Love Thy Neighbor

For some crazy reason, my neighbor think it's okay to call me fat to my face. See, the thing is too, I'm post-baby chubby, yes, but I don't think I'm "fat". Maybe I'm in denial. Yeah, I am, so what? I'm a good 20 pounds away from my average weight. I gain a lot of weight when I birth my big boys (9 lbs for my first, almost 10 for my second). With my first, I gained, SIXTY pounds while pregnant. I lost 55 lbs of that after I had him, but it took me almost two years. Yes, a long time. My post-pregnancy hormones make it really hard for the weight to come off. I try like hell, and it does come off, but s-l-o-w-l-y. With my second boy, I gained 48 pounds and I have lost 30, with about 20 more needed. I had my baby 9 months ago and I'm only losing a couple pounds a month, ugh. Anyhow, I know I'm chubby and I am trying like hell to change that. I don't know why my neighbor, who is overweight herself, thinks it's okay to call me out on this, but she does. And I've had it. The first two weight encounters I had with her, I had while pregnant. I excused the rudeness, because a lot of people think a woman's weight is open season when she's with child. I don't understand it, and it still hurts, but some people think because they're are two (or more) of you in that body, it must sting less. I got comments while preggo with my second about being "big", was I "sure I wasn't carrying twins?" and "wow, you're really ready to POP! (when I was about 2 months away, actually). I thought it wasn't polite, but I didn't expect the fat jokes to return, post-pregnancy.



This afternoon, I was out in the beautiful Autumn sun with my two boys, in the front yard. We have an incredibly beautiful maple tree in the front that drops leaves of crimson and gold this time of year. I grabbed two big pumpkins and set up an inpromtu photo shoot. As I was out there, my old-world Italian neighbor,who is her in 80's, with a heavy Italian accent walked over to give my boys some Halloween candy (including a gigantic bag of Baby Ruth for my NINE MONTH OLD). Anyhow, I thanked her up and down for her kindness, exchanged some pleasantries and when back to my camera. My neighbor, let's call her, Gina, decided that there was no longer a need for social formalities, she was going for my heart. "Lisa, you look fat. Chubby. You look so chubby". Pan to me with my jaw on the floor, stunned. "Your face used to be so skinny, not-so-much now." Um, thanks Gina. I'm actually still fat from my having my baby. Thank you for pointing this out. "You must sleep a lot, Lisa. You get chubby when you sleep a lot, like me." "Um, no Gina, I get about 4 hours of sleep a night and don't sit down for more than 5 minutes all day, except for dinner. I'm fat from my pregnancy, not activity level. Thanks, have a good night." I wish I had put her in her place more, but I was so stunned, I didn't know what to do. I definitely didn't think that a nice family afternoon in the yard would turn into an attack on my appearance. Why does she think this is okay? I actually have great relationship with all of my other neighbors, too! Listen, I wasn't stunned by the content of what she said. I know I'm chubby and I wish the weight was coming off faster. I'm still breastfeeding and this weight is coming off like molasses, but I'm getting there, damn! I wasn't stunned like I would be if my mom called me up and told me I was adopted, I see myself everyday. I just didn't think a neighbor would feel a need to remind me. Thank, Gina, eat poop. Yep, my come-backs are no better than my son's.

To the Future Person Who First Captures My Son's Heart

I don't know your name yet, what you look like or what exactly it is about you that drew my son in. I don't know any of these things yet, but I know that one day, you will draw my son in and he will be yours for the taking. You see, my son has always been a gentle, loving, sensitive little guy. From the moment that he was born, he felt so deeply what those around him were feeling. If I cried, he cried with much more intensity. If I was laughing, he filled the room with his giggles and if I smiled, his grin beamed from ear to ear. As a toddler, if I was frustrated, he would take it in and pound his little fists on the table, as if, to help me vent out my own anger. He loves and always has. He had always been a sensitive little guy and sometimes this has hurt him. He was always the boy on the playground that liked to play fair and would give up his toy if someone else wanted it enough. We tried to show him how to have his own voice and how to think of himself sometimes. If another kid made a mean comment, as kids so often do, he felt it to his core. He would ask me, "what did I do, mommy, to make them say that?" It always broke my heart, but I was so happy to know that my son had a heart full of love, empathy and compassion. Don't get me wrong, he had his moments, but for the most part, he has always been a sweet and caring boy. We said from the moment that he was born, he felt everything 1000%. Life excites him. Little things bring him joy and light him up like a million watt light bulb. Music, sports, gardening, reading, painting, dancing, being around others, you name it, and this boy loves it. He has always danced and sang his little heart out. His smile, oh his smile. You know that his smile could break down and build back up, even the grumpiest of grumps. His dimples will break your heart, a thousands times over. He is never is short on compliments and "I love you's". He always had them at just the right moments, too. One time when he was just about 3 years-old, he followed me into a dressing room to try on some new clothes. I was feeling oh-so-horrible about my post-baby body from just having had his baby brother and quietly broke down in tears while looking at my reflection in the mirror. I turned around, as I didn't want him to see me sad. He grabbed me hand and said, "Mommy, you look so beautiful. This shirt is so cute on you." There was no better comment from no better person than that right there. He has a knack for knowing the best thing to say at just the perfect time. When he hugs, he hugs with his whole heart. He loves to give kisses on the cheek and hold your hand when you need a little comfort. If you need a laugh, he is right there telling his usual, silly jokes. A person that is lucky enough to grab his heart is incredibly special. And this is why I am writing to you. There is something or many things about you that my son finds amazing. If he finds you amazing, I'm sure I will too. Although, I can't guarantee that I will trust you right away. I'm one tough mommy and a mama bear with my boys. I protect and I know young love can hurt down deep. So please, take care of my boy. He loves you and has opened up his beautiful soul, wide open to you. Handle it with care. Whatever you do, show him respect and the gentle, loving care that I am sure that he has always shown you. He was born a loving boy who feels, so any cut that you give it going to cut deep. Love can hurt and life can be hard, this happens. I cannot protect my boy from everything, but I would like for his first try at love to not be too hard on his heart. Oh, and if you ever want to completely make his day, turn the music up loud and just dance. That and some chocolate chip cookies. Well, it always seemed to work when he was three.

The Untimely Demise of Miss Gorgeous

My oldest son had some sad, sad news to share the other night. I asked him how his girlfriend, Gorgeous, was doing. Her full name is, (well, was) Gorgeous Countess. How does my son even know what a Countess is? Did he hear me trash talking about obnoxious socialites from my guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New York? Anyhow, back to the issue at hand. Gorgeous Countess has died. What? Little Man told me that "Gorgeous died. She got old. She went to see Grandma Betty in Heaven." Ugh, this conversation was doing downhill and dark fast. I was happy that it was old age that got Gorgeous and not something else. I asked how old she was and Little man said, "137". Well, I'm not happy to know that Gorgeous is gone, but it's interesting that my 3 year-old could have had a father-in-law that fought in the civil war.

The Man Room

My husband wants a man room. Let me explain, as this might sound, a little weird. My husband drools at the thought of a room, all to himself. One tucked away in the basement with ugly, comfortable chairs, a stocked mini-fridge and a tv. A tv dedicated to non-stop sports and ESPN. He says that one day, he wants a room to himself, away from it all (read: me) where he can relax. He says he needs a room because I have "the whole house". Huh? We share a bedroom with our 9-month old, I am still nursing, I have NO personal space. He then counters with "well, you got to decorate every room, so they're yours". I didn't know a mish-mash of cheap Ikea furniture counted as "decorating". But if so, I'm awesome. My husband wants a room where guys can hang out. Here's the thing about guys hanging out, NOTHING happens. Listening to two dudes talk and hang out is about exciting as watching a sponge dry. Listen, I love my husband and I truly believe he is, maybe, the smartest person I know. Name a country and he can tell you their current leader, the ruling party's history, and their current economic situation. He is a smart guy. He is a smart guy who doesn't seem smart when hanging out with other dudes. Why? Because guys don't seem smart when they're around one another. Their conversations are sparse and mono-syllabic, but there is a comfort they find in that. Less is more and men just like to feel at ease with not having to fill every available second with the spoken word. It is kind of nice. I don't know why my husband needs a separate room for this, but wait, yes I do. If I had to live with a woman who liked to talk as much as I do, I would want a separate room to vegetate in, as well. I just wonder what this house will sound like in 10 years when the boys want to hang out with Dad and Mom is wandering around to all of the rooms looking for someone to talk about the latest study on vitamin D with...

Big Guy, Big Responsibilites

My 3 year-old told me tonight that he could not eat dinner, no way, no how. Why you ask? He couldn't eat his taco, rice and broccoli because he had to "get to his first night of work". He then told me that if he didn't get to work, he wouldn't be able to pay for cable for "his girl". Hmm, his girl? I asked for details and he happily gave them. According to my son, he had a girlfriend named Gorgeous. Yes, Gorgeous. And Gorgeous was "his girl". He had to go to work because they liked watching cable and since he's a "guy" now he has to pay for cable. Gorgeous lives "in the city in Africa", she speaks Spanish and she's a magician, to boot. He told me that he lives in Africa too, I just didn't know it. I always knew that my son would grow up and go live a big guy life, I just expect for it to happen before Kindergarten.

Ravenous? Not so much.

Growing up with a giant for a brother (well, maybe not a giant, but he is 6'6") with a very high metabolism, I thought all boys ate a refridgerator worth of food every day (and still felt slightly unsatisfied...) My brother was and still is a string bean. He is tall, skinny and could eat a horse and ask what else there is to eat. My husband is an eater. Not quite on the same level as my brother, but an eater. My Dad is obsessed with food, as well. I have spent my life around males that have always gone above and beyond the "daily suggested calorie intake". Assuming that most males devour food, I thought having two boys would break the bank. I understand that infants and toddlers don't quite have the appetite of a teenager, but I do know from teaching preschool that I saw many a little guy consume 3 whole bagels and then ask for more. When I was pregnant with our first, I imagined having to work 3 jobs just to keep our fridge stocked when puberty hit. In actuality, my boys don't eat. They are busy, on the move and simply not interested in food. How could this be? My husband and I are eaters and love food a little too much. Our first born is healthy, active and eats just enough to keep him going. Our second son is 9 months old and cries when he sees his high chair. The kid is just not into food. We have tried everything and he pretty much just wants refried beans, guacamole and platanos. A budding foodie, perhaps? I do know that we have to see a specialist this week because his weight gain is less than stellar. I hope they just tell us that we have a stubborn kid with excellent taste.