Telling the Girls

This is the second of a 4 part story. For part 1, please click here.

When I called DH from the doctor's office, I knew he would be in his morning meeting. I left him a message and told him I'd be home around 10am, and to call me as soon as he could. He called around 10:15am and was already in the car on his way home. I have never been so thankful for him.

When he got home, I filled him in on the details. He choked up when he asked if they could tell if it was a boy or a girl. I told him it was too soon to tell. He asked if there was anything we could have done differently. I told him no, and even though I know it's true, I had briefly thought, except maybe if I hadn't worked out Saturday, or if I hadn't let myself get so stressed. But part of me had wondered last week if we were trying to force something that wasn't meant to be. The OB had even said that sometimes when our hormone levels are low, it's just our body needing a little help. But sometimes they are low because our body is trying to resolve something that's not going to work on its own.

DH and I sat on the couch, holding hands and leaning on each other. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him cry. I was a little surprised that he had gotten so attached so quickly. And so, so very thankful that I wasn't going through this alone.

I had texted a friend who has been through this - a couple of times, unfortunately -  to ask her what she had told her girls as they had been around the same age as ours with her last loss. She called me as soon as she had a break at school. It was wonderful to hear her voice and advice. She told me it would suck for a long time. Then it would get better. Then August would come and DH wouldn't understand why I was upset. I would tell him because it was the baby's due date, and he wouldn't get it. And I told her that's when I'd call her. Though, after how emotional he was today, I might be surprised by him again when that time comes.

He went to pick up the girls at lunchtime. By then I was able to be calm. While we were eating, I told them we had some sad news. We weren't going to have a baby after all. S asked why. I told her that it just wasn't the right time. I was prepared for her to be upset, but I should have known she would just want to know more. She asked me where the baby was, how it got out, couldn't it just stay there and start growing again when it was ready, etc. Thankfully, she wasn't as upset as I had feared. She's definitely disappointed, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be.

After lunch we all napped. When S got up, she wanted to play with the neighbor boy, P. DH took her outside and chatted with P's parents while they were on the swing set while I stayed in and waited for Baby R to wake up. Apparently, S told P that we weren't going to have a baby anymore. He said, "What happened to Baby R?" Leave it to kids to bring the funny to a seemingly humorless situation.

Food!

Source: chiquitabananas.com via Jaborandi on Pinterest

I've been on a homemade food kick again. Partly because I know it's healthier, partly because I thought it would be cheaper. Sadly, the awesome waffles I made today turned out to be much more expensive than the box of Eggo's DH brought home from Costco tonight. I finally made those homemade granola bars, but no one liked them but me, so that doesn't really help. And the homemade bread is de-lish to everyone, but even with my new slicing guide I got for Christmas, it's a little bulky for sandwiches, especially for the girls since they rarely eat half a sandwich each anyway. So it's somewhat impractical to make the bread. I made a smoothie yesterday (see the image above) which was pretty good. Would have been better with a little chocolate syrup, but yes, I realize that eliminates the healthy part of it!

Until our recent job situation, I always felt like it was worth the extra money to make the food from scratch because it doesn't have all the preservatives, I know exactly what's in it, etc. But we are getting to a serious money crunch, and when it comes to deciding if we should make homemade waffles or buy the Eggo's, I'm truly at a point where I feel like we have to go with the Eggo's. Part of me thinks it's not a big deal, it's only temporary. We'll all survive if we don't eat the absolute best things for a year. (I realize all the examples I gave are not the healthiest choices, too.) Trying to focus on the positive. Thankful that we have the option to eat whatever we want, and not whatever is available, or worse, nothing at all.

Linking up with Elaine for Miss-Elaine-ous Monday!

Raising a Savvy Eater

Broccoli from our garden

When I was a kid, we were a meat and potatoes family. We also had a garden with fresh fruits and vegetables in the summer. That we loaded down with butter, sour cream and other yummy stuff. Then when I was 14, my dad had his first heart attack. Our diet changed dramatically. So much so that it literally divides my childhood in half in my memories. We started eating chicken and fish, very little red meat. And no more butter or salt. Everything was plain.

I was a bit of a picky eater and not a big fan of condiments, so plain was ok with me. And since 14 was around the time I started to really learn how to cook for myself, that’s how I learned to make meals. So for the next 15 years, I mostly ate bland, repetitive food, rarely venturing outside my comfort zone. And since I was single, I ate A LOT of frozen, processed foods.

Then I got married. And my poor husband was not loving my cooking. But his solution was to go to the opposite extreme – Hamburger Helper was a staple. I started trying new recipes to meet him in the middle. I looked for quick and easy things that wouldn’t be excessively fattening. It wasn’t until we had our first child that I really started thinking about WHAT we were eating. I realized most of what we ate wasn’t really good for us. It may have been low-fat or low-cal, but it was full of additives, chemicals and who knows what else.

I decided to make our baby food from scratch. It was so easy! And I wanted our daughter to get to try as many different foods as possible, so I bought things for her that I never bought for us before, like mango and avocado. Because of that, she’s been very good about eating a variety of food.

Now that she’s 3.5 and has an opinion that she likes to share with everyone (just like her mama!), she will sometimes say she doesn’t want something. I don’t force her to eat anything, but I do ask her to try everything on her plate each time. I tell her that her taste buds change every day, so something she may not have liked yesterday, she could like today. And I remind her of her favorite foods and what she would be missing if she had never tried them. Most of the time, she tries something and she likes it. And that encourages her to try more new things.

Of course, now that she’s been introduced to sugar, she often wants candy. I don’t oppose it, though I try to limit the kinds that have excessive dyes. I don’t want her to think that she can’t have it, I just want her to understand that it’s important to eat mostly fruits and vegetables, and teach her to make smart choices about treats. 

Hospitals, Holidays and Hunts, Oh My!

Man, you'd think after my last post, I'd have something more positive to say! Unfortunately, the next day my Dad had his Pacemaker put in. Here's a summary of the last couple of weeks:

4/15 - Mom & Dad's anniversary; Dad had a Pacemaker put in so spent the night in the hospital. Mom spent the night at our house. They sure know how to celebrate!


4/16 - Mom woke up and was confused about where Dad was. I think because she didn't take her pills the night before and woke up somewhere odd. Baby R got pink eye. DH's BFF had a party (just because; NOT to celebrate his 40th bday). They live 6 blocks away. It was nice out, so we walked there. It took us about an hour because we ran into and chatted with neighbors who were also enjoying the pleasant weather. After the party, we stopped at one of the neighbor's and sat by the fire pit for awhile.

4/17 - Went to my friend's daughter's 5th bday party. Scooby Doo-themed! Super cute decor. Check it out here: Not A Short Order Cook

4/18 - Playdate at our house which we had to have entirely outside since I hadn't finished disinfecting the pink eye zone, ie, our whole house. That would have been fine had the weather stayed as warm as it was supposed to, but of course, it didn't. Still had fun.

4/19 - S's parent/teacher conference. Seriously? Conferences already? So cute! She's doing an excellent job (of course). My BFF is her teacher and she started by saying that the assessment wasn't very accurate because the first day of school S wouldn't even talk to her, so she couldn't accurately gauge her abilities. I told her that just makes her look like an awesome teacher since S can now complete 95% of the testing elements!

Unfortunately, that night S had a fever and was throwing up. Around 2am, she said her neck hurt. I panicked and dug through my childcare books for meningitis info. Told DH we needed to take her to the ER. Decided to text my friend who is a nurse and works night shift to see if she was awake. Thankfully she talked me down, and we avoided a run to the hospital for a spinal tap. Disaster averted. But not until after I had tormented poor S by making her try to touch her chin to her chest a dozen times, turning on the lights to see if she was sensitive to them (DUH - she'd been asleep!), and a few other things that all people (especially 3 YOs) want to do in the middle of the night.

4/20 - I subbed on my vball team (took spring off since my rotator cuff had been bothering me) which was fun. Until the next day when I was SORE...

4/23 - Neighborhood egg hunt at the elementary school by our house. The girls were very cute. Though poor Baby R kept losing her shoe.

I asked S what she thought we should get Daddy for his bday present. What did she think he would like? She thought about it for a minute, then said, "I think Daddy would really like a new car." True dat! "That's a great idea, honey, but that's just too expensive. What else do you think he might want?"  She said, "Ummm, a new house. With lights!" ??? Like ours doesn't have lights?

4/24 - Easter! We went to church with my sister, D; it was her request since it was her 50th bday. I was happy to oblige. Of course, DH was a pain about it, but the girls actually went to Sunday school which NEVER happens. It was an interesting service. I will have to post about it in detail another time.

After church we went home and had lunch and the girls took naps. Right before naptime, S came to me with a chocolate candy that was the shape of baby chick popping up out of an egg. She said, "Mommy, I really think I need to eat this now because he might get out of the box while I'm sleeping and run away." She knew she was full of it; a little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. I told her, "Honey, I think if he was going to escape, he would have done it while we were gone to church. He'll be fine while you nap." But she wanted to tape the edges shut. So, of course, we did.

Then we were off to hang out with DH's family where the girls did another egg hunt. And got more candy. That we stole discreetly hid.

4/25 - On my way home from work, I started to feel yucky. DH and the girls were at his BFF's as we had been invited over for dinner, but I skipped it and went to bed. That night I had a fever, chills, body aches - S's disease from the week before. BLECH. I felt like I'd run a marathon then been beaten. ALLCAPSAWESOME.

4/26 - Home sick. Fourth day off work in 2 weeks. Sigh....

4/27 - Still felt like crap, but HAD to go to work, and since my fever was gone, went. Too wiped out to fix dinner, so sign me up for Mother of the Year - I got McD's for the girls on the way home. Baby R was cracking me up - she dipped her fries in her milk. I had to text a pic of it to my sister, J, who did that with her frosty when we were kids.


Later that night, S and I had this conversation:

"Mommy, where did you get that ring?"

"Daddy gave it to me."

"Why?"

"Because he gave it to me when he asked me to marry him."

"Why did he want you to marry him?"

"Because Daddy wants me to be with him forever." (Daddy was muttering under his breath something about forever being a long time. He was in the next room so I don't think she heard him which was good, but I couldn't kick him in the shins, either.)

"A ring is a circle, and a circle goes on forever, and so he gave me this ring to show that's how long he wants me to be with him." (Seriously, I had to keep repeating "forever" for his benefit at this point.)

"Can I have a ring?"

"Someday after you graduate from college, and you live on your own, and you meet a man you love and want to be with forever; he'll give you a ring."

Slam dunk! Well, she stopped asking questions anyway. 

Today I lost my voice. Like, completely. I don't know that I've ever been without a voice so definitively. But I can still type, people. Clearly. Since this is an uber-long post because I've been slacking and have to include it all in one.

So I emailed DH this: 

You'll be happy to know that the "mute" function is in full-effect.
My voice is totally gone now.

(He's always joking he wished the "mute" button on the TV remote worked on me. Yes, he's hilarious, isn't he?)

His reply:

Sweet, just in time for my birthday.

Fundraising: Why I'm a Slacker

If you've been reading my blog for very long, you've probably seen me mention my friend, Lori, over at In Pursuit of Martha Points. She's not only funny in all the right ways - just enough snark, wordplay and sarcasm - she has a big heart. She's a speech pathologist and has recently launched a blog for that, Your Child Talking. But before that, she started Project: Purse and Boots to raise money for the American Heart Association and their efforts at stroke prevention.

I'll be honest; I'm a slacker when it comes to donating to good causes. It's not that I don't want to, but I like to do it anonymously. Which is difficult when you can't just drop an envelope of money off somewhere. And it's not that I'm so humble I want to wave off the appreciation that I want my identity kept a secret. I want to be anonymous for purely selfish reasons.

1. I don't have a PayPal account, so I have to use a credit card. And I'm all kinds of Mission: Impossible about keeping that stuff to myself as much as I can.

2. I don't want follow up emails/flyers sent to my already overflowing inbox/mailbox.

3. There are hundreds of worthy causes. If I was a millionaire, I'd divvy up my contributions accordingly. However, I only have so much money allocated to charity, and that can only be split so many ways before I'm only able to give a quarter to everyone. If I donate to one charity, the others find out somehow, and suddenly I'm being hounded to donate to help Save the Purple-Spotted Dolphins who are so rare there are only three of them found in a square mile off the coast of Australia. And I always feel guilty for not trying to help everyone who solicits me for donations. So I try to keep my name on the DL.

Other selfish reasons for donating? The swag. I'm all for helping people out of the goodness of my heart, but I'm also not going to deny that I'm enticed by good products. Bring on the Girl Scout Cookies! I mean, most people don't even realize it's a fundraiser, it's such good marketing.

That said, I do think the AHA is a good cause. Stroke affects so many people. My experience with it was my grandma. She was the stereotypical grandma, incredible baker/cook, spoiled me rotten, was soft and huggable, kept all manner of strange things to recycle into crafts with us, like strawberry containers and yarn. We only got to see her once or twice a year since she lived in Manitoba, and it was always such a treat.

My grandpa was quite a bit older than her and passed away when I was 5. Grandma lived on her own for a dozen years before disaster struck. She had a stroke and fell one morning. It was several hours later before a friend stopped in to check on her. Because she had gone so long without treatment, there was a lot of permanent damage. She was paralyzed on the left side and had to learn to speak and eat again. She was no longer able to walk, much less garden. She couldn't knit or play cards. Her personality changed; she often spoke of wishing she could just die - she didn't like being a burden to her family. She had difficulty remembering things and learning new tasks. For example, she couldn't see out of the left side of her eyes, so she needed to turn her head left to see what was there. The OTs at the nursing home would gently remind her to eat the food on that side of her plate. She never got the hang of it.

It was several years before she finally passed away. To see her this way, it was heartbreaking.

And so because of that, I put away my selfish need to stay anonymous and ponied up my email address and credit card info for an online donation to the American Heart Association via Project: Purse and Boots. Lori is having a Tweet-A-Thon today from 6pm-7pm CDT to get the word out and make some progress toward her goal. If you are on Twitter, follow the hashtag #PPNB and join in! Either way, please take a moment to head that way and donate to this worthy cause.

Update

Well, I thought I would be including my next installment of the Red Dress Club today, but unfortunately, life got in the way! :) I am going to try to keep posting a few times a week, but things may slow down here for a bit. For one thing, we're going to St. Louis this weekend to visit my sister. But that's just temporary, of course. The bigger issue is that Mom's memory problems seem to be intensifying. It's causing times of paranoia. My dad is trying hard to be patient with her, but he's worried, and he's a man, so his way to react is by being a butt head. To be fair, though, in the last few weeks Dad found out he's probably going to have to have a Pacemaker put in, he got laid off again, has been having trouble getting unemployment set up and his car died. Babysitting the kids tests his patience when things are running smoothly, but right now it's too much for him.

So we could really use some prayers right now. For my parents, mostly. Dad is really struggling to keep it together. I'm afraid he's going to have another heart attack from the stress. And for Mom because I think she's scared and worried and stressed, too. Also for our kids. They have seen Dad lose his temper a couple of times in the past week, and it's been pretty ugly. And for DH and me to figure out what to do. The girls are finally adjusted to their new schedules and care providers, and I really don't want to move them to another place, but our current provider can't take them full-time. Plus it's expensive to switch them to full-time. I'm looking for support groups for Dad to help him deal with Mom, and I'm going to see if I can adjust my hours at work some to limit the time Mom and Dad watch the girls, temporarily.


Anyway, all that to say that though I love my blog, it's going to have to take a back seat for awhile til we get things sorted out. I will probably sacrifice tweeting to stay up on it, so I will miss you all in that respect, but hope to be back soon!

More Beautiful You

I've been avoiding this post. I've thought about starting it a dozen times, but always found something else to do instead. Then I saw on BlogHer that December was going to be Own Your Beauty month, and thought that would be perfect because I could write something about how looks are overrated, or how an individual's perception can be skewed by one hateful thing that's said by kids on the playground or an ex. Though true to me, I could write about them from a 3rd person perspective and keep my feelings in check.

But the first week of December, our 3-year-old said something to me that I couldn't ignore. It's been haunting me, because I am uncomfortable with it. It hits the raw feelings I successfully keep buried under my sarcasm. She told me I was pretty. She said she loved my hair and when she gets bigger she hopes hers is brown and long so she can wear it in a ponytail like I do.

I'm tearing up writing this.

I am not what you would call classically pretty. I don't say that because I'm looking for the reassuring, "Oh, sure you are!" response. I am not an idiot. I know what I look like. I know what the average American views as attractive. While not entirely mutually exclusive, the overlap of the Venn diagram on those two things is fairly small. I do have some nice attributes - great legs, for example. I had a stylist tell me once that I had Lady Godiva hair. Ironic since my hair was once the bane of my existence. Though I often wished I had lived 100 years ago when fair skin was in since it's literally impossible for me to get a tan, thank goodness I was a teen in the 80's when big hair was popular. Until the late '90s when Matrix developed the Sleek Look line, there was no product I hadn't tried and failed to tame that craziness. Living in a drier climate in Colorado was the only cure I'd found. And then the 9th Wonder of the World was invented - the CHI. (Cue "Hallelujah" chorus!) But I digress...

When I started kindergarten, I was confident and outgoing. The first day of school, my dad tells me, I walked up to a group of 6th graders and said, "Hi! I'm Jennifer. What's your name?" Everything went well the first couple of years when looks weren't as important as personality. But as we got older, things changed. I was very skinny (my sister used to call me Ethiopia child) and a tomboy. I always had really short hair, so I looked like a boy. I even remember being in 1st or 2nd grade and the kids saying they thought I was a boy, and I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I settled the argument at recess by dropping my pants to prove I wasn't. I was also a quick learner. So at school, I was the nerdy, athletic girl who boys asked to be on their kickball team or copy off tests. Not the girl they thought was pretty. It didn't bother me when I was young, but I struggled with the transition to middle school because suddenly, I was expected to be more feminine and care about my looks (and secretly, I did), but I had no idea how to go about it. I watched made-for-TV movies like "Dance til Dawn" where the nerdy girl (in this case, Tracey Gold from "Growing Pains") takes off her glasses, lets down her hair and puts on makeup and is transformed into the hottest girl in school. I told myself that was me. I was afraid to do any of those things, though, because what if I after the transformation, I still wasn't beautiful?

High school started. Most of my friends were dating. Not me. I just knew I was going to become an old maid and die a virgin. I was 17 before I had my first kiss. I was head-over-heels for my boyfriend. He was handsome, and he made me feel beautiful. We dated for a year, and I really thought we would get married. I know that sounds naive, but dating for a year in high school is the equivalent to 5 years in the adult world. I really was in love with him, but I think part of it was fear that no one else would want me. I was desperate for us to stay together. It was an unhealthy relationship.

After we broke up, and I finally moved on, I dated other guys, of course. College was such a great growing experience for me. I developed more confidence. I had varying degrees of satisfaction with my looks at different times. I wanted to be comfortable in my own skin, but I rarely was. Once I started working, I gained and lost weight, which just contributed to my insecurities. As most women, I look in the mirror and mostly see the flaws. An ex once used a euphemism to tell me he wanted to date someone prettier by saying I was a hamburger, and he wanted a cheeseburger. I used to avoid looking in the mirror because I would just spend that time critiquing my features.

That's not to say I haven't had moments of feeling beautiful. External verification has always impacted my perception, of course, but though I'm not exactly pretty, I don't think I'm horrifically ugly either. I've come a long way from the awkward preteen in the photo above. I'd say I'm a 7. My confidence is not entirely dependent on my physical appearance. I have a lot of great qualities, and so I try to focus on them instead of bemoan my less than perfect features. Oddly enough, I'm really photogenic. I have tons of pictures that look average, but there are a few that make me stop and say "Wow. Not bad. Not bad at all! I look like an 8.5!" When I'm feeling good about my looks, that's the image I see in the mirror. It's just not often that that happens.

So I spent my 20's enjoying my single life. I've been blessed with incredible friends and family, so though I was sometimes lonely and wished for the day I'd find Mr. Right, I was happy.

And then I did find Mr. Right. We got married.

An example of a photogenic shot from our engagement session. God bless the CHI!

And then we had children.

Not only do you not have time to dwell on your physical imperfections as a mother, you rationalize some of them away. I'm overweight because I've birthed two babies. I don't have time to do anything more than throw my hair in a ponytail, and my make up goes unused for so long it's expired before I need it again. My clothes are frumpy because I refuse to buy new ones before I lose some weight. I'm so tired that when I look in the mirror in the morning as I brush my teeth, my eyes are only half-open so they aren't taking in all the flaws. I don't even think about my looks much anymore. Only when I'm getting ready to go somewhere nice like on a rare date, and I lament that I don't fit into my dress slacks anymore. And while I take the time to straighten my hair with that miraculous CHI, I see myself in the mirror in fragments - my broken nose, the chin hairs that have sprouted postpartum, the dark circles under my eyes. But I put on my makeup and do the best I can to look pretty, and try not to think about it. I'm happy with my life, and that's what's important. Or so I tell myself as I push the old feelings down deeper.

It works for the most part. Until our DD made that comment a few weeks ago.

Our daughter S is beautiful. I know all parents think their children are the most amazing beings on the planet, but truly, from an objective view, she really is pretty. She has gorgeous strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes and a bright smile. She is also full of love and kindness, internal beauty as well as external.

Picture of S from November. Original photo courtesy of R. Peters Photography. Cropped by me.

So feeling inadequate in my skin, hearing my gorgeous little girl say she wished she looked like me broke my heart. "You are so beautiful! Why on earth would you want to look like me?" I wanted to scream. I tell her she's beautiful every day. But my parents told me that, too. And it only worked for so long before I stopped believing them. You reach a point where you realize that even though you're parents aren't lying, they don't have the same perspective as the outside world. I don't want her self-esteem to suffer like mine. I know that I can't shield her from the cruel words she's sure to encounter in the world. But I also know, that I must make sure to exude a positive attitude about my appearance or she will start to question her own.

And that, my friends, is why I must choose to OWN MY BEAUTY. I can no longer afford the luxury of self-pity or dissatisfaction. I need to make myself look in the mirror and focus on the good elements. The unique color of my eyes, blue but with a yellow ring around the pupil so they sometimes appear green. My smile of perfectly aligned teeth thanks to an amazing pediatric orthodontist. I want to see myself the way our daughter sees me, so she will see herself the way I see her.

There's a song that I hear often and try to internalize. And I want to be sure to share it with my girls because the message is so important. It's "More Beautiful You" by Johnny Diaz. Here is the first verse and chorus:

Little girl fourteen flipping through a magazine
Says she wants to look that way
But her hair isn’t straight her body isn’t fake
And she’s always felt overweight

Well little girl fourteen I wish that you could see
That beauty is within your heart
And you were made with such care your skin your body and your hair
Are perfect just the way they are

There could never be a more beautiful you
Don’t buy the lies disguises and hoops they make you jump through
You were made to fill a purpose that only you could do
So there could never be a more beautiful you

Goals for the New Year

I was planning to do a post on New Year's, so Julia's WMW theme works out perfectly!

I don't make resolutions either. They've rarely stayed resolved. The only one I can think of that I've actually stuck with is reading a literary classic and a self-improvement/educational book for each trashy novel which I decided to do about 4 or 5 years ago. But I do make goals. Usually I wait to make them until the spring. Everyone gets tipsy and nostalgic around this time of year and thinks, man, another year's gone, and what do I have to show for it? Next year I'll do better. Next year, I'll lose 50 lbs. Yeah! And I'll go to church every week. Amen! And I'll stop being an aggressive driver. You know it! And I won't yell at my kids once! Uh-uh. And I'll write a blog piece that gets picked up by the media and turns me into superstar/millionaire! Woo hoo!!

But by the end of January, that new gym membership that made you miss a Sunday at church has lost it's luster, and you've only written about how you cut off the driver behind you while screaming at your children to stop fighting. And instead of trying again, you give up completely because you've already failed, and it hasn't even been a month yet.

My sister-in-law and I had a long talk about motivation and goals with respect to dieting and weight loss into the wee hours Monday night/Tuesday morning. She's a dietician and works for Skinny Gene, a non-profit dedicated to helping fight diabetes. The things we discussed really apply to all "resolutions" or goals. So I thought I'd share some tips in addition to my own dreams for 2011.

First, know thyself.
No matter what the experts say or the advertisements show, working out in the morning or buying a fitness video will not work for me. I am not a morning person. Even before I had kids and could work out in the morning (and did for awhile - 5:45am Jazzercise class), I just didn't get as good a workout. My body simply does not function at that time of day. And buying a video is a waste of money for me. I need external motivation. A workout partner, a class time, some kind of accountability.

Unfortunately for me, while evening is my optimum exercise window, since I don't get home from work until 6pm, by the time I feed the munchkins and put them to bed, do dishes and laundry and prep work for the next day, I have maybe 15 minutes to myself before bedtime. On a good day. Usually I miss my bedtime goal of 10:30pm by at least 30 minutes to an hour. Which sucks even more because at this stage in my childrens' lives, I'm usually awakened a minimum of once for about 15 minutes to a maximum of 3-4 times for up to 3 hours.

Last year I hit upon a brilliant solution - working out at the gym next door to my office over my lunch break. Perfect!!! But then I had Baby R, so when I went back to work, I pumped at lunch and/or took a short nap for the first 6 months. Then it was time for S to start preschool. Yay! Except her preschool is only half-days. So I use my lunch hour to pick her up and take her to daycare. Sigh.

So knowing all these things about myself, I have to avoid using them as excuses, and instead use them as a starting place. And I have to remember not to let other people tell me things like, "If you really wanted to, you could make time." Because everybody is different and no one can tell you what will work for you. They can make suggestions about things that worked for them, but only you know what will really, truly work for you.



Second, expect to get derailed.
A couple of months ago, I started Julia's pushup challenge, and I was so excited. It wasn't a major thing, but it was a little change, and I felt better about myself. And then at the end of October, we lost our daycare. And then the first week of November, I totaled our car. Life spiraled out of control. I couldn't focus on even that small of a task to do 20 pushups a day because I was consumed with bigger issues. November wrapped up and so did most of the drama. But suddenly, it was Christmastime, and I was completely unprepared and feeling behind the 8-ball. So I put the pushups aside for a little longer.  I got really frustrated because I felt like I couldn't workout at all. But I didn't give up. I decided to accept the derailment. It wasn't a stopping point. It was a pause. Most people look at "dieting" as a stage in life. "When I was 25 I did the Atkins diet." "When I was 28 I did the cabbage-soup diet." It has a starting point and an ending point. But monitoring diet and exercise are an ongoing thing. You make choices every day with respect to them. I'm not ready to say, "When I was 35, I did the pushup challenge." It's not over. It's just on hiatus. And don't wait for a special day to start up again - birthday, New Year's, the first day of of the new "Psych" season. Look at your day and see if you can get back on track. And if you can, great. If not, try again tomorrow. Just don't give up.



Third, make a realistic plan.
What I want my New Year's Resolution to be: Workout for an hour 3-4 times a week. If I make that goal, I will fail. I know this even before I start. Most people who set that kind of goal really know deep down that even though it looks good on paper, there's no way to make it match up with reality. But they do it because they think that's what they need to do. Actually, you need to decide what you really can see yourself doing if you're truly honest with yourself. When Julia started the pushup challenge, I realized that I don't need to do a full-blown workout right now. As much as I would like to, I just can't make it a priority. But I can find 5 minutes here and there throughout the day to do things. So I decided that's my first goal for this year. To get 5-minutes of exercise a day and build on it incrementally as I can. This is not a big discovery - trainers say it all the time. But sometimes it sounds hopeless. Five minutes a day won't make a difference, so why bother? You have to start somewhere. And by accomplishing a little goal, you'll give yourself more confidence and motivation to continue making small changes. And it really will make a difference. Think about how much environmentalists say a one degree increase in the average world temperature can change things.

That said, some goals need to be somewhat lofty. And that's great. But even lofty goals need steps to be taken to achieve them. So break it down into specifics. What exactly am I going to do "be a better mother"? Not lose my temper as often. Ok, great. How do I do that? Look at what are my triggers, and address them individually. 1. Sleep-deprivation (ok, not a lot I can do about that one, but I'll certainly try!). 2. Feeling unhealthy. When I can tell I'm getting impatient, I need to take those 5 minutes to get that mini-workout in. Make smarter food choices. If I'm grouchy because I'm hungry, eating a candy bar will just make it worse. Grab a fruit and some nuts instead. 3. Study my arsenal of child-rearing resources (I only have a dozen books on the subject) and select a tried-and-true method to use consistently. Or if that's failing, find a new one to utilize. 4. Take a moment to remove myself from the situation (when possible).  Basically, just break it down so it's a concrete goal with tangible steps to take.



Fourth, set up an accountability system.
Whether you get a workout partner, ask your spouse to check in on you, track your progress on a program online, involve your kids or blog about it, do something you know will help keep you going when the going gets tough.



Fifth, make some easy, fun goals! If you are a list person like I am, you like nothing better than to see items checked off that list. I will put my list of goals on the refrigerator and mark them off as I accomplish them. One year, "Get pregnant" was on the list. There's a fun one to shoot for. :) And it was also fun to cross it off.


Sixth, keep the goals fluid. Some goals need a time frame or they'll never be accomplished. But some are kind of "bucket list" goals that can be shifted from one year's list to the next. Like we want to get a new master bedroom set. We were saving up for it. And then I totaled the car. So I'm not eliminating it, just moving it to this year's list. And keep adding to the list throughout the year. Just because it's the middle of August, doesn't mean you can't decide you want to learn to crochet before Christmas. Put it on the list. And don't be afraid to re-evaluate the list. If you get through November and you've tried to start to read "Gone with the Wind" once every month, but just can't get past the first 50 pages, maybe it's just something you don't really need to do.



With those parameters in mind, here are my goals for my life at this time:

• Find 5 minutes a day to exercise in some way.
• Find a new church home.
• Be a better mother: not lose my temper as often.
• Complete the blog improvements I haven't gotten to yet from Kludgy Mom's Back 2 School/Back 2 Blogging workshop.
• Create a new email account that is just for my blogging world.
• Find a support group for people with loved ones who have dementia.
• Take the girls on a train ride to St. Louis.
• Get a master bedroom set.
• Find a philanthropy the whole family can participate in.
• Clean the ceiling fans in our house.
• Drink at least 8 glasses of water a day.
• Make a concerted effort not to use the desk in the kitchen as a dumping grounds for crap because it makes DH crazy.

Let It Snow!

We got our first snow last night. It was bitter cold and really windy. It's hard to say how much snow we actually got because the wind just blew it all away. Based on the drifts and the low spots, I'd guess 2-3 inches. S wanted to play outside so badly today, but the windchill was -15 or something. On the radio they were talking about how the Chiefs played in San Diego today and it was supposed to be around 85. That means it was a 100 degree difference. Crazy!

I was supposed to do a 5k today (indoors!) with some friends. We met at my house to carpool. I said my goodbyes to the fam, and went out the door and down the walk. At the driveway, my foot slid in the snow and went off into the grass, rolling my right ankle (the one that has the old injury). Oh my gosh it hurt. I was only able not to scream/cry because my friends were watching. I gingerly put some weight on it but it was excruciating. So I had to bail on the race. Felt a little silly. But it was totally me.

The girls are so cute. Baby R is walking about 75% of the time and must be having a growth spurt because she is hungry...all ...the ...time. Today she literally ate every hour. I think that's the big reason she's been getting up in the middle of the night this week. I finally remembered that S went through a stage like that, too, where I had to feed her yogurt in the middle of the night. Frustrating, but if that's really all it is, I'm hoping we can just get her fed and back to sleep in 30 minutes - not spending 2 hours trying to figure out what's wrong.

Last night I met some friends for drinks to celebrate our birthdays. One of my friends and I have the exact same birthdate. Lots of people share the same birthday, but I don't know many people who know another person with their birthdate. I know three other people. And we were born on Friday, the 13th, which makes it even stranger. Anyway, we had a great time hanging out.

I'm taking tomorrow off work which will be somewhat less productive than I'd hoped since I am still struggling to walk. But I should be able to get a couple of things done, and enjoy a bday lunch with some friends. Looking forward to Tuesday when KLZ and I do our blog swap!

Quick Update

So I've been scrambling to get things with my car resolved, and the happy news is that it is totaled and worth about twice what I thought, so we are mini van shopping. The other good news is that we chose a daycare provider - another in-home, part-time - and we start on Friday. Whew! I'm WAY behind on NaNoWriMo because of last week, but I'm not giving up. I may not be able to hit the deadline, but I'm enjoying writing again. I have tons of cute kid comments that I'm going to try to compile from all the scraps of paper they are on and include in a post soon. I submitted a couple of posts to Gigi at KludgyMom for her Thanksgiving ebook, so I haven't had a chance to put anything together here, but I will soon.

My mom had a follow up visit with the orthopedist and he said she didn't break her arm - it was the old break that had healed that they saw on the x-ray. And her other arm is fine. But the one they thought was broken had the ulna shoved into the elbow, so she's not supposed to lift anything with it - not even a cup - for two weeks. They won't put it in a sling because it will get too stiff - she needs to move it, but not lift with it.

Also, my sister-in-law is part of start-up called Skinny Gene. It's a company dedicated to helping people find out if they have pre-diabetes to get them the help they need before it becomes full-blown. Diabetes is a huge growing problem in the U.S. and they have won awards for their ingenuity. They are up for a Pepsi Refresh Good Idea grant, so I've added a link about them on the right side of the blog towards the bottom. Check it out and vote for them!

I'm In Charge!

Pardon me - this is an unusually long post.

I'm feeling really stressed out. I had a great time in St. Louis over the weekend visiting my sister, but our house is a disaster area, and not having a weekend to work on it meant it was even worse when I got back. Though DH was AMAZING and had the exterminator come, cleaned the carpets, put the safety locks on the cabinets and did a load of dishes and tidied a bit for me. But I need to clean, like spring clean. BADLY.

We've been in our new house for a little over a year, and since we had a newborn last spring, I didn't do any deep cleaning. (I was mucho sleep deprived, and a little busy.) And this house is twice the square footage of our old house, so it's not like I could just knock it out in a weekend. I'm guessing I'll need about 4 uninterrupted workdays to get everything I want to get done, done.

My allergies have been terrible because I don't think I've dusted the dressers or bookshelves in our bedroom in at least 6 months. I haven't put out Halloween decorations yet - I LOVE decorating for the holidays - because I need to clean before I can decorate, and I just don't have the time/energy. (Deducting more and more Martha Points as I write this.) I can't stand having a dirty house. But everyone tells me not to worry about it - time with the kids is more important. I couldn't agree more. And I've been pretty good about not letting it get to me, as long as I can keep the kitchen clean. But the dirt in the rest of the house has accumulated to the point that I watch the ceiling fan in our bedroom spin and fear chunks of dust will fly off and suffocate me as I sleep.

Not to mention that the kids clothes need to be switched out for sizes/seasons. I need to buy new clothes because I'm gaining weight instead of losing it (BIG sad face). We are having a family picture taken with my in-laws on Thursday, and my MIL is trying to coordinate our outfits, and all I can think is, I don't care what we wear as long as my big butt is behind everyone else.

And she's worried about it being perfect, and I asked DH to remind her that we have two small children. Our family photos with just the four of us have never turned out with one that was perfect. Close, but not quite. The last time we actually have one with all 4 of us smiling, but it was at the very end when I had just pulled my hair back into a ponytail so I could jump around like a crazy person to get the girls to smile for their shots, and then we decided to try one more group one (seriously?) so even though we are all smiling, I look less than put together.

Plus, a week ago, I sprained my ankle at softball. Seriously sprained. I mentioned it in passing in this post. It was worse than a standard sprain because it's from an old injury. (Funny story. Not to self - share it later.) Anyway, though I was icing it every night and wearing an ACE bandage all the time, I was limping. This caused my back to get out of whack. By Thursday, I didn't need the ACE bandage anymore, but I was having a hard time picking up the girls.

It didn't help that I slept on the couch in St. Louis so I could be in the same room as Baby R. And sat in the car for 4 hours straight on the way there. And 5.5 on the way back. (UGH! SO much easier when they slept the whole way there!) So like a ding-dong, I played softball again Sunday (double header), since you know, there's no back twisting when you're, I don't know - BATTING! Or THROWING! So by last night, I could barely move without being in pain.

Of course, there's always the office. I used to really like my job and the people I work with and for the sake of decorum, suffice it to say that there are two people who now frustrate me and test my patience on a daily basis. Today one of them insinuated that the work I was doing was less important than the work she was doing. I came this close to firing off a retort, but didn't. I bite my tongue so much I feel like it is going to get sliced right off. She's a bull in a China shop and tries to boss everyone around. Literally every single person in the office feels that way. So frustrating.

Then my afternoon came to a nice head when my other favorite work person called me about a project and wanted to know why I hadn't proceeded with the changes she had requested. I reminded her that she had just copied me on the email asking the buyer if the changes were needed, but never gave me the directive to make the changes. Then she brought to my attention that the item name she had typed in the email wasn't entirely accurate. Oh, and the requested changes also applied to the six items she had attached to the email. None of which were listed in the subject line or body of the email. Which doesn't really matter since she refuses to reply to the original email I send her anyway. Sigh.

I also feel as though I've taken on more than I can chew at this point. I signed up for us to be a Nielsen family. I thought we were going to be reviewing TV shows. My sister did it, and I know what it entails. But it turns out we were chosen to do their shopping surveys. I was excited about it at first. They send you a UPC scanner, you enter your shopping receipt information and upload it once a week. Piece of cake! Except when your husband forgets to keep the receipt, or you don't get a chance to scan everything the same day you buy it and the packaging with the UPCs get thrown away, etc. So I've been feeling behind the 8 ball the last couple of weeks trying to get it done, and I've cut too many corners. I don't like doing a job and not doing it well, so I decided today that I need to tell them I just can't do it right now.

And I've kind of blown off my blog and blogging goals. Boo. One of the things I love, but I usually let go first.

One of the biggest things that is bothering me is my parents' health. My mom's memory is getting worse. I'm still in denial. But my dad is doing a diabetes study in the middle of November so we are going to juggle child care so that my mom doesn't have to take care of the girls by herself. But that means 8 straight days of being alone. There's no way she can do that and not completely lose it. So I'm putting together a schedule of sorts to make sure she's got company every 2 hours.

It's hard because my sister is in St. Louis, and since she travels for work, she won't be able to come to KC that week. And my parents don't really have a lot of friends who are nearby and/or mobile anymore. Thankfully my half-sister is here and incredibly wonderful and willing to help out. But I already know it's going to wear on me - and DH. And in the back of my mind, I can't help thinking about when my dad is gone, and what that is going to mean for my mom.

And this temporary daycare situation with S is about to put me over the edge. She has picked up SOOO many bad habits. She threw her worst tantrum ever a couple of weeks ago - like a scene from a movie, shoving all the papers, books and toys off the coffee table. Last night as we were snuggling before bedtime, all of a sudden she looked at me and shook her little finger in my face and yelled, "I'M IN CHARGE! YOU HAVE TO DO WHAT I SAY!"

I was so startled, I just looked at her, giving it a minute to sink in and figure out what was going on. I was trying to decide if she was replaying something that had happened at daycare, or if she was playing with her imaginary friends and bossing them around, or actually talking to me. She ranted on and on throwing in an "I'm very upset!" and a "I just don't know what to do" (which, ahem, is all me), but most of the rest of it I had no idea what she was talking about. Something about having to take care of me? I finally realized, she was really telling me that she was in charge... of... me. Ummmm, N-O. I firmly told her, "No, Daddy and I are in charge." "NO YOU'RE NOT! I AM!"

I honestly don't remember how the rest of the conversation went. I got so angry. I do know that I yelled and argued much more than someone who is truly in charge should have. It was the straw that broke the camel's back that was already in so much pain.

The upside is that I was so pissed off, I cleaned the kitchen, did the dishes, two loads of laundry and tidied the living room instead of going to bed early (or even on time). And I still had energy left over for Julia's push-up challenge. Enough to do all 20 in one set for the first time. (Check out the FitLink widget log on the sidebar!) So if I check the stress balance, it should have gone down a bit. How come it doesn't feel like it?

Tempering My Temper

I remember being a kid and having screaming matches with my dad. On the one hand, I was a redhead (It's gotten darker over the years. Not sure I can even call it auburn anymore!), so I sort of wrote it off as being expected. On the other, I always wondered if it was because my dad was impatient, short-tempered and a yeller that it was a learned trait. Don't get me wrong - he's an AMAZING father. But his biggest regrets now are those times he fought with us. He apologizes all the time, so I've been trying really hard not to make the same mistakes. Especially since I thought I could just avoid teaching my kids those habits. Until I had S. I've mentioned it before, but she had her first tantrum at 4 months. So now knowing a lot more of it is innate and that I had managed to outgrow the outbursts (except for rare occasions) has helped me reconcile that part of me that I'm not too fond of.

At least, I thought I'd outgrown them.

I've found over the last few months that I am absolutely awful to S at times. I get so angry that I am shaking and have to walk away from her. I've even told her I have to put myself in time-out. I know part of it is that the last six months, she was 2.5-3 so she was pushing my buttons more, and Baby R was born so I was sleeping less. Certainly a dangerous combination. But lately I feel like Pandora's box has been opened, and I can't put the anger away. I'm set off by the tiniest things, and I overreact to her so often. It kills me to see that I've crushed her little soul. I know that words are more hurtful than anything because you never forget them. I try to bite my tongue and use "I" phrases - "I am very angry right now!" instead of "You are making me crazy!" Sometimes I'm successful. Sometimes I'm not. She's the most amazing child, and I know that her tenacity and fiery personality will be assets to her. I want to foster the positives and show her how to manipulate that temper into something wonderful. But I feel that I'm failing at doing that.

I know I need to do some things to help my mood - exercise, eat better, get more rest, do meditation/yoga. I need to do those things for more than just my temper, but this may be the biggest motivation I've found so far. Because I want my baby girl to know how much I love her; not think I'm constantly frustrated with her.

Food Update and Newlywed Struggles

Since I had my epiphany regarding my need to have an open and honest discussion with myself regarding my relationship to food, I can definitely see a difference in how I approach eating. The first couple of days, I didn't even want to eat except when I was ready for a meal, and one other time for a snack. That's unusual for me. I generally have a frequent internal dialogue that involves me wanting junk food, then rationalizing why I should have it, occasionally deterred by my conscience who says I don't need it. I also felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. Admittedly, now that it's been a couple of weeks, I have found that the dialogue is back, but I'm more aware of it. I feel like it's not controlling me anymore, I'm controlling it. For now.

When I had this moment of clarity, I was reminded of a time in my spiritual life when I had turned my back on God. I could sense his presence, as though he were sitting in a chair in the corner of my room, patiently waiting for me to talk to Him. But I kept putting Him off. The wall between us from my transgressions kept building for quite some time. Once I made my return to Him, it was a huge relief, and while I haven't maintained our relationship like I should, I haven't let it get to that point again, and hope I never do. It's a lonely, stressful place trying to hide from someone who's omniscient. :) I feel like this food issue did a similar thing to me. Though it wasn't all-seeing, it was omnipresent, and I couldn't shake it. Like a bad itch you can't reach to scratch. Now I have access to it, and can face it head on. And hopefully won't let it become a monkey on my back again.

I've mentioned in a couple of posts that being a newlywed was tough for me and that I would expound on that, so here it is. There were times the first 6 months I was married that I literally considered looking into an annulment. The worst part is, you feel like you can't say anything to anyone when you're going through it because you don't want to fail so you don't have the support you really need - someone telling you it's normal to a certain extent. I felt so guilty for being a "bad wife". I think part of it was because I moved into his house, so I didn't feel like it was our home, I felt like an outsider. Plus our house was so tiny - if you stood in the hallway, you could see into all 5 rooms of the house - so DH went from living alone to feeling like I was ALWAYS there. Which I was, but usually there's a little bit of space in a home for personal alone time, and we just didn't have that. Plus I had this image in my head what kind of wife I wanted to be. My mom is an amazing wife and mother, and I tried to emulate her, and kept failing miserably. Now that we're adults, we found out that my mom was miserable the first year she was married, too. I'm sure she was thinking, what did I do? I hardly know this guy (they met on New Year's Eve and got married Apr 15th), and I moved to a different country 1000 miles away from home, and have a step-daughter who hates me. I cannot imagine!

I also had expectations of what I thought DH would be like based on how my parents worked together, and it was frustrating that he didn't take care of things I expected him to (even though I knew that was unfair). A major problem that I resolved around the six month mark was learning about the five love languages. I grew up in a home where we were hugged and told we were loved every single day, usually more than once. DH is not like that. When we were dating, I knew he wasn't a cuddly person, but I thought he'd at least tell me he loved me once a week (without prompting). It's just not his love language. Once I learned about that, it made it so much easier. Another frustration for me was that everyone talked about this great honeymoon phase, but we had known each other for 11 years when we got married. We were past the honeymoon phase before we were even home from the honeymoon! :) I felt like we were sort of robbed of that exciting new time, and jumped straight into the tough stuff. In retrospect, that's a great thing, because by the time we'd finished living together that first year, it was as if we were three or four years into the timing of most new marriages.

Three main things helped me go from feeling like this was never going to work, to we might actually make it. First was learning the differences in our love languages. Second was deciding to treat each chore as if I was single and there was no one else who could do it for me so I didn't expect any help which made all the help I got seem like a blessing. Third was focusing on his positive traits. I made a list so I could refer to it when I would get frustrated. Once we got through those first six months, though, I've never looked back. Sign after sign has reiterated to me that this is exactly who I'm supposed to be with and hanging in there was definitely the right decision.

A Weighty Issue

I've recently gotten in touch with girl I grew up dancing with through the wonderful
world of Facebook. I haven't seen her for 15 years, but I had heard that during that
time, she had developed bulimia. I didn't really know the whole story until this past
week when I discovered her blog. Reading it has made me look a little deeper into my
own relationship with food. I have no idea what it would be like to be bulimic, but I
have certainly thought about purging after binging before. I have even eaten so much
that I made myself sick without trying to. I am an emotional and "social" eater. I had
high metabolism and danced 30 hours a week when I was in high school, so I never had to
watch what I ate. I didn't think about food in a way that focused on being healthy. I didn't
think about food in a way that focused on being healthy - I saw it as being lucky I could eat
what I wanted to, when I wanted to. And in retrospect, for whatever reason I wanted to;
since it didn't make me gain weight, I could always find a reason to justify why it would be ok.
My metabolism came to a screeching halt when I turned 18, but I was still
busy dancing, and since I went to school in Colorado, I was also hiking, snowshoeing,
walking, and Rollerblading a lot. I did gain the "freshman 15" but I wasn't overly
concerned about it.

When I really started to put on weight was when I moved back to Kansas City
(statistically one of the fattest cities in the country
http://www.mensfitness.com/lifestyle/215), and I started my first full-time desk job.
I gained 45 lbs. in the first couple of years Iwas there. I worked a lot of overtime,
so I ate a lot of fast food. I was single, so I went out drinking with my friends a lot,
and on top of the fattening alcohol, we would go out to eat at 2am for post-partying
grub. I knew I was getting bigger - my clothes weren't fitting, I was out of breath
after climbing a flight of stairs - but it was when people who only knew me as bigger
saw pictures of me when I was in high school and would say it didn't even look like me
that I really got to the point that I felt I was officially "fat". They didn't say it
to be mean, but I was crushed to think I was so overweight I was unrecognizable. I
won't get into my insecurities about my looks in general (that's a whole different post!),
because I have never been classically "pretty", but I did always tell myself at least I
had a really good physique (except for being flat-chested). I felt like now I was ugly
AND fat. I entered the manic cycle of feeling depressed about being fat, then eating
because I was depressed, which just made me gain more weight, which made me even more
depressed, which made me eat...

I have always enjoyed exercising, so I used to think I could keep eating what I wanted,
I just needed to get out of that desk job and have more time to do physical activities.
And one summer they cut our hours, so I had to get a part-time job at Old Navy. I was
on my feet for the whole shift, and usually working on the floor, walking and stocking
shelves, so moving around a lot. I lost twenty pounds without even trying. That was
great motivation for me to really try to lose more. I knew I had pretty much hit the
limit for how much I was going to lose just through working retail at that point, so I
decided to join Weight Watchers with a friend. I can be very stubborn and focused, but
my staying power has always waned, so I have always done better with a partner to help
encourage, motivate and hold me accountable. We worked out and went to meetings together.
I lost another 10 lbs. Yea, me! I ignored the parts at the meetings addressing the real
reasons I ate what I did. I told myself it didn't matter; I would never let myself get
that big again.

I got engaged the next year and continued to work out but struggled with sticking to my
Points all the time with all the pre-wedding festivities - showers, bachelorette
parties, etc. (social eating) and stress (emotional eating). I had hoped to lose
another 5 or 10 lbs. but was happy to just have maintained my weight for the wedding.
And then marriage happened. I love my husband and am so thankful we are together, but I
really struggled with being married the first 6 months (again, another post for another
time). But suffice it to say that I did a lot of emotional eating that first year, and
I gained back 5 lbs. or so. And then pregnancy happened. We were so excited! I didn't
gain an unreasonable amount of weight - 30 lbs. - all of which I lost on maternity leave,
again without really trying. However, I had ended up needing a C-section and had a very
difficult recovery. Six months post-partum, I was still having pains when I did
activities that required any physical exertion. I would have to lie down after I cleaned
the bathtub, for example. So now that I was back working full-time and sleep-deprived,
I ate whatever was fast and easy and required no thought, and wasn't able to exercise to
work it off. Clearly a recipe for disaster - I gained back about 15 lbs.

Luckily, a community center was built next door to my office. Sweet!! A year after our
DD was born, I was able to start working out again on my lunch hour. "This was the
answer," I told myself. I can know admit what I was really thinking subconsciously,
"I still don't have to think about why I'm eating, I'll burn it all off at the gym."
And then a series of events happened over the next year that contributed to a downward
spiral for my weight. I got pregnant again. This was a good thing, but we put our house
on the market at the same time. We had 90 showings in 100 days, most of which were in
the evening which resulted in most of our dinners being eaten out. Then we sold our
house, and the one we bought fell through, so we moved in with my in-laws. They were
wonderful, but there wasn't a lot of room for extra food, so I ate lunch out almost
every day. Then we moved into our new house two months before our second daughter was
born. Miraculously, I only gained about 20 lbs with this pregnancy, putting me at about
the same weight I had been with the first one - which was also about the same weight I
had been at my heaviest. I lost all the baby weight in 6 weeks. But then I went back to
work full-time. And worked overtime. And got even less sleep with two small children.
And back to the poor eating/no working out cycle.

Which brings me to today. I am 8 months post-partum. I have no idea how much I weigh,
but I do know that I am too big for all of my non-maternity clothes. I feel like I'm
bigger than I've ever been, and I'm afraid to weigh myself to have that feeling verified.
Although I know I've always had emotional ties to my eating, I blew it off, attributing
it to conventional wisdom - everyone craves chocolate when they're PMS'ing, etc. But
deep down, I knew that wasn't all there was to it. I always blamed the weight gains for
external reasons (work/kids). And there have certainly been legitimate times in my life
where those factors were big contributors. But I would see friends who had been through
similar experiences, and they were never much bigger, but I would find some other reason
why it hadn't affected them the same way. There are so many reasons for me to want to
eat well and be healthy (not thin necessarily, just healthy.) Type 2 diabetes runs in my
family, I want to be able to run and play with our kids and not get too winded to keep
up, I don't want to feel self-conscious about my weight. I keep saying I want to lose
weight, and I do. But I also keep letting all those external factors get in the way
(again, some legitimately). And they are the perfect scapegoat. Because they allow me
to ignore the real reasons I eat what I do. It has little to do with dieting or exercise.
If I stopped eating for emotional and social reasons, I would resolve my fitness issues
and probably unearth some mental issues as well.

From my friend's blog: "If I've learned anything throughout my recovery journey, it's
that I can use as many tools as I want to-- going to meetings, using a food plan,
picking up the telephone, sponsorship, using a treatment team, etc.--BUT, none of them
really matter if I'm not honest with myself."  Reading that was a slap in the face.
Though I certainly don't have a serious disease like bulimia, if I'm honest with myself,
truly honest, I definitely have a problem with my relationship with food. As I typed
this, thoughts started pouring into my mind that I've pushed away for so long. Too many
to recount in this already long post. There will be much more to come as I work my way
through it all. And so it's time to begin my own recovery journey to better health and
honest eating.