Ok, now I believe you. There's a stretch when you won't recognize your teen.

There are certain things that we Moms, menopausal or not, simply don't share willingly with each other. Did someone, anyone, come to you when you were pregnant and tell you that your feet would never been the same size again? Did your best friend or sister let you know that the shoes in your closet would forever be a reminder of your pre-pregnancy glass slipper size as your newly evil step-sister sized feet will never again squeeze into.
No.
No one tells you.
I've never told anyone.
I don't have the heart. The baby-making mammas are so excited. I can't stand to point out any of  the downside.
They'll find out soon enough.
 Giant feet. Raw nipples. Lack-of-sleep psychosis. They'll find out.
Along the same vein, no one tells you while you are growing a human that someday that interloper will think you are an idiot and actively show their disdain for you. Eyes will roll so far back into their head you aren't sure they will ever unroll. This may be because you suggest, perhaps, wearing a coat to a high school football game because with the windchill factor of -15 degrees.
Apparently it is a part of the developmental process. The paperwork given to me by my mental health counselor -- if  you don't have one you should totally get one -- shows that it is a child's job to separate from their parents. My personal experience is that it is especially painful or dramatic between mothers and daughters and compounded exponentially between Menopausal Moms and hormonal teen.
No one told me.
Ok, that is not true. A couple of people told me and I didn't believe them. One of the them was the sweetest, kindest, most Christian woman I know. She swore her daughters were terrible as teens. She didn't recognized them. The got better when they were young adults. I didn't believe her. Her family was so adorable it couldn't be true. They looked like the families that come in pictures frames when
you buy them at fancy stores.
My fellow Menopausal Mom, Kim, told me of the Dark Times with her now grown, and awesome, children. She also said it will fade and my girl will come back to me.
I'm not sure I believed that either.
So, I have been taking two informal polls in the last few weeks. One is of mothers whose daughter's recently travailed adolescence. I don't even have to really know you. I just have to know you have a young adult child. I just say something like: My daughter and I are at that stage where she acts like she hates me.
They nod and look sympathetic.
The other is among any unfortunate young woman who I encounter between the ages of 20 and 35. Did you hate your mother at 15? I ask. They all say yes.
What about now?
Generally, it's something like "Oh, I totally love her, I talk to her every day. She's in Bolivia and we FaceTime every night."
So I take some solace.
This being the holiday season every sitcom I watched this week seemed to have an over reaching mother shaming, begging, manipulating their children to spend time with them And, sitcoms being what they may, in each instance the child, often grudgingly but most genuinely as a sitcom can manage will see -- gosh darn it-- I love my Mom too much not to spend an evening
around the Christmas tree with her if that's her hearts desire.
Oh, if life were wrapped up like a sitcom.
But I realize I have to adjust my thinking. This developmental stage isn't personal.
When my girl was a baby and she cried I didn't think "that cry is a indictment of my skills as a
mother". No, I tried to help her. I tried to figure it out. I put myself second and worked for the better of both of us. And that's what I need to do now.
I never thought of myself as one of those moms who saw herself first as her kid's friend. But maybe it slipped that way. Maybe I thought I was protecting her by letting of some things I need her to do ...like chores or listening or being respectful because overall she is a great kid.
But, apparently, according to my mental health professional, she needs something to push against.
That is me.
So here is my job. She pushes, I stay firm. She hurts me and I let it go.
I set a rule and I stick to it.
It is a little trickier because part of this for me is saying no, setting boundaries and making her accountable so she can be an accountable adult. I was really good at setting boundaries for her when she was little. Even when she would push. Because I could see it clearly. Don't touch the stove you will get burned. No matter how much you want to touch the stove the answer is still no.
And now it is the same. The lines are just more involved. But I will figure it out although I could use some suggestions.
And I know, and I should have known all along, we are family and we will work it out. It might be a couple of years, apparently, but it will work out.
Polls don't lie.

The anniversary of my dad's death. I still miss him every day!

December 1^st, 2014, is the first anniversary of my father’s death.  That happens to be today.  I feel numb.  I feel sad.  I feel sick.

Yesterday, I wasn’t sure what I would feel today.  Yesterday, the feeling was dread.  But, dreading it did not keep it from happening.  I woke up at 5:00am, and the date hit me like a ton of bricks.

What do you do on the anniversary of someone’s death?  I know what to do when it is someone’s birthday, or marital anniversary.  But, what is the proper thing to do on the anniversary of someone’s passing?  Does Hallmark make a card for this? 

So far, I have cried.  That’s about it.  I have tried to teach class, but I am sure my student’s know I am somewhat distracted.  You see, more than the fact my dad died one year ago today, I live with something that is still hard for me to think about.  I had my father’s body burned. 

I know the proper terminology is "cremated," but that is not what went through my mind at the time.  I was in shock from his death, and I was in shock by what I had to do.  This was his request.  He wanted to be cremated, and asked that this request be fulfilled on several occasions.  I always assured him I would honor this request, but never really gave it too much thought.  However, after he died, this was a harder task than I had imagined.

The day after he passed was the day the funeral home would be taking him to be cremated at another location in a different state.  They assured me they would call me as they were leaving and that someone would be with him at all times.  Then they agreed to call me when they were back with his remains.  They were successful with the last part, but failed to call me when they left with him.

I broke down.  I kept thinking maybe I would change my mind, and that I had until they called as a deadline to back out.  And if I backed out, I would just have him buried.  But, they never called.  I never had the chance to change my mind.

Maybe God intervened to keep my father’s wishes?  But none-the-less, I was at a low point in my life.  Had I done the right thing…even though this was my father’s request? 

I wish I had discussed this much deeper with my dad.  But, I always said, “Dad, we have many years to talk about this…let’s talk about something less depressing.” 

I need to get this out of my head…I cannot go back.  I followed through with what my father wanted, and I need to take solace in that.  And, I am grateful to God every day that my father passed without the need for life-support.  Making a decision to turn off life-support is something I never want to do.  I watched my husband and his sister’s go through this with both parents, and I felt their hearts breaking.

So, I guess the best thing to do today is to remember my father and the love we had for each other.  I am so fortunate to have so many good memories of time with him.  I was truly a daddy’s girl, and I miss him every day…every minute.  

Peace to all,
Kim

Menopause has left me feeling deflated

Hello, It’s Mary….. Hello You Gorgeous Menopausal Moms!

It’s quite amazing what happens when losing weight and menopause coincide. I have lost 34 pounds since May. It appears that I’ve lost 15 pounds in each boob and four pounds scattered all across the rest of my body.

According to the National Cancer Institute, in a handy pamphlet about breast changes that aren’t cancer, when your hormone levels drop during menopausa breast tissue “becomes less dense and more fatty.” Apparently my lobes and lobules, crucial to milk creation, are also kaput.

(Kaput, by the way, is not the official medical term)  So I guess I was left with no density and more fat which left that particular area of my body while remaining in other areas. (Namely tummy and upper arms.)
In my case, again this is probably not how my doctor would say it, my boobs left to their own devices simply look deflated. 

Apparently that is not all that unusual.

 

Thankfully, a good bra, one size smaller, shoves them into the approximation of the space they once held on their own unassisted.  But, while I’ve never had a outsized, ongoing interest in their size and shape, it is kind of astonishing what difference a few months and a few pounds can make. I have looked in the mirror in a bit of wonder and awe. Somebody recently told me that older people are incredibly resilient because they are every adapting to a changing body. I totally get what they mean.

That doesn’t mean I’m sorry I have been losing weight.

I move through the world with more ease. I feel strong for maybe the first time ever and certainly the first time in a long time.

I’m kind of proud of myself. And believe me when I tell you if I can do it anybody can.

And, so far, I haven't had to go crazy.

I know some people do.  I have a friend who is a beast in the gym and a fiend at calorie counting. She has lost more than 50 pounds. And while she looks great, she seems to take little joy her transformation. And, unfortunately, she is also losing her hair.

I have taken a more laid back approach in part because the effort I am putting out is still showing some results. According to my Goggle Medical Degree that is because my friend had already been exercising pretty frequently while I had only been exercising my right to watch reality television while knitting. I think because of that I benefit from my slothfulness. 

My body is like, whoa, we’re moving!

What’s that about!?!

Boobs aside, which as we all know is where they go when we lay down, there have been other unintended consequences. My mouth literally watered the other day when looking at a pear, fig and feta cheese salad even though I’m not sure I had ever eaten that particular combination. It was delicious and I now have in my house the ingredients needed to make one. The second one was as delicious as the first. I soon will have a third.

Overall, actually, I have discovered an almost Pavlovian response to food stimuli that I never recognized before. I'm not sure that it is menopause-related but it is strange to notice at age 50. Maybe I have been spending too much time with my dog. 

I also know I have about 70 pounds to go before I am at the upper end of the range considered appropriate  for my height by those bastards at the National Institutes of Health. (I’m not sure I’ve been in that range since I was about 24 so I wonder about its validity.) Still it is something to shoot for and I’m heading in the right direction, one or two pounds at a time.

Here’s a weird thing. I feel so much better I forget how big I still really am. Sometimes I fool myself into thinking the current weight loss might be good enough and then see a picture and think…hmmmm…no you’ve got some work to do.

And, apparently, that's going to be a challenge because it's suppose to get significantly harder following menopause to lose weight. The Mayo Clinic says that has to do with the shift in muscle to fat as we age. It also offers these genius tips for menopausal women: Move more. Eat Less. Seek support.

I’ve been doing two of those, I guess now I’m doing the third. Feel free to support. I could seriously use it.

I'll keep taking the smallest of baby steps.

On Thanksgiving I ate turkey and gravy and stuffing and skipped the pie.

Today I met for the first time with my very own personal trainer. Maybe down the line she will have some suggestions about the boob thing. Or  maybe that's a bit too personal. I also think they are beyond being trained. #menopausal moms