes with every dish. The food is served on it and you use it to eat the food. Yeah!! Finger food. I love finger food. But I can not make injera. When I started the process of cooking injera I thought it was going to be easy. WRONG! Eventually I gave up trying. I buy it now. I know it will be good and I don't have to do the work.

I have found that the best way to get the authentic flavor for the dishes is to cook them with spiced butter or oil. This means that I must first cook the butter or the oil. Onions, spices, butter or oil. Seems easy. And it is worth it. It adds a ton of flavor to each dish. Technically all vegetarian dishes are made with oil and all meat dishes are made with butter. I like to make all of my dishes with butter because I prefer the rich creamy flavor that the butter adds that oil just doesn't And it is a good thing. Try one at making the oil went well. Try two ... well, not so well.

At the time I lived in a house with a tiny kitchen. Let me explain "tiny" for you. If I stood in the middle of my kitchen and spun in a circle I could touch the stove, sink, and cabinets (I added these because there was none). If I opened the fridge the door hit the stacked washer and dryer. TINY! But it was just Ladybug and I so we made due.

I set out to make my second try at oil on a Sunday. I had laundry going and a big pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I had the TV going in the living room (this is important). I chopped onions. I poured oil and water into a pan to bring to a slow boil (big stew size pan). I measured the spices. As I waited for the oil and water to boil I heard something come on the TV that I wanted to see (and that I no longer have a memory of) so I went into the living room. I had been in the living about 1 minute when I heard a big bang come from the kitchen. Serious BANG! I ran into the kitchen.

I turned the corner to the stove and ... next thing I knew I was on my butt. My foot slid into the stove and I sliced open my toe. I was confused. I had no idea how I got on the floor. I looked up at the stove. The pan was not on the burner I had left it on. It was about this time that I noticed something dripping on me. I looked up at the ceiling. Something was dripping from the ceiling. Yes. Oil! I was sitting in oil. It finally dawned on me that the bang had to been the oil. I now know that the pan exploded and oil went everywhere. Everywhere.

So I tried to get up. Fat lady sitting on a kitchen floor covered in oil. Yeah, it wasn't going to happen. Literally. I couldn't get any traction. I finally slithered my way across the floor and onto the dirty clothes. Finally I had a method to stand up. I looked around. Every inch of my kitchen was covered in oil. Every inch! The floors, the ceilings, the counters, even things in the cabinets.

Luckily my mom came over (this is when she lived next door to me) and helped clean the kitchen. We scrubbed every single spot of the kitchen. I guess the kitchen needed a good cleaning. Every once in a while, for months later, I would notice oil seeping out of the walls and ceiling and give them a good scrubbing again.

As a result, I make everything with the butter. I like the taste. And I hate cleaning.

I was going to post a few pictures of my attempts of Ethiopian cooking but I have no idea where I have saved them. So no pretty pictures. Even with my mishap I love cooking Ethiopian food and I love eating it.

Mean Mama
PS - 3.6 down and 120.6 to go.

First day

I was a good girl yesterday. I started my diet...again. I will be successful and committed. And, at least for a while, hungry.

So I got up and weighed myself.



First, sorry about the hairy toes.

Second, apparently I have a little more to lose then I thought. But just a little. New goal is 124.2 pounds by June 29th. Fingers crossed.

And then came the headless picture time, which Ladybug got on the first try.



I almost didn't post the picture. I don't feel as fat as I look. And I look fat in this picture. I know I am that fat but I let me mind fool me into believing something else.

And for the record, I think it is important to record measurements too. Another embarrassing moment!

bicep: 16.5
forearm: 12
bust: 50
upper belly: 49
waist: 50
lower belly: 56
hips: 56
thigh: 32
calf: 18

Yep. Embarrassing!

Stayed tuned for weekly updates on the weekends. And keep your fingers crossed that I can be successful -- for health sakes.

Mean Mama

PS -- This morning's weight was 272.8. Off to a good start. 1.4 down, 122.8 to go!