There are a few things I miss when pregnant. I miss a ice cold pilsner on a hot day. The full bouquet of an well balanced cabernet savigion. The crisp, acidic flavor of a well chilled savignion blanc. Even the syrupy sweet nearly effervescent flavor of an ice wine. Tequilla, oh how I love it straight up or mixed in a margarita on the rocks with a salted rim and lots of spicy Mexican food. I miss these things when I am pregnant but I can easily live without, the hubs is welcome to enjoy without me and in front of me, no big deal.

My husband is welcome to enjoy a bike ride, roller blade (though I don’t see him doing that, ever), roller skate, ride a roller coaster. Not a big deal for him to do so in front of me, I enjoy said activities but I can live without. I know I will get to enjoy soon enough, no big deal.

There is but one thing my husband isn’t to enjoy in my presence when I am with child, one thing alone and that is sushi. I have given him the death look when he even mentions sashimi in my presence. My mouth begins to water and I end up having those vivid pregnancy hormone induced dreams about a beautifully large serving of Ahi sashimi, salmon, octopus, yellow tale. I wake up drooling and frustrated and annoyed with the world as I have to resist the craving, the need of having the tender decadent sea flavored raw fish.

Well, part of my recovery and my celebration after having major surgery and having my child no longer in my womb but in my arms I get to enjoy a huge helping of sashimi. I begin to plan my attack of this plate ode to raw fish a month before my child’s estimated due date, how I plan to inhale and hopefully recall my first taste of rich, fatty fish.

Editors Note: I would have a beautiful stock image of the actual sashimi she ate, but I dare not stand between her and her fish! When I encounter my first sushi experience after having my child it is a frenzied whirl wind of fish, soy sauce, wasabi, and pickled ginger. I try to admire my beautiful plate with an glorious assortment of colors so vibrant, I try to sip my miso and gaze at my prey to enjoy the pure anticipation of my meal. Then I attack, trying to enjoy each note of each type of sea food on my plate, comparing and contrasting the texture difference. Then I hit a euphoric point when all goes silent and silky textures, salty flavors, combined with the sweet flavor of fish. Then before I know it my little romance is over and I long for more. But for a while I sit back and smile like the cat ate the canary and recall the glorious first to last bite and consider the next time my passionate, frenzied rendezvous will be with sushi.

I’ve been asked this question numerous times and usually shrug and say, “I don’t know. I just do.”

I have been teased for years by my husband as I have memories, vivid memories, from two years old if not younger. I have asked my mom about them and she is always caught off guard when I give specific details and she can remember said incident. Every now and again I catch my father off guard with my memory. My sister has told me that it shouldn’t be possible and yet I catch her off guard with the accuracy of my memories.

Last night I clutched my husband’s hand watching Grey’s Anatomy season finale, and he kept asking me if I should be watching it due to some of my life experiences. Too many bad experiences through family with guns, which is a cruel irony considering only one family member owned a gun and it was only for the sport of hunting. Then in attempts to prevent me waking him up with nightmares he sat and chit chatted with me to see why I was upset when I was upset.

Maybe that is why my memories are so vivid from so long ago. So many traumatic or dramatic things occurred throughout my childhood so it is hard not to remember some of the simple aspects of my life around said memories. My husband shook his head as I explained that when I was very young I was convinced that much of life wasn’t real, couldn’t be because those kinds of things don’t happen around little kids. He shook his head because he was disturbed by my recounting of some of the sadder or scarier memories. My parents did all they could to protect me but sadly no matter how hard they tried, life happened and I saw things and experienced things beyond their control.

Maybe this is why the life of a stay at home mom looked so attractive when we were dating, and I was 19 years old, why marriage was an amazing and exciting when I was 20. Maybe this is why after eight years of marriage, and nearly two children later (T will be an outside baby soon) I consider my life beautiful and amazing and incredibly exciting. I had already lived a very full and exciting life and was ready to slow the hell down.

Yes, I remember that, in great detail. I remember using my smurf vacuum I got when I was two in my grandfather’s house. I remember the original lay out so well that when I walked through his remodeled home nearly a decade later I was able to show my mother how it used to be laid out to a T. Then recount my memory of my great aunt in the kitchen cooking.

Yeah, I keep hoping I will continue to add to my vivid memories, even though things aren’t as traumatic or dramatic. I’m loving the calm that has occurred in my life, and I hope it continues.

I grew up in the 80’s, not a terribly exciting time in automobile history.  In addition, my family, while sharing great stories about cool cars in their past, never owned anything particularly exiting while I was a kid.  Maybe the coolest car was the Volvo 145 Estate which we owned when I was very young.

Back then, if you were a car guy you had two options.  An american musclecar with a big block intended only to go from 0-60, or through the traps 1320ft or 660ft away as quickly as possible.  Stopping? Let’s not worry about that, shall we?  The other choice was a foreign car, usually japanese, and usually not particularly quick sporty by virtue of the excellent handling and braking abilities.

I started out by going down the musclecar route.  My first car was a 1967 Ford Thunderbird.  It had suicide doors, manual windows, no A/C and the (fairly rare) 428FE engine option.  The original owner was clearly only interested in going fast, in spite of the luxury inherent to the Thunderbird.  I may never know the story of the original owner, but I like to imagine that it belonged to a hip dude with his wife and 1.86 children.  I’d like to imagine that the car went to fetch groceries, and surprise an occasional mustang or camaro on it’s way.

The car was a lot of fun, and it was a big handful too.  As my first car, with a big block in the front driving two skinny tires in the back I saw the rear of the car pass me more than a few times.  It didn’t stop very well, the tie rod ends, rag joint, and steering box were all well worn, so I literally drove it like the hero in the last action b movie you watched.  You know the drill, tossing the wheel about 1/8 of a turn either direction from center rapidly while looking in the rear view nervously.

Sadly, the true muscle car experience was never really meant to be for me.  Since it was my first car, I didn’t have a lot of money to spend on it so I didn’t repair a lot of the things which were in dire need, and I had no real concept of how to maintain a car like that.  It lasted for a little over a year in my possession before it protested the neglect whilst traveling 105(ish) northbound on the 101 at a little past midnight.  I heard a subtle “clunk” and a loss of power, and then no matter how far I pushed the pedal down, the car continued to lose power.  Eventually, I stopped, smoke billowing from the engine compartment, and my mind racing trying to figure out how I was going to get home.  Little did I know that I had been being followed for many miles, by the California Highway Patrol.  After keeping me in suspense long enough, the police finally put me out of my misery and let me know that they weren’t going to give me a citation, and that the state of my car was punishment enough.

I did manage to get the car apart, and to rebuild the engine, and the transmission.  But then it sat.. For years… Many other cars came and went, but the Thunderbird sat.  My father finally insisted that I get it out of his shop, so the car got reassembled, but I was newly married, and had arguably less disposable income than I did when I first bought the car.  I sold it for $2500 with surprisingly little remorse.

I also had the small import experience a little later on.  I got sucked into the import culture, and wound up buying a 1989 Honda CRX Si.  This car was quick, and fun.  It wasn’t as powerful, visceral as the Thunderbird but it was composed and handled with surgical precision by comparison.  I even got to customize this thing a bit, lowering springs, high performance tires, and a decent high end stereo.  I really enjoyed this car, but I just grew out of it.  Not figuratively, not emotionally, not the fact that I’m growing up and it’s no longer appropriate.  Nope, around 23ish I actually grew an inch or two, and I simply did not fit in the car anymore.  I sold it, and I still kinda miss it, more than the Thunderbird sometimes, actually.

Neither car was exactly “right” though.  I really want a car that drives small, and handles well.  But, I really dig the acceleration G forces that can only be generated by a rear wheel drive rig with lots of ponies under the hood.  When I owned the Thunderbird, the thought that it could possibly handle like a small car was not likely.  Not only was it not “acceptable” to the muscle car purists, but the parts simply didn’t exist.

Enter the increasingly popular pro touring car.  Opinions vary on exactly what “Pro Touring” means but for me it means a synergy of a classic car’s undeniable style with all of the conveniences and luxuries that have become standard on modern cars.  Things like a smooth idling fuel injected motor, polyurethane suspension bushings, climate control, cup holders, a modern stereo system.  All of the things that we simply take for granted in our modern performance cars.  The common theme of a lot of pro touring cars you might read about in car magazines is their astronomical price tags, but in my opinion it doesn’t need to be that way.

Imagine picking up 60’s or 70’s coupe (or sedan, no shame in that) that’s in good shape.  Chevy, Ford, Mopar, pick your poison but you should be able to pick up a car that doesn’t require a whole lot of body work on the cheap.  Since we’re planning to put a modern drivetrain in it anyway you could even find a nice rolling chassis that was an abandoned project or a well cared for car who’s engine met an untimely demise, and you can save even more cash.  The next step, find a modern engine and transmission.  That doesn’t have to be particularly expensive either, your best bet is to find a modern ride that’s been wrecked, or spend a few minutes trolling craigslist or eBay.  You should be able to have your pick of fuel injected modern engines with relatively low mileage.  Now, spend some time addressing the little maintenance issues and other small fixes on your classic donor, and stuff that modern drivetrain between the frame rails.  If you play your cards right there’s probably some off the shelf parts for your particular swap to ease the effort and cost.  Chances are you’ll have spent less than $15k to build a car with all of that classic style, and the reliability and fuel economy of a modern car.  So which would you rather have, a Honda Fit, or a custom classic that you can drive every day?  Yeah I thought so.

My relationship with Barbie was an interesting one. I was only given a single Black barbie, I’m not sure if there were Latina barbies when I was little. My Aunt (the educated career woman) made sure they had curly hair and were professionals that I could look up to. My Aunt even took it to another level and usually bought me a book with the doll she bought me in hopes I would be more fascinated with reading than playing with the warped ideal of beauty our society encourages us to buy into at a young age. Well done Auntie, well done. I did get in fact get bored with that doll in a hurry and continued my love affair with books for many, many more years.

My mom was cool with me having different Barbies of different cultures (we rarely bought them but I inherited many from a friend that out grew all her ‘baby’ toys) but said absolutely no Ken dolls. Why? Because they weren’t anatomically correct and she was concerned I would be confused and frightened later on in life.

My mother also made sure I understood that I knew that I would never look like Barbie. Later she was thrilled when I learned that Barbie would have to crawl to properly support her chest size as her shape was absolutely impossibility unhealthy to function with those proportions.

Maybe I’m a bit of a feminist, that is debatable. I never wanted to be Barbie as a child, I only wanted to design clothes for her and style her hair. I mean, who else can you create fashionable dresses for out of your mismatched frilly socks? I learned to layer my hair cuts from her which was helpful as I cut my own hair for a couple years. I also loved to pack her van for long trips and let her chill in her house in the jacuzzi. Sadly though I would get bored and she would at times end her relaxing soak with a blow dryer falling in the water (not my fault she was trying to multitask, I knew you weren’t supposed to play with electronics when in water) and she would have to be carted out on a make shift gurney with a Kleenex as a sheet over her corpse.

Barbie for me was fun until I bought a Black Barbie that was supposed to be a Miss Universe contestant from an African country, she was expensive for me at the tender age of 12 and within a week of owning her my little sister and I were trying to see how flexible her legs were and broke one of her legs out of her torso completely. I was upset with how shoddy it was made (obviously it had nothing to do with the fact that my sister and I were yanking on her legs like a wish bone) and swore I wouldn’t buy anymore Barbies. I gave all my dolls to my little sister and I don’t think they were in our home for much longer as my sister quickly deemed them ‘baby’ toys.

I see even today Barbie still has a strong hold on many girls interest. Which, again, makes me thrilled that I am a mother of two boys. It’s less of an issue of whether or not I would let them buy these dolls and the possible impact on their self worth and self image. Now I have to convince my boys to love that we are all beautifully made in a huge variety of shapes, colors, and sizes.

I guess no girl get’s to completely stop thinking about Barbie after all.

My relationship with Barbie was an interesting one. I was only given a single Black barbie, I’m not sure if there were Latina barbies when I was little. My Aunt (the educated career woman) made sure they had curly hair and were professionals that I could look up to. My Aunt even took it to another level and usually bought me a book with the doll she bought me in hopes I would be more fascinated with reading than playing with the warped ideal of beauty our society encourages us to buy into at a young age. Well done Auntie, well done. I did get in fact get bored with that doll in a hurry and continued my love affair with books for many, many more years. My mom was cool with me having different Barbies of different cultures (we rarely bought them but I inherited many from a friend that out grew all her ‘baby’ toys) but said absolutely no Ken dolls. Why? Because they weren’t anatomically correct and she was concerned I would be confused and frightened later on in life. My mother also made sure I understood that I knew that I would never look like Barbie. Later she was thrilled when I learned that Barbie would have to crawl to properly support her chest size as her shape was absolutely impossibility unhealthy to function with those proportions. Maybe I’m a bit of a feminist, that is debatable. I never wanted to be Barbie as a child, I only wanted to design clothes for her and style her hair. I mean, who else can you create fashionable dresses for out of your mismatched frilly socks? I learned to layer my hair cuts from her which was helpful as I cut my own hair for a couple years. I also loved to pack her van for long trips and let her chill in her house in the jacuzzi. Sadly though I would get bored and she would at times end her relaxing soak with a blow dryer falling in the water (not my fault she was trying to multitask, I knew you weren’t supposed to play with electronics when in water) and she would have to be carted out on a make shift gurney with a Kleenex as a sheet over her corpse. Barbie for me was fun until I bought a Black Barbie that was supposed to be a Miss Universe contestant from an African country, she was expensive for me at the tender age of 12 and within a week of owning her my little sister and I were trying to see how flexible her legs were and broke one of her legs out of her torso completely. I was upset with how shoddy it was made (obviously it had nothing to do with the fact that my sister and I were yanking on her legs like a wish bone) and swore I wouldn’t buy anymore Barbies. I gave all my dolls to my little sister and I don’t think they were in our home for much longer as my sister quickly deemed them ‘baby’ toys. I see even today Barbie still has a strong hold on many girls interest. Which, again, makes me thrilled that I am a mother of two boys. It’s less of an issue of whether or not I would let them buy these dolls and the possible impact on their self worth and self image. Now I have to convince my boys to love that we are all beautifully made in a huge variety of shapes, colors, and sizes. I guess no girl get’s to completely stop thinking about Barbie after all.

There are a multitude of ways people like to cope with the stresses of life. Life seems to be getting more and more stressful. I know my life has, as a parent, a spouse, life just seems to be a on going juggling act. I just remember watching my mother as a single parent in wonder, in awe over how she did everything she did on her own. I later on learned the amazing accomplishments my grandmother’s succeeded in. Then there are my great grandmother’s, how one had 13 children I may never know just like I may never fully comprehend how she did so in a two bedroom home with one bathroom. I wonder how they coped.

I like to cope in a few different ways but my safe place of late is in a book, nose deep in a silly novel letting the world around me blur and peeking into a fictional character’s life. When I was young I lost track of an entire summer as all I wanted to do was read. I had just moved in with family I wasn’t too familiar with and to another state, but Judy Blum novels soothed me. When high school got rough I started to disappear in the library again, it was a happy safe place. There is a nastalgic smell of library books that to this day bring a smile to my face. When I got married and there was no internet or cable (yes TV is another popular escape) my husband and I would go to book stores and get silly magazines and books and share the things we read. We would read and have mini adventures.

I don’t go out and buy books by the arm load anymore, well not for my reading pleasure. My son’s have an interesting collection of children’s book already. My eldest brings me stacks of books excited to look at pictures, count, look at colors and he will occasionally let me read to him. I love that one of his first few words was book, and he says it like it is a fantastic announcement, “BOOK!” and grins from ear to ear.

While we start to count down the days till my youngest son is to be born I have gotten quiet. Life is crazy and I keep telling myself to slow down, breath, enjoy every incredible moment that is in the present. I don’t want to miss a thing. My eldest son has amazed me in the past few months, his growing skills, just watching him sleep leaves me in awe most days. My method of coping and trying to slow down so I can enjoy these moments? My old dear friend, sitting with my nose in a book, disappearing in another world that reminds me that my life is amazing and to count my blessings. I stop reading when real life is calling, relaxed and ready to savor each second with a new outlook. I love books

Generally speaking, I don’t actively participate in the weekly #carchat on Twitter, but I do occasionally glean a few points as I watch it stream across my Twitter timeline.

Take for instance this week’s #carchat where I saw @banovsky say the following. [twitter_status_by_id id=“13882824556”]

Now, I’ve built a CarPC and have some familiarity with the topic, and on the surface this seemed like a REALLY good idea, so I excitedly replied. [twitter_status_by_id id=“13883363838”]

And apparently @bprosperi agreed; [twitter_status_by_id id=“13883473947”]

Admittedly however, my response was not based on any particular facts or prior research, it just sounded like a novel idea. So when I was challenged, I honestly didn’t have anything particularly intelligent to say. [twitter_status_by_id id=“13883392253”]

[twitter_status_by_id id=“13883614504”]

That was pretty much it for that conversation, I was running out the door to head home from work, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of activity on that conversation topic. But the brief exchange did get me thinking. I’m going to be tackling the challenge of updating my CarPC and installing it in the Caddy at some point in the future, and it might make sense to consider my options in the Mobile OS arena. With that, I decided to refine my understanding a bit.

What I found, was actually quite disappointing! It seems that a lot of folks in the car computing community have given this topic a lot of consideration, starting all the way back when Android was first announced. The first several links of the search I did were all links back to the mp3car.com forums, and I observed a few common threads.

Screensize

Android is hyper focused on small mobile devices (read teeny screens), so while it’s very touch centric, which is good for car computing, existing apps will not scale well to the standard 7” car computing touchscreen. Which means that any software which would be properly useful in a car, on the Android OS, would have to be built exclusively for that purpose. That seems fine on the surface, but it excludes you from the primary Android market, and creates a new niche which may be extraordinarily small, if it takes off at all.

Level of interactivity

Android expects the user to be engaged and actively interacting with the device. This is a reasonable expectation for a mobile phone that you’ll use to play games, use social networking, web browse, etc. But the car computing use case is VERY different, you want to be able to interact with the device with as little cognitive overhead as possible. This is the reason that the use of mobile phones is being outlawed in many states. So again, you’d have to build something exclusively for car computing, on a platform with an entirely different focus.

Pay it back

Android is based on Linux, but it is not true to the spirit and intent of Free Open Source Software (FOSS). Android has reinvented the wheel many times over, and created subsystems which do (almost) the same thing as a similar subsystem already available in Linux, but in a way that’s only useful on a mobile device. Fundamentally, this makes sense, since the problems they’re trying to solve are rather specific to the application. The problem though, is that none of that work done to “enhance” the FOSS software upon which Android is based is of any use to anyone but the Android team.

This problem would be even further compounded if Android OS were used in the context it was brought up by @sandbarmark for #carchat. [twitter_status_by_id id=“13882779065”]

Can you imagine? Let’s suppose GM does decide to adopt the Android OS, and turn it into their own version of Ford’s wildly popular Sync entertainment system. Chances are they’re going to take the already very device specific Android OS, take a few key pieces from it, and write their own application suite on top of it. This would mean MORE duplicated work which would likely prove to be only useful to GM, and not to the Android community at large, or the Linux community to which it owes it’s existence!

My Conclusion

While at first blush, the idea of an “open” mobile OS powering in car entertainment devices seemed very attractive I don’t think it’s the answer. If GM is going to pursue building some software and hardware for in car entertainment, they should take a serious look at simply building on top of Linux, rather than having to work around the mobile-device-centric limitations of Android. Plus, if they did it right, the entire Linux community could benefit from their efforts.

Q’s pediatrician was both R’s and my pediatrician when we were little. Due to an emergency situation he still remembers me, vividly. We are considered relatively young parents in our area. For the most part, here you are either a teen parent or you wait until you are at least 35 or older. We are the odd couple somewhere in the middle. So we have an interesting relationship, I feel like he considers us with a little affection.

When we first brought Q in for his first check up his doctor was giggling asking about how we were doing with bodily fluids. Both R and I laughed and said it is just par for the course. I had, at that point been pooped on, my husband had been peed on; both of us had been spit up on.

I had to take Q in to see the pediatrician last week to just confirm he just had a cold and wasn’t dealing with anything more serious. I was holding Q while he was getting his ears check and his nose was running down to his shirt. I wanted to wipe his nose but I had to hold him still so it was impossible. His doctor giggled and pointed out the mess. I shrugged, wiped his nose and said that is what the washing machine is for. He looked at me rather surprised.

Doctor, Sir. I’m a mom. Snot, pee, poop, dirt, sticky foods, it is just part of being a parent. I rarely get to have an outfit on for more than an hour around my son before I will have some kind of shmutz on me. When I have two boys I’m sure it will be worse. I’m ok with that, heck I’m even excited about that. LOL! And to to think that some thought I was prissy.

I get this question often. May it be about how it feels to be mixed in race, being in an ‘interracial’ marriage (not sure about that definition as both my husband and I are Caucasian but if the Mexican and African American throws you off :shrugs:), being married, being a mom, being pregnant, and being sick. I get this question often.

I have an illness. I was diagnosed three years ago with Multiple Sclerosis. I have to admit that day is etched in my memory with amazing clarity. I had found out I was pregnant just a couple weeks before. I had been seeing doctors and doing tests like it was my full time job for months prior to that. We had been searching for an answer as to why my health problems seemed to be getting worse in waves and then suddenly improving with time and rest for five years. I was just going to be happy with an answer at this point, was ready to welcome any answer that verified that my health problems were real and had a name. I walked in the room with my heart beating hard and waited. The neurologist took a deep breath and told me I had Multiple Sclerosis. My husband and I sighed a sigh of relief and laughed. I think we caught my doctor off guard. She didn’t know us that well, I had only been seeing her for a few months. I was referred to her as my local neurologist wanted more input on my case. She explained why she thought this was an accurate diagnosis, that I have a ‘light’ case and started to talk about treatment and medication.

I stopped her in her tracks when I let her know that I was pregnant. She smiled and gave us multiple pamphlets and wished us luck in our endeavors to care for our unborn child and my ill body. I’m not going to lie. I read through the pamphlets decided on the course of action I wanted to take and let the paper work collect dust. I was just too excited to be expecting my first child, our first child. :smiles: I felt really good for the first time in months. I was explained that pregnancy has been known to stop this disease if not improve the life of one with this disease. I was apparently one of the latter.

I had my baby, my beautiful baby boy. One year passes and I saw my neurologist (my local one) and he asked me when I was going to either start medication or get pregnant again. I looked at my husband who was grinning from ear to ear…I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted and I told my doctor that I think we will be trying to conceive instead of taking medication. My doctor smiled and said ok. Nine months later I found out I was pregnant our second. My health is ok, aside from the usual morning sickness, aches and pains of pregnancy and trying to keep up with an active toddler I have my hands full.

I have, since getting my diagnosis, got lots of questions. I know there is so much information out there, a lot of dark and scary information. I have dealt with just being tired all the time, finding out my limitations where greater than I ever imagined. I have dealt with the aches and pains, the frustration when my body just demands that I stop or else. The repercussions of doing too much in a day and paying for it for the next week. The long list of vague and annoying symptoms when I am at my worst. I don’t like to answer those questions. I have been blessed in so many different ways, I have a wonderful family, incredible husband and amazing children (yes I’m making that assumption even before my second child is born because he already brings me so much joy). I am thankful for all that I have, and I’m determined not to allow health issues to stop that. Though in my endevors of reading on mulitple forums I was shown this and the next time someone asks how it is, or what it’s like to live with these challenges I think I will point them to this as it describes life with a long term illness: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/personal-essays/the-spoon-theory-written-by-christine-miserandino/

Now let it be said that I am not skinny, I haven’t been skinny for years. Heck I haven’t weight 100lbs since puberty struck and I’m ok with that. Thankfully I am happy with my body and I see room for improvement. I am thrilled to say that the hubs is sweet on my current figure and has been a fan of my body for the entirety of our marriage. I just hate how the topic of weight and size keeps coming up at the oddest times, I mean I’m at work and someone will ask me how my weight is going. Um, I am in my third trimester in my second pregnancy, why the heck is it your business what my weight is? Why is it now that I am carrying and supporting another life it’s ok for you to ask and then have an opinion about the fact that I am actually still down from the weight I was when I found out I was pregnant?!? I’m not sure if this hormonal woman is ok with either response to this piece of information. People may tell me, ‘Good for you!’ :gives person blank stare: Are you trying to break it to me that you thought I was fat? Are you just not a fan of women gaining weight to sustain healthy life? Am I ready too much ‘jelly’ for you? Last time I looked in the mirror I looked good, darn good. Last time I walked down the street to get somewhere I get smiles, from men and women appreciating that my form is to sustain another life. Smiles because I’m happy and confident in who and what I am which is obvious in the way I hold myself.

The other answer which irritates me is ‘Are you eating enough? I mean you have seen a doctor and they have said you aren’t hurting yourself or your child, right?’, really? You think that I would take as much time to take care of myself but when I’m pregnant I wouldn’t go see a doctor regularly to be sure that both my unborn child and I are ok? You would think that I would harm my baby or myself in some way? I love my children, both my toddler and my unborn son. They are a huge chunk of my everything. I have seen a doctor as soon as they would see me for my current condition and have been reassured over and over that all is well and wonderful with both of us.

I know I gained some weight in my last pregnancy, and according to my OB that was healthy and good for both of us as my son’s growth was perfect. I also know that I go out of my way to eat healthy daily and eat multiple meals and snacks daily in this pregnancy and my son has already showed signs of being a big strong child that will be born in a couple of months. Was there ever concern about my lack of weight gain? Sure, but I went to a specialist and he checked my youngest son’s growth and development and he is right on track for a above average fetus. When we got that green light from him both my OB and I sighed a sigh of relief and have continued to see that this pregnancy has progressed well.

Now my goal for this pregnancy was to have a ‘skinny’ pregnancy, meaning I was going to be back down to my wedding day weight and then get pregnant, then gain a beautiful amount of weight and be that really cute pregnant lady. Due to complications of life and interesting health circumstances this didn’t work out. When I found out I was pregnant I was over the moon, and I still am. I got over the fact that I wouldn’t be able to shop at a trendy maternity store in town and just figured I’d be a bit curvier, like I was last time. I embraced it and moved on. I’m ok with it, but Lordy why do I have to explain where I’m at so often with, at times, complete strangers. I know I’m a friendly person, I am generally cool with sharing but can’t I have a few off limit areas when I’m exhausted trying to be all I can be for my husband and my baby boys?

I have never regretted not weighing 100lbs or less since being an adult, I don’t look good under 120lbs. I know, I have tried it out and I’m all skin and bones and my body resists it. When I say resists it I ache from head to toe, I don’t have much energy. My body just feels better at a higher weight. Weight is simply a taboo topic and when you are a person that has studied the number on the scale critically and wondered why you can’t seem to keep your weight lower like all the girls at school do. It means that you aren’t thinking about your body, your gentics, your shape. My genetics, my shape is not conducive to weight 120 or less, just isn’t and I’m ok with it.

Now if I could get everyone else on board or to just leave the weight topic alone for bit life would be good. Because some days I don’t want to have a debate on my weight, it’s my booty and I love it. You don’t? Then don’t look at it. :-P