{on running}

Oops.

It's been nearly a month since I've written anything.  I don't even have any drafts started.  I just absolutely haven't written anything.

It's not for lack of blog material that's for sure.

There was Christmas.  My niece's 18th birthday (seriously, how is that kid 18?) New Years.  My new running shoes.  And my commitment to make 2014 the year I run a marathon.  

Okay.  So let's talk about running since running is what's on my mind these days.  These hours.

I said in this post how I realized I don't actually hate running the way I've thought all these years.  I've realized I just hate not being the best.  That's just something I have to get over.  I'll never be the best runner.  But any running is better than no running and so that's what I've set out to do.

I started a few weeks ago with two miles.  I'm now up to six miles.  I'm a slow runner.  I don't walk, but I'm sure a fast walker could keep up with my running pace.  I'm choosing not to care about how slow I am, and am instead focusing on increasing my miles.

I don't have a lot of miles under my belt.  51 miles since the beginning of December.  Already I can see this is going to be an emotional and physical roller coaster.  My body is adjusting to the physical demands.  There were a couple of days where I could hardly walk for how sore I was.  So I took a couple of days off, drank a bunch of water and am feeling pretty good.

I have this four mile loop I run and one day I was running and the sun was shining and I was on this high.  I was so completely thrilled to be able to run.  That I was given this body that is somewhat healthy and capable and I could run.  RUN.  I was smiling like an idiot and I was just so thankful to be alive and breathing and running.

The very next day I'm out and I'm running and thoughts of my dad came to my heart.  And I'm running and crying and thinking about how I just know he would be at every race and he'd be cheering for me and at the end there'd be a hug.  Oh, Lord, a hug.  It's hard to run when you're crying and your heart is aching and breaking and thinking of a hug from your dad.  A hug you haven't had in 14.5 years.  And to hear that voice.  I wanted to sit down against that chain link fence and bring my knees to my chest and cry it out, instead I pushed a little harder.  But you can't run from your heart, no matter how hard you try.  I learned that.

This running.  It's going to be good.  It's just not going to be easy.

i'm a poor example to my kids

Christmas is coming and I had really anticipated that this Christmas would be the Christmas my kids get it.  That I would have done a good job in explaining and living out this season and they would understand and love Christmas for more than just the presents.

I think I'm sucking.

I feel like there's a lot of bickering and whining and crabby pants going on.

With my kids, too.

The other night Josh was reading Tabitha's Travels, our advent book, and I was reading some fiction piece of chit.  It wasn't until I woke up in a panic the next morning that I realized what I'd been doing.

So I'm all panicky, sweaty.  Realizing I'm this big fat failure of an example.

When am I going to get this mothering thing right?

don't be in such a hurry

Josh and I did all our Christmas shopping on Friday.  Like...ALL OF IT.  In one day.  It was a little bit ridiculous and I don't think I wanna do that ever, ever again.

My mom watched the girls and had stressed the entire time that we needn't hurry to get back, enjoy ourselves, blah blah blah.  I don't really work like that, I stress about everything, especially matters of time related issues.

If someone has my children, I need to hurry.

During our shopping trip I decided I wanted to go in this one clothing store I love (Vivo, if you're curious) to wander (quickly) around.  This place is so me.  All of it.  There's a dress that says, "Hey, Sarah, I know you love me.  Try me on."  And I was like, "Hey, Baby, you're right.  I do love you.  Meet you in the dressing room in 3 minutes."

So that dress and I had a date in the dressing room.

But dressing rooms freak me out because I'm so nervous I'm being watched.  I'm nervous there's someone on the other side of the mirror and they're staring at my flabby, stretch marked, cancer scarred belly and my hang to my knees saggy boobs.  I'm nervous that the cameras throughout the store are pointed toward the mirror inside the dressing room.  I'm nervous someone is going to walk in on me at any moment.

So I'm rushing.  I try the dress on and fall in love.  We make out for a minute.  And then I'm rushing to get changed and out the door.

I put on my jeans, my shoes, grab the dress and head out the door.

Without my shirt.

Because that is my life.

How does a person start to walk out of a dressing room without their shirt?  I don't know!  But I did it!

And now my fear of dressing rooms has been increased.  It may be awhile before I can step inside another.

it's not magic, folks.

2014 is coming up.  In case you haven't looked at a calendar recently.

I, like many of you, have been thinking about my goals for the New Year.  I think I made some last year, but I'm not sure I met them.  I don't even remember them.  But I've been focused on living more intentionally and that's what I plan for 2014.  Be intentional with my time, my goals, my people, my health.

While thinking about my health/fitness goals for 2014 I kept thinking about running.

Running may as well be a four letter word.  I would much rather ride my bike for three hours than run for 30 minutes.  You think I am exaggerating. I am not.

Dead serious.

So yesterday while I'm thinking about running and goals I text Jessica.  (side note: I always wonder if she rolls her eyes when a text from me comes through because they are so random.)  I asked her if someone who is not a runner, who in fact HATES to run, could make a goal to run a half and full marathon in the same year.  I loved her first reply: "hmm."

I love that she doesn't just jump in with an answer I want to hear but takes the time to reply what I need to hear.  (I've told you guys before, you need a Jessica in your life.) (Just not mine, she's taken.)

Off and on all day yesterday I was thinking about running.  Thinking about it makes me groan.  Roll my eyes.  Get crabby.  Why do I hate it so much?  This morning while blow-drying my hair I realized something.

I don't hate running!

I hate not being the best at running.

Realizing that I don't want to do something just because I am not, nor will I ever be, the best was a pretty ugly realization.  That says so much to me about so many areas of my life.

So I shut off the blow dryer, got out my favorite Sharpie and a piece of paper and penned my 2014 goals.

I'll start in February with a 3 mile run, St. Patrick's Day always has a 5 or 10k, I'd like to do the 10.  In May I'm going to attempt my first half marathon.  13 miles.  Then July holds STP.  Seattle to Portland on my bicycle.  200 miles.  October holds the Portland Marathon.  I really considered a full as one of my goals, but I honestly am not feeling it at this point.  Maybe as the months and training goes on, I'll get there, but for now I'm going to be proud of myself for the halves I've signed up for.

I'm going to do this.

It's not going to be easy.  And I'm going to want to give up.  It's not always going to be fun.  But it's always going to be worth it.

(and now begins the real reason for this post)

With the New Year approaching I've seen many FB posts with people wanting their friends to join their weight loss programs.  Get results!  No pills!  No this!  No that!  But lots of results!  Almost like magic!

I call bullshit.

Yeah, I said it.

Weight loss is not magic.

A healthy life is not magic.

It's hard work and it's determination.

To achieve a healthy lifestyle, to achieve weight loss, to see results - literally takes blood, sweat, and tears.

I can attest to this because I have fallen off my bike, scraped my elbows, knees, wrists.  I have sweat from workout after workout and I have cried because I'm tired of those workouts and I have cried from falling off my bike.

But not all tears were out of pain.

Many were out of success.

I've been extremely frustrated by these posts.  These ads.  These gimmicks.

Friends, I'm sorry to say, but losing weight is not easy as 1, 2, 3.  It's not as easy as signing up to receive pills, or shakes, or meals.  It's not counting calories, or cutting out bread, or meat, or sugar, or beer (Oh, Lord, not the beer! don't take mah liquid gluten!)

It is, however, about cutting down on those things.  Not eating (or drinking) as many of those things.  Stop depriving yourself of those things you love, you'll just end up binging on them later and you'll beat yourself up for it, give up, feel defeated and be a Sad Pants Sally.

But it's also this:

It is about getting off our asses and moving.

It is sweating and it is hard.

It is time consuming and it is hard.

It is self-control and it is hard.

It is determination and it is hard.

It is not magic.

It is not pills.

It is not shakes.

It is not sugar-free, carb-free, gluten-free, meat-free, fat-free, taste-free.

It is, however, persevering.  It is not giving up.  It's about failing but starting again.

You don't have to pay someone to help you lose weight.  To tell you what you can and cannot eat.  What pill to take or shake to down.  I can say all of this because I've lived it.  I've done it.

That picture on the left (153 lbs).  I can't believe I was her.  That picture on the right (123 lbs), I wish I still looked like that.  But over the course of a few months, I've eaten more and exercised less and I have 10 extra lbs to show for it.  However, I'm back on track, paying attention to portions (still eating chocolate and drinking beer) and getting up at 6 AM (ew!) to work out at home.  I've also been to the gym once this week and will go again tonight.

But I'm not the only one who has busted her ass to make improvements, to better herself, to lose weight, to get healthy.

A couple hardcore, amazing examples of people I know:

My friend Melissa is engaged to a guy named Matt.  Matt was in a mountain biking accident four years ago that resulted in him being paralyzed.  Reading through his blog posts from that time and seeing that immediately after his accident he could hardly move his arms, at one point couldn't even lift a single pound but I asked today and found that he is lifting, get this, 60 lbs!  How can he do this?  Because the man hasn't given up.  Because he busts his butt.  Hours upon hours.

Not only can Matt lift 60 lbs, he's also standing.  Standing!

He didn't get to this point because he sat and did nothing.  He hasn't gotten stronger because he popped magic pills.  It's his determination to never give up.

So freaking inspiring.

*i know Matt's story is not one of weight loss, but it is a story of what can happen when you are determined to change your life, to not give up, to work hard, and see results.*

Another friend of mine, Mark, used to weigh 307 lbs.  He's Josh's height (5'8"ish).  One day the man decided to take control of his health.  It hasn't been an overnight change.  And it wasn't a month or six months.  It wasn't a year.  It was more than that.  His journey started in 2006.  But it was in January of 2011 that shiz got real and Mark started running. He has run and pedaled mile after mile to lose 130 lbs.

Let me type that for you again.

The dude has lost 130 lbs.  

He's held the same weight for several months.

It wasn't magic, guys.  It wasn't some pyramid scheme that got these guys where they are today.  It was a lot of freaking hard work!  It was hours of their time.

Three years ago Jessica was posting her running updates to FB.  What I loved most about her updates wasn't that she made the work out seem easy, she made it seem doable.

Friends, changing your life to get healthy, to get fit, is never easy.  And it's not magic.

But it's always doable.

And it's always worth it. 

let's be silly together

Yesterday the girls and I had a fantastic school day.  To top it off, Josh came home from work early and said we should head to the store to get coffee.  

OKAY!

We told the girls to get coats and shoes (and half an hour later we were heading out the door).

(kidding, it was only like 20 minutes later.)

When Spice came out saying she was ready, she was sporting a pretty fashionable hair do.  "Do you like it Mama, am I pretty?"

"Baby girl, you are GORGEOUS and I want my hair just like yours!"

So I put my hair up in as high a pony tail as I could and out the door and to the store we went.  She beamed the entire time.

This kid makes my heart happy.

small changes

This morning I started my day off with today's workout from this blog. (click link to check it out)

Fairly short.  Not at all sweet.  (like me)

It was good.  I'm glad it's over for the day.

As I've been thinking about this weight gain and lack of working out I've just felt so down.  And for a solid 2.5 years I was feeling really good.  I want to get back to that feeling again.  I may not be able to put all the miles in on my bike that I'd like to, I may not be able to hit the gym three times per week like I used to, but I can pay attention to the amount of food I'm consuming, I can pay attention to what kind of food I'm consuming.  And I can also do some home workouts to keep my heart rate up.

I'm not that girl who will cut out everything bad and replace it with all that is good for me.

I like beer too much for that.

Lately I've been enjoying a candy bar at least every evening.  But I only enjoy it for the few seconds I'm eating it and then I'm sad pants.

I think a candy bar per week sounds much better.

I just want to start making a few healthier decisions here and there.

I want to feel strong again.  I want to be strong again.

But I also don't wanna overwhelm myself (like I'm known to do) by jumping in all the way.  Baby steps, Sarah.  Baby steps.

Intentional December

It happens to me every year.

The Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays zoom by and the new year comes and I'm like, "whoa. Totally missed the holiday season. "

I feel like I coast through November and December in a rush of grocery shopping, Christmas present shopping, wrapping, etc. without just enjoying the days.

I decided I would do December different this year.

I'd be intentional with it.

So I wrote out all the days in the month of December and I've planned specific activities to do with Josh and the girls so that when the month is over I'll know we lived it.  Enjoyed it.

Activities include:

Read Tabitha's Travels every night before bed.
Make an Advent wreath. (i bought terracotta pots, some moss, some candles, and let the girls paint the pots. then i put in the candles and filled the pots with beans to hold said candles in place. then covered the beans with moss. thank you, Pinterest.)
Decorating the house. (we did this Sunday)
Hanging Christmas lights. (was supposed to be done on Tuesday, but holy cold front, Batman.)
Christmas movie nights each Friday of the month. (i bought Elf, Charlie Brown Christmas, and Miracle on 34th St.)
Lighted Implement Parade. (tomorrow. it's supposed to be like 7 degrees. i'm gonna freeze off the nips!)
Christmas cookies.
Visit Josh's grandma in the nursing home. (i'm terrible at this but need to get back to making it a weekly thing.)
Christmas baking.
Go to Miner's for dinner and then drive around looking at Christmas lights.
Christmas shopping date with Josh. (he's taken a vacation day for next Friday and my mom has offered to watch the girls. we're going to get all our shopping done in one go and do lunch and a movie.)
Christmas Eve. (we always let the girls open one gift. it's always jammies. so they can have pretty, matching jammies for Christmas morning pictures.)

Now, all of these things may have happened whether I wrote them down or not.  But I'm guessing not.

Also, the last couple of days I've felt that it would probably be best if I gave up Facebook and Twitter for the rest of the month.  I love those places.  I do.  But they can be a distraction and with as busy as this month is, I just don't need the distraction.

I'll still be on Instagram (are we friends there? sarah_lee63 is my username) and of course Pinterest because how can you do Christmas without Pinterest?! ;)

I'll also blog.  Probably about as much as I'm doing now.  (uh, which hasn't been much...)

Do you have any Christmas traditions?  I wanna know.

where i post my stupid weight

Nearly two months ago I posted that it was high time I start losing weight again.  And in those two months I've lost exactly zero pounds.

Awesome, no?

I just haven't had any oomph to get out the door and off my ever growing arse.

I went running last Friday morning.  I haven't run in I don't know how long.  But I decided to put on some spandex and my running shoes and hit some pavement.  I ran 3.2 miles and the next day I wasn't sure I'd be able to get out of bed.  So freaking sore!  It's been nearly a week and I still feel sore.

I need to do something.  Something different.  Something that's going to inspire me to work hard.  So I'm going to go back to posting about this shiz on my blog.  I'll weigh in weekly, posting that bit of fabulous news here and make you folks my accountability partners.

Please and thank you.

I know tomorrow is Friday, but I know what I weigh right now, so let's just get this crap started.

Let's start with my goal.  My goal is to get back to my 123 that I was a solid two years.  It's been nearly a year since I've seen that on the scale.  My incentive is a brand spankin' new pair of jeans.  I almost always buy my jeans second hand.  The last pair I bought in Portland were new and fairly inexpensive, but you get what you pay for with jeans.  They're cute, but they don't fit well.  You should feel one with your jeans. :)  The jeans I love are about $100.  I haven't spent that much on a pair of jeans in about 10 years.  So, this is a pretty exciting incentive for me.

I currently weigh (ugh) 135 lbs.  This kinda freaks me out.  Especially to post it for the world.  But I think this is what I need to help me get back on track.

12 lbs.  I can do this.

I have a wedding to go to mid February, I'd like to have reached my goal by that time.

Go, Team!

Once Upon a Birthday

Today we're celebrating my stepdad's birthday.

He and my mom have been married for just over two years, but since they've lived in Vegas up until this summer, this is the first birthday where I get to be with him.

My mom recently had neck surgery so I offered to have Bill's birthday party at my house and offered to make dinner.  My mom took me up on it.

Yesterday I prepared the meal so that today I could just focus on family once they show up.  Said family includes a step brother and sister I've never met.  (Crossin' mah fingers they like me!)  I was having so much fun making the meal, knowing it was for Bill for his birthday and that his kids would be coming and he hasn't seen them in awhile.  Just all over happiness of family coming together.  I don't know how to explain it, I was just feeling so blessed to be able to do this for him.

While cleaning up I was suddenly very emotional.  I was pretty sad pants.

I was remembering the last birthday my dad had.  His 40th.  I was 18, newly married, and decided that this would be the year I'd be a grown up and make a cake and celebrate with him his birthday - for the first time.

I built a cake.  I had thought I remembered him saying German chocolate was his favorite (ew!) so that's what I made.  I bought him a card (no gift because I had no clue what to get the man), then headed a couple towns over to give him the cake.  While on my way there I panicked.  What if the cake was gross?  What if that wasn't his favorite cake after all?  What if I messed up?

So I opened the car door and threw it out alongside the road.

Yes.  I did.

I'll forever regret that I did that.

(I wish I could go back and hug 18 year old insecure Sarah and tell her she did a great job on that cake and her daddy would love it no matter what.)

I haven't had a dad in so many years and Bill is absolutely wonderful to me, I'm feeling honored to make his birthday dinner and celebrate him tonight with his family.

And I'm promising not to throw dinner out alongside the road before they get here.

Write that Down

I often post to FB or Twitter the silly things my girls say, but forget to put them down in some sort of journal.

A couple of things they've said recently have cracked me up, so I want to share them here.

Last week the girls and I spent a long afternoon grocery shopping.  From store to store to store.  On the way home, from the backseat, Spice says, "Mama, I found a penny in my bottom.  No wonder it's hurt all day."

I cracked up.

A penny.  In her bottom.

Why, child?  Why was there a penny in your bottom?

The kid kills me.  Always.

Recently, on another trip in the car, we were talking to the girls about patience.  Josh asked Spice if she knew what patience was.

"Yes.  It's when you have to wait for the food."

Because with Spice, everything is about the food.  Everything.

She's allergic to many foods.  Many tasty foods.  And apparently the child doesn't want to give up her flour tortillas because when I go to change her sheets I find partially eaten flour tortillas underneath her pillow.

Two days ago I was going to take a shower.  I went in the bathroom and locked the door.  I've only just recently started locking the bathroom door.  Because that 7 minutes I get in the shower is the only time I'm by myself during the day.  And before I started locking the door, I didn't have those seven minutes to myself.  I would have one child or another, sometimes both, sitting on the toilet lid, staring at me, talking to me, asking me questions, "what are we going to do today?" or "do you know where such and such stupid toy that why would i know the answer to this question is?"  It's either incessant questions or it's tattling or it's whatever.  But I have learned that if I don't lock the bathroom door, there is no seven minutes of peace and quiet.

So, back to the two days ago I went to take a shower...

I lock the door.  I shower.  I unlock the door and Sugar comes in.

"You locked the door while you were in the shower so I had to go outside to mark my territory."

And then she turned around and walked out and I just stood there in my towel and laughed.

That kid.

I think she's part animal or boy or something.  But zero parts a lady.

They are funny little beings, these people I'm raising.

the post about my bike and my goal i never reached

the doctor who performed the three surgeries i've had asked me a couple of months back if i'd like to ride STP.

Seattle to Portland.  200 miles over two days.

totally doable.

he then asked if i'd consider being one of the ridiculous ones and do the ride in one day.

apparently some idiots do that.

i paid him $200 to ask me that question.

okay, actually i was having some pain along my 6 year old incision that had persisted 12 days and i was growing concerned.  so i made an appointment.  i was there approximately 20 minutes, 5 of which were spent him telling me i'm fine, the other 15 talking bicycles.

i told him i'd think about it and let him know.

i get out to the car and first thing i do is text Jessica.  how do you set a goal and what if you set a goal but cannot reach it?

THEN WHAT!?

and she told me i needed something scary and i needed to sign up and don't we all need that friend who says, "do the scary thing"?

yes.  we do.

so glad to have her.

i talked to Josh.  and then a few days later i walked back into his office and asked the office girl to please write a note to the fine doctor letting him know i would begin training.

it's been two months.  there's been no training.  a website i've found shows training to start in February.  and the miles in a week are so completely doable.  starting with just three rides and 60 miles a week.  that's really not that many.

however, it's just not possible at this time in my life.

i don't know what's happened but life has changed and so have i and i don't seem to have the time to get out on the bike.  the days are shorter and by the time Josh gets home from work there's no daylight.  i've ridden in the dark before.  twice.  once i was hit by a car, and the other time a car did not see me and i had to slam on my brakes, didn't clip out in time, and fell.

i cannot safely ride in the dark.

at ages eight and five i cannot leave my children during the day to go ride.

i cannot train or sign up for STP.

today i went to the gym to cancel my membership.  the pissy pants side of me considered listing my bike on Craigslist.  what's the point of having her if i don't get to ride her?  i feel like it's a waste.  i feel like my love for the sport, for the bike - is a waste.

admittedly, i'm in a sour mood about the whole thing.  i'm not writing this post in a just-no- feeling-this moment the way i often do.  it's been days upon days knowing i can't do STP.  my sad pants-ness isn't gonna go away any time soon.

finding what works

This is our fourth year home educating.

Okay, third.  We really didn't do much around here for Kindergarten with Sugar.  I freaked out about this for much of the public school year.  Just sure I was ruining her.  I had my veteran homeschool mom friends telling me to chill and to read and to enjoy her.  Oh if I could go back to sweet Sugar at age five.  I would soak up all that time with her and stop stressing about ruining her.

Five year olds want to be read to and played with.  They want to cook with you and help you with chores.  They want to snuggle up real close.  They want to play in the dirt.

I know because I still have a five year old.

And because I've learned from my mistake with Sugar, I let Spice have a lot of free time doing the fun things a five year old should do.  However, she's much more studious than her older sister and actually enjoys sitting at the table for a couple of hours to work on math, reading, etc.

The learning situation in our household has been more calm these last several weeks than ever.  I'm sure part of it is that Sugar just realizes school is part of our day whether she wants it to be or not.  But I believe the biggest part of what's helped settle down our days is that I'm not trying to shove every subject into her.  I believe reading, writing, spelling, punctuation, and grammar are a big deal (not that you could tell from my writing) so that IS something we work on daily and for the most amount of time.  Other than that, I kinda just let her tell me what she's interested in learning.  We spent about a week and a half learning about sharks.  And she just informed me that next she'd like to study dolphins.  This kid may not be able to multiply but she can tell you some amazing facts about a multitude of animals and bugs.  I love it.

Spice is much more interested in learning to read than Sugar ever was at her age.  She's sounding out words, writing, adding and subtracting, etc.

Something that I notice I have a hard time with is keeping up on housework with school or school with housework.  If I'm working on something with one of the girls and see that the dishes need to be done, it's hard for me to concentrate on just teaching the girls.  I get overwhelmed thinking I need to be doing all of it at once.  Or, I found that if I went to throw a load of clothes in the wash, the girls would scramble from the table and all focus would be lost.  For all of us.

Last week, for something new, I decided to load up our books and head to the library to do our school day.  It was amazing.  I didn't have to think about laundry or cooking or dishes.  I could just focus on the girls and what we were learning for the day.  They don't have the distraction of the animals or toys or our playground outside.

So.  We went again Monday and Tuesday.  It's been working out fabulously.  When we get home I can clean and cook without school related questions.

The girls have really enjoyed it and so have I.

I'm not sure how long we'll do this, but for now I see this lasting awhile.

How I'm feeling right this minute. Uncensored.

I started writing this out on paper and then decided to blog these feelings.

Maybe I'm alone in them, and maybe I am not.

I'm equal parts hopeful I am and am not.  I'd hate for others to feel this way, I'd hate to think I'm the only one who feels this way.

I feel so inadequate.  In every area of my life.  Every single one.  There's not one area of my life where I feel I'm doing well or succeeding.

Lately I've wondered if staying home with my kids and educating them is the right thing.  For so many reasons I wonder if this is the right thing for me.  For my girls.

I'm not smart enough.

I'm not disciplined enough.

I'm not structured enough.

I'm impatient and crabby.

I'm not a gifted teacher; I'm horrible when it comes to explaining things.

I don't even know how to teach or what teach.  What goes together, when do I teach this, is this relevant, am I teaching this just because the schools do?

I used to work at Pier 1 Imports.  I also worked as a barista in a local coffee shop.  I was great at selling furniture and I was great at making coffee.  I can be good at something.  I have been good at something.

But this, this mothering and teaching.  I am not good at these things.

And I'm a horrid wife.

I get it.  I get why women leave.  Because this, this stuff is just too much some days.  Many days.  Most days.  And wouldn't it just be easier to leave?  To walk away?  Wouldn't the children and the husband be better off?

I'm not leaving.  I won't.

And I'm not headed off to work outside the home and have my kids in school.

I am, however, venting this hurt and frustration and panic that's rising.  Suffocating.  That's how I feel, like I'm suffocating.  I feel this claustrophobic craziness.

Okay, I'm going to publish now.  And in the middle of the night I'll wake up in a panic and try to delete but it'll already have been read and judged and well, and well...oh well.

Here it is and here is me.  Uncensored.

crying over a package of Oreos

It was nine years ago today that I bought that Sunday paper, that package of Oreos, and that digital pregnancy test.

Nine years ago since I set the toilet lid down and sat there with that stick in my hand.

Reading:

Pregnant

In my little apartment off Nob Hill.  All by myself.  Crying happy scared tears.

I'll always be thankful for October 17, 2004.

That pregnancy test, that sweet baby girl - changed me.  Saved me.

it's time to start losing weight again.

I've been feeling pretty yuck about myself since about April.

Gaining weight is never good for me and that's exactly what I've done since April.

Ew.

Life kinda took over and I stopped going to the gym.  Or I'd hang out with friends instead of utilizing my gym time.

And now I have about 14 lbs to show for my lazy ways.

I'm back to feeling the way I did when I first started my journey to get myself healthy.  No, I'm not that 153 lb girl I was, but I feel like it.  Nothing fits right, nothing looks right.  I wanna stay home so I don't see anyone I know.

Yuck.

So, it's time.  It's time to get back to healthy.

Healthy isn't lazy.

I have to remind myself it took me a few months to gain this weight, it's going to take time to get it off, too.

Here goes.

Again.

Wednesday Random, nesting style

today at 9 am I was supposed to have that dr's appt about fixing my Fallopian tubes.

it didn't happen.

instead at 9 am i am cleaning and organizing and purging.

it feels really great.

i'm sick.

like coughing up my lungs sick.  like, my head weighs 10 tons sick.  i had some Vicodin leftover from when i got my wisdom teeth out last year and they don't really do anything for me as far as pain, but they do make me not care.  so i took one a couple days into being sick just so i would not care that i was sick.

is this how druggies are born?

(i don't wanna know)

since i am sick i didn't go to bible study last night, instead i stayed home and organized our school books.  i bought a shelf from PW and i was planning to paint it and re-sell it, but realized it had a perfect place in my home and works beautifully for storing our school books.

i used to have just one junk drawer in my house.  josh thought one was too much.  imagine what he thinks now that one junk drawer somehow turned into three.

today i fixed that and made the three turn into one.

yesterday Sugar came upstairs to wake me and tell me Spice had puked.  i went downstairs all sick and sleepy and upon cleaning up the puke I puked too.  that was precious.  It was one of those times where you don't want to tell the dog to stop cleaning it up.  You actually want the dog to clean it up so you don't have to.  But the thought of dog eating vomit makes you want to vomit more so you just clean it up yourself.

You're welcome for all that.

Being sick is not my favorite.  Organizing sure is though.

The junk drawers in my house were these mini hoarding stations of the weirdest crap.  I'm glad I cleaned it instead of someone else seeing it.

Okay, done rambling.

You're welcome for that too.

Letting Go of a Dream

About three weeks ago I showered, shaved my legs and gussied myself up like I was getting ready for a third date.

Really I was just heading in for my annual exam.

We're going over my chart from the last couple of years and they ever so nicely pointed out that I've gained about 14 lbs since January.  They (one girl taking notes, the other my dr.) ask what I'm doing differently and I tell them I'm hitting the gym about once a month instead of three times a week.

And I'm still drinking the same amount of beer.

Apparently that combo leads to 14 lbs of weight gain.  Awesome.

Continuing with my chart she asks about my birth control and then says, "Oh, yes.  You've had a tubal ligation.  My favorite form of birth control."

And I say, "yeah, til you want more babies."

Then she lowers my folder and raises her head and says, "You want more babies?"

And I say, "Yeah, yeah I do."  And I went on to tell her about my tubal decision.  My worst decision to date.  (and lemme tell you, I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life.)

She tells me that once a month a fertility specialist from Seattle comes to their office.  That I could meet with him and talk about a reversal.  Would I like to do that?  Would I like to schedule an appointment?

For a brief moment I let myself play with idea of it.  What could it hurt?  Couldn't hurt anymore than I already do, right?

So.  Yes.  Sign me up for that appointment.  Let's have more babies!

And my appointment is October 9th at 9 AM.  I have all my medical records in my car just waiting to be handed over to this fertility specialist to better inform him of whether or not it's even a possibility.

But the thing is, my insurance won't cover a dime of this.  Not one dime.  And the consultation alone is $300.  The procedure is about $10,000.  Who am I to even consider this?!  I thought I'd just go ahead with the consultation.  Why not just find out it's possible or not possible?  But where am I going to just come up with 300 extra dollars?

I'm not.  Not at all.  Even cutting out the coffee (and I'm doing really well about that, btw) I don't have the money for something like this.

So today I let myself cry awhile.  And then I called Jane in Seattle and thanked her for scheduling that appointment for me but that I was going to have to cancel.  And she asked why and I told her and she thanked me for calling.

I'm right back where I was that December morning.  Feeling this weight of sadness.  I had actually started to hope.  I started to dream a little of the possibility.

And it hurts to let go of this dream.

my busy out of my comfort zone week

Whew!

This has been quite the week, friends.  Quite the week indeed.

And we still have a coupla days left.

The girls and I started back to school a couple of weeks ago and it's always my favorite when my mother-in-law asks the girls how school is going and if they're reading a lot and Sugar says, "no.  No we're not."

Awesome.  I'm sure that does her grandma/public school teacher heart a lot of good.

{sigh}

So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit that in the last couple of weeks maybe there hasn't been a ton of reading but yes there has been reading.  There's even been writing.  And holy cow, some math.  School is taking a much different approach this year in our household and so far we've had zero tears and only one bad attitude morning.  This is a miracle, folks, and I wish so much I'd started schooling my big girl this way from the get go.

Anyway, with school being back in session comes the flurry of activities.

Co-Op
Soccer
Choir

and for Josh and me, bible study in a small group.  {shudder}

So I signed Sugar up for soccer and poor Spice was a little too shy to join this year but she's been a trooper watching her sister and cheering her on.  We meet for that twice a week, Tuesday and Wednesday.  We've been doing that for a few weeks now and she's really been enjoying herself.  Last night I was a proud mama when she knocked a kid over and stole the ball from him.  Because last week, someone from the opposing team fell and she stopped what she was doing to make sure that kid was okay.  She's way nicer than me.

This week, on Monday, the girls joined Choir.  Oh, Lord.  Showing up to a church I don't know, filled with people I don't know, with a door God knows where and can I just say that I wanted to throw up.  What is my deal?  I swear the older I get the worse my anxiety is about crap like this.  I try to pretend in front of my girls that I have my shiz together because I do not want them to be anything like me when they are older.  But of course I waited til someone else got out of their car to see where they walked up to because from where I parked I could not see the door.

Door found, all was right in my world.

It's this sweet couple who leads Choir and they just donate their time and their talents to these sweet (assuming they're sweet) homeschooled kiddos.  The woman handed me a letter that says at some point they'll have each child sing in front of them on their own and all I can think about is what songs my girls know by heart.  Hells Bells?  Back in Black?  The soundtrack to Napoleon Dynamite?

You think I'm kidding.

My girls sat through Choir and we got in the van and they promptly told me, "that was sooo boring, Mom."

"But you LOVE to sing!"  I say in my uber convincing voice.

"Uh, yeah.  But to the songs on the radio.  Not that stuff."

Sigh.

Forever making grandmas proud, my girls.

So that was Monday of our week.

Then comes Tuesday.  Tuesday is soccer practice night.  And this Tuesday was the first small group bible study night for Josh and me. I did something I've never done before and I dropped my girl off at practice and entrusted her to the care of my friend Katie to take her home with her after practice because our small group started half way through Sugar's practice.  I may have been slightly sick to my stomach all day for worry about if the people at small group would like me.  And I kept thinking to myself, "do not laugh out loud.  do NOT laugh out loud."  Because I can laugh.  And usually at the most inappropriate times.  And loudly.  I also reminded myself not to talk.  Not to not talk too much, but to just not talk in general.

I mostly succeeded.

I had to talk when it was asked that would the person who brings snack for the night lead in prayer that evening.  I nearly stood up with a good loud, "HELL, NO!" but I kept seated.  Smiled.  And said, "no.  I will feed you, yes.  But I will never lead in prayer and probably just never pray at all."

Like ever, ever.  Amen.

And they didn't kick me out and I had a good time.  But I may have laughed and oops, oh well.  It wasn't ever at an inappropriate time.  Thank God.

What day are we up to?  Yes, Wednesday.  Yesterday.  Man, it feels like that day was so long ago.

Wednesday was just the day before today.  (The day I've been oh so scared of for the last couple of weeks)  Wednesday was Sugar's game and she did great!  Oh!  I forgot to tell you about our dog!

We got a dog.  A 1.5 yr old black lab who apparently is so obsessed with anything round that she absolutely FREAKS OUT.  I took her to soccer yesterday and she went nuts for all the soccer balls!  So Josh had to sit with her in the back she was just so excited and wanted to play with all of them and when there are nine (I think) fields going, that's a lot balls to play with.

So, soccer game was good.

Then I helped finish up some shirts with a friend and then we had dinner and yum.  It was 8 pm and I'd not really eaten all day, so I needed dinner.  I love food.  I came home and put the girls to bed and Josh and I went to bed and I laid there trying not to be nervous for today.  But that didn't work.  I got up around midnight to be sick and then again at 4 to be sick again and decided just to stay up.  Seriously a nervous wreck for today.

Today I had to help lead the homeschool co-op.  All I had to do was read a story to a bunch of 2-5 yr olds and then lead them in some exercises but oh my word I was such a mess with worry.  And now that it's over, I'm like, "really, Sarah?  All that sickness and ridiculousness and being short with your girls this morning over what?  OVER WHAT?"  Because it was fine and it was fun and I really like all those babes and those mamas.

Amber said yay to me for being all 33 and going to small group.  And I told her that I felt 13 and like the odd, ugly girl out showing up and she told me odd was part of my charm.

That's me.  Oddly charming.

I've done really big (to me) things this week.  Big things out of my comfort zone and it's been amazing and good and hard.  And the amazing and good didn't outweigh the hard, these things were really hard for me.  But how can we grow if we're always in our comfort zone, huh?

I learned this week that I can step out.  I can find the front door.  I can read a book to some kiddos.  I can sit in a room with a bunch of other adults without making too big a fool of myself.

And it's been good.

Really, really good.

Sticks and Stones

A couple of weeks was long enough to hold onto these words.

long thread of stitches

Thursday I told you about my hurting heart.  Let's talk about it some.

There were these words, these words typed out in black and white.  But they felt more like red.  They felt like fire.  And knives.  They burned and they cut deep.

It was like someone lives inside this head of mine, knowing every bad thing I think and feel about myself and they said, "yes, you are right.  you are all of these awful, terrible things. plus a few more.  and no one likes you.  they tolerate you."

I read these words, til there were too many tears to see the words.  And then I put them down.  Those 2.5 pages, I put them down.  And I kept saying, "no. no. no."  Then with shaky hands and sobs and snot, I picked them up to continue reading and I hurt so bad.  Hurt like I've never hurt.

Do we even realize the power of our words to other humans?  Do we even realize?

I sat with those pages all day.  Reading them over and over.  And my friend said, "are you going to frame them?  You have to quit reading them."

I wanted an epidural.  An epidural for my heart.

That night I laid in my bed.  The words next to me, tear-stained, and folded on my night stand.  I wanted them close.  And I don't know why.  I was scared that in the night Josh would take them.  He had told me I needed to burn them.  Get rid of them.  And be done.

Not yet.

So I laid there with my head on his chest, his hand on my head in this protective way that he does.  And I couldn't quit murmuring.  There were these song lyrics that kept coming to me and so I would try to sing them, and then prayer and then verses and more lyrics and tears that just fell.

I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up with those pages, those words beside me and in my head but the amazing thing was that they were not in my heart.

I woke up feeling free.  Bruised and hurt, but free.  I would not own these words.  But more importantly, they would not own me.

Thursday was spent just kind of wandering.  Wandering about my house and my daily tasks and the girls just knew somehow that Mama needed to not be needed.  They took care of themselves, bless their hearts.

And my friends, they took care of me.  Bless your hearts.

Thursday morning Beth Moore tweeted, "When someone is cut to pieces, words of compassion and kindness loop together in a long thread of stitches woven by the caring hand of God."

I had friends send texts and emails.  One friend, one so sweet friend, knocked on my door, handed me Starbucks, hugged me and then left.  There was so much compassion and kindness on Thursday that my heart was overwhelmingly full.  I couldn't believe it.  I really could not believe it.

A kind word would come through a text and I would think how I didn't deserve it.

Grace.

The coffee and the hug?  Seriously, I just don't have words for that act of kindness and compassion.

Grace some more.

We went out of town for this Labor Day weekend and when we got home, in my mailbox, you won't believe this, but five letters.

Five.

Full of love.

And happy.

Instead of reading those 2.5 typed pages of hurt, I'm reading handwritten notes on colorful pages with wonderful handwriting.

Salve.

You have been salve to my wounded heart, friends.  I couldn't do these days without you.  These hard, hurting days, you make them doable.

My word how I love each one of you for being a long thread of stitches, for being Jesus to me these days.

Thank you.  Just, thank you.