Sunday, July 31, 2011


Asking for help does not come naturally to me.

I'd like to think I have it all together.  Or at least I like for it to appear that way.  So when someone asks, "Is there something I can do to help?"  and I breezily reply, "Oh, no, I've got it, thanks," I am hopeful it may actually seem as though I really do have it all together!

Nothing can be farther from the truth.  I can always use some help.  Pride and stubbornness prevent me from admitting that freely, I guess, and just asking.

Last week, as I prepared for the upcoming delivery, I knew I would be okay.  Pete would take excellent care of me, as always.  He would also take good care of the children.  But I wondered: who will take care of him?  I mean, I know there are times when one of us carries a greater share than the other and that's just the way it is…but I determined I would do what I could to help him out.

And so I turned to my network of friends and family.  In response to their offers of assistance, I humbly asked if they would be willing to feed my family one meal during my recovery period.  Everyone enthusiastically agreed.

It wasn't easy to for me ask, and I tried not to feel bad doing so.  These women are my friends and of course I would help them if they asked me, right?  In an instant, with a glad heart!  I recognized they very much wanted to help me and my family.

The meals have truly benefited the entire family – Petey especially.  And there is more coming still.  I know he appreciates not having to figure out what to make for dinner after a day of corralling the kids and waiting on me hand-and-foot.  And as an added bonus, I am able to visit with these friends for a short while when they drop off their meals.

I know the next time I need help with something, I'll probably still balk and hesitate to ask, but maybe I won't be quite as stubborn and prideful.  I hope I remember what a blessing it was having a little extra help.

Friday, July 29, 2011


Today, I am proud to support Breastfeeding Mothers. I am proud of all the moms who choose to do this for their children, and themselves. I am incredibly happy for those of them who are willing (and ABLE) to stick with it. You gals rock!

Thursday, July 28, 2011


Monday, July 25, 2011



He was born 7.8 pounds, and when he came out, he looked purple like a bunch of grapes held up at a Sunday farmer's market.  I don't know who it was – a doctor, a nurse, the anesthesiologist, someone announced, "He's a chunky monkey" and I've never been more excited to hear the first fat joke about my son.  I knew no one would be joking if he didn't have all of his fingers and toes and appear to be in good working order.  You don't start rhyming and referencing Ben n' Jerry's flavors when things are going awry.

More to come, but I'm just so grateful to those of you who have followed this blog and sent your well wishes that I wanted to let you know that baby, mom and dad are doing great…brother and sister, too.  

Sunday, July 24, 2011


Wednesday, July 20, 2011


I get them still.  Occasionally.  But I miss old notes and cards. The kind people wrote before Facebook and e-mail made connecting seem as easy as leaving a supportive comment on a status update. The kind that came before long-distance was cheap.  Before phones even existed.

As much as I appreciate the instant gratification of a digital line drop, you can’t hold a Tweet in your hand and an email just isn’t as satisfying to receive as a physical card with a familiar signature. [Hence, Angela’s last month’s out-of-the-blue “thinking of you” card.  It still hangs on my bulletin board.]  With that, I love how you can keep a card around, on the fridge or on your desk, to look at again and again, or store it away to serve later as a memory of your life and the people who loved you.

Although I can't walk into a Hallmark without having my eyes well up with tears, I am so thankful for places like that which promote the nastalgia of a hand-written note.  We should support more of this.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


My good friend, “CC”, had her 20 week check up yesterday. With what should have been a positive report, she resorted to tears. Apparently, her holier than thou OBGYN fussed at her for the poundage she’s gained thus far. Thank you, doctor, for your sucky bedside manner and later flirting with CC’s husband.

It’s no secret that weight gain in pregnancy is on our minds a lot. Quite honestly, weight gain in general, pregnant or otherwise – we’re women. The thing is, weight gain in pregnancy is important. Its more than important. It’s essential. It needs to happen. Some gain a lot, some gain a little. It greatly depends on your body type and pre-pregnancy weight.

CC is a former dancer and news reporter. There’s no doubt that she knows how to get in tip top shape for her audience. Not that I think she should let herself go, but the weight she’s gained is hardly so. CC needs to focus on surviving pregnancy, with a little indulgence here and there.

To my post-prego friends, gestation is a process, not only for the developing baby, but for the mother. Growing an entire person up inside our easy bake oven takes time — for some, lots and lots of weepy, flatulent time — and having your body returned to you in something reminiscent of its pre-baby splendor ALSO takes time. Unless you’re a model or a celebrity, I guess. Because then you’re expected to splash photos of yourself looking absolutely flawless in a bikini all over the Internet before the stirrups on the delivery table have cooled.

No effin’ way is this the norm, Miranda Kerr!

After the birth of my first 2 children, I never looked that angelic and made-up. Probably more like an gangly, beast in a track suit who had recently been run over by a large piece of farm equipment. And I suppose that’s why my modeling career never really took off.

Hello there, normal 3 months postpartum body and thank you, Jennifer Garner.

Let me be clear…this is not jealousy talking. And I know Miranda Kerr is a model and must have had to take the fast lane to lose her pregnancy weight. But it would have been nice for her agent to book shoots 6 or 9 months from now. Instead, this gives all the women of the world yet another reason to hate their bodies and participate in harmful weight-loss techniques to achieve a physical appearance one’s body is never meant to have 3 months postpartum.

Monday, July 18, 2011


Last week, the man organizing the line took one look at me and apparently decided that he didn't want to risk having me birth my baby right there in the store.

Next thing I knew, I was standing in a considerably shorter line behind three elderly ladies, two with walkers (I am not kidding). The four of us got to go right to the front of the line and I was out of there in no time.

And I just looked straight ahead on the way out so as not to catch the hundreds of dirty looks that the people in line were shooting my way.

So it turns out that it really pays to be an enormous pregnant lady sometimes (it is almost worth hardly being able to tie my own shoes).

Sunday, July 17, 2011


I promise this isn't going to turn into a television recap blog. I PROMISE! However, for some reason, I feel compelled to write about this summer's Big Brother Season Too Many 13. Right off the bat, all the males annoyed me. And seriously, Veterans? How many times in one episode can all of you (minus Jeff, who is the only level-headed. Normal. Rational person in that group. Apparently) whine BUT IT'S NOT FAIRRRRRRRR... Suck it up, buttercups!

So the Power of Veto competition was played. In superhero costumes that are most definitely nut-huggers on the male contestants. Porsche Car. I mean, really? I'm totally calling her Car going forward -- is not gonna be a savvy player. I like Jordan. I’m rooting for she and Jeff. But sister is playing up the Jessica Simpson a leeeetle too much. Does Daniele speak? Does Daniele wear anything but clothing circa 1983? Dick needs to realize that guess what? You're not Steven Tyler!! And lastly, Rachel's laugh could be used as a torture device.

Sunday, July 10, 2011


Wednesday, July 6, 2011


Against the odds, Casey Anthony and her legal team managed to beat the justice system’s case against her. Still, there’s a rap she’ll never be able to escape: she was a bad mom.
For moms who sometimes judge other moms (that means all of us), this is a wonderful opportunity to be judgmental — with almost no guilt!  Casey Anthony was an actual bad mom, who did real bad things.  I'm not talking 'bout the kind of petty stuff that usually causes us to clutch our pearls.  This wasn’t feeding the kids fast food, cursing at them, or forgetting to pick up them up from school.

No matter how I struggle to handle the working-mom juggle, I now have a benchmark: I’m not as terrible a mother as Casey Anthony.  It’s a low standard, to be sure, but it gives me something to work with. 

The example of Casey Anthony allows me to give myself a break for a chance. I may not be able to define what makes a good mom, but I sure know what a bad one is.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


It was a sure quiet July 4th weekend – no “pops” in the night, that is. Fireworks were banned this year, thanks to the severe dry weather we’re having here in south Texas. Despite the heat, there was still fun left to be had.

The Roach family gathered at the Conroe lake house on Saturday. As usual, there was no shortage of food – I am always thankful for Gigi’s culinary skills. Pete, Keegan, Bailey, and Maddox slid their bellies down the slip-n-slide most of the afternoon. Fun was apparent here – giggles could be heard many houses down, I’m certain. Little Maddox did well keeping up with the big kids, with the exception of a topple or two. Andy (aka B-I-L) nearly served me boozed up pina coladas -- a mistake I wish had made it to fruition. And I was thankful for the time spent watching my honey run around with his shirt off.

As for Sunday, I had planned to throw out my babe’s most cherished tank. [One of my favorite things to do is check things off a list.] I thought that perhaps I could snag it, hide it somewhere until he forgets about it….only to realize it was nowhere to be found because he was wearing it already!! I guess I’ll never understand the bond between a man and a hole-E tank that’s 10 sizes too small. [This task…back on the list.]

3 random strangers approached me over the course of the weekend with comments to the likes of “you’re the cutest pregnant person I’ve ever seen.” How did they know how much I needed that -- during these last few weeks, when I feel so large, can no longer walk, breathe, sleep or function normally, and may start mooing at any moment? I’m actually quite thankful for my giant belly – my swollen feet and massive cankles are hidden from my view.

Monday got started off right -- with donuts. I promptly shoved two chocolate glazed in my mouth, downed a glass of milk and happily went about my day with all my worldly wishes granted.

The evening concluded with Eleanor Tinsley Park’s live July 4th celebration on the boob tube. Prior to one of the performances, the National Anthem began. Keegan made mention that he can never remember all of the words. And so, I sang. Out loud. And while I am probably beyond tone deaf, I still love to sing. I am likely a more horrible singer than the worst American Idol contestant. But what to my wondering ears do I hear, “Mom, you’re a really good singer. You should start a mom band.”

A mom band, eh? [chuckles]
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