Another move out of my comfort zone

I've been going to the gym for over a year.

I remember in the days leading up to my first time entering those doors, I was sick to my stomach.  So worried people would stare at me.  Laughing at the fat girl.

It wasn't until I'd been there awhile that I realized all these fit men and women may have previously been "the fat girl" or guy.  But, like me, they were doing something about it.  There are some people, like my husband, who are just thin.  Yet he'd be the first to tell you he doesn't feel like he's fit.

I never realized until this last summer that there's a difference between being thin and being fit.  Several years ago when I lost weight before there was no exercise involved.  Just food modification.  At that time in my life I wouldn't have been able to run 7.5 miles without walking the way I did back in May.

So now, after over a year of hard work, getting out of my comfort zone, I am thin.  I'm fit.

And I feel good.

But.

But I realized I'm back in that comfort zone.  I go to Body Flow (tai chi, yoga, pilates) between two and three times per week, I know the peeps in class, I ride my bike but no further than 30 miles, and I've maintained this exact weight since August.

I feel I've gotten into a bit of a rut.

So when my sister asked me to join her at Body Pump a couple of weeks ago I decided to go for it.  Why not.  Some moves, some weights.  I could do that.  Not too much out of my comfort zone but definitely using other muscles.  I liked it.

And then sweet baby sister of mine told me I needed to try Zumba.  Emily's been telling me to try it too.  Easy for these girls to say.  They've got moves.  I've got...nothin'.

Yesterday I decided to go for it.  I mean, why the heck not?

So even though I've been going to the gym for a year, yesterday felt like that first time all over again.  My stomach hurt, I was starting to sweat (and I hadn't even started working out yet!) and panic set in.  What if people made fun of me?  What if I looked like an idiot?

Screw it.

I reminded myself that at least I was doing something.  I coulda been sitting on the couch with my laptop and Oreos.  (oh, like I had been earlier in the day..)

And this is what went on.

Source: Uploaded by user via Bea on Pinterest

I went to Zumba.  I didn't have rhythm.  I looked silly.  But I was there.  Outta my comfort zone.  And I was spending time with my sister.  My sister who can shake it shake it.

All that blabber up there to say - if you aren't happy with where you are physically - do something.  Anything. No one thinks anything of newbies at the gym.  No one is thinking, "look at the fat girl."  No one cares if your shorts are riding up your thighs.

You can do it.  I promise.

Maybe you need this reminder as much as I do tonight

Source: tumblr.com via Sarah on Pinterest

Here, have my boobs. 'Cause I sure don't want 'em.

Disclaimer:

First, if talking about boobs or reading about boobs bothers you, I'd suggest now would be a good time to click the x at the top right.

Second, this isn't a pretty post.  It's open.  And it's pointless really.  I don't want you to get to the end and think, "where was her point?"  There isn't one.  I just saved you five minutes.  You're welcome. 

Third, while part of what I write in this post is flippant, I'm in no way flippant about boobs, cancer, and anything else I happen to write about in this post.  I take all of it very, very seriously.

So.  Here goes.

Back in November I had my yearly exam.  You know the one.  Where you shower and shave and prep like you're going on a first third date.  The exam that all women hate.  (I mean, I think we all hate it, right?)  And while my doc is doing my boob exam (I've mentioned before I hate the boob exam more than the other part of the exam) he tells me that they are fibrous tissue-y boobs.  Mkay.  And then he looks at my chart and sees that I have family history of breast cancer.  And that I myself have had cancer.

And he gives me a little piece o' paper that tells me to go get my breasticles checked out. 

Awesome.

Now someone else gets to touch 'em.

Even more awesome!

So that was November.  

Fast forward to two weeks ago.  I finally went in for that mammogram.  I made the appointment and the guy didn't want to do it.  "Eh, I guess.  You're just so young."

Dude. I had cancer at 26.  Let's get real.

But he scheduled it.  And for the four days before my appointment I was dreading it. 

I'd have to take off my shirt, my bra.  Exposing all my scars.  Those you can see.  

But more importantly, those you cannot.

Exposed.

While I've not had any reason to think they'd find I have cancer of the boobs, I let myself think about the what ifs.

And I know one thing.

I wouldn't be the woman who wanted to keep 'em.  I wouldn't be the woman who was sad she had to have a double mastectomy.

I'd ask where the sign up sheet was and if there was a way I could, pretty please with shooga on top, move to the front of the line?

Here.  Take 'em.  I hate them.  Loathe them.

Loathe.  Them.

Carrying around a part of me that has been an object of unwanted attention (or should it read "affection"?) since the age of nine has often been too much.

Entering high school and for my entire Freshman year had a Senior guy (someone all the girls adored, someone I would have liked to punch in the crotch) stare at them daily as we passed each other in the halls or on campus.  He even went so far as to tell me he thought they were great.  

No.  Seriously.  He said that.  And on more than one occasion.  Lucky me, huh?  The center of his (un)wanted attention.

I was so glad when he graduated.  (Though his younger brother in my class, wasn't much better.)

I don't get the fascination with them.  I don't.  They aren't big.  They aren't small.  They're just...there. 

I understand it's kind of just a guy thing to look.  I get that.  It's how they're wired.  But to stare in such a way that I notice you can't keep your eyes off 'em?  To touch what does not belong to you?

big sigh.

Is there such thing as boob donation? - take these.

So I go in for the mammogram.  I go down the hall, open the door and it's this really peaceful room and the girls smiles at me, hands me a gown and tells me to undress from waist up. Yay my fave. *eye roll*  We go over medical history, talk about my cancer, she wants to see my scar.  

I open up my "cape" as she called it.  She can see several scars. Six 1" scars and one 7" scar.  The one that hurts the most, though, is the one she can't see.

I close my gown.  We talk about how "lucky" I was to have gotten appendicitis so the doctor could find my olive sized malignant tumor.

Yeah.

Luck.

So, there I am in my cape and it's time.

Time to whip the bad girls out.  And I look down at them.  Something I rarely do.  I try not to look in the mirror after a shower or while I get dressed.

I look at them and wonder what the big deal is about 'em.

She takes one latex gloved hand and reaches down by my belly button (they hang a little low these days, what can I say?) to grab one and places it on the little shelf dealio.  I'm barely tall enough for my boob to lay on the thing.  Almost asked for a step stool.  She presses another dealio down on me, clamping me in there.  I kinda felt like I was panini.  Maybe because I was hungry I was thinking of that. 

I was really thankful that the hospital didn't use that moment to run a fire drill.

I can honestly say that woulda been one time I would not want to see men in uniform.

And then it was time to switch sides.  

And then I was done.

"You should have your results in a week."

It's now been two weeks.

So I'm thinking she meant a week per boob.

the end

(see, I told you.  no point to said post.  just a post.)

***I know some women fear getting mammograms.  If you've never had one, let me say this:  It's not that bad.  It's a little uncomfortable, I mean your boob is smashed between two plates, but it's a couple of minutes of your life that could save the rest of your life. I was in and outta that place in approximately 7 minutes.  That includes the time to undress and redress. 

tuesday thoughts...it is tuesday, right?

it's so windy right now.

it's the first day of Spring and I would love to see the sun and flowers and green grass.

and flip flops on my feet.

i made six meals yesterday but have no clue what we're eating for dinner.

i haven't had starbucks since Friday.

i fought with Josh this morning.

rather, he fought with me.

i asked a question and he answered wrong.

it was a bad school morning.

Josh showed up at lunchtime with Starbucks.  I took the drinks out of his hand and jumped on him and thanked him profusely.

he apologized for being naughty this morning.

i forgave him.

we switched rooms with our girls.  now my bedroom is 500 sq ft (you read that right) with a couch.  i most likely will never leave this room again.

i went out with Josh, my sister, Chelsea and her husband to a local bar for burgers and a beer.

or maybe that should read beers and a burger.  since i had more than one beer but not more than one burger.

though i considered it.  i was hungry.

on our way to pick up my sister i realized my dress was too low cut.  so i stripped it off and ripped out the seams and sewed 'er back up.  it was still kinda low but definitely better.

it'd been eight years since i'd been to a bar on St. Patrick's Day.  i have poor memories from that day eight years ago.  amazing that i have any memory of it, really.  but i do.

and it included jello shots (did you know there's liquor in those?  i didn't) it also included being thrown in a pool of green jello (the bar had a girls in bikinis jello wrestling competition that my friends had told me i should participate in.  they'd told me a couple weeks ahead of time to sign up.  i refused.)

but was thrown into the pool of green jello anyway.

jeans.  t-shirt.  shoes.  and all.

and then i left.  and i ran a red light.  and slammed into a dodge ram.

and wrecked my really cute Mitsubishi Lancer.

waaah.

and that is why i never in a bajillion years thought i'd go out on SPD.

but i'm a different girl than i was 8 yrs ago and i can go into a bar and know that jello shots are called shots for a reason and choose to have a beer or three instead and walk out of said bar sober.

it was a fabulous SPD with friends and I was home by 11.

last week, so randomly, i was remembering the look on my dad's face every time he saw me walk into his shop/house.  joy.  pure joy.  every single time.  and i just lost it.  i started the ugly cry.  and typing this out, i'm about to again.  to have someone be so excited to see you, every time they see you - feels amazing.  and it's been almost 13 years since i've felt that.  ugh.

since running the 5K a week and a half ago i have more range of motion in my ankle than i've had since hurting it in October.  it also pops now and hasn't done that since i hurt it.  i think those three miles were good for me.

speaking of running.  my sister and Josh and I are doing Bloomsday this year.  7.5 miles.  i'll probably end up walking it.  how can i run that far!?

for the last two Sundays we've gone to our old church.  mostly because it's 10 minutes away instead of 40 (and saves gas) but partly because our girls are involved in programs there, i go to bible study there, have friends there, etc.  We've gone to our church in Yakima for 6.5 yrs and while we absolutely love the teaching, we've never felt connected.  it's hard to go to any small groups or have friends when everything is 40 minutes away.

i'm not sure what we're doing at this point.  josh really doesn't wanna leave Calvary Chapel (where we attend now) but we really wanna be more plugged in and going to a church that's 10 minutes away, makes that much easier.  we'll see how it goes..

i had a dream last night that i took our dog to the vet and they told me that in order to keep him alive my bill would be 10 grand.  i bawled (apparently subconsciously i like the dude) and told them i couldn't afford to keep him alive and everyone in the waiting room judged me and said that if i truly loved my dog i'd open up a credit card and charge the 10 grand.

i've never been more excited for my alarm to go off than right then.

the most i've ever paid for a vet bill was $800.  ack.

we went for a bike ride on Sunday, using the new seat we bought for Spice to ride in.  it was awkward to have her on there.  i nearly fell several times.  but all in all, it was a rockin' purchase and i know we're going to use the heck out of it.

baby, you can sleep while i drive..err, ride.

sometimes i believe texting is the worst form of communication.

i'm addicted to the app Draw Something.

the end.

Current State of Disaster

This is currently what my kitchen looks like.  Today I have made three batches of tuna noodle casserole, one batch of Pioneer Woman's meatballs, a meatloaf and a lb. of taco meat.

That's six meals folks.

Have I schooled my kids or cleaned the disaster that is my house?  Not so much.

I've come up with what I'm hoping is a good meal/menu system and I wanted bare cupboards and fridge before I do my big shopping venture on Saturday.

Later this week I'll share what said system is and you can all tell me I'm nutso.  

I can handle it.

The double dog dare that ended em all

Have I ever talked to you about mine and Amber's double dog dares?  D3s if you will.

If so, sorry.

If not, still sorry.

It started several years ago when she double dog dared me to call Starbucks (or was it McDonald's?) and ask if they delivered.

And I can't remember them all but the most recent ones are as follows:

Last year about this time we started going to Body Flow together and we developed a bit of a crush on our instructor.  I double dog dared her to friend request him on FB.  He didn't know us at the time.  We were just the girls in the back who slipped out as quickly as possible.  And so she friend requested him and nothing.

Nothing.

And we had to go back to class and she had to face him.  Not that it mattered, he probably had no idea it was the girl in the back row of class that had even sent that request.

He did finally accept the request.  And we now have a fabulous friendship with him at the gym.  Whether he likes it or not, the three of us are great friends and we're much more than the girls in the back row.

Another D3 was when we went shopping in Tri-Cities and decided to go to an adult store.  Amber D3'd me to do a "check in" on Facebook so everyone would know I was there.  I did it.  And tagged her in the post.

Then there was the incident(s) before Christmas when we went shopping.  We went to Wal Mart to pick up her girls' bicycles in the layaway department.  The lady took Amber's info and left to look for the bikes.  While she was away, the phone started ringing.  And ringing.  I D3'd Amber to answer it but it quit ringing.  She thought she was off the hook.

She was wrong.

It started ringing again.  She looks around.  Answers the phone: "Layaway, this is Amber."

we totally rode those bikes thru the store & out the door.

And I busted up.  Couldn't breathe.  Died laughing.

She spent a couple of minutes on the phone with some woman before hanging up on her.  

Later, that night we were at the mall and I was buying a pair of boots at Journey's and the guy selling me the boots had a ponytail.  It was slicked back, short and it just kinda grossed me out.

She dared me to touch it.  And I couldn't do it.  I failed the D3.

Last week I met Amber at the gym for Body Flow.  I rode my bike to the gym.  We were there early (of course) and sat down to wait for our class to open up.  As I stood up to go in the room she reminded me to grab my helmet and we both just looked at it and I knew.

I knew what she was going to make me do.

"Wear it."

And so.  For an hour of yoga I looked like this:

Yep.  I wore my helmet throughout the entire class.

And now she's resigned from D3s.  She won't do anymore.

She says she won.

I say I won.  Hello, who wore the helmet?

5K Round 2

Remember last year about this time I was an idiot and decided to run my first 5K in over 14 years?

So that was me last year before my 5K.  I ran a 31:20.

A few days before this year's race I decided heck, why not?  I haven't run on my still-hurts-cramps-but-working-ankle since October but hey, let's try it out.  Let's try running three miles and see if thee ol' ankle will hold up.

I signed up.  And Josh said he'd run too.

Here we is:

Lucky Number 69 

I ran a 28:55 this year.  Beating last year's time by 2 and a half minutes.  Good but not what I'd had in mind.  Josh says my goal was a little extreme for not having run in six months but whatev.

It was fun to go out and do it again.  I wasn't nervous this time at all.  And it was cool to run with Josh.  Even though the punk coulda run another 5 miles without thinking anything of it.

He says when we're done, "I was watching this other couple run together and they looked like they were having fun.  I don't think you were having fun."

I wasn't.  I realized something while I was running.  I don't really like it.  Go figure.  I would have rather been on my bike for sure.  But I needed to prove to myself that since March of last year my body was in better condition and could move faster.

I proved it to myself.

And now I never have to run again.

Amen.

bad blogger bad wife not cool enough for actual friends bit of cray-zay

blech!

round and round lately.

for nearly a month i've been talking (to myself) about saying goodbye to This Beautiful Mess.  my little spot on the internet.

and then in recent days i've brought it up with a couple of friends and my husband.  i guess he can be considered a friend too.

usually.

anyway.

things in my bloggy land have changed so much in 5.5 years.  those blogs i started reading from the get go are pretty much a no go anymore.  waahh.

no more jeana.  no more emily.  no more cindy.  no more gayle (besides grocery cart gayle).  no more linda.

amy and kelsey and liz and antique mommy are probably the only blogs i'm still reading after these 5.5 yrs.

it's different now.

i'm different now.

they're different now.

when i brought up shuttin' this place down with amber on saturday while we were in ikea she reminded me of why i started this bad girl in the first place.

for my girls.

this space is for them.

these words.  these heart to hearts.  these successes and failures.  these memories.  these pictures.  these joys and heartaches.

all for them.

but i've lost my ooommph for being here.

i've started wanting to write other stuff.  deeper stuff.

well, not deep because hello, you know me, i'm the world's most non-deep, totally shallow, hardly a thinker kinda chick.

i'm talking about memories and thoughts and feelings and stuff that may not really be best expressed on a public blog.

i have draft after draft of stuff that i start.

and then stop.

i must always remember my audience.

friends.

family.

teens.

absolute strangers.

husband's co-workers.

other random men.

last night i was feeling, well knowing...that i'm a sucky wife.  and i had so much to say about it.  and i wanted to spout it off here.  i wanted to come here and let my fingers go crazy releasing what my heart was burdened with.

but there was this stifling feeling.  like, don't say it.  don't you say it.  because what good would come from it? what good is there in such a vent like that?  i wasn't coming here to write that out, post it and have people say that oh, no.  i wasn't that bad of a wife.  i'm too hard on myself.  josh loves me no matter what. yaddiyaddiyaddi.

i was coming here because sometimes this is the only place.  the only place to get it out.  to say that i know.  i know i suck.  don't think for one second that i don't freaking know how bad i am at this thing called wife.

and  i don't tell you all this to have anyone say that i shouldn't shut down my blog.  i've gone private.  i've deleted.  i've neglected.  i've posted daily.  i've done it all here on the blog.  i just wanted to say that if you show up here and my blog is either MIA or private, you didn't miss an invite.  the private would mean for my eyes only.  not anyone else.

i was telling josh last night that it's so weird to have people that i "know" know me.  like really know me.  know me know me.  i said, they know me but i don't know them.  and do they read because they like me or is it for the laugh (at me) and would we be friends in real life?  would they want to hang out with me?  because i don't hang out with a lot of people.  is that because they do know me and i'm someone they just wouldn't wanna hang out with?

yeah.

i started in on my insecurities.

i rock like that.

so i went from feeling like a bad wife to feeling like a freak show everyone wants to read about but never hang out with.

maybe i shouldnta quit those crazy pills so soon, huh?

mhm.

i started this post talking about the good ol' blogging days.  the days of blogging yore.  and went into my bad wife status.  to a freak out of why i have blog readers but not so much friends.

i am one awesome case of amazing random, no?

hey.

at least i finally posted something.

Wednesday Random Leap Year Edition

I'm cold.

I quit biting my fingernails again.  I think it's been over a month.  They look nice.  I painted them pink today.  I don't like pink on my fingernails but I do on my toes.

I woke up with snow in my yard this morning.  I swore under my breath.

Tonight I get to see a woman I haven't seen in nearly 20 years.  My friend Rachel from third grade (well, not just 3rd grade but that's when we met) it's her mother.  I've talked to her on the phone a couple of times over the past few days and it's so fun to hear her voice.

Spice has been so involved with school lately that I've decided to purchase the phonics curriculum for her that I used for Sugar last year.  For the longest time she could spell her name aloud.  But last week, out of nowhere, she wrote her name on a piece of paper.  I don't know if this is a big deal for a 3.5 yr old, maybe all or most 3.5 yr olds do this, but my first 3.5 yr old (Sugar) didn't even want to touch a pencil at that age.  Heck, she's 6.5 and doesn't wanna touch a pencil.  So I'm pretty stoked over it and while she's loving it, I'm going to encourage it like crazy.

We had a pretty crazy windstorm in our area last week and because of it some people had trees fall over.  Josh and I were presented with the opportunity to take care of one such tree.  When I was a kid (3rd grade, with best friend Rachel, mentioned above) I spent time at Rachel's grandma's house.  I remember loving that place.  Her grandma's tree uprooted itself last week, and after over 20 years, I find myself back at that house.  The tree is about 50 years old, so she's rather large.  My girls have enjoyed playing in the large yard, while Josh and I have enjoyed working side by side cutting up the tree.

Rick Santorum will be in Tri-Cities tomorrow and I'm thinking of going to hear/see him.  Ron Paul was here a coupla Fridays ago but I had company that day and didn't get up to hear him speak.

I just looked down and realized I have melted chocolate on my jeans.  How any chocolate missed my mouth is beyond me.

Speaking of chocolate, I told Josh the other day that I was giving up candy bars until I'd lost 10 lbs*.  Yeah, I lasted two days.

*I don't need or necessarily want to lose 10 lbs but heck, if that could happen, rock on.


This Saturday is a day that I'm sure will provide much blog material for next week.

Our tax return is going to pay off my medical bills instead of buying the cow we'd originally planned on.  People who were freaking out over us having farm animals can now breathe a sigh of relief.

I'd much rather have a cow than pay off medical bills but I'm going to be a grown up for once and be responsible.

But I'll be wishing I were buying a cow instead.  With chickens.

And a pig or 7.

The Beth Moore bible study that I've been going to is almost over.  Last week's lesson was about talking bad about our brothers and sisters in Christ.  Wow.  Wow.  


I love a good cuppa french press.

I also love my new tattoo.  She makes my heart happy.

So you know how we have a crew of peeps we cycle with and how they're currently mountain biking and not road biking?  Well, they are.  And I hate it.  I don't like mountain biking.  Maybe I would had the first ride out not ended up with my leg looking like this:

Well anyway, yesterday Doc showed up at my house yesterday and before he leaves he grabs his iPhone and says, "what's the weather supposed to be like on Saturday?"  So we both look at our phones and realize it's not going to be too shabby.  He asks if I want to road bike on Saturday.  Heck yes I do!  I told him I wasn't sure though, that I needed to talk to Josh.  Told him I'd text him later about it.  So I did.  And his reply, "okay, for you, at the office at 8."  YAY!  My heart is happy!

So before the fun of my Saturday (it's time with Amber) I'll get to road bike.

Here's hoping I don't get hit by any cars.

Frustrated. Thankful.

Last Friday I went into the billing office for the hospital where I have all my surgeries.

All being three.

I hadn't received a bill, just statement after statement.

After statement.

I had been in contact with the billing office right before my surgery, setting up a payment plan since I'd had 2 CT scans done (one abdominal and then one for my ankle back in Oct) along with a ton o' blood work and some other junk.  Even with my insurance, my account was getting bigger and bigger.  There wasn't any way I could just write a check for the whole deal.

So we set up that payment plan.  It was about $150 per month (for the rest of my life) and while that seemed like quite a chunk, it was definitely something we could swing.

Fast forward a coupla months to last Friday.  I realize I didn't get a bill for February and wanted to know what the deal was so I went in.

"Well, your account balance has increased."  (previous payment plan was based pre-surgery)

"So we need to adjust your payment plan amount."

Ugh.

What used to be $150 a month is now $300 per month.

Ugh.

"And we'll need a payment today."

Fo realz?!

I'm frustrated.  With me.  For not having a savings built up enough to just pay my balance in full.

Thankful.  For insurance. For not having a car payment or credit cards that I have to pay on monthly, because if I did, I definitely wouldn't be able to afford $300 per month.  I don't know how we're going to do it as it is but I know we wouldn't if we had those other expenses.

Really hoping 2012 is hospital visit free.

So there was this one time I got hit by a car

True story.

And since I am alive and well to tell about it, I will.

And we can laugh at me.

And my stupidity.

On Saturday night I got this brilliant idea to ride my bike to church.

Our church is approximately 35 miles from our house.  I figured I could make it in 3 hours.

What I didn't figure in is that at the time I wanted to leave (6 am) it's still dark.  I have no reflective gear or flashy lights or anything like that so I waited a little longer for the sun to come up.  I left the house about 6:30 and made my way to church on the highway.

At what I figured was my half-way mark I stopped my bike, checked my phone for the time and called Josh to let him know where I was.  I also took a drink of water.  Because I have to stop my bike to take a drink.  Hey, I dye my hair blonde and apparently me drinking water whilst riding my bike is a bit like a blonde trying to chew gum and walk at the same time.

I just can't do it.

It was 8 when I called Josh.  I knew I wouldn't make it to church on time.  We had to be there at 9 to work in the nursery.  I was mad.  Had I been able to leave at 6 I would have been on time.

So I'm pedaling.  And pedaling some more.

There's a small stretch where I had to get on the freeway (talk about intimidating) and cross a bridge that has very little shoulder.  Josh had told me I'd have bust my butt across that bridge.  I'm getting close to the bridge when Josh and the girls drove by me.

"Oh, please God, let him pull over."  I was tired.  And still had probably 6 miles or so to go.  I took the off ramp, went over another bridge and there he was, waiting at the bottom of the hill for me.

Hallelujah.

All that to get to the night I was hit by a car...

So the next day, Monday, I decided to ride to the gym.  Josh got home early and I knew I could make it to the gym before dark.

What I didn't count on is that my legs would be DEAD from my 31 mile ride the day before.

When I bike to the gym I'm usually cruising around 15 mph.  I was seeing 12 mph.  It was miserable.  My legs just weren't moving like they usually do.

I get into town and there's a stretch when I first enter Prosser that I can cruise at about 22-24 mph for a bit, it's a little downhill and I've usually gotten my second wind.  Yeah, this night?  Not so much.  I was lucky to hit 14-15 mph.  So, I'm behind schedule, and it's dark.

I look to my right to see if there's a car on the highway I'm about to cross.  I see a Suburban and realize if it pulls up to the stop sign far enough, I can glide behind it just fine and not have to stop.

I'm running late!

So the Suburban is in my mind.  I look ahead of me and see more cars, all of which I think are heading straight, and not realizing that one is actually in the left turn lane.  Suburban pulls up far enough that I can ride behind her, I'm about to cross when I realize that a small car is in the left turn and will be turning into me before I get across.

Slow motion.

Thankfully she wasn't driving very fast.  Thankfully there was no one coming from the other direction.

I knew she was going to hit me.  There was no way for me to move any faster.  And had I stopped she would have hit me much harder.

I yelled to God.  Out loud.  I can't remember exactly what I said but I'm pretty sure the word, "help!" was in there somewhere.

She came to a stop.  Against my bike.  She didn't even hit me hard enough to knock me over.  It jarred my bike and pushed me but I was able to stay on.  I clipped out of my pedals, stopped my bike and she stopped her car.  She opened the door and at the same time we asked if the other was okay.

We both were.

And we carried on.

I called Josh right away and said something like this, "Honey, I'm fine, I was just hit by a car but I'm fine."

Him:  silence.

Me:  I'm okay, just wanted to let you know.  Can you pick me up after the gym?

Him:  Um, no.  Let me come get you now.

We argued about that.  I wasn't going to let a little bump keep me from the gym.  I got there 10 minutes late for class and could not concentrate.  I finally ended up sending him a text during meditation to come get me.

My bike has a scratch.

I do not.

I'm a lucky chick.

It coulda been a whole lot worse, especially because I foolishly went without a helmet that night.

I won't be stupid like that again.

So yeah, there was this one time I got hit by a car.  Good conversation starter.  Or blog material.

The things I do for your entertainment.

The Tattoo

I got it.

A coupla Fridays ago.

My sister made the appointment for me with the guy who did one of her tattoos.

He's located in the mall.  When I found out that part I was wondering if Claire's had added tattoos to their ear piercing section.

I could just see the sign outside the door:

"Buy one pair of glittery, heart shaped earrings and get a tattoo for half price!"

That wasn't the case.  Thank God.

But before my appointment time I had to figure out what I wanted.  I still hadn't decided on which bike to get or where to put it.

I showed Josh the pictures and he fiercely hated them both.  Which I didn't realize until just a coupla hours before I went in. Niiiice.  He kept pointing out all the flaws on both bikes.  Saying they didn't even look like real bikes, etc.

I realized he had a point.

So I decided to print off a picture from REIs website of my bike and have the guy just do a basic outline of that.

I considered adding the spokes in (that was one thing I didn't like about Bike B) but if I was going to make the bike look completely realistic I'd have to add 28 spokes to each wheel and then that would just be a very busy bicycle.  So I opted out of the spokes and did outline instead.

Megan took pictures for me.  It's what a good sister does.

In her driveway. About to get the party started.

"Hurry, I gotta watch the road!"

A "before" picture of my calf.

I look nervous but wasn't really.  Excited, yes!

Aaron, Mall Tattoo Artist and Sarcasm Extraordinaire 

He wanted to know where I wanted the tattoo.  When I told him I wanted it on my calf he asked why I'd want it there.  I said, "where else would I put it, my forehead?"  His reply, "well, do you even ride bikes?"  Me, "duh, if I didn't would I put it there?"  Him, "look, I work in the mall, you wouldn't believe what people put on their bodies and where."  Me, "well, it just so happens I do ride bikes.  So there."  And that was the end of that convo.  (neener neener)


And the finished product.

The first question I always get asked is, "did it hurt?"  Not so much, no.  It stings at first, just a little.  The worst part is that I am terribly ticklish on my calves.  So, when he'd have to dab at the blood and ink I would move my leg because he was tickling me so bad!  

This is kinda how the process would go.

Bzzzzz sound.  Stop.  Dab.  I'd kick my leg.

Him: Stop moving!

Me: Then stop tickling me!

Lather, rinse, repeat.

The whole process took about 30 minutes.  He did an awesome job and I could not be happier with the work he did.  Plus, he was just a good time.  And Megan was a good time.  She's always a good time.

If/when I decide on another tattoo (I kinda already have something in mind) (don't tell Josh) I'll be going back to Aaron, the mall tattoo artist.

It happened so fast

Sunday we took a little road trip to Bend, OR.

We stopped at a gas station to use the restroom but it was occupied forever so we drove across the street to Wal Mart.  I'd shudder here but it's Wal Mart in Bend.  Not Wal Mart of my town so there was no need to shudder.

As we leave, Sugar wants to start running in the parking lot(!?) and I quickly told her that wasn't a good idea.  She slows down and is about a step in front of me, so close in fact I nearly stepped on her heels.  We are two cars away from our van when a Subaru Legacy starts to back out.

I immediately threw my body against Sugar's, slamming her into our van and I just stayed there for a second.  I turned around and saw a wide-eyed teenage girl.  She'd braked and just stayed put.  Both of us were freaked out.  My first response as a mama (or any protective human being) was to be angry but I could see in this girl's eyes she didn't mean to, she honestly just didn't see my little girl.

She rolled down her window and could hardly get her words out.

"I'm so...I'm so sorry.  I just didn't...see her."

I told her everything was fine.  I gave her a reassuring smile and put Sugar in the van.

Then I got in my seat and I lost it.  All the what ifs started playing in my mind.

But none of the what ifs matter.  Sugar's safe and for that, this mama is thankful.

this is when

My dad had the same birth date as Josh.

So on their birthday I'm usually busy preparing a birthday party for Josh to think about how my dad would be 50+ yrs old this year.

I used to be a wreck on the anniversary of his drowning.  But after some long overdue (like 11 yrs overdue) counseling I didn't cry on the anniversary.  Plus, on the last anniversary I spent that day with friends.

My days used to be spent thinking of him everyday.  For years.  I don't think that's normal but I've never claimed to be.

Through counseling though - I learned that it was okay to grieve.  I learned how to grieve.  And I healed.  Through healing I found a peace.  And through that peace I didn't have to think about him daily and live with regrets.

But it's on this day.

On Valentine's Day that I think of him.

When I was nine he started sending carnations.  Some years the note would read, "From, Mark" or, "Love, Mark" or, even bolder, "Love, Your Dad."

At 17 I received - for the last time - carnations and a little bear.  That year the card was, "Love, Your Dad."  Maybe because he knew I was getting closer to feeling comfortable calling him that (though I never did.)  The Valentine's after I turned 18 I was married and I wonder if he just didn't feel it was his place anymore to give me anything.

I don't know.

I do know that he made the day special for me - even if I didn't like carnations ;)  It was nice to know someone was loving on me and thinking of me.

My goal is to provide those happy memories for my girls.

Minus the carnations, of course.

My inner Valentine's Day struggle...that's no longer inner but uh, outter.

Source

Valentine's Day is coming up.

Did you just groan, too, or was that just me?

I'm not a fan of this "holiday" at all.

It's not really one that we acknowledge in this household.

But this year I've been seeing some fun stuff on Pinterest and wondered if maybe I shouldn't be such a Valentine's Day Scrooge.

I have two oh so sweet little girls that deserve to be loved on on this day.  I've struggled, though.  Do I make a big to do about Valentine's Day for my girls every year? Build it up, make it special - only to have them one day have a husband who's kinda "meh" toward the day?

I don't want their expectations of Valentine's Day to be too high.  But I feel like a schmuck saying that.  I mean I should want their expectations to be high, right?  Um, but not too high.  Just high enough.

A perfect amount of expectation.

I'm sure there isn't such a thing.

I just know that I've had too high of expectations about the day.  For a long time Valentine's Day was a big let down.  It took a whole lot of years but I no longer have any expectations of the day and am no longer disappointed.  February 14th is just like February 13th or August 2nd or December 1st.

But I want it special for my girls while they are under my roof.  And when they are adults, I think I'll continue to make it special for them until they have someone to do it for them.

*this is not a bash on Valentine's Day or the lack of celebrating that goes on in our house for it.  Josh and I have an unspoken understanding that this is just a regular day and we're cool with it.  

Write that down

I always think I'll remember the funny things my kids say, but dangit, I don't remember half the funny stuff that comes out of their mouths.  So I'm going to try to start blogging them as quickly as they happen so that it's written down somewhere.

Sugar has been going through a growth spurt (again) and is constantly hungry.

My girls eat breakfast around 8 and I offer a snack at 10 with lunch at noon.

At 10 this morning the girls each had a banana.

Half an hour ago Sugar says she's hungry.

surprisesurprise.

I told her it wasn't lunch time yet.

Sugar - "Kids die without food, you know!?"

Me - "Yes, I know. But you're still not getting any food until lunch."

Sugar - "Then, Goodbye, World!"

Someone has a flare for the dramatic lately.

And I've no clue where she got that from.

homeschoolish update

We're using Explode the Code to help teach Sugar to read.

It's working marvelously.

She's reading.

Now to work on fluency.

Handwriting is a big deal to me.  It just is.  I like handwriting.  I like to be able to read other's handwriting.  I want my kids to have not only legible handwriting but handwriting that is nice to look at.

Sugar pretty much could not care less.

All of last school year (you know, the 6 days of it that we did) (kidding, there were more days than that) I had Sugar using the rubber pencil grip because she held her pencil all wonky.  It helped her to hold her pencil properly but her handwriting was horrid.

(in my critical handwriting opinion)

One day early on in this school year we couldn't find the pencil with the rubber grippy dealio so she went without it.  Her grip on her pencil is still wonky but her handwriting without the rubber grippy dealio is so much better!

I prefer the handwriting to look nice over how she holds her pencil.

We quit doing Math back in...oh...October.  We were struggling.  She was.  I was.  We were.  So at the advice of some veteran homeschoolin' mamas I quit.  Let her do it on her own.  And this week I finally decided to get our Math books back out (we're using Singapore) and she has blown through about two weeks worth of lessons in two days.  It's like it's clicked for her.  Or maybe it was the M&Ms I decided to use for a manipulative that made it more fun...

Science is us going to the library and Sugar picking a book.  Never fails that it's some sort of sea creature.  She loves dolphins and whales.  I haven't been super structured on her science.  We had been using our  Sonlight curriculum from last year for science but she was sooo not into learning about clouds and tornadoes and rain.  So we've bagged that for now.

Emphasis on for now.  I don't want you guys thinkin' she'll never learn about that stuff.  She will.  But one thing I'm learning about my kiddo, when she's into learning about something, she's into it.  Absorbs it.  Loves it.  Right now it's sea animals.  So we're going with that.

History is something we're just kinda pluggin' away at.  I admit that I think she'd be way more into it if I was on the ball about doing the projects listed in the book.  Sometimes they just require a whole lotta supplies that I don't have or want to mess with buying.  I know.  Lazy.  But the projects make the words come to life, so I need to just suck it up and go to...WalMart.  *shudder*

Spice sits right along side us and works in her own little books.  She asked the other day to be taught to read.    I just need to do it.  She's showing interest and that's like 90% of the battle.

Overall I feel that we're doing well this year.  The main thing Josh and I were concerned about for first grade was teaching Sugar to read.  Anything over and above we considered a bonus.

So, that's our update.  Sorry if some of it was a repeat from last time.  I can't remember if I posted an update or if it's in draft.  I didn't look.

Questions?  I'm sure someone's got'em.

More on the Tattoo

Pretty sure I'm going with Tattoo A.

And I'm thinking it'll go on my right leg just above my ankle.

More input from you.

Should I include words underneath the bike?

If so, what?

Or should I leave it plain?

The big day is coming soon.

Tattoo Ideas...Vote NOW {not that the voting really matters but it's still fun, right?}

So, I'm in the process of deciding on my next tattoo.  I have a couple of different ideas that I'm going to share.

Let me know which one you like best.  A or B.

A)

Source: tatt.ly via Sarah on Pinterest

OR

B)

Source: flickr.com via Sarah on Pinterest

Also, can't decide on placement.  I like both locations pictured.

Rando-Random

Got a text this morning from my friend Chelsea.  She had her baby early this morning.  The tiny babe (5 lbs) has no middle name.  So of course I suggested using my middle name.  Rhett Lee.  It sounds good right?!

And how fabulous is the name Rhett?  I love it.  I can't wait to squeeze him and hear all the birthing details.  I love birth stories.

And giving birth.

Yes, I'm that weird girl (so is Amber) who loves, absolutely loves to give birth.  My body was good at it.

I got up at 5:15 this morning with Josh and Jim (our live-in for the next couple of months).  This morning was the first morning since he's been here that I've gotten up.  I'm just so bad at mornings.  I sat at the table doing my Beth Moore study while the men folk talked.  I love listening to them.  It's so nice having Jim here.  Josh has a running partner and I have one more man to make fun of and cook for.

Have I ever mentioned how much we love to have company?  It's our fave.  A couple Saturdays ago my side of the family came over for dinner and games.  We had 19 people here and I just couldn't get enough. (I would also like to say that I fed all 19 of us for $14.50.  That's 76 cents per plate.)  We had so much fun.  My sister and I were dancing (she's got moves!) We played cards.  My aunt and uncle's dog laid on the table. And after Spice used the potty, the other 18 of us cheered for her when she came out of the bathroom.

Good times.

When Amber and I started going to yoga and body flow last year we placed ourselves in the back.  Well, it's been a year and we're still in the back row.  It's easier for us to get away with our inappropriate comments back there and if we screw up our moves, we're the only ones to know.  Well.  WELL.  Last night she couldn't come and when I got to class MY SPOT WAS TAKEN!  I had to be in the very front.  ALONE.
And next to the mirror!  I hate the mirror!  Some women stare at themselves in that thing the entire time.  I avoid it like the plague!

Also.  And this as random as random can be, I learned last night that a thong to the gym is the only way to go.  The undergarments I wore last night were CREEPING.  And seeing as how I was IN THE FRONT ROW, it was a little difficult to pull out my wedgie the entire time.  Talk about uncomfortable.

Just got a text from Chelsea.  She went without an epidural and in her words "had to be tough like you."  So proud!

Josh and I have made plans for our 14th wedding anniversary.  We're going to Utah to ride our bikes!  Last year Josh went to Butte, MT with the crew we ride with on Saturdays.  This year we're going to Utah.  First stop will be Boise and then on to Ogden.  I'm excited that I get to go this year, that we get to go together.

Yesterday it was fairly warm.  The sun was out.  My kids ran outside with no coats. Socks or shoes.  And played in the mud.  I love, absolutely love that about my girls.  Spice is daintier with her mudding, but Sugar would roll in it if I'd let her.  Which I would, on a warmer day.  Heck, I'd join her.

Sending my taxes off to my friend, Kristie today.  Our refund will be spent in the weirdest way.  Looking forward to telling you about it.

Okay, that's enough randomness from my life.

What's random in yours?

It's time for the reward

On my journey to get healthy and lose weight, I decided that should I reach my goal (which I did) I'd buy myself a fancy shmancy pair of jeans from my fave store as a reward.  A good job, Sarah, present.

I've been at the same weight for nearly 6 months, I don't think I'll be losing much more.

I think it's time to buy those jeans.

But I want to make a day of it.

You see, I've reached my one year anniversary of this whole deal and I wanna celebrate.

I've decided I'mma get myself a babysitter, get my hair did, go shopping for those jeans and get myself another tattoo.

Oh, and buy myself lunch.

Because I like food.

This is going to be an expensive day.  Maybe I should sell that dog bed, huh?

The Expensive {but worth it!} Dog Bed

About five years ago I bought a down comforter and duvet cover from Overstock.  The two items cost $300.  It was pretty and it was cozy.  But it was too warm.

But every winter I still pull it out thinking that this will be the year we can stand to have it on our bed.  This winter was no different.  I pulled it out, we used it for three nights and the sweating was just too much.

So I threw it on the floor, thinking I'd take it to its bin downstairs at another time.

Remember when I vlogged about Ace sleeping in our bed and getting up in the night more often than a newborn?

Well.  He no longer sleeps in our bed.  Or gets up to pee in the night.  It's fantastic and I feel refreshed in the morning.  I no longer want to send him to "the farm" the way I once did.

No more Beagle paws stretching out on me in the night.  Or whimpers to go out.

Because Ace, he loves that down comforter.  It's his BFF.  He snuggles up in it and we don't hear from him all night.

It may seem ridiculous to let a dog sleep on a $300 bed but for a full night of sleep without dog breath in my face or his paws in my back or getting up three times a night to let him out, it's worth every penny.

Oh yes it is.

they're not called growing pains for nothin'

After publishing yesterday's post I got to thinking:

I didn't lose.  I haven't lost.

I'm not beaten down.

I'm victorious.

If lessons are learned, even the hard way, then I need to call that a success.  Right?  Yes.

The emotional, spiritual battles that I fight seem never ending.  I'm sure for all, or at least many of us. They're exhausting, these battles.

But I'm growing through them.

Growing requires growing pains, though.
Growing doesn't come pain free.  

But I'm the girl who tries to deal with pain on her own.  I don't take pain meds very well, if at all.

From the beginning of our marriage, I've said to Josh, about anything, "I can do it myself!"

I can't.

But boy, do I try.

Through this painful growing stage I'm learning I need to stop trying to do all this on my own.  This being my emotional and spiritual battle.  I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

Yet...

"For I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."  Philippians 4:13 NLT

Victorious or Beaten - I'll take both

I remember at the end of February last year posting about feeling like I was in a fog.

And even though I was exercising and losing weight and feeling amazing - that fog was there.

I wasn't myself.

Well, I take that back.  I was me.  Just a less happy version of me.

I'm amazed at how amazing and awful I felt at the same time.

I was out of shape and overweight and that was visible.  Anyone could see it.  My efforts to take over that area of my life and make it new were visible.  I shared those efforts here, with you.  On Facebook.  On Twitter.  In person.

I'm not going to make light of my weight loss journey.  That was a huge battle.

For me, though.  It's the internal battles that are most difficult.  Those are the ones I don't talk as much about.

And there has been battle after battle waging.

And I've lost.

I've lost.

The end of summer was rough.  I was my strongest physically, yet my weakest emotionally.  I started taking an anti-depressant at the recommendation of my counselor.

I knew what was causing my depression.  And it wasn't something meds could fix.

I took them for a month and then quit.  (not recommended by my counselor or doctor)  This may not have been my wisest decision seeing how I got pretty down and out once I hurt my ankle and couldn't bike or gym.  But I've been fine without them.

Things have changed since I hurt my ankle.  Not just physically but emotionally.  Good stuff.  Hard stuff.  Heart stuff.

Since October I've had my good and bad days.  Many, many bad days.  Pity parties.  Anger.  Depression.  Anxiety.  (for me those two go hand in hand) The list could go on and on.  But in the last few weeks, I guess at the beginning of the year when I decided to no longer live wired for regret, I've felt happier.  Content. In love with life again.  With my life.  It's been slow but steady.  And lately I've found myself with happier days than depressed days.  It feels good.  I feel good.

Yesterday I got on my road bike for my first serious ride since October 1.  I rode 16.5 miles to the gym.  Did an hour of yoga and rode 16.5 miles home with a head wind.  I felt strong.  Physically.  And emotionally.

I've said 2011 was awesome for me, and it was.  But 2011 was rough for me, too.  I can't re-do it.  I wouldn't want to, though.  Every trial I'm faced with, whether I come out victorious or beaten down, I learn something.

And I'm learning God's grace is amazing.

So freaking amazing.

And I thought she'd go to Kindergarten in diapers...

I've been blogging for 5.5 years.  If you've been reading for any longer than a post and a half you know that I'm married to Super Man.

(he'd roll his eyes if he read that.)

But it's pretty much true, wouldn't you say?  And if you need one more story about him to convince you, here it is.

While I was away for a girlie trip two weekends ago, Josh decided to potty train Spice.

Fo Real.

And he did.

He got her to go.

And it's been two weeks since I've changed diapers.

Part of me feels bad that he did it and then part of me (the part that carried her for 9 months and pushed her out without any form of medication) doesn't.

Yay for no diapers!

That much more to spend on coffee.

Through the Years...revised again.

I first published this in 2009, but have continued to update it.  It's long, so you may need a nap part way through.


In June of 1980, three weeks after the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, a little girl is born to a single mama. I am that little girl and my mama was just 19.

In 1981 I would meet my dad for the first time but I would never in my 18 years of knowing him, call him "Dad".

Late Summer of 1983 my mom married my step-dad and he's the man that for the next 12 years (tho' the marriage didn't last that long) I will call "Dad".

In May of 1984, I become a big sister when Erica is born. It will be approximately 22 years before we are friends. Six weeks after she's born, we move from WA to Alta Loma, California. I meet my step-dad's mom and step-dad. My grandmother introduces me to Ritz crackers and peanut butter while watching cartoons in bed. My grandfather introduces me to Chocolate and Peanut Butter ice cream from Baskin Robbins. I believe this is the year that I fell in love with all things chocolate and peanut-buttery. Praise the Lord for 1984.

In 1985 we move to Phoenix, AZ and I start Kindergarten. I remember during a nap that I had a dream my stepdad came home with bandages on his face. When I woke up...he came home and indeed did have bandages on his face. He'd burned himself when a radiator cap busted. 24 years later, it still freaks me out I had a dream about it and it happened. I finish Kindergarten in Grandview, WA and meet a boy named Peter. He's the first boy I have a crush on and this crush will last through high school. I fall asleep on the bus almost daily and my mom always has to pick me up from the bus garage.

In 1986 my youngest sister, Megan, is born. We move to Fontana, CA and I start year round 1st grade. For Christmas my biological dad gives me a boy Cabbage Patch doll because I told him I wanted a brother.

In 1987 my sisters and I would live with my grandma and my two young aunts for a couple of months while my mom and stepdad look for work and a home in Seattle, WA. At 7 years old, I watch and fall in love with Dirty Dancing. Though I wasn't old enough to watch it on the big screen then, 20 years later I would be. We move to Seattle, my teacher eats cow tongue and it takes 45 minutes to get to school by bus. My mom has left my step-dad, I finish 2nd grade in Grandview. My new crush is Matt S. I get chicken pox and have to miss my Valentine's Party.

In 1988, I get a Nintendo for my birthday. My sister is bit by a dog. And I start third grade at the same school I attended for second grade! It's the first time I have a best friend. Her name is Rachel C.

In 1989 we move to Selah. In 4th grade I have to do a report on Hamsters and present it to the class. My first time public speaking made me sick. It wouldn't be the last time I get sick before public speaking. This is the year my dad starts sending me flowers for Valentine's Day. And also the year he will join in the force that cleaned up the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska. And for my 9th birthday he sends me Moose Slippers.

While shopping with my mother in Shop-Ko, we separate so I can buy her a gift. I have to go potty and can't find a restroom. I wet my pants. Since it's winter of 1990, my jeans steam off the car's seat when we get home. This will be laughed about til 2012. For a few months of fifth grade we move back to Grandview but then return to Selah. My fifth grade teacher is my first male teacher. In a drawing at the end of the school year I win the prize of taking home the class gerbils. This thrills my mother to no end...

I stay in Selah until a month into my 7th grade year when, in 1992, I make the decision to move back to Grandview and live with my grandma for a couple of months. I end up finishing out 7th grade in Selah, I win a prize for the best colored picture. I win a Pepsi and a Snickers bar. Still one of the best contests I've ever won.

From 92-94 we move four times. We move out of our apt. into and then out of the fifth wheel, into the Icky House and then back to Grandview for my high school career. It's 1994 and it's the year that will change my life.

Summer of 1994 we start going to church, I give my heart to Jesus on a school bus. I have a crush on a boy named PeeWee. And I make friends with three girls who will be my best friends even 17 years later.

In 1995 my best friend, Lindsey and I attend a soccer game. Before the game starts a boy named Trevor asks me out. I have my first real boyfriend. I join Cross Country. Our church gets a new Youth Pastor. Trevor and I break up. I start dating a boy named Eric who is well over 6' tall and I decide then that the man I marry must be tall. But it won't be Eric. We break up.

One Sunday night in October of 1996 while attending evening service at our church I meet the cutest boy I've ever seen in my life. He's wearing a Cross Country shirt that's tucked into his Lee jeans, running shoes and he's sporting a flat top. I don't know his name but I tell Lindsey, "he looks like a Josh and I'm going to marry him." I'm 16 years old. We're introduced in November and start dating shortly after our introduction. I fall head over heels. He's 5'8" and doesn't really like me. We date though for a few months then he breaks up with me. I'm completely devastated and have decided life is not worth living.

Josh comes around to my way of thinking in May and we get back together. Half way through my Senior year of High School, we're engaged in December of 1997.

One month after my 18th birthday we get married. Josh buys me my first car, an '82 Honda Civic hatchback and a grey cat we name Roger. To thank him, I'm the worst wife ever. I don't cook or clean. I don't do laundry and we spend a lot of time and money eating out and going to the movies. I beg him for a baby, he says no but I gain 30 lbs anyway. 1998 was a tough year.

To celebrate our first anniversary we head to DisneyLand and Sea World and while we're there my mom calls with the news my dad has drowned. We fly back immediately. 1999 is even tougher. We buy a house, I'm 19 and Josh is 21. For Valentine's Day Josh buys me a Beagle. And I'm sure it's to pacify my desire for a baby.

Over the course of the next several years, I'm still overweight, a bad wife and bad keeper of my home. We start a lawn mowing business and I decide to lose weight using the Weigh Down Diet. This is successful and I lose 35 lbs.

In June of 2003 Josh quits his job and starts driving a Peterbilt around the Northwest. He's gone 5 days a week. I get my first real job as a barista in an espresso stand in town and make friends with a girl named Keri. She's single with no kids and I think her life is perfect. I've lost all focus on Jesus and my marriage. My life is falling apart around me.

In 2004 I apply at Pier 1 imports even though they "aren't hiring" and am given a job within the week based on my nice handwriting. I fall in love with sales and am actually good at this. I'm promoted to Assistant Manager within a few months. I can now support myself. My husband and I separate and file for divorce. I live on my own for the first time in my life and I've never been more miserable. Josh and I still talk on the phone occasionally. One night we make the decision to make our marriage work. I move in with Lindsey and her husband for a few weeks. Then in with my mother for a couple of weeks. And then back home. I recommit my life to Jesus and my heart to my husband. I quit working at Pier 1.

In 2005 Josh quits driving truck. I learn what it means to be a keeper of the home. My house is clean most days. I cook more than we eat out and the highlight of my life is the day I give birth to the most amazing little girl. We start attending a new church.

Life is going great. My marriage and my little girl are wonderful. I start blogging. I don't have many friends who live near me. That changes in October of 2006 when I get a MySpace account and reconnect with my friend Amber from high school. We become inseparable.  Have acronyms for everything.  Enjoy car rides singing at the top of our lungs.  And I torture her with mushrooms when she comes over for dinner.

Last day of February 2007, Josh and I go out to dinner. We come home and I have the worst stomach pain I've ever had. At 1 in the morning we decide to go to the ER. It's confirmed I have appendicitis. I have an appendectomy and go home the next day. A week later I go in for a follow up and am told that when my appendix was removed so was a malignant tumor. 4 days later I have another surgery removing half my colon and 41 lymphnodes and leaving me with a 6" scar down my belly. The rest of 2007 is great. Amber and I fulfill our lifelong dream of seeing Dirty Dancing on the big screen. We drive 400 miles round trip to watch Johnny get Baby out of the corner. Josh and I hem and haw and decide in July we'll try for another baby. I get pregnant in August.

In April of 2008 our Beagle dies. Our "first born" and we realize how much we loved her in spite of her driving us insane. Exactly one month later in May of 2008 I give birth to another baby girl. And she cries for the next 3.5 years of her life. We'll never hem and haw about having another baby. November of 2008 Amber and I fulfill another dream and see New Kids on the Block in concert 3 hours away from home (and my baby), I use a breast pump that is hooked to jumper cables outside of my van. It's quite memorable and totally worth the embarrassment and any picture she may have taken.

In April of 2009 my husband quits his very steady 7-5 Mon-Fri job and we load up as a family and drive around in a Peterbilt 5 days a week. People think we're nuts but support us anyway. I find creative uses for plastic bags, blog about it and still have friends.

In May of 2009 due to illness in the family, my mom and my sister's three children move into my home.  It's one of the hardest times in all our lives.  In July my best friend and I break up.  I'm devastated.  My mom and the kids move out.  In the fall the girls and I start staying home more than we go in the truck.  Truck life is hard.  Hard.

In February 2010 Josh and I have a talk about his job.  I can't stand him being gone.  He can't stand being away from home.  He's offered a job back at his previous place of employment with an awesome, tailored for him position.  Rock.on.  I'm still best friend-less, now sister-less too.  I'm spiraling into a state of depression and a friend recommends I seek counseling.  It's the best advice I've ever been given.

Through counseling I finally, after 11 years, recognize the need to grieve the loss of my dad.  It's miserable and it's hard and it's the best thing I've ever done.  Counseling taught me that my expectations of myself and those around me are too high.  Changing perspective brought back relationships in my life.  One day in July of 2010 I read a blog post that opens my eyes.  Basically saying if there's anyone you need to say something to, say it.  I immediately email my best friend.  And after over a year of not seeing one another we meet for lunch.  I'm shaking I'm so nervous and excited.  I never want to be without her in my life again.

In September 2010 I begin homeschooling my five year old.  It's awful, we hate it most days.  It's fabulous, we love it most days.  Such a love/hate deal going on.

In November we hem and haw about another baby even though we said we'd never hem and haw about it again.  We pray about it.  Decide to "try" and we fail.  We're both relieved.

In January 2011 after being inspired by my friend Jessica, I decide to get healthy.  Quit complaining about my weight and finally, after six years, do something about it.  I join a gym with Amber.  We go to yoga and then move on to body flow.  I run my first 5K (in 14 yrs) in March.  I start riding my cruiser bike to the gym and find that I love to ride more than I love to run.  In July, Josh and I celebrate our 13th(!) anniversary by doing a 90 mile ride.  After that he informs me it's time to start looking at a new bike.  In August we go on our first family vacation in 5 years and it's hell.  Josh says I never have to camp again.

I get a new bike on August 18th.  I'll never ever forget that day.  I'll never forget that first ride.  It was short.  And sweet.

In October I get hurt.  My ankle is messed up and I'm not allowed to run, bike or go to the gym for several weeks.  My mom announces she's getting married and moves to Vegas.  Just when my ankles starts to heal I find out I have a hernia and have to have surgery in December.

We're half way through January of 2012 and I'm pretty sure that this year is going to rock my world.

All I can say is...I'm ready.

Sometimes the wrong reasons turn into the right reasons um, at least that's what I'm tellin' myself

Tonight I'm going to a bible study.

It's been a long time.

A real long time.

The last time I went to bible study we had to go around the room and answer why we were there.

I replied (out loud) that I was there for the two hours of free child care.

Hey, I was in church.  I was skerd that if I lied I might be put on a zip line to hell or something.

So I told the truth.

But in the end I was so glad that I went all those weeks and got out of my comfort zone.  I'm doing the same thing tonight.  Getting out of my comfort zone and hanging out with a bunch of women I don't know.  (many that I do, thank goodness)

I know I need this.  I know it will be good for me.

And tonight if we have to go around the room and answer why we're there.  I'll be honest.  I'm there to see Candee and Chelsea and Alesha and any of my other friends who are there tonight.  I'm going because then I don't have to be doing the dishes.  Or laundry.  Or whatever else.

And when the class is over, I know I'll be glad I went for the wrong reasons.

So I'm a little pissy in this post. What of it?

I think goals are fantastic.

I just don't usually reach them.

Like.  Ever.

I should start making goals like:

Get out of bed late without enough time to make Josh breakfast.

Be grumpy with children.

Forget to thaw chicken for tonight's dinner.

Forget to send birthday cards.

Stuff like that.

Because those are things I can do.  I'm really good at sucking at stuff.

Oh, like this one thing that we just found out I suck at.  Ordering stuff online.

Like cabinets.

You need someone to screw up an order?  Mess up a big ticket item?

Pick me.

Choose me.

Love me.

{that's a line from Grey's Anatomy}

Anyway.  I'm your go-to chick if you need a screw up.  So maybe I ordered 30" cabinets where I was supposed to order 36" cabinets.  And maybe, just maybe my husband has already laid the tile out as if I ordered 36" cabinets.

Ugh.

Or! Or! Do you need a wife who is ungrateful to you for the work you did on her car out in the cold and on your lunch break?

You do?!

Hey, my husband has one of those kinda wives and I am JUST SURE he'd love for you to take her off his hands.

Or maybe you need someone to do all your laundry?  I can do that!  Oh, you wanted it folded and put away?  Uh, yeah.  Too bad I suck at that too.  If you want "clean" clothes with a little bit of cat or dog hair and a whole lot wrinkles in 'em, now that I can provide.

Need a 1st grade math teacher?  No?  Oh, good.  Because apparently I'm not that person.  You see, last Thursday night I tried to do some math with my very own first grader and that resulted in me sitting on the bathroom floor with the door locked and crying for about 33 minutes.  But who's counting? (obviously we aren't counting or I wouldn't have been on the bathroom floor.)

So.  I'm glad you don't need a first grade math teacher.

I've wanted to set some goals.  And I have a little.  It just boils down to I just want to be a different person.

A less sucky person.

Wired for Regret...no more

The other night Josh and I were talking about how I roll.

Always living in the past.  Always wishing I'd done something better.  Something different.  Always regretting choices and decisions I've made.

It's tiring.

Exhausting, really.

Josh said, "You're just wired for regret, Sarah."

wham!


Wired for regret?

Why yes, yes I am.

I realized that I'm really freaking tired of it too.  I'm tired of beating myself up for past mistakes.  I'm tired of dwelling on every negative thing I've ever said or done.

I have a few goals for 2012, but the main one is to not live "wired for regret."

2011 was an awesome year for me.

Sure there was sucky stuff, too.  I made my share of mistakes.

But I'm not going to regret them.  I'm just not.  I lived my life in 2011.  I'm going to grow from the positive and negative choices I made last year.

I'm going to make bad choices again this year.  It's inevitable.  But I'm not going to beat myself up over them anymore.  I'm just going to continue to grow through them.

Looking forward to this year.  To 2012 and all that's in store.