College Life: Week 1

Well, my first week of Fall Semester will be over tomorrow morning at 10:00am. I think it's safe to say that so far, so good. I'm actually ahead in all of my classes right now; I finished things by Monday night that weren't due until Friday or the weekend. I'd really like to keep this sort of behavior up, but typically I wind up not caring by the middle of semester. I've never really understood why I do this each and every year, and it's been happening for as long as I can remember. Halfway through I just don't give a flying fuck!

Part of it is lack of stimulation. Some subjects don't meet my expectations, some I find that I'm too advanced for, and some are just plain BORING. Whatever the reason behind it is, if I don't feel stimulated enough, I stop trying. I skated through most of elementary and all of middle and high school on this method. Surprisingly enough, it works really well.

Enter: College. In college, my technique doesn't work so well. I found that out the hard way the semester after having my first child. I thought that skating through the semester would earn me C's and B's, like usual.. but by midterm, I was failing. A lot. Maybe it was the combination of an infant, school, and a job. Maybe they were hard classes. My theory is that college is harder than high school because it isn't mandatory. Also, because it isn't governed by bullshit mandates (read: No Child Left Behind).

Whatever the case may be, I dropped out. And now I'm back! I know what I want from life, and my plans require a college degree. Well, more than one, technically. As I said at the beginning, so far so good. I'm doing well in my classes and I hope by the time I reach midterms, I'll still be trying just as hard. This time I know what I want, and I know what it will take.

This Is My Tina

When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I felt like a balloon that was so full with air, it had no choice but to pop. The final days of my pregnancy were made worse than my first time around because on top of not being able to see my feet, I had to keep track of a toddler below my belly line. When you are in the last trimester, ANYTHING below the belly can easily slip out of sight. I was ready to hold my baby girl, share her with her big sister, and receive a plethora of compliments about how cute she is. But most importantly, I was ready to lose weight.

Not to brag, but I bounced right back to pre-pregnancy sizes after Aubrey was born. I wound up only weighing five pounds more than my pre-preggo weight, and I was fine with that. I'm sure you will all hate me for saying this, but I didn't do a damn thing to lose weight. I didn't exercise or diet, drank lots of pop and ate junk food. My body corrected itself without my help, and for that, I am thankful.

Fast forward to the first months after Allison's birth. I quickly lost an initial 20lbs or so just by giving birth, but a few months in and nothing was really changing. So I did what anyone of my body type would do: I waited. Surely, if I just went about my business like normal, my body would fix itself again without any interference from me.

I'm reminded of an episode of Family Guy. Peter is saved by Spiderman, and thanks him accordingly. Spiderman informs him, "Everybody gets one." Well apparently, my metabolism and Spiderman have a lot in common because it was not helping me this time. I had my one, and now I was left to deal with an extra 20lbs on my own.

I would like to say that I toughened up, started exercising every day, ate only healthy food, and completely cut out pop. But that would be lying fabricating a beautiful yet ultimately fictional story.

Yes, as much as I hate not fitting into a lot of my old clothes and feeling self-conscious over swim suit choices, I am just a very unmotivated girl when it comes to getting into shape. Never before have I wanted something so much, and yet done so little to get it.

So tell me, beautiful readers who probably are all much more active than me, what do you do to stay in shape? How do you motivate yourself? And, most importantly, are any of you a licensed plastic surgeon willing to give me a free tummy tuck? I am willing to pay in cupcakes.

A Lesson Learned

Today started out uncharacteristically well, which should have served as a major warning for the terror to come. Both of my daughters were in pleasant moods, neither one of them excessively crying for no apparent reason other than to stress me out. They didn't fight or scream, and they both went down for their naps without much protest. So, suffice to say, I really should have seen this one coming. I mean, seriously.. the day was just too perfect.

The crime scene: my bedroom.
The culprit: one two year old girl.
The weapon: black nail polish.
The victims: Bedsheets, pillow case, t-shirt, skin, and hair.

There I was, taking Allison to her crib for her afternoon nap. The house was peacefully quiet, and I assumed Aubrey was playing on my bed with a book or stuffed animal like usual. You know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass out of you and me. Or, you know, just me in this case.

When I got close to our bedroom doors, the distinct smell of nail polish hit me like a tidal wave. My immediate reaction? Oh shit. I quickly put Allison in her crib and rushed to my bedroom, where I found Aubrey giggling and grinning, "Hi mama! I paint my nails!" And, in her defense, she did paint her nails. And her fingers, hands, toes, ear, hair, shirt, my bed sheet, and a pillow. But like I said, she did paint her nails.

Although I wasn't thrilled to spend my next 20 minutes cleaning up after her little adventure into the life of a nail technician, I was surprised at how much I wasn't mad at her. Aubrey just wanted to paint her nails like I usually do for her. The idea of making someone else do your nails as a form of pampering is apparently still lost on her toddler mind. Still, she was so proud of her accomplishment that I couldn't bring myself to do much more than scold her for stealing the nail polish and painting unsupervised.


Then again, this could have all been avoided if I hadn't forgotten one of the most important rules of parenting: Never let your guard down. I was foolish to believe any day in my life with little children could go off without a problem. I'll just have to start hiding my polishes on higher shelves, and tell her that she's a little young to be painting her nails black.

Transitions

It's amazing what can change within a few short years. Three years ago, I was celebrating my new-found freedom from a jail known as "high school" by sleeping until the afternoon, blowing through paychecks, and partying as much as possible. That was my life and overall, it was kinda nice. I had very few responsibilities and obligations; if I wanted to stay up until 4am and sleep until 3pm, that was my decision. My main priorities: get rich (still very high up on my list) and get drunk.

The life I was living came crashing down around me when one little blue line crossed over another, and I knew that I was pregnant.

You would think the transition from aloof party girl to responsible mom may be hard, but it was actually quite simple. There was no conscious pledge to quit drinking or to eat healthier - it just happened on its own. With each passing day, drinking milk sounded better to me than pop; buying that cute $40 dress seemed pointless when I'd outgrow it within a month; staying up past midnight was nearly impossible to handle. Without much effort, I said goodbye to weekends packed with binge drinking and late night video gaming and hello to motherhood.

Don't get me wrong: I still drink occasionally, eat greasy food with zero health benefits, stay up too late to beat the next level on a game, and you can't separate me from a delicious can of Coca Cola.

Now, the proud (and often frazzled) mother of two girls, I can honestly say I enjoy my life much more as it is than as it was. Keeping to the path I was on, I may have spent most of my twenties trying to figure out what I wanted from life. Having children gave me a purpose: Love, support, and provide for my children.

I don't define myself simply by my role as a mother. Motherhood is a very big part of my life, especially as a stay-at-home-mom, but there is more to me than that. I am also a college student, fiance, dedicated friend, video gamer, Japan-ophile, and many other things.

The title of this blog, "Love AKA Life" is sort of a play on words. I LOVE my LIFE, and my life wouldn't be the way it is now if not for my two beautiful daughters, Aubrey (2years) and Allison (7months). The AKA stands for two things: "Also Known As", because the things I love are my life... and the idea that I always have my most precious counterparts close to me.

Allison.Kara.Aubrey.