Bringing Crazy Back

So.  Let's just lay it out there.

I went back to my counselor a couple Fridays ago.  And I didn't tell my husband I'd made the appointment until 30 minutes before leaving for said appointment.

Why?  Meh.  Because I didn't want him worrying about the crazy.

Anyway, I go.  And I mighta cried.  (totally cried)

Her words to me: "I've never met anyone who is harder on themselves than you."

I sit there and the tears come, not because of her words but because of the reason she said what she said.

"I don't know what it's supposed to look like.  My days, I mean.  I'm home with my kids all day long but sometimes at the end of a day and more often than I'd like to admit, I realize I haven't just spent time with them.  I've cooked and cleaned and busied myself but I haven't just sat to play."

"I'm impatient and crabby.  I yell.  And I've been known to throw stuff."

"And then there's Josh.  Who, in 6 years of parenting has never raised his voice to our children.  Will always take the time - even if it's 2 hours, to explain to our kids how to do something when he could have gotten the job done in 20 minutes had he shooed them away like I do."

"I used to judge those women who could up and leave their families.  I mean, how could they?!  Well, now I know.  I see how.  Sometimes I think they'd be better off without me.  Josh is great with them all on his own."

I tell her I don't think I'm a good wife and she asks me why, besides some obvious reasons I tell her about, I also tell her that Josh makes his own breakfast every morning.  And sometimes his own lunch.

And she laughs at me.

"That's why you're a bad wife?"

Apparently a lot of men make their own breakfast and lunch and I should not feel bad.

Also, many women don't feel they spend the right amount of time with their kids.  It's not just me.  She says for as crazy as I feel, I'm actually quite normal.

You realize that means you're crazy with me, right?

But she did tell me that it's not healthy to feel that my family would be better off without me.  That that's not good.  That maybe I should try some medicine to get my brain working right again.

(let the onslaught begin)

I have never been opposed to medication that helps someone.  Ever.  Mainly because I feel the first time you judge someone for an action, you're next, dude.

She's recommended a doctor and a medicine.  Honestly...I'm considering it.  Sent a friend a text after my appointment to let her know all went well and what was suggested.  Her response was that I should get a double amount and we'd split them and the co-pay.  Silly, kid.  Like I'm gonna share my crazy goods.

I started this post a couple of weeks ago.  I've had time to think about the meds.  And I don't think I'm going to do it.  I don't know.  It freaks me out.


Anyway.  I guess the deal is, I need to figure some stuff out.  I need to figure out how much time is okay to spend cooking, cleaning, playing with kids, teaching, texting, blogging, working out, etc.  I need to figure out how to not wake up in the night with sweat pouring off me because I'm a nervous wreck I'm ruining my family's life because I'm a sucky wife and mom and housekeeper.

13 years in, man, and I'm still no good at this and that's why I have my days, my weeks, my months where I feel they'd be better without me here.

Those meds are lookin' better and better.

Starbucks Winner!

Thanks to everyone for the ideas to keep Spice occupied during school time with Sugar.  Totally appreciate your awesome ideas.

This video might make ya a lil car sick.  Sorry!

{best}

In the deleted scenes in the movie, P.S. I Love You is the quote: "You never have another best friend like that first one you have when you know who you are in life."

It's my favorite quote ever.  Because, for me, it is so true.

I can tell her anything without making her gasp.  Nothing about me surprises her.  She loves me.  Puts up with me.

Gets me.

I went an entire year without her and, quite honestly, was in mourning the entire time.  It was an awful, miserable year.  I'm so thankful it's been a year since that year.  I'm thankful for her.  For our friendship.  Thankful that she has just as awesome of a singing voice to Wilson Phillips as I do.

I'm thankful she likes to toilet paper houses in broad daylight.

I'm thankful we didn't wreck while she was driving, singing, texting and picture taking all at the same time.

Dorothy.

It's you and me, babe.  We.

I love you.  Forever and ever.

And I never wanna know again what a day without you is like.

Quick! Help Needed. Starbucks gift card as inspiration!

Hey!  Okay, so I just have a coupla minutes but need your input.

We're starting school back up in a few weeks and I'm trying to get some ideas together to keep Spicey Spice entertained for the couple hours Sugar and I are working.

Otherwise we'll end up with this again.

I'm thinking boxes labeled Monday-Thursday that she can have filled with goodies.  I need ideas for the goodies.  Games, or toys or books.

Any ideas?  Give me ideas of any kind to keep this girl entertained and I'll randomly select a winner on Thursday for a gift card to Starbucks.

Thank you!!

When good hygiene was a bad idea

We're presently on vacation. If you call camping with two small children and a Beagle a vacation. (I do not) (I call it paying for torture)

We're in Idaho. I love Idaho. People wave hello and carry guns and drive their ATVs down the highway. This is my kinda country.

Today we decided to blow the children's inheritence and took them to Silverwood. For those of you unaware, Silverwood is a theme park with a waterpark. Great fun. (eye roll) Okay, so it wasn't so bad. You know til one of my most embarrassing moments occured.

The girls are pretty young for the roller coaster part of the park so we just went to the water side. I was wearing a tank top and my bikini bottoms.

We play in the water. It's all fun and games.

Til it's time to use the restroom.

I go in the stall. And like the good little hygiene girl that I am, I put the little paper cover down on the seat and I sit down.

And that's when I realize what a very bad idea my good hygeine moment was.

Mhm. My wet ass (pardon) stuck to the paper seat cover.

Stuck. To. It.

I stood up.

And so did the seat cover.

I had nothin'. No towel. No shorts.

So I start trying to peel the paper seat cover off of me. Of course there's a huge line of women waiting for me to leave the stall but you really think I'm going to leave with the paper seat cover plastered to me?!

Hail no.

I'm picking it off. Balling it up. Anything. Everything. Trying to get myself free. I'm sure the girl in the stall next to me was wondering what in the sam hill I was doing dancing around in there. Mostly I was just wanting to die. I left the stall. Finally. Still picking leftover paper seat cover off my body while two teenage girls stared at me.

So.

Note to self: do not (for the love!) sit on a paper seat cover if your rear is wet. It will not end well.

But(t) it will end in a blog post.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Break

I've taken a completely unintentional blog break.

Nothing's happened or happening.  Just living life instead of blogging it at the moment.

I have drafts but nothing finished or worth posting.

Maybe next week?

I hope nothing goes right so I have blog material

Tomorrow I'm going to a cattle sale with Chelsea.

and our five children. {six if you count the one she's gestating}

and a trailer full of cows.  {is it a trailer full of cows, Chels?}

See, I have no idea what I'm getting myself into.  She asked if I wanted to go and I was like, "duh!"  But I probably didn't say it quite like that.

Even if I wanted to.

So.

Yep.  It'll be us.  Our five children.  Some cows.  Cattlemen.  And our cluelessness. {that's not a word, btw}

We're sure to be the life of the party.

A glimpse at my text life

This girl and me?  We're a good time.

Just ask us.

Tuesday seems like a good day for a random list

Why do the clothing items with the least amount of material cost the most?

Nothing of the last six months of my life has been easy.  I have been out of my comfort zone physically and emotionally.  I am a stronger person for it.

Things I've observed on the pathway I bike on: Couples never say hi.  A woman alone will almost always ignore me.  While a man alone will always smile and say hi.  I've come to the conclusion women are rude and men are friendly.  Me?  I smile and say hi to everyone.  Always.

My mother-in-law currently has all her grandchildren (except the newborn) at her house.  They slept there last night.  She's nuts.  But with the last name, it's kind of a given.

I have a secret.  (oh but don't we all)

I had two of my favorite people over on Friday night and it's so nice to just be me and know they love me.  I can be obnoxious and moody and loud and they love me just the same.

A friend emailed me that she had a dream her and I were strippers.  It's nice to know I have a friend who dreams of me being naked.

I ran three miles with my aunt and uncle yesterday, then later in the day I rode 35 miles to the gym and back.  I don't recognize myself.  Physically.  Emotionally.

I'm shocked how strong and weak I can feel at the same time.

Today is a really great hair day.  Which means I will not see anyone I know.

At yoga last night we learned some new moves.  I felt a little like I was making my own p*rn movie at times. ☺ Okay, not really.  (but yeah, kinda)

Saturday is the 12th anniversary of my dad's drowning.  I can so do this.

I ran into a friend from High School last week and instead of ducking or running from the situation (like I normally do) I talked to him and it was good.  It's been several years since we've chatted and I loved that it was just easy and as if no time had passed. This time I didn't break out into a sweat talking to him. ☺

I'm spending an entire weekend with friends!

The secret I have?  I'll share it tomorrow.  (it's not what you're thinking)

Who they are right now

She can do it herself.

Just ask her.

She loves her daddy and making up stories.  She loves the rope swing on our redneck swing set.  She has freckles and skinny legs.  Skinny legs that always have bruises on them.  She's happy-go-lucky.  She's thoughtful and she's loving.

She's starting to enjoy learning to read.  But let's not bring up math, alright?  {she is her mama's daughter}

She didn't pass Level 1 for swim lessons but she doesn't know that.  All she knows is she was given an award and she gets to go back every Tuesday and Thursday.

She collected a bunch of snails and their "montanas" move all around.

She lets bugs crawl on her hands and I pretend it doesn't freak me out.  Even though it totally does.

She loves to sing.  Worship music, Country music and a little Rihanna every now and then.

She is six.  She's my firstborn.  She saved me from me.

And then there's her sister.

She believes her feet should not touch the ground.  She wants to be carried wherever we're going and cries if you don't give her what she wants.  It's not even a little cute but I remind myself that one day she won't want to be carried so I should enjoy this while I can.

She loves to get dirty but as soon as she does she wants a change of clothes and to be washed off.  Then back out to get dirty she goes!  She currently goes through about 3-5 outfits per day and this makes me insane.  (insaner?)

She's a mama's girl and wants to be rocked all the time.  She lets me hold her like she's a baby and this melts my mama heart.

She's got a temper you don't wanna mess with but she's such a little lover.  She does not like tomatoes but will eat most any other fruit or vegetable.  She can buckle the top part of her car seat herself and if you accidentally do it for her, she will undo it and redo it.

Because, like her sister, she can do it herself.

Her f's sound like shhh and it's my favorite thing to carry on a conversation with her.  I'm almost certain she will be wearing diapers underneath her graduation gown.

She is three.  She is my baby.  And I cannot imagine my days without her.

Sweet girls, your mama loves you so.

Material, Please.

Besides the video and my voice being totally off, apparently my 16 minute video wasn't too boring.

Yay!

You guys are really too sweet to me.  Kinda wondering if you're all lying to me. :)

I was thinking maybe I'd try and make it a weekly or every other week deal.  I had a hoot doing it.  But I really don't know what I'd make the videos about.

So.

Wanna list some vlog material suggestions in the comments?  I promise to keep the next videos shorter.

The first {and quite possibly the last} Vlog Post

It's long.

And my ceiling fan is going in the background.  Which is a little obnoxious.

And it's long.

Did I mention that already?

Also, my voice is off from the video part.  Which I find highly annoying.  I don't know if there's something I could have done to fix it but we're lucky I even figured out how to make a video in the first place.  I tried uploading to YouTube, thinking that would help, but apparently they don't like 16 minute videos.  Go figure.

Oh, Lord, here goes.

Vlog? What Vlog?

So, I got a little busy yesterday and I've been super busy today getting my house in order that I haven't had a chance to video mysweetself answering the questions you've either emailed, FB'd or posted as a comment on this post.

My goal is to have it done for Friday.  I know, I'm lame.  But I think we established that on this blog ohhh, about five years ago.

I have about six questions to answer so far, which surprises me.  Maybe I'm just nosier than everyone else.  I'd be asking questions like crazy if someone offered to answer anything I asked. ☺

A couple of 'em are serious and I'm going to have to make notes.  Thank you, Sammy, for making me think!

Friday.  I promise.

Spandex and my Rack {what a post title}

Josh and I celebrated our 13th anniversary this weekend.

To celebrate we went for a 90 mile bike ride.  No, I'm not even a little kidding.  A little sore, yes.  Kidding, no.

When we were about 35 miles in I hit a bump and my chain did some weird thing and we had to stop so I could watch Josh fix it.  (we wouldn't want me to break a nail that I've just now quit biting, right?)

We're about to get back on our bikes and he looks at me and says, "Where's your muffin top?"  (he's a sweet talker, that one.)

My reply, "I stuffed it in my spandex. Duh."  As if it just magically went away or something.  Spandex is good for stuffing in muffin tops, FYI!

Today he's telling me that he doesn't have a current insurance card in his Suburban and he doesn't want to go to jail if he gets pulled over.  (I think he was being slightly dramatic.)

"Oh, I don't know what I did with the new ones.  But it's not a big deal, when I got pulled over and didn't have a current card, it wasn't a big deal."

To which he replies, "Yeah, because you have a rack."

That I apparently need to make sure I don't stuff in spandex.

Q & A Vlog Edition

So I've always wanted to make a vlog.  (video blog)  But I've not done it because I'm a chicken.

I don't know what I'm a chicken about necessarily but that's my excuse.

Mostly I just didn't know what the hay I'd vlog about.  I mean, I rarely even know what I'm going to blog about until my fingers starting hitting keys.

This morning while in the shower - where I do my best thinking - I decided I'd let you decide what I vlog about! So, in the comments section or in an email if you don't want anyone to know it was you - ask me a question.  Anything.  I'm game.  Public humiliation is my fave.

Not really.

But it sounded good.

So.  You ask the questions.  And I'll make a vlog of myself answering said questions*.  I'll post the video on Tuesday. There might be naughty children in the background that I have to yell at and if you feel the need to call child protective services during the video, feel free.

Their bags will be packed and sitting by the door.



*I reserve the right to totally bail on this whole thing ☺

I so should not blog this but it's too funny NOT to.

What I'm about to tell you happened a month ago and I'm just now going to blog it.

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe you'll be offended.  {please don't be}

Mostly I'm hoping you'll laugh as hard as I did.

and as hard as I still do when I think about it.

Remember the Brazilian birthday? {only click the link if you want a play-by-play of a wax job} For those who don't want to click the link, the short version is this:  I had a Brazilian wax done on my birthday a month ago.  the end.

So.

It's a day or so after my procedure and I get out of the shower and head into my bedroom - in my birthday suit.  Sugar (age 6) is sitting on my bed, sucking her thumb and watching a movie.  She looks at me, then does a double take.

and says, with all seriousness...

"Mama, where's your fur?"

I died.  I'm still dying about it.  I had no response.  What was I supposed to say to that?!

Mission Accomplished

6 months.

Countless hours at the gym.

Countless trips to Starbucks and McDonald's.

About 400 miles on my bike.

And I have reached the goal weight I set back at the end of January.

I went from 153 down to 125.  From a size 12 to a size 6.

28 lbs. lost.

I'm happy.

Going to the yoga classes has definitely been the best thing for me.  The flexibility and strength I've gained is amazing to me.  When I first started and we were told to 'Crocodile' which is basically holding yourself in a lowered push-up position I couldn't even lower myself down to the ground.  Now, not only can I lower myself but I can hold myself there - hovering an inch or so above the ground.

I could barely touch my toes - okay, I could barely touch my belly button before I started yoga.  Now, I can bend down and reach my hands underneath my feet.  Seriously.  (I know, a lot of people can already do this, but for someone as inflexible as I was, it's a huge achievement)

My arms are conditioned and strong.  I'm no longer embarrassed to wear shorts; I have ankles!  Who knew?  In fact, for the first time in several years I purchased two pairs.  And I've been wearing them.  I don't have a six pack by any means but when I flex my stomach muscles I can feel 'em easily and it's great.

I can go out and run a few miles or bike 35 and not feel like I'm going to die when I get home.  6 months ago I got winded walking to the refrigerator. ☺ No, seriously.

Six months ago I was embarrassed to go out in public. Now, I'm comfortable with me.  I could definitely lose more weight.  I'm still 10 lbs heavier than I was when I got pregnant with Sugar almost seven years ago.  So, if I get there, I get there.  I'm not going to change anything that I've been doing since January, except to ride my bike more.  My thighs thank me.

And I want to thank:

Josh.  Without his encouragement and the hours watching the girls so I could go to the gym or go running or head out on my bike for 3 hours, I wouldn't be at this point.  Also, he loved me as much at 153 as he does at 125, I'm thankful he's just been there through the darkest times of my life.

Amber.  For convincing me to go to yoga at 6 a.m. which, after we became masters of yoga turned into Body Flow at 7 p.m.  Thank you for the hilariousness and inappropriateness.  We are a good time.  More people should be like us. ☺

Friends.  For texts and emails of encouragement.  Seriously helped me keep on, keepin' on.

YOU! My rockin' blog readers.  For emails, comments left on posts.  You've made me laugh and cry and inspired me to keep trying.

Jessica.  For inspiring me to start running again in the first place. For the texts of encouragement.  For running with me at the 5K and carrying me along the whole way.  (and for the shorts I've yet to return....)  Also, after I finished my 12K she left a comment on my Facebook wall that said, "You're a runner."  That made me so freakin' happy I cried.

It's been six months of hard work.  Dedication and determination I didn't know I had.  Thankful to God for a strong, healthy body and the ability to just get outta bed in the morning.

I'm kinda lovin' life right now.

a Fourth of July rundown of my last 30 hours

I've been alone for 31(ish) hours.

In that time I helped a friend paint (hi, Betty!) and then she bought me Starbucks and dinner.  I will paint for her anytime!  And then I lingered at her house because I'm not so good at going home to an empty house.  (uh, sorry if I overstayed my welcome!)

This morning I woke up at 7:02 and when I saw the time I closed my eyes and woke up at 8:04.  I pulled on tank top, some shorts and headed to Safeway (where I get my Starbucks) and I ordered my coffee, sat outside the store and read a book for two hours.  Uh huh.  Two hours outside the store.  Whoops.

I came home (to a locked house and had to climb through a window) and cleaned out my refrigerator. *shudder* Did dishes. Cleaned the living room, vacuumed and then mowed the pasture.  I started sprinklers.  Took a shower.  Put on my make up and decided to go for a bike ride.

I rode to Chelsea's.  BS'd with her for close to two hours and then got back on my bike and headed home.  The last two miles of my ride I thought I was going to have to call Chelsea and have her pick me up, I was totally dragging.  Realized I hadn't eaten anything all day (duh!) and had hit a wall.  I made it home.  Grabbed a glass from the freezer, put a couple Tbsp of OJ in it and then filled it with Blue Moon.

That was my dinner.

Then I went to Safeway (yes, again) got an iced green tea and sat and read for another hour.

That was my dessert.

I came home, gave my dog a coupla tranquilizers - he doesn't like the fireworks.  Took a bath with Pandora playing in the background and then I put myself to bed at 8:30.

With the fireworks going off I can't sleep even though I'm absolutely exhausted from doing nothing for the last 30 hours.

At least I get to sleep in again tomorrow.

The loneliness has not been bad at all.  I definitely miss my family but for once I've just let myself enjoy the alone time without guilt.  I think I'm growing up.

Happy Fourth of July!

Friday Random...except today is Thursday

*totally put Friday in my title.  uhh, too bad it's still Thursday.  i need a cold drink apparently.*

I couldn't find my make-up bag today.  There's been a bit of panic but I'm feelin' some freedom not wearing it.  I'm not a girl who always has to wear it but I definitely feel better about myself when I have it on.

I'm currently reading a trashy romance novel.  Don't judge.  You've read one too.  And if you haven't, you get an extra jewel in your crown.

I went to three different bike places today in search of a specific tire for Josh's road bike.  First guy tells me that I don't want a Bontrager, I want an Armadillo.  And I tell him no, I want a Bontrager.  Left there.  Neeext.  Went to REI and loaded up on Power Bars for Josh and looked through their tires even though Josh had already told me they wouldn't have it.  (I'm not a berry dood wistener.)  Then I went across the highway (the place I'd been instructed to go to first) and of course, they had the tire I was in search of.  You'd think I'd learn to listen.  You'd think wrong.

Did I mention my husband was going to Montana for FIVE days?!  He leaves tomorrow.  And then my kids will leave too.  And I will have a house to myself and I'm sure I'm going to wonder what the heck to do with myself but honestly, honestly I'm so looking forward to this.

My kids made me just a little crazy today.  Not even the peanut butter cups I just ate are helping my crazy.

Tuesday I went swimming with Trevor and Megan.  I haven't swam in that pool in 16 years.  Trevor soaked my towel and splashed me when I didn't want to be splashed.  Apparently he's not changed much in 16 years...

I went to Old Navy with the girls today.  I was there to find another swimsuit.  I found one I was in love with and got the sizes I wanted to try on.  I'm in the dressing room with my 6 and 3 year old.  I take off my bra to put the top part of the suit on.  Spice: "Mama, I like yo boobs."  Sugar: "You don't nurse us anymore, do you, Mama?"  Spice: "Mama, I like yo boooobs."

I didn't get the suit.

But I did get the heck out of there.

I haven't bitten my fingernails in nearly seven weeks.  What do you people do with long fingernails?  These things are driving me nuts.

Just realized I announced to the internet I'm home alone this weekend.  If you're going to try to kidnap me, kill me or otherwise, please know that I have several guns in this house which my husband has taught me to use.  I also have some mean cats.  And a senior citizen Golden Retriever.  You will go down.  But if you decide to try to kidnap me anyway, can you at least bring me Starbucks so I'm not crabby?

My face broke out a couple of weeks ago and has yet to recover.  I feel 16 again.  Except with less perky boobs.

Happy Thursday!

on becoming sensitive to others and an apology

before i get into this post, i'm going to give a little background for anyone who is here for the first time.  otherwise none of what i say will make sense to the new reader.


in July of 1999 when i was 19 years old and while on vacation in San Diego with Josh, we got the phone call that my dad died.  while floating the Yakima River with friends - he drown.  he wasn't wearing a life jacket.  he didn't know how to swim.


after getting the call we left for the airport and when asked why we needed to change our flight i bluntly said to the girl at the desk, "my dad just drown."  she was completely taken aback by my words and didn't know what to say.  awkward moment.


it was the first but definitely not the last time i'd bluntly state how my dad died.  it was the first but definitely not the last time i'd make someone feel awkward.


***


and that's what i want to address in my post today.


the awkwardness.


the offending.


that i've done.


caused others.


when referring to how my dad died.


joking about life jackets and water and anything related to drowning has been my defense mechanism, my coping mechanism for a lot of years.  nearly 12.  my time in counseling last year helped.  lots.  and for quite awhile i realized that i hadn't joked about it.  i hadn't tried the shock factor out on anyone.  


i coped in a new way.  i was healing.  finally.


however, recently i've found myself joking about it again.  and maybe "joking" is the wrong word because you can't really joke about someone drowning.  i don't know if it's because July 23rd is right around the corner and i automatically find myself counting down the days til the anniversary or if it's just been this subconscious way of dealing for so long...i don't know.


anyway.


recently Josh's parents bought a boat.  *dun dun dun*  and we've really enjoyed our time on it.  at Sugar's request, we spend her sixth birthday on it.  and yesterday, after church we went to the river and spent several hours on it.  i'm freakish about my girls wearing their life jackets and i admit, yesterday these words came out of my mouth: "you have to wear your life jacket, remember how Grandpa Mark didn't wear his?"  and Sugar says, "yeah, and he died."


then via Twitter, i posted something insensitive about the whole life jackets/dad deal.  i was in a mood of sorts.  and Twitter is my venting place in 140 characters or less.


in the process of venting/dealing/coping/defense mechanisming (made up word) i do believe i was offensive.  someone tweeted shortly after i did - and while it may not have been directed at me - it very well could have been, and that person's tweet kinda sorta offended me.  


who was this person to say that i offended them?


how could my 'dealing' with the drowning issue even possibly affect them?


or offend them?


i very nearly got mad.


instead i chose to take this person's words (and whether or not they were directed at me, i still don't know) this person whose opinions, beliefs and feelings matter to me and i let them sink in.  i thought about it for quite awhile.


and i realized something.


for the last 12 years i have been offensive.


when talking about my dad or the way he died i have put other people in an awkward position.  


from a friend's blog post on death and how everyone handles it differently: "we should be sensitive to the vulnerability of those around us who are affected differently."


i have been anything but sensitive to those around me when talking about my dad.


it's not nice.  it's not healthy.


and it's not fair.


and if you are someone i've made uncomfortable when talking about my dad, life jackets, drowning...


i'm sorry.


i truly am.

I have four lbs to lose to reach my goal weight.

I posted it to FB and my friends have been super kind and encouraging.  And I got embarrassed.  To the point I'm considering deleting it.

Should I not have posted it to Facebook?

Are people thinking that I'm an idiot for saying what I weigh?

I panicked.  I always panic when I hit "send" or "publish" or whatever.  I'm really good at using the delete feature.

But I decided not to delete it.  I have busted my butt for five months to be where I am right now.  It hasn't been easy, physically or emotionally but I've done it.

And I'm freaking proud of myself for it.  It took me a whole lot of years of complaining and finally getting sick of myself that I made the decision to do something about it.

I think it's okay to post it to Facebook.

If We Last That Long

Mine and Josh's 13th wedding anniversary is in a few weeks.

Last night he was eating wasabi in bed and I looked at him and wondered if we'd even make it to our anniversary.

The guy knows me better than anyone so why the sam hill would he eat something crunchy.  in bed.  next to me?

I was reading a book and checking my FB and Twitter every once in awhile on my phone while he's crunching away (and I'm totally wanting to punch him in the groin for it) when I get a FB message linking me to the funniest blog post I've ever read.

Seriously haven't laughed as hard as I did last night in so long.  There were tears and snot and snorting and no breathing while Josh was crunching away on his wasabi mix and researching boat stuff on the laptop.

And as I'm reading the post I'm thinking, "if we make it to year 15 after this wasabi incident, this is totally what i'm getting him."

So.  I give to you the link to a very inappropriate, completely hysterical blog post.

You're welcome.

Just remember, I told you that it's inappropriate but oh so funny.

blessed to call her mine

Today is your 6th birthday.  On my birthday a couple of weeks ago, you came bounding into my room.

"Happy Birthday, Mother!  Now it's almost my birthday!"

You are so very much my daughter.  We do love our birthdays, don't we sweet girl?

I'm not sure how it's possible that you are six.  Because I still remember very clearly the day I found out I was expecting you.

It was a Sunday morning in October.  I don't know what made me decide to head to the store so early in the morning but that's exactly what I did.  I put on a yellow Goodwill t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  Walked out of my little apartment, letting the green screen door slam as I left.

I drove down 29th, took a left on Nob Hill (something that's nearly impossible during the work week) and headed to Safeway.  The store was quiet.  I wanted a Sunday paper.  I grabbed one.  But I also grabbed a bag of Double Stuf Oreos...and a pregnancy test.  The Clear Blue Easy Digital test.

I remember reading the digital read out.


Pregnant.


Pregnant.


Shock.


Six years later I'm still in shock that I've been blessed with you.  Shocked and thankful.  If not for you I don't know where I'd be right now.

Thank you, sweet girl, for six years of smiles and laughs.  For the way you're so matter of fact about everything.  Thank you for being sensitive yet strong.  I love that you have the most awesome sense of direction.  And I love that your daddy is your most favorite person on earth.

I think it's hilarious that your idea of problem solving an issues with the neighbor's animals is to shoot them.  I love that just now instead of asking for a piece of bacon, you said, "hey, Mom, can I have some of that pig?"  I have a love/hate relationship with your thumb.  I remind myself you (most likely) won't be going to college with it in your mouth.

You are tall and skinny and the girl who used to run like Phoebe is no longer.  That part makes me a little sad.  You prefer jeans to dresses and dirt over being clean.  You hate to have your hair brushed and more often than not look like a little ragamuffin.  You have the most amazing blue eyes that I could stare at for hours.  Your nose turns up and even though I love it, I'm sure one day you won't.

When I lay you down at night I want to kiss all your freckles but you'd rather I just sing you a song and be on my way.  You make friends at the playground so easily and I find myself envious.  You don't know a stranger.  From the time you were born you've been a morning person and always so happy as soon as you are awake.

There are so many things I love about you.  Mostly I love that you're mine.

memories...and lots of them

falling asleep on the back of my stepdad's motorcycle and letting go of him for a split second.

seeing my dad for the first time in several months when he came home from cleaning up the Exxon Valdez oil spill.  i remember how he smiled at me.  like it was the first time he'd ever seen me.

my last day of school in 8th grade.  panicked that i was going to be starting high school in a different town.  again.

falling asleep outside on the porch when i was little and waking up to red ants all over me.

the first time i saw Josh.  oh, the flat top.  and worn out tennies.  and the smile.

roller-blading with Linds into the grocery store to get a burrito and Pepsi and sitting on the floor at the store having a pow wow.

being asked out at a soccer game by a boy i barely knew.  and saying yes.

hanging out at the 88 cent store with David and Lindsey and eating ridiculous amounts of popcorn.

a college professor named John.

riding around with my dad in his very old Chevy Blazer.

and the first time he took me fishing.  which ended up being the last time he took me fishing.  apparently I talked too much?

the night Josh asked me to marry him.  and i said yes.  and immediately realized that meant Lindsey and I wouldn't go off to college together.  we'd done everything together for four years.  i wasn't sure how we'd do this thing called life without each other in a few months.

Hotel room 333.  It added up to 9.

reconnecting with Amber through MySpace after not seeing her since we walked together at graduation 8 years before.

using my aunt's Keds as a car for my Barbies.

sitting in the backseat of all of our cars with my sisters on each side of me.  never failed, they always fell asleep in my lap.  i'd play with their hair and think that maybe they weren't so bad after all...as long as they were sleeping.

getting pulled over at age 16 for doing 105 on the highway.  i was late getting home from my boyfriend's house and knew my mom would not be happy.  i still don't understand why he didn't give me a ticket or put me in jail or ground me or something.

the boy in high school with the green Jeep Grand Cherokee.  i think that's when my obsession with the Jeep Grand Cherokee began.

starting my blog.  in 2006.  without the first clue as to what a blog was.

the day Treena took the day off and spent her day with me.

the first camping trip with Jim and Emily.  oh good times.

riding on three and four wheelers with Jim and Emily.  in the pouring rain.  more good times.

taking a picture with a gnome and two of the funniest girls ever.

living out in Mabton and driving my sisters and me to school everyday while blasting Rebecca St. James.  and then the morning we saw the cat get hit by a car and i wanted to bawl but instead laughed hysterically while Erica cried her eyes out.

lying on a hotel room bed in San Diego, completely sunburned and hearing the phone ring.  the phone call telling Josh and me that my dad had drown that day.

my ten year class reunion that i didn't want to go to.  but thankful i did.

the cool October morning when i found out i was pregnant with Sugar...who will be six tomorrow.

a good weekend, a good weekend indeed but now it is monday

we had a really great weekend.

besides the craziness that was my saturday.  where i left the house at noon and did not return to it until 7 pm and when i did arrive home i was informed that no one had eaten dinner yet the kitchen was a mess.

mind you i was bringing home groceries and i'm not a fan of bringing groceries home to a dirty kitchen or hungry people.

saturday was lovely.  a baby shower for my favorite tiny person.  and then shopping all by myself.  i went to REI and bought josh's father's day gift.  he's going on a trip to montana soon to ride bikes with friends for a few days and of course i do believe he needs a new outfit for each of his rides.  (and when i say bikes, i'm talking bicycles)  i was stoked to find some awesome clearance items.  it's always fun to buy spandex for your husband.

after i left REI i was at a stop light next to some cowboy in a fancy Dodge pick up.  i looked over at him.  he looked over at me.  and i knew that it was on.  once that light turned green it was going to be a race to see whose Dodge had more balls.  apparently my mini van does.  and if i were that cowboy i'd still be feelin' a lil sheepish.

i then went to Costco where i loaded my cart with all things non-vegetarian. like 6.5 lbs of ground beef, 6.5 lbs of chuck roast and a big ol' bag of chicken breasts.

i don't much like air conditioning and it was fairly warm, so my windows were down, my sunroof open and i was rather sweaty.

so sweaty.

by the time i got to WinCo for groceries i looked as though i peed my pants.  sometimes i think leather seats are overrated and when i sweat would be one of those times.  i wondered if i believed in shorts and wore those instead if it would have helped.  at least then i could have wiped the sweat off instead of having it soak my capris.

(i just don't believe in shorts.  i don't think i can do it.)

we went to church yesterday morning.  after a really long time spent in the church nursery it was a sunday where we'd actually be able to sit in service.  i told josh, "i need to be in church today."  have you ever felt desperate like that for God's Word to be spoken to you?  that's how i was feeling yesterday.  it's been a very long time since i've let myself feel that way.  i'm always desperately needing God's Word spoken to me but whether or not i feel it is another thing entirely.  i spent much of worship in tears.  "everyone needs forgiveness, the kindness of a Savior."  bawling.  i need forgiveness.  i need it much.  but please, don't be nice to me, not at this moment because i will come unglued with the crying.  "all my fears and failures"  yes and yes some more.  fears:  that i'll forever be who i am right now.  this mess of me.  failures:  daily.  hourly.  as wife, mom, sister and friend.  as Sarah.  when, Lord?!  when will i wake in the morning and not be ashamed of who i am?!

church was beautiful yesterday.  i'm so so glad we went.

i failed to mention that when i got home from my perfect, sweaty saturday shoppingness that my soon-to-be 6 year old told me Ruby, our cat, brought her a baby bird. "where's this baby bird?" i ask.  "upstairs in my room."  and so we follow her up the stairs, she runs to her bed, lifts her pillow, pulls out her slipper, reaches her hand inside said slipper and, indeed, pulls out a baby bird.  a baby bird that i think is a chicken.  i'm still not sure.  however i've kept it warm, fed, watered and alive for approximately 36 hours.  i'm still waiting for it to lay eggs for breakfast.

anyway, after church yesterday my in-laws took us to lunch to celebrate Sugar's birthday a little early since they will not be here on her actual birthday.  it was nice not to cook lunch or pay for it, either.  thank you, mom and dad.  you are my favorite.

then we came home and got stuff ready before we had friends come for dinner.  new(ish) friends.  the husband i'd met before and i made such a rockin' first impression while making fun of him for being shirtless and taking FOREVER to open a gate so i could enter his courts to pick up his wife (Chelsea) so she could celebrate her fifth wedding anniversary with me.  the birthday girl.  i won't mention the fact that he was wearing his wife's fuzzy slippers 'cause that might embarrass him.  anyway, after he let me in the gate that night of my birthday (and his wedding anniversary) (and put on a shirt and different shoes) i went over, apologized and introduced myself.  apparently all has been forgiven, he agreed to come to our house for dinner.  there was much food, laughter, sarcasm, children and fun last night.  i'm glad it didn't take me ten years to decide i could be friends with them.

(someday i'll write a post about meeting Chelsea and how it could have easily been ten years in the making.)

(love you, Chelsea!  let's hug the next time we see each other.  i know you love hugs.)

we put the kids to bed.  made sure Sparkle (the bird of some sort) was warm and went to bed ourselves.  josh was on craigslist looking for a road bike for me.  i was tweeting from my phone and listening to Pandora.  and then my eyes could just stay open no longer and i was asleep before 10 and it was a beautiful thing.

and now it is monday.

and the week starts with a funeral.

more on that tomorrow.

how was your weekend?

The story of Ken and Barbie

Josh and I have never been super great at making friends as a couple.

He has friends.

I have friends.

But it never seems that my friend's husbands and Josh are super compatible and vice versa.

It's not that we haven't wanted couple friends, it just has never worked out. 

And it all started a really long time ago.

We'd been married a coupla years when we noticed this young couple going to our church.  Josh of course wanted to immediately invite them over for dinner.  Mostly I think because that was the only time I ever cleaned or cooked a homemade meal.  But also because we needed some friends.

The only problem with inviting these two people over?  They looked way classier than us.  Perfect clothes, hair and smiles.  I was just sure they were going to be snobby and wouldn't like me.  I refused to let Josh ask them over for lunch after church.  He wanted to every Sunday.  He wanted to just introduce himself but I wouldn't even allow that.

Since we didn't know their names we started calling them...wait for it...

Ken and Barbie.

Mhm, we did.

It's now been about 10 years since this whole deal and a few months ago "Barbie" was teaching a couponing class I wanted to go to.

Candee kept telling me she wanted me to meet "Barbie" {except she didn't call her that, though she knew I did} and another girl, Chelsea.

I told Candee I'd go to the class but I wasn't really wanting to meet these girls.  Apparently my insecurity issues haven't gone away.  

"They're cooler than me.  Dress better than I do.  I doubt they'd like me or get me."

I came up with excuse after excuse.

And then I was introduced to them.

Barbie's name is actually Katie and Katie is absolutely wonderful.  She's not snobby at all.  I love her.  She's been so encouraging about homeschooling {our kiddos are both Kinder} and I'm thankful she didn't "unfriend" me a couple weeks ago when my daughter kissed her son on the cheek.  *gasp*  {seriously wanted to die in that moment}

I decided to out myself on Friday at Red Robin.  I looked at Candee and said, "should I tell her?"  Candee said I should.

And so I told Katie how for the last several years her and her husband (Ross) have been known to Josh and me as Ken and Barbie.  She got a kick out of it and of course, had to call Ross and tell him that we're totally ridiculous.

{okay, she probably didn't say that but I didn't catch the phone call so she might have.}

Part of me is sad that I didn't want Josh to introduce years ago.  I feel like we've missed out on a lot of years of friendship.  Lately though I've decided to stop dwelling on stuff I can't change and those missed years of friendship is part of that.

I'm just looking forward to the many years of friendship we have left with our non-plastic friends. ☺

31st birthdays are when you're {finally} old enough for a lap dance

Seriously.

But before we talk about that, let's start that fabulous day from the beginning, shall we?

I told you I was going to go outta my literal comfort zone and have a Brazilian wax done.  Had I not blogged about it and had I not received emails from several of you begging asking me to document my experience, I mighta chickened out.

Okay, I wouldn't have chickened out.  I wanted to do this.

First up though was my hair.  It's been a year since my last hair appointment and poor Barbie had a mess to deal with.

"What are we doing today?"  She asked me.

"Really blonde hi-lights.  Lots of 'em.  And take off about 3 or 4"."

While she was washing out the bleach I asked if she could make my hair big and curly.

And she did.

don't worry, she didn't leave it like that.

{Disclaimer:  I'm going to be pretty honest about the wax job, so if you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand.  Just wanted to warn you what's next.}

So after my hair was finished it was time for the painful part.  I wasn't as concerned with how bad it was going to hurt as I was the whole modesty issue.  But then I kept thinking, "eh, whatev."

When we started she was only thinking I'd want a bikini wax, that I wouldn't be able to handle the full meal deal.  However, I was handling everything pretty well and told her I was going to go through with it.  She told me the most painful part was coming up then.

The pubic bone.

On goes the wax, the strip and then the rip.

Holy.

Cow.

She wasn't kidding that was the most painful part.  You'd think it'd hurt more down yonder but nuh uh.   Pubic bone.  The rest seemed like a breeze.

"Now, we can stop here or we can keep going."

A Brazilian is front to back.  All of it.

"Eh, we may as well go for it.  We've gone this far."

Her next words made me laugh out loud.

"Okay, get on all fours, ass in the air."

Alriiighty then.

I'd spent 45 minutes with this woman already.  I wasn't the least bit mortified like I thought I would be.  She's so one of those people that puts you at ease immediately.

The next few minutes were the most painless.  Weird, huh?

It really wasn't that bad.  I know I have a higher pain tolerance than some.  She told me I was a rock star.  It's always nice to have someone tell ya that.  She said some girls will ask her to stop when she's half done.  Other girls will grab her hand as she's about to rip the paper off.

Me?  I talked.  Made jokes.  Laughed.  It's what I do when in an uncomfortable situation.  Physically and emotionally.

After I was done I went shopping.  Josh gave me some birthday money awhile ago and I had a little left to shop with.  My first stop was Victoria's Secret, where I returned something I bought a couple weeks ago that just wasn't gonna work out.  And then I wandered around the mall.  From store to store.  Have you ever noticed when you have money you can't find anything but when you don't have money you see tons of stuff you'd love to have?

Yeah, that was me on Friday.  Plus, it's just lonely to wander a mall alone.

The evening was what I was looking forward to.  When I decided not to head to Seattle Josh suggested getting my friends together and going out for dinner.  So, that's what we did.

My sister, Megan. Candee, Melis, Me, Chelsea & Katie

Melissa & me.  Only took 10 tries for this.

Katie.  There's a story about this girl. I'll share this week.

Candee.  Love this friend.

Megan.  My sweet baby sister.  Isn't she beautiful?

Ah Chelsea. Everyone needs a Chelsea in their lives.

We started our night at Red Robin.  What can I say, it's a fave of mine.  Looove it.  It was fun watching all these girls together.  So fun.

After dinner we headed to a place called Roxy Wine Bar.  Fun atmosphere but it was a very slow, quiet night in there.

My Blue Moon & Melissa's glass of wine.  I had about 2 sips of the beer.

Since it was pretty slow in there we decided to leave and keep walking.  There are a lot of places to stop at on this one street downtown.  We let the music lead us.  We walked into a place playing Journey and as soon as I walked in I felt like it was my High School class reunion all over again!

Three guys I graduated with, three girls Melissa and Candee graduated with and a guy my sister graduated with were all at a table together.  So fun to see those guys!  The youngest of the group, Adam (the one who graduated with my sister) offered to buy me a drink for my birthday.  I thanked him but since I was driving (and because I'm not much more than a one beer kinda girl) I politely declined.

I should have taken him up on the beer offer.

Because a few minutes later he led me over to a chair at his table and gave me lap dance.

I wish I were kidding.

I haven't laughed that hard or been that embarrassed in a very long time.

After a few seconds of that fun, I thanked him and went back to my own table.  A lil flustered.

Such a fun night with friends.  And I was so thankful to have seen the guys from High School.

31.

That's me now.

Maybe this is the year I grow up, huh?

Motorcycles, Houseboats and some TMI

The last few days have been a roller coaster.

I used to like those things.

Not so much anymore.

This birthday of mine has thrown me for a loop.  Normally I'm reminding people in July about my birthday coming up.  And usually the week before my birthday no one can stand me.  (not like they can stand me much any other time but whatev).  This year?  Haven't been feeling it as much.

I'd considered a trip to Seattle.  Went so far as to email my friend, Greg, last week to ask if he still had his motorcycle.  "Sold it last summer, you looking for one?"

Told him nope.

Just looking for a ride.

I wanted something fun.  Something not me.  Motorcycles tend to freak me the heck out.

Continuing in my search for fun, while looking for places to stay I found a cheap houseboat.  Cheap as in 30 bucks a night cheap.  Only problem, the owner of the boat stays on the boat with you.  Amber informed me I didn't need to pay for rape, murder and a burial at sea.  Those can be free.  (Everyone needs an Amber)

I really don't know what I was thinking.  Mostly that I feel a little boring lately.  I also feel like I let a lot of my fears get in my way.  What better way to tackle (ha) my fear of boats than by sleeping on one!?

I've opted out of the boat idea.

And the motorcycle is apparently out, too.

So I've decided to try something else out of my  (literal) comfort zone.

A wax job.

(male readers, mother-in-law you may want to exit le blog now.)

I mean, why not?  Why not get waxed?  Am I nervous as heck?  Uh, yeah.  A certain family member of mine went for the gusto.

The Brazillian wax.

(I was going to link you to the wikipedia description but thankfully I looked at it before i did that.  You would not have appreciated me linking you to that.)

I'd first made an appointment with Melissa to do it for me.  Who better to wax your junk than a best friend?  Though she only wanted to do the French wax (landing strip) and then I made an appointment elsewhere for the rest.  As it turned out, in the short amount of time I had with Melissa this weekend, no waxing was involved.

Friday's the big wax day.

Was telling a friend my qualms about it.  Mostly that I don't want to look seven.  To which, said friend replied, that it was no longer 1991, it's 2011 and quite common to have done.

True.

But still.

My appointment is at 10:30 am.  Think that's too early to arrive all liquored up?  Or maybe it's the perfect time!

Anyone care to share any experiences?  Feel free to comment or email me.  Save the horror stories for later, I don't wanna know that part.

Ain't Happenin'

I never use the word "ain't" ever, ever.

My dad used it.  Always drove me nuts.  Now it makes me laugh to think about it.

Anyway, there's just no possible way to be 125 on Friday and I'm choosing to be totally okay with that.  125 will come eventually.  I'm guessing in the next two weeks instead of two days.

In the last week I've ridden 5 days, logging 115 miles.  Yesterday my ride to the gym started out with a downpour, thunder and head wind.  People were looking at me like I was crazy.  I think I kinda was.  I just didn't want some stupid weather to put a damper on my plans to ride.  So I didn't.

My legs feel great and I'm hoping to be able to sport a pair of shorts this summer.  We'll see on that one.

While I was halfway to the gym last night a woman parked her van near the pathway, got her two girls out with their bikes and she was walking behind them.  Then, after a little bit, she started to jog.  I'd guess her to have been nearly 75 lbs overweight.

I'm sure it wasn't easy for her to get out there and do that.  Physically or emotionally.  But in my head I was like, "ROCK ON, SISTER!"  She was out there.  She was doing it.  And her girlies were getting some fun in as well.

Anyway, that was totally random but I just thought it was totally awesome, too.

I've so got this

We're looking at 6 lbs before Friday.

Totally do-able, right?

This is where you say, "yes, of course, Sarah!"  All while trying to keep a straight face.

It's a long shot.  I'm down but not out!

Caved

On Saturday I had that coffee I've been dreaming about.

If you'd had the Friday afternoon and evening I had, you woulda had coffee on Saturday, too.

Friday is a good day for a List, No?

What was once 7 lbs needing to be lost before next Friday is now 8.  Um, oops.

I only biked to the gym and back one day this week instead of the the originally planned three days.  But one is better than none.

This weekend was supposed to include friends, the beach, some Goodwill Outlet, some waxing {blog post in the making} and a lot of hours in a car.  Now...it will not.

This is a good and bad thing, that we will not be traveling.  Someone {ahem} did some foolish banking and deposited some funds into an account from another account and received a notice that said funds were being held for...TEN DAYS.  Sorry, but that's my money, give it to me NOW.  So I called 'em to say just that. I laid down the law.  I mean, I know I've given up coffee til next Friday but a girl still needs to buy a corn dog.  They released part of my funds, allowing me to pay my cell phone bill {ouch} and buy a peanut buster parfait.

All is now right in my world.

The reason our trip is not happening is because there was a little baby boy born yesterday.  A little baby boy that I love like crazy.  A little baby boy I need to squeeze and smell and love and kiss.  He's my nephew and I can't believe he's finally here!  I say finally because this pregnancy has lasted almost a year and a half.  {long story but if you read my SIL's blog, you know what I mean}

Yesterday I decided I was giving into this whole go-without-Starbucks-til-next-Friday gig.  I posted about it on Facebook and got several encouraging comments that I could, indeed, make it until next Friday.  My friends apparently believe in me way more than I do.  I held out.

However.

I'm on my way to the gym last night when I get a call from Josh.  "Leave class early so you can get us Starbucks before they close."

I gasped!

"But what about my friends, they all think I can do this!"

He says no one would have to know.  He's naughty like that.

I did leave class early.  (I rarely hang out for the meditation part of class anymore)

But I drove right on by that Starbucks and I DID NOT STOP.

Clearly a miracle of the Lord.

Back to list format:

Trying to rearrange your living room without Starbucks is not pretty.  Trying to live life without Starbucks is not pretty.  I've kinda been in a fog these last few days.  My daily routine has been so messed up.

I had a watermelon martini the other night.  It was okay.  I've decided the only watermelon anything that I like is bubble gum.

While rearranging my living room I went through my bookcases and got rid of about 30 books.  Not easy to do when you're a hoarder of books.  But it felt good.

I haven't bitten my fingernails in nearly two weeks.

The pair of jeans I'm wearing today I could not button three weeks ago (or three years ago!).  Rock. On.

Your turn.  In the comments leave a list of three things.  Any things.  Whatever you want. {and it can be more than three if you need.}

Update on the Dumb Idea

Remember my dumb idea from a few days ago?

I think I need to keep updating on here for accountability.  Otherwise I'll never reach my goal by next Friday.  I still might not but I know this'll help.

Monday I had 9 lbs to lose before next Friday.  Today I have 7.  It's not healthy for me to weigh too often but this is a big deal!  I have an extra 10 bucks and SIX Blue Moons riding on this!

Yes, the ante has been upped.  My friend, Chelsea, emailed me and told me if I reached my goal next week that a six pack was on her.  You better believe I'm trying extra hard now!

Which means I only ate one Hershey bar yesterday instead of two. ☺  Baby steps.

I rode my bike to the gym last night.  And btw if you saw my post on Monday before I corrected it, I had stupidly said it was 60 miles round trip on my bike.  hahahhahahahhaha, right.  like I could do that.  Not sure why I put that but it's about 30 miles round trip.  Yesterday was a head wind the entire way there.  Took an extra 20 minutes to get there and felt like I was riding up hill the whole way.  Holy crap I was tired.

My legs no longer feel like they want to fall off the day after a ride but my butt sure is sore.  I need callouses. What an attractive place to get one, no?

I haven't had Starbucks since Saturday.  My heart hurts.  I haven't had a Blue Moon since Friday.  Again, my heart hurts.  Next Friday is going to be a very exciting day.  I may not have reached my goal by then but you better believe whether I've met the goal or not I'm loading up on both.

So.

Exlax and water til prom!  Here I go!  ☺

(not really having exlax and not really going to prom)

(but i am trying to drink more water!)

Dumb Idea

I'm usually full of 'em.  And definitely am this time.

I got on the scale on Saturday.  I'm down 19 lbs from the end of January.  I have 9 lbs to my goal weight.  When I set these goals back in January, part of me wanted to have achieved the weight loss by June 3rd.  Part of me wondered if it was realistic.  Especially since I didn't believe in myself enough to even think I'd get this far.

Well, now I'm close.  I'm close to my goal weight.

But I'm also close to June 3rd.

My mom was here for a little bit on Saturday and I asked how the heck I was going to be able to lose 9 lbs in 13 days.

Her response:  You can't.

Well, GAME ON!

She had asked me a few days before what I wanted for my birthday.  I told her I'd like gas money toward my birthday trip I'm taking myself on.  So Saturday she said that if I reached my goal weight of 125 lbs, she'd give me an extra 10 bucks on top of what she was already giving me.

I don't know if it's possible to lose 9 lbs in 13 days.  I really don't.  But I plan to ride to the gym (30 miles round trip) three times this week.  I also cut out Starbucks and my beloved Blue Moon until June 3rd.

Did you read that?

No Starbucks OR Blue Moon til June 3rd!!!

It's only been 2 days and I feel like I'm going to die.

I also need to quit the snacking.  I need to stop eating Hostess Cupcakes and Twix and KitKat for lunch.

It's time to drink more water.

Pray for me...  ☺

i'll pay any price for peace of mind

Today was Spice's appointment.

To know me is to know I'm early for everything.  Ever-y-thing.  So, this sweet girl endured some hours of shopping.  And to reward her for her patience and to talk to her about her appointment, I took her to Starbucks.

We discussed that she was going to the doctor.  That he'd be listening to her heart.  And that Mama, of course, would be right there.

"Mama, can I shit your wap?"

"Yes, sweet girl, you can SIT in my LAP."  I hope her speech problems never go away.  I'm in love with them.

In love with her.

Thankfully I'm early to everything because I'm an idiot who followed directions a leetle too closely and ended up not finding the place on the first try.  When we pulled up I got a lump in my throat.

Heart. Specialty.

Two words that made this mama start to lose it a little bit.  But this is where I really started losing it.

She had wires attached to her all over the place.  "Stickers" as the nurse called them.  It was in that moment I {finally} started talking to God about this situation.

I started thinking about things in my life I'd give up if He'd just let Spice be okay.  Have you done that?  Have you bartered with God?  I tried it today.  Ridiculous.

I took her "stickers" off and the poor girl was so tough.  It looked so painful but she just watched me do it.  We waited another few minutes and then they called us back for her Echo.  I took off her little dress.  Laid her down on the bed.  She was so tired.  And unsure.

But so trusting.

She laid there and the let Mark, the nicest tech ever, put more "stickers" on her.  Then he placed that cold jelly on his little dealio (I'm techy, no?) and placed it over her heart.  He started taking pictures.  Explaining things to me that I'm too dumb to understand but I nodded and said, "uh huh" where I thought appropriate.

He measured stuff.  Took pictures of stuff.  Told me more stuff with more big words that I should probably know but don't.

Then, about 10 minutes in I look over to see that my sweet baby girl has fallen asleep while we talk about her heart.  She's sound asleep.  Not a care in the world.

Finally.

Finally he told me the words I needed to hear.

"She's perfect.  Her heart is perfect.  You don't have to be concerned about anything."

Thank You, Lord!

And thank you to all who have left comments, emailed, text, or called me letting me know you were praying for my sweet baby.  I'm one thankful mama.

a very jumbled TMI post about working out

First things, first.

If you're of the male variety - and you know who you are, Mister, it's time to click the little x in the top right.  This post is not for you to read.

Okay, now that we have that settled and only females are reading, here goes.

Working out is embarrassing.  Running is embarrassing.  I super much hated it when I started at the end of January.

Wanna know why?  And remember, I told you this post was TMI.  You were warned.

Okay, so one of the reasons I hated running was because my shorts would creep up my thighs.  You've seen it on women.  Maybe you've seen it on me.  It's not pretty.  But when your thighs rub together, it happens.  So, I'd be out there running and every once in a while I'd be pulling the shorts outta the crotch area.

So.  Attractive.

(seriously, if there's any guy still reading.  GET OUT.)

Then there's the issue of peeing while you run.

Yeah, I said it.

It happens.  It also happens when I ride my bike.  Don't you wish you worked out with me?  I'm a blast!  My shorts ride up my crotch and I pee my pants.  Who wouldn't want to be work out partners with me?!

Seriously, though.  The peeing issue sucks.  I don't know if it's because I've had kids or what the deal is because I do not remember this being an issue when I ran Cross Country in high school (5 trillion years ago).  Occasionally I'll put on a panty liner, other times I just pee my pants.  Good times.

I'm not sure what finally got me to the point that I realized it was just time to get off my butt.  I think I finally realized that my metabolism changed after kids.  It wasn't nearly as easy to have it come off.  I also realized just how sedentary my life is/was.  I didn't move much at all during any given day.

I just went for it.  I took a huge step out of my comfort zone and went into a gym.  I participated in a class and felt like a fool.  I felt like an ass.

And after 3 or 4 times I felt like less of a fool.  I started to feel proud of myself.  'Cause even if I did look like a fool, at least I was there.  At least I was finally doing something other than complain.  And then I set a goal. I set a goal to run a 5K.  3 miles.  Doesn't seem like much to some but for a girl who hadn't run in 15 years, it was a big deal.

So I set the goal.  I made the goal public for accountability.  And then I accomplished it.  I figured after I met my goal I'd probably quit running.  I did.  For almost four weeks.  I still kept at the gym but I stopped running for awhile.  But I eventually got back into it and once I hit the road instead of the treadmill, it almost got addicting.

I've added in bike riding.

When I first started the bike, it was the one at the gym.  When I'd look down my tummy hung over my pants so much that I couldn't see my crotch.  (TMI!) and tonight while I was on the bike at the gym, I looked down and there it was!

4 months ago I should have measured myself, I almost did.  Honestly, though, I didn't think I'd stick with this. So I didn't want to know my measurements.  I wish I had.  I know I've lost several inches everywhere.  I've gone from a size 12 or 14 (depending on brand) to an 8 or 10.  The smallest jeans I own are now loose in my thighs (one of the main areas of my body that I LOATHE) so I'm feeling a little better there.  My love handles are going away but are definitely still there.

My tummy?  Oh, my tummy.  I still look like I just gave birth a few weeks ago so let's not even go there.  It's amazing what a shirt can hide.  So please, even if you feel compelled the next time you see me, don't lift my shirt, k?

Glad we got that settled.

I had planned to run Bloomsday.  A 12K.  7.5 miles.  I ended up not.  I bailed.  And I felt like a failure.  Then I had the opportunity on Saturday to run a 12K.  Though I didn't know it was a 12K.  I thought it was *just* six miles.  I hadn't run in almost four weeks but I went for it.

I'm still not sure why.

I'm so glad I did though.  Running those 7.5 miles without walking made me realize something.

I'm stronger than I've ever given myself credit for.  I can do more than I thought possible.

And if I can do it, anyone can.

It takes getting out of the comfort zone.  It takes believing in yourself just a tiny bit and rejecting any lies you normally let yourself believe.  It takes guts.

It takes balls.

And even if you don't believe you can do it, I believe you can.