I Am...

When I was a senior in high school, my AP English teacher made us write an "I Am..." paper. It was simple, really. Each paragraph started with a simple statement, and you filled in the rest. I am sure that she meant it as a get-to-know-you paper, but I took the assignment to heart and wrote three pages. The process was an important one for me, because it was the first time I had ever sat down to think about what I believed in and who I was. The paper was due on my 18th birthday, and it was so significant to me, that for a couple of years after I rewrote the paper for my own records. Well, I haven't written one for about 10 years. Now that I am beyond the point that I ever imagined (when I was 18, the way I pictured my future was this: marriage, teacher. I never though past that...) I feel like I am punting. I need somewhere to stand, and since this paper helped establish the 18 year old me, I am hoping it will establish the 30 year old me.

I am 30 years old. I am a wife, a mother, a former teacher, a sister, a daughter. I am trying to blend all those things together to be a coherent and functioning human being. I am trying so hard every day to do things to be better. I am not who I was ten years ago, although that girl is still a huge part of me. She has handed to me her insecurities, but I have gained wisdom from her follies. I think. I am here and now. I am trying to see what I am meant to see and do what I am meant to do. I am strong. I am fearless. I am scared of my own power.

I believe a lot of things differently than I did when I was 18. Family, religion, politics--my beliefs have all changed or evolved. It's amazing to think about all that I have ingested and analyzed in the last eleven years, and how much that has shaped my views. I have become a much more conservative person that I originally thought I was. I believe that children need a mom and a dad. I believe that people should be honest, without sugar-coating everything, and without fear of repercussions. I believe that "politically correct" is another term for "pandering." I believe that there are ugly people. I believe that there are beautiful people. I believe that what determines your ugliness or beauty is the way you treat others. Good teeth and hair always help, though. I believe that the most important thing that anyone can do in this world is have a family and protect them.

I know how to punctuate a sentence, and I know which pronouns to use. I know (in detail) what happens in every chapter of The Great Gatsby. I know how many times The Great Gatsby or F. Scott Fitzgerald is referenced in Gilmore Girls. I know which season every episode of Friends is in, and I know the lyrics to hundreds, maybe thousands, of songs. I know every state in the United States, and can repeat them in alphabetical order. I know all the Articles of Faith by heart. I know that if I study the way I know how, I can have a strong testimony. I know that Heavenly Father watches over me and my family, and I know that we are being led. I know that I am doing what I am meant to do, no matter how hard the adjustment from teacher to mom has been for me. And because I know that, it makes life easier. I know that we will be taken care of, and I know that every experience I have is for my good. I have already seen how much better I am for the the trials I went through to get my family. I know Joe and I are a better couple because we have faced our biggest fears and we have faced things that broke our hearts. I know that Heavenly Father and our Savior don't leave anyone to figure it out on their own. They are there every step of the way.

I wish that I could be more confident in myself. I thought that by the time I was thirty, I wouldn't be insecure about my body, my likes and my dislikes, and my opinions and the way I wish to opine. I struggled with all these things in high school; there was a time when I refused to raise my hand and make a comment in classes because I thought people would like me more if I had less opinions. I have hardly any pictures of myself in high school because I always hated the way I looked. I felt stupid for liking the music I liked, and the liking the shows I liked. Now, I still feel horrible about my body--and those extra 40 pounds from pregnancies aren't helping. I still go home from church every Sunday analyzing everything I said that day from comments in Relief Society to my lesson and wonder if I offended anyone, if there was any way to construe what I said in the wrong way, or if I was inappropriate. It's exhausting, if you're wondering, to worry that much about what comes out of your mouth. I wish I was better at all those things Stay at Home Moms are supposed to do. I don't like housekeeping, so I don't do a lot of it. My house isn't disgusting, but if there's toys on the floor, I might not pick them up. If there are dishes in the sink, they may or may not get done. If Joe doesn't specifically tell me when he needs his work clothes washed, he might end up doing them himself. What do I do all day? I watch TV. I read with Alice. I crochet blankets. I rock Daisy to sleep. I might nap once in a while. And I am always feeding SOMEONE. I feel incredibly guilty for not cleaning the house in pearls. I don't really wish I would be better at cleaning, I wish I could get to a place where I don't feel the guilt.

I hope that I can start to find a balance in who I am and how I define myself. I used to label myself as nothing more than a teacher. Then, when I became a wife and a mother, I didn't know how to be combine all those things. Now, I label myself as just a mom. It's wonderful being a mother. I love every time Alice sits on my lap, or Daisy smiles at me, or when I get to kick some serious monster butt. But if all I am is a mom, then what am I to me? And what am I to Joe? See, Joe and I already have moms. See my problem? I don't know how to balance everything yet. And I don't know what it means to be me, Sarah Bingham. For so long I have been a student, a teacher, a wife, a mother, I never really figured out what it is to be me. I hope I can figure that out and find a way to be all those things I want to be. I hope that I can raise my daughters to believe that they are beautiful and wonderful people. I hope I can teach them to have integrity, but most of all, I hope I can show them what it means to have a testimony and how to strengthen theirs.

I dream of writing a book. I want people to read my words and appreciate what I have in my head. I dream of the days when I can buy a pair of shoes without wondering it it's going to hurt our mortgage, or when I can buy Alice and Daisy everything I want to buy them for Christmas. I dream of a house. A house with a fenced-in yard where I can watch my kids play in the sandbox from the kitchen window. A house where I have a room all to myself with lots of shelves for all my books and cubby holes for all my yarn and a desk where I can write my book that would eventually be made into a Disney movie. I dream of a garage for Joe where he can restore cars the way he wants and a place where he can teach my girls to change the oil and the tires. I dream of my girls, and what I want them to be and wonder how I can help them get there.

I love my Joe. I love my Alice. I love my Daisy. I love my Heavenly Father. I love where I am in my life, even though I haven't figured everything out or how I fit into the picture. I love going on dates with my husband and holding his hand, and cuddling like we used to when it was just us. I love the way he smells when he comes home from work, and I love that he puts on special cologne when he wants me to cuddle him. I love dancing with Alice and coming up with routines that involve Jazz Hands. I love smelling Daisy's head, and I love falling asleep with her in the rocker. I love playing in Alice's make believe world, and I love to watch Daisy watch Alice. I love cooking and having people like my food. I love making usable things with my hands: blankets, booties, slippers, hats. I love creating. I think that's the part I miss most about teaching: creating everything from scratch--lesson plans, handouts, units, tests, activities--and then see that my creations actually worked, and actually helped someone see something differently. I love being who I am, even if I'm not comfortable with all the components that make up me, or even understand all the components. I love the choices I have made that have brought me to this point.

In writing this, I have come to realize one thing that I didn't realize before I started writing this: Despite everything that is so not perfect in my life, I am happy.

Practice Makes Perfect

So. It's been three months, and I still have ten pounds to lose from having Miss Daisy, and then fifty--yes, 5-0--pounds to lose from having Alice. I've done Weight Watchers, I've tried to go it alone, I've tried calorie counting with workouts. I just can't seem to lose more than a couple of pounds, and then if I have a day or so when I fall off the wagon, I gain it back. In like one day. I kid you not.

So I started doing some research into different diets, and the more research I read on losing weight and the science of the body, the more I realized when I cut calories, all I was doing is lowering my fat intake and to replace the feeling of fullness, I was compensating with lots of carbohydrates--yogurt, granola bars, popcorn, etc. Well, carbohydrates turn things into sugar, and sugar turns to fat, especially if your body is not efficient in processing sugar, which, I have discovered, mine does not. I'm an Indian (a genetic group that only ate meat and vegetables), my family has a history of diabetes, I have ovulation problems (which has been shown to be caused by insulin levels and hormones regulation), and I take thyroid medication to regulate my sugars--thyroid also controls your hormones. So. Sugar is not good for me. And if carbohydrates turn to sugar, then. Well, this spare tire around the middle finally has a culprit.

Anyway, after all that boring stuff, I have started looking into different low-carb approaches, and I have settled on the New Atkins. Yeah, yeah. I know. Atkins died of heart disease. Your body needs carbohydrates. Sure. But your body doesn't need refined flour and sugar. Your body needs carbs that can be found in vegetables and fruits. Which is what, once you really start to read up and not go by rumor, is what Atkins is all about. The theory, and there's quite a bit of science to back it up, is this: your body's first source for energy is carbohydrates, with fat as a secondary resource. So, if you don't give your body more than 20 - 30 grams of carbs a day, you body will start pulling from your fat stores for energy. The kicker is that fat is a more efficient and concentrated form of energy, so there's no sugar high and crash. Proteins and (healthy) fats leave you satisfied longer than refined carbs, so you tend to eat less and crave less. It makes sense, really.

So it's Thanksgiving and Christmas. A bad time to decide to avoid carbs and sugar. So, I have decided to "practice" eating low carbs. Meaning, on days when there is not a party or a holiday, I will follow the Atkins diet best I can. On party days and and holidays, I'm not gonna try too hard. I'm going to eat my pies and stuffing and whatever else.

See, I'm just practicing now--remember when you were taking piano lessons, and you were told to practice so you could get better at it? Then you sat down, opened the music, and played it perfect the first time. Done. Right? Well, no, not really. You practiced and practiced, made a lot of mistakes, and hopefully by recital time, you have worked out all the kinks and you can play perfectly. Or near perfect. And if you make a mistake, no one really notices because the rest is so fabulous. That's what I'm doing. I'm living low carb and making all my mistakes now, and then come January, it's recital time. Diving in, following the diet to the letter, and going to the gym as much as my kiddos and hubby allow. Adjusting and making mistakes now, so when it's time to really commit, I am almost perfect, but if I make a few mistakes, no one will know because I'm looking so crazy fabulous.

So for now, low carb-ish. So far, I have survived by substituting anything I would use bread for with lettuce. For example, tonight, instead of creamy chicken taquitos, we had creamy chicken lettuce boats. It was yummy. And guess what? On a low carb diet, you can eat cream cheese, cheese, meats, cream, butter, and vegetables. All the stuff I love. I kid you not, spread some cream cheese in celery, and I'm a happy camper.

This week I have only been able to really follow the low carb diet perfectly for three days out of five, and guess what? I've lost three pounds. In three days. Yeah. I think this might work. Boring blog post. But I felt like I needed to put it out there.

My Stalker

I don't have any pictures or anything for this post, or even the expectation that people will read the post anymore--Facebook has overtaken the Mommy Blog world. But I have an itch to write and be read. I should actually keep a journal to help me out at moments like this, but then my hand starts to hurt. I could type it and put it in a journal, but then I would have to unpack the printer from the pantry (don't ask). And there isn't anything horribly personal I want to say, just pieces here and there that I'm thinking and I don't care if people know it about me. I have the itch to compose. Call me crazy, but I think there might be writer inside me somewhere.

Have you ever read an interview by a writer, like Stephanie Meyer or JK Rowling talk about their characters not leaving them alone? For example, Stephanie Meyer re-wrote Twilight from Edward's point of view for herself, simply because she said he wouldn't leave her alone. JK Rowling has said in an interview that she has pages and pages of Hermione because she wouldn't stop talking. I have never really believed it when writers said that their characters came alive, or they wouldn't do what they author wanted. I was always like, "Okay, Joan of Arc. Whatever." But guess what?

I have a character.

She won't leave me alone.

Her name is Gwen, and she is a sophomore in high school. She is love with Zack Wilson, a football player who is new the school and is incredibly hot. She hates Cali Bernard for the sheer fact that she is a cheerleader, and she loves anything 80's. Except spandex. Because Gwen is fat. Super fat. She's 15 and weigh 233 pounds. And she wants Zach Wilson to take her to Junior Homecoming--exactly one year from now--because she is going to lose 100 pounds in the meantime and make him fall madly in love with her. Gwen has a best friend named Rachel, who is too skinny to be pretty. She has a grandmother named Opal, who is slightly crazy and a hypochondriac, and her grandmother has a boyfriend named Jerry, who is definitely crazy. Gwen's parents both work, so they aren't around a lot, so she depends on Grandma and Jerry.

Gwen talks a lot, and is incredibly frustrated with me because she only has like 330 days left to lose 100 pounds and I haven't started writing her story yet. But she keeps me up at nights. It's not like I don't have other things to do!

Anyway, Gwen's blog is off to the side, if you care. It's the only place I can give her voice and make her calm down for now.

All About My Girls

Well, Daisy has been with us for 7 weeks now, and I am thrilled to say that she is a total mommy's girl. I have to admit, I love that I am the only one who can get her to calm down and she cries when I leave the room. Alice was always a Daddy's girl--needing Daddy to rock her to sleep and calm her down. She's still a Daddy's girl, except now she says, "Mommy, I miss my Joe." She started saying this because my niece asked her one day if she missed her Joe, and it stuck. But Daddy is officially her "Joe," and I think I'm going to be Daisy's "Sarah."

I feel bad sometimes, because Joe gets frustrated when he doesn't have the magic touch he had with Alice, but I secretly love it...although I just posted it on a public blog, so it's not so secret anymore. At Daisy's last appointment, she weighed 10 lbs 12 oz, and was 22 inches long. I don't remember her head size, but I know she was in the 90% range across the board. She is getting super big and fatty--she's already in clothes Alice was wearing at 5 months.

Daisy smiles now and is starting to goo at me. She smiles the most when I'm changing her diaper. It's super cute, as if she is saying, "Ahhh, Mommy! My bum feels so good now!" She smiles when she's laying on the floor and I get down to look at her. She smiles at Daddy when he comes home, and she really smiles a lot for Grandma Jones. She only cries when she is hungry, has a dirty bum, or is tired. Which is most of the time. But at least she doesn't sit and cry for no reason--unless I'm gone. I am totally loving staying home with my girls.

I love cuddling Daisy and kissing her fatty cheeks and watching her smile. I love learning about Alice--she has a crazy imagination, that girl. The other day, we beat up monsters and then made cookies because they were crying. Another day we ran hid from dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and then bit their heads off. Yesterday she invited the horses that live in the pasture across the street to come in the house and eat ice cream. Alice loves to dance and she has come up with her own fancy dance pose--I'll have to get a picture of it and post it, because it is, to say the least, fancy. Alice loves, LOVES shoes and accessories--especially mine. She loves to be a helper and frequently tells me that she is pretty and a good big sister.


I love my girls.

Cloth Diaper Update

Daisy poops. A lot. Remember how I said we were going through a pack (the hospital size) a day? And remember how Daisy was born at 9 lbs, and is now 9 1/2 lbs? Well. These things affect my cloth diapering journey.

First, I have 24 cloth diapers. 12 of the fitteds, and 12 prefolds with covers. I have used all 24 in one day. Really, I have. I don't really mind doing the laundry, but I was getting really frustrated with getting a diaper all snappied in place, only to have Daisy grunt and poop AGAIN in a clean diaper. I know this is what babies do. And I know I should be glad I wasn't throwing those diapers away. But instead I was annoyed because it's really hard to get those prefolds on right.

For some reason, Daisy does not like the fitteds. She screams bloody murder when I put them on. BLOODY MURDER. I'm not even joking, either. At first I thought she had a medical condition, and then one day I took off her diaper and she stopped crying. I put a clean fitted on her, and she started crying again. I took it off; no crying. I put it on; uncontrollable screaming. I don't know what it is about the fitteds that she doesn't like, but she DOES NOT LIKE THEM. And they're really bulky. I didn't think I would mind because, hello, it's a diaper, and it's made for poop, right? Well. Clothes don't fit right with the huge bulkiness. Besides, there's something weird about the fit, too. I have to do the snaps on the smallest setting because it's too tight on Daisy's chubby legs if I don't, but then the waist is huge. Then I have to put a cover on top of that. I don't mean to complain, but let's just say the Kissaluv Fitted Newborn diapers just aren't cutting it for me. I think I'm going to sell them on KSL or Craig's List or something.

As for the prefolds: surprisingly enough, I really like the prefold diapers--and these are the ones I thought I would hate because these are the traditional flat diapers that you would have to pin. I really like these because, for some reason, Daisy doesn't mind the wet feeling with these all that much. Instead of the "I-Am-Going-To-Die-Right-Now" scream that Daisy would use when she was wet or dirty with the Kissas, it's more of a "Please-Change-Me-Now" whimper. Once I got hang of using a snappi (instead of pins), things are great. The fit is much trimmer, so she doesn't look like she has a JLo-style junk in the trunk under her clothes, which is nice considering the cover has to go over the prefold. My only issue is that I bought a newborn size prefold--Daisy, again, is now almost 10 lbs. The prefolds are almost too small.

So, between the amount of times I have to change her diaper and the fact that the newborn sizes are too small, but the one-size pockets I have are still WAY too big, Joe and I are 'sposie-ing it 75% of the time. I do cloth during the day until I run out of prefolds, and we use disposables when we are going anywhere--just in case Daisy decides to have a diaper-diva moment.

I'm not giving up yet--if I can sell my Kissas online, I'm going to use the money to buy bigger prefolds and more pockets to build up my stash. I know I will like the pockets because I've been using them on Alice, so as soon as Daisy hits about 12 lbs, I plan on cloth 100% of the time. Or at least 85.

Is This Normal?

So Daisy sleeps. A lot. And poops. A LOT. I have always heard that babies eat, sleep, and poop, and that's it, but I never believed it because Alice only pooped once a day, ate on a very consistant schedule, and was awake during the day and slept through the night.

Daisy poops every time she farts. We go through crazy amounts of diapers, and she HATES a wet bum. People always say that babies poop a lot, I just thought they were all big whannies because I never had a problem with poop. I understand now. I went through one of those hospital packages of diapers in TWO HOURS. Is this normal?

And Daisy sleeps ALL THE TIME. Like 20 hours a day. She wakes up when she's really, really hungry--maybe every 2 1/2 to 4 hours. And then she goes back to sleep. If I'm lucky she might sit up for about 35 minutes, and then she goes back to sleep again. And then, she only wakes up like once during the night. I'm not complaining, but I'm a little worried--should she be sleeping this much? My Ped. says that she should be awake and more alert. She's not. I'm wondering if it's because she's a big baby--she can go longer? I don't know. I'm getting to the point where I'm worried that I'm not exhausted. I know this sounds crazy.

This baby is not schedule-friendly. With Alice, all I had to do was decide to feed her every three hours, and Alice just did it. Voila. Done. This baby? Not so much. I try to hold her off to eat every three hours, and do you know what she does? She insists on eating at 2 hours, 2 1/2 hours, or 4 hours. Not three. Never three.

You think that you know how to do this stuff because you already have one kid. Nope. I feel like a first-time mom all over again, worrying about every little thing, getting up just to check to make sure she's breathing, worrying over poop and sleep, wondering if everything is normal. The more I know, the more I realize that Daisy is, in fact, normal. Alice was not. Maybe. This is hard.

Here She Is...

So guess which is the theme song for the newest member of our family?

Introducing our very own Miss Daisy

Daisy Fay Bingham

August 3, 2011

9 lbs. 20 inches

Born 12:25 PM

And Miss Alice is thrilled

Birth story to come later. In the meantime, we're happy.