They were at it again. I could hear my boys squabbling over yet another episode of “Special Agent Oso.” It had come to the end of the episode where the stuffed bear agent “rewards” the viewing children with a special medal.
My boys always, without fail, will start arguing long before the medal part shows up. They argue over who is going to be the winner of the medal. Sometimes it gets pretty heated. They will even get physical with each other on occasion. It’s actually quite comical for me to witness.
When they first started fighting over the silly medal on this tv show, I almost stepped in.
I almost stepped in and told them that they needed to share the medal; that everyone wins.
I have this peach-colored, stretchy kind of shirt that had been sitting in my shirt drawer for what seemed like forever. It had been a while since I’d last worn it because it seemed to always fit the wrong way.
It hugged all of my curves, both the good ones and the ones that I would rather keep hidden. You know those unattractive back rolls? Yeah, this momma has them. One of these days I won’t have them anymore. I hope.
But, I did just spend several years in a row being pregnant constantly. As much as I tried keeping the weight off, six pregnancies in 5 years (four of them resulting in live births) don’t really give the body adequate time to recover. Throw in a couple years of severe postpartum depression, and you can imagine the impact my weight has received.
I decided to give the shirt another try. I slipped it on and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked slim. I felt beautiful. It didn’t seem to hug my curves like usual. A burst of confidence surged through me!
I got so excited and ran to the bathroom scale. I stepped on it, eager to see my apparent progress. The number that blinked back at me was not what I expected. Instead of losing, I had GAINED two pounds! No, it was not a result of working out and gaining muscle. I haven’t worked out in quite some time. I know; shame on me.
My confidence shattered and sprinkled all over the floor around me. I got off the scale and put it away, discouragement slowly filling inside me.
I stepped in front of the mirror again, and this time I didn’t see the slim woman I saw before. My curves looked awkward, and the shirt no longer seemed flattering.
I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed this morning, and I came across a picture my sister had posted this morning. One of my other sisters had gotten shirt pillows made for Becca and her kids, with old shirts of Harley’s. It’s no surprise that there were a lot of tears shed over the pillows this morning. Even I had to fight back tears as I looked at the picture.
Can I be honest? I found myself breaking down over buy lasix medication online just yesterday. I thought about my sister and her children as they are still trying to work through their new normal without their favorite man. I imagined what it would be like if Evan were to never come home. I can’t even fathom it. What my sister and her children face every day is buy lasix 500 mg
It’s after midnight, and I’ve just put my third son back to bed for the umpteenth time. (By the way, what number exactly is “umpteenth?” I’ve always wondered this.) I’m tired. I’m really tired. I want to throw in the towel and go to sleep right now.
But, I have things I need to do. I’m going to get them accomplished and then go to sleep for however many hours are left in the night. I know I’m going to wake up feeling exhausted in the morning.