2011: Review

2011 is over and I can't say I'm sad to see it go. It seemed to be a year of ups and downs with mixed blessings and double edged swords. I learned a lot throughout the year and I hope that I use that knowledge to make 2012 my year of peace.

2011 started with a huge career boost as the winner of teacher of the year. It was a monumental time followed by the announcement that our district would be firing teachers and as a newer hire (3 years) I might be on that list.

I turned 30 which was exciting for me because I had achieved everything I wanted to by age 30 but was left feeling empty with no sense of direction. The question of what to do now that my dreams had come true nagged at me throughout the year. It's harder to dream as an adult than it is as a fourth grade kid.

An old friend revealed her views about me in a not so very flattering way and some other friends helped me realize what true friendship is. I realized that if people can't accept all of me for who I am, then we weren't really friends to start with.

I began interviewing for jobs partly because of the districts financial situation and partly because I felt an obligation to my family but in leaving my job felt I was betraying God's calling for my career.

I got a job that is amazing. I work in the community I live in. I'm five minutes from home and five minutes from my son's school. I met some great new people and met a family whom i hope grows old with my family. It's everything I should want but I miss my mechee, and my fount of wisdom. I miss the kids that made me laugh, cry, and dance daily.

My little man started preschool and I had to make the hardest decision of my life and take his education into my own hands instead of allowing nature to take its course and I am so glad I did.

Little Miss started talking. The saying "you spend two years teaching them to talk and the rest of their life trying to get them to stop" might have been written about my daughter except the sound of her voice is so sweet I can't imagine not wanting to fill my ears with it as much as possible.

I lost two great uncles and hope to someday find them in heaven. I realized through these deaths how valuable and important my grandparents are to me. I have also realized how mortal they are and that their end on earth is inevitable. I try to prepare for their death but have realized that the sadness that always accompanies a death still cannot be eased by preparation or comfort in the deceased's lack of pain. It still hurts.

I reached my weight loss goal of 150 pounds, a loss of 71 pounds, joined a gym, and realized I have a strength within me that has been buried for years beneath layers of fat and self loathing. I am beautiful, I am strong, I am independent. Now people are asking me how I did it and it really comes down to desiring to spend the next 60-70 years of my life with my husband, children and grandchildren, running and playing and living life, not watching it pass me by.

With my new outlook on life, I've realized that I don't always know how to live life because I've become so accustomed to watching. I have realized that a lot of things that I thought were stupid or said I didn't want was probably because I thought I'd never have it. For instance, I always said kissing in public was gross, I think now it's because I thought I would never find someone to kiss. This realization has shattered some walls I had in place and as such left me feeling vulnerable and cranky, excited and ambitious.

I feel as if my life is starting over at 30 years old so it's only fitting that I've chosen the new year to start being the person I've always wanted to be. I am tearing down the remaining walls and showing myself for you to love or hate and either way my life will be true. Toast to 2012! May you bring me peace, love, and truth.

A Mile-stone

As you probably know, I've struggled with being overweight for a good majority of my life.  In August, my brother convinced me to join a gym with him.  I joined honestly thinking it would be a waste of my money and that I'd end up going for a month and then quit.  I'm happy to say that it's December now and I'm still going three times a week, occasionally more.

My workout usually consists of walking on the treadmill for about 30 minutes at a 20-30 degree incline at a pace of 2 miles per hour.  It's hard work and not much fun but I've found that it's one of the only times in my day when I can read and be by myself (as if being in a gym surrounded by people is being by myself but you know what I mean.)  I both dread it and love it at the same time.

So for the past four months I've done about the same thing, sometimes I lift weights sometimes I don't.  Sometimes I do cardio for 30 minutes sometimes an hour.  Through it all, I haven't ever felt like I've pushed myself too hard though until tonight.

About a week ago I was going to do inward hip abductions which is fancy for some machine that works your inner thighs.  I was amazed because when I went to adjust the weights it was set on 175 lbs.  I laughed out loud literally and shook my head.  "Who in the world would ever be able to press 175 lbs together with their inner thighs?"  I leaned forward again to adjust the weight and then giggled to myself as the thought flew through my brain to try it just to see how hard it was.  So I pushed my legs together and low and behold, I could do it.  I was shocked at first and had to try it again to make sure it wasn't some sort of fluke.  It wasn't. Come to find out, my strong little (or not so little) legs did 3 sets of 10 reps at 175 lbs.  Go me!  It was a pretty empowering moment.

Thus fast forward to tonight.  I set out to the gym in the 18 degree windchill weather with the intention of running.  I had finally tried running one night last week out of pure anger at a situation I was dealing with and I made it a half a mile before I thought my feet were literally going to slide out from under me.  This was after 20 minutes of walking however so I had to take that into consideration.  When I got to the gym it was nice and warm inside but almost all of my favorite treadmills were being used.  There was one left in between these two average looking older women...thank you God that they weren't 25 with perfect bodies in tight spandex.  I hopped up and started warming up with a brisk walk.  As I was walking I began to realize there was an odor in the air that was not all together pleasant. I pushed the thoughts out of my head and after a three minute warm up began to run.

My goal was to run another half mile, then walk and maybe if I wasn't too tired run another half mile later.  I knew the key to running the half mile was to think about something besides how much I hate running so I started asking myself what I wanted out of life and why I always feel such a need to do the stuff other people do instead of just being me.  I've noticed that I want to do things that people can see lately just to put myself out there.  I want to be famous for something but have nothing to be famous for.  I'm not really good at anything except raising children and that's not something that I will ever be famous for.  I want people to use quotes that I say to teach people, but I don't know what to focus on to make myself someone famous.  I'm not a movie star or a politician.  I don't like being honored in public and don't ever feel worthy of the accolades.  I love writing but don't take the time to do it enough and lack focus to finish projects because there isn't a reason.  I don't know a publisher.  I don't even know what people like to read.  I could write children's books but there are so many of them out there already and my ideas aren't different than anyone else's.  Man, I'm starting to get a little tired.

I look at my distance on my treadmill and notice that I've gone seven tenths of a mile.  I start smiling and giggling again...of course out loud so the BO girl can stare at me and judge me as I look back at her judging her stench.  I could do this.  I could make it a mile.  I've never ran a whole consecutive mile in my life...ever! For the first time this once 221 pound girl with esteem problems was going to run a mile.  I found myself cheering me on in my head.  Yes the "run Forrest, run" was changed to "run, Elizabeth, run" and followed by, "just keep running, just keep running".  It was fantastic and hysterical and all I could do not to jump up and down when I finished.  I felt like I had just won a race.  I've never won an athletic race. 

So many amazing things occurred in this one mile run on the treadmill.  I realized that I'm still not concentrating on my true goal in life which is to change the world one life at a time. I'm being distracted by everything else in life and society.  I realized that I can cheer myself on because for the first time maybe ever, I have a positive self image...I am worth supporting!

It's a Yummy Halloween

I've done it! I have successfully made my first Halloween costume (that I'm actually proud of)! Follow me on my journey of success.

It all started with the costume for Little Miss. She will be a cupcake! In thinking about her costume and looking around I asked my Little Man if he would like to be a cheeseburger and he enthusiastically said yes. I thought to myself, "I could make a cheeseburger. It can't be that hard." I was only partially accurate.

I do not sew. I took home ec in middle school and when we went to buy a pattern for sewing my mom said, "let's buy this wrap around skirt...it's just one long piece of fabric. Nice and simple.". Sure simple if you have a concept of straight...which I don't. I got a minus (the equivalent of failing) in scissors when I was in kindergarten because I couldn't cut in a straight line. My skirt was only slightly shorter on one side than the other which is actually in style now...I was just being a fashion trend-setter! None-the-less I decided to go ahead and make a cheeseburger. I bought all of the material cut out my pieces and asked my mom if I could come over and use her sewing machine. With a weariness in her voice she said yes. I'm not sure if she was afraid she'd have to do it for me or I'd she was afraid I'd break her machine...again.

It actually turned out great and minus a few questions I asked my mom and a tiny bit of help from her when Little Miss was screaming I did it all by myself! Yeah! Check out the photos for a pictorial recap.

 Big Buns

 Cheese, Ketchup, and Lettuce

Stuffing the buns

 This is proof that I really did sew at least the lettuce.

The final product

Halloween Night-  Little Miss says, "Happy Ween!"

Easy pumpkin bars

This recipe is courtesy my mother-in-law.

1 box of spice cake
1 fifteen oz can of pumpkin
3/4 cup of miracle whip
3 eggs

Mix ingredients with mixer until well blended.

Spread in a jelly roll pan that is greased.

Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes...check with a fork...it should come out clean. Bake for an additional 5 minutes if needed.

Let cool then frost or my favorite...dust with powdered sugar!

50 Years

I had the honor of attending a beautiful celebration honoring 50 years of marriage this weekend. Mr. Man's aunt and uncle have been married for 50 years. They raised three wonderful children and have six beautiful granddaughters. They are the epitome of hospitality. In fact I'm pretty sure if I looked up the word hospitality in the dictionary it would have a list of everything Salmer (that's my husband's nickname for them) does. I'm always amazed by their kindness and generosity. They want to make sure that their guests feel as though their house is their guests home. I remember stories from Mr. Man about spontaneously popping in on Salmer at their flower shop or their home with a group of friends on their way camping. Salmer always made sure their bellies and hearts were full. While Salmer might joke with each other and give each other a hard time but it was always with a light heart. Anyone sitting in the room knew they were just teasing each other which isn't always the case with married couples. They love each other and everyone they encounter.

As I was sitting there watching both of them tear up at certain memories I said a prayer that Mr. Man and I stick through everything to get to that point and that everyone around us will know how much we love each other. I prayed that we would get back to showing each other love in every possible thing we do. I can't wait to celebrate more 50 year wedding anniversaries with people that we love. I hope everyone I know makes it that far at least!

You Sleep when Baby Sleeps

The most valuable advice I've ever been given when it comes to having a child is to sleep every time the baby is asleep.  Don't worry about getting laundry done (give it to your mom, friend, or church members because they truly do understand and want to help).  Don't worry about cooking food because again, your mother, friends, and any other woman who has ever had a baby will be more than happy to provide you meals for weeks.  It is vital that while you are recovering emotionally and physically from no longer growing a child in your body that you rest at every possible minute.  This allows your body to heal and allows you to spend more happy time with your new bundle of joy.  My question this morning though is when do you stop sleeping when your baby sleeps?

I woke up this morning at the usual time for waking up with my now 22 month old daughter.  I listened for the cries that usually happen a few minutes after I wake up.  I kept listening and listening and that sweet, screaming "Momma" never came.  So the old advice, "sleep when baby sleeps" popped into my head.  I laid in bed and went back to sleep. When I woke up I realized that I had gone to sleep at 8 when my kids went to sleep and woke up at 7 when Little Miss woke up.  I counted up the 11 hours I had slept and then remembered that adults only need 6-8 hours off sleep.  This begged the question when is it that you stop sleeping when the baby sleeps.  Is it when they start sleeping through the night?  Is it when they turn 1 or 2? 

I've decided that probably, I should stop sleeping for the entire amount of time that my kids are sleeping.  For one thing, I have piles of laundry that need to get done.  For another thing, I think I'm making myself more tired by sleeping so much.  Especially because I don't really feel tired, I'm just enjoying the squishiness of my bed.  I've got to get up each morning.  Blah!

I Need More of Me

I arrive at work only to find a line of people needing my attention when all I really want to do is go put my food in the refrigerator and get my SMARTboard up and running with my newest awesome lesson.  I go through the day being extraordinarily patient and kind and loving when what I really want to do sometimes is scream, "I'm sick and tired of you never having your homework."  I have begun to feel like by the time I get home, I'm just plain, flat out done. 

I absolutely love my job as a teacher.  I think it's the best thing in the world and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world except maybe teaching my own kids.  Lately though I feel like I've been so tolerant of everything that I can't tolerate my husband or my children.  I have caught myself snapping at them for little small things and what made me think even more about it is that my son is getting the tone I recognize as my own and I don't like it.

I need to be even more patient with my children.  They can't be the benefits of my pent up frustration with a lack of timeliness in turning in assignments, or too many meetings in one week, or too many kids not understanding what I teach them the first time I teach a lesson.  I have to get better at shutting that all down and starting new with the people that truly mean the most to me.

Chivalry

Every book I read or movie I watched as a young girl started off with "once upon a time," and ended with "and they lived happily ever after."  I dreamed of prince charming taking me off into the sunset on his white horse.  When I thought about my future I knew I would find a man who would open doors for me, cherish my every move, and treat me like a queen.

 As I began dating I found a person who opened my doors most of the time, sent me flowers on random days, went and got the car if it was raining, and walked on the side of the road closest to the traffic and offered to help me out of the car, or help me climb up a mountain.  I dated that man and I married that man and I'm proud to say that my husband still does most of these things, some of the time.

In doing some research for this blog post I came across a website that stated he would perform 5 acts of chivalry until he got married.  "Chivalry is only good for the chase.  Once you've caught them, it doesn't matter how you treat them."  I know this isn't the case with my why my husband has slacked off slightly since getting married and I think some of the reason is that I've proven to myself and my husband that I don't need him to do these things for me.  The expectation is that I'll just take care of myself because I shouldn't have to ask for help.  We all know that we live in the time of the independent woman and we all know that if forced, we could live by ourselves and take care of ourselves. I think though that the true act of chivalry is knowing that whether a woman can take care of herself or not, she really wants you to be her knight in shining armor.

Now that I have a son, I realize that it's more important now that I raise a man of chivalry.  I heard a story the other day of a man who literally laid down his coat over a puddle so his wife didn't have to walk through it.  As I listened to the story I thought not wow I wish my husband would do that for me but instead I thought how do I teach my son to be the man that will do that for his wife.

So for the past few days, I've been telling my son what he should do for other people and the realization that I've come to is that I have to model that and my husband has to model that.  We have to as parents make sure that no matter what is going on with our jobs, or how tired we are that we are constantly modeling the type of behavior we want our children to internalize.  If I want my son to learn that you open doors for women, then my husband has to model that.  If I want my children to talk when they get angry, then I need to model that.   If I want my children to have healthy marriages in their future, then I have to model that.  I cannot become lax even for one day.

I've become the kind of teacher that I can't stand when it comes to teaching my children.  I'm all talk and no hands-on, modeling, or investigating.  I have to change my approach because I want my son to be chivalrous.  I want my son to hold the doors open for women.  I want my son to understand that sometimes making someone happy is the best feeling in the world.  All of these things I have to model for my little man.  My little man will be a prize for some lucky lady in the far away future.  My Little Man will be some lady's prince charming.  I have to start now because unlearning a habit takes a long time and sometimes comes with a lot of anguish.  Chivalry will make a return to my household.

Golf Course, oh how I've Missed Thee

Saturday was absolutely gorgeous weather after our 60+ days of 100+ degree weather.  So, I peer pressured Mr. Man into going golfing with my brother and I.  I haven't been golfing since we moved which was a little over a year ago so it's been a LONG time.  After dusting off the old clubs and packing up we were on our way to our favorite little nine hole course.  It's not in a super great part of town, in fact, there have been a couple times that while golfing we've hit the deck after a backfired car, or at least we tell ourselves it was just a back firing car (it helps our parents sleep at night).

Upon arrival, I was ready to walk the course until Mr. Man paid for a cart.  At that point, there was no way I was going to walk...I mean, he'd already paid for it.  One the first hole, I found my bright orange "hope" golf ball, stood on the tee box, breathed in the sweet smell of freshly cut green grass and smacked my ball a good 15 feet...maybe even 20.  Things didn't get much better from there.

On the second hole, I hit a great first shot and proceeded to lose my ball, causing the people behind us to become very impatient.  Once I found it, I spent 4 hits on getting the ball the other 200 yards to the pin in increments of 10 feet at a time.  I think I made a 13 on that hole.  I was doing great!

Hole Three started off great!  I had the best drive of the group.  I hit my second shot only to land in a rough so deep, I couldn't even find my ball without moving all the grass.  We're talking knee high prairie grass.  Once my brother found it, I spent a good three or four hits trying to get it out of the rough.  It was absolutely atrocious.  Every time I did something awesome, I ruined it.  It was like self sabotage.  My golf clubs did not want me winning.  The one bright spot of my day was taking this picture.

The other fun part of my day was that my brother had the worst lie in a sand trap I have ever seen.  Maybe a quarter of an inch of the ball was above the sand.  It was totally buried and it made me giggle!

I was disappointed though because Mr. Man had the chance to win the game and he choked on his ninth hole putt.

Overall, I learned that I need to go golfing more. 

A Child with No Fear

My little miss is a child with absolutely no fear of anything. She has no concept of danger and is as curious as that famous little monkey. I know it's all a part of discovering her world but I am terrified that she's going to do something that will cause herself great pain because it take 75 times at least for her to respond to me. While my little man makes me feel like the best mom ever, my little miss makes me feel far from it.

This summer for instance we went swimming a lot. If I put Little Miss on the ground she immediately ran into the pool. Straight off the edge into the water with no one there. After the entire summer of trying to teach her not to run into the pool she learned only to pause long enough for me to anxiously rush to the pool's edge to save catch her.

A couple of days ago I was getting Little Man some water and I walked back into my room where my husband was sitting on the bed and Little Miss was three rungs up a six foot ladder. My heart dropped and when I helped her get down she just laughed and giggled like "wow that was fun!"

I am struggling with how to reign her in or even if I should. I don't want to put out the fire that is her personality but I have to keep her safe.

Teenage TV Shows

So I have always been a sucker for teenage tv shows. My favorite episodes of Full House are when DJ entered high school. I loved 7th Heaven and am currently captivated by the Secret Life of the American Teenager!

I feel like a complete dork but it's a confession I had to make. I think maybe it's because high school was mostly consumed by depression for me...with the exception of my extreme love for marching band...yes I was that dork. When I was younger I watched these shows because I wanted to be one of the characters and now I say I watch them to stay up with teenage culture. I really just think it's because I'm still just a dork!

Black bean and corn salsa

This is my brother's favorite recipe that I make I think although he loves my lasagna as well. I like to use this as salsa one night and a couple nights later use the leftovers as enchilada filling.

1 can drained and rinsed black beans
1 can of corn niblets
2 tbsp lime juice
6 tsp fresh minced garlic
1/2 cup chopped sweet peppers
1 jar of your favorite salsa (I use pace usually)
1 cup shredded Colby jack cheese

Mix ingredients. You may chill and serve cold or serve at room temperature. This keeps for a long time!

I also blend my salsa in a food blender because I like the smoother texture. I hope you enjoy!

Lego-Lacker

So if you read my about me line at the top of this page you will notice that it states I am a perfectionist. Really that is a polite way of saying obsessive compulsive. Keep that mind while reading this blog or might finish with the mindset of my husband which is, "she's crazy!"

My son has become a Lego maniac and so any time he gets paid for doing his chores he buys legos. Usually I help him put them together straight from the package because I know all of the pieces are there and it will be quick and easy. A few weeks ago when the Lego fetish began my husband said that we should just store the legos in one giant tub so that we didn't block the little man's creativity by having separate tubs for each set that he bought. I agreed having never been too interested in legos as a child, thus not having much experience in storing them.

Last night my son asked me to build legos with him and he wanted me to build all of the vehicles from the kits he had purchased. I agreed thinking it couldn't take longer than an hour to build seven Lego cars with instructions. Let me tell you, I was naive to the complicated nature of finding tiny pieces in a giant tub. After an hour and 15 minutes this is what I had.

So I continued working not able to accept defeat by a toy marked for 5-7 year olds. It took forever and caused a tremendous amount of frustration for someone of my perfectionist character. There were times when I would rather having been pulling weeds or scraping gum off the bottom of school desks than building with legos. After two and a half hours and some reinforcement by Mr. Man I accomplished a truck, an ATV, five men, an ATM, and two dogs (the men and dogs were already built).

Since this evening of pure fun, I have decided that the legos must be organized by either color or Lego shape or I will ban myself from Lego playing for eternity because I clearly lack the Lego talent, or patience!

Losing the Weight, Changing my Life

I had just gotten glasses.  It was recess time and my friends were making fun of me.  They were calling me fat, which at this time wasn't even true, and running away from me laughing.  My teacher noticed something was wrong when we got back inside and called me out in the hall.  My teacher patiently listened to my story between sobs and responded, "they aren't really your friends then are they?  Don't worry honey, you're too smart to waste your time with them."  At around 8 years old, I didn't understand this.  All I knew was that the girls that had come to my birthday parties in the past were telling me they hated me and calling me names.  I tried to push the experience out of my thoughts and toughen up.  I didn't want them to know they hurt my feelings or it was sure to make it worse.  Even back then, at my school at least, we had learned about bullies.  The teachings were different but we knew about them. 

I made it through the day and ran home from the bus stop.  I got home and plopped in front of the tv watching Batman...the old live action one...not the cartoon.  During a commercial I began reflecting.  "Sure I'm smart but I don't have any friends, everyone thinks I'm fat so what does it matter. No one is ever going to like me again."  At this depressing thought I sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a can of cool ranch Doritos.  For those of you that don't remember Doritos ever coming in a can, it's roughly the equivalent of the family sized bag now and you used to get them at Sam's.  The can was unopened so I opened it, even though I usually didn't do that in our house, went back to Batman, and ate the entire can of chips.  This was before the time of mandatory nutrition labels but I consumed roughly 2,550 calories, 136 grams of fat, 3,060 milligrams of sodium, and 306 grams of carbohydrates in less than 30 minutes and I didn't ever pause. I remember my mom asking me about the chips.  I think I shrugged and said I ate them.  She was obviously concerned but didn't push the issue.  I remember mostly telling myself not to cry because I didn't want my mom to know that the other girls that used to be my friends thought I was stupid and made fun of me.  I was perfect in my mom's eyes and I couldn't stand her knowing that someone had hurt me so I fought my hardest to be tough.  This event was the beginning of my traumatizing slide into childhood obesity.

Likewise, I remember the day I finally looked in a full length mirror, smiled and said to myself, you're not fat anymore.  It wasn't one of my fake lies that I had sometimes told myself in a lame attempt to boost my self esteem.  It was a full, completely satisfied smile and compliment followed be an unknown sense of peace and relaxation.  I was weeks away from turning 30, some 20 years after the childhood bullying.  I was married with two children.  I was a teacher.  And, for the first time in years, I could look at myself in the mirror and smile without the "your pretty but fat" thought creeping into my head.

This will be the abridged story of how I overcame my weight battle.  Some of my story will be left out because it is still too painful for me to share and some of my story will be left out in an effort to not hurt others and because the entire 20 year story would fill a book, not a blog.  I hope this story serves as an inspiration to people of all ages trying to lose weight, but mainly to young girls struggling with their sense of worth.

So, by this time you get the idea...poor bully victim in elementary school blah, blah, blah.  In middle school I stayed pretty low-key and tried not to make very many friends because I was terrified that they would betray me again.  I decided to quit ballet and play basketball because it involved running and by this time I had a full blown weight problem. Ballet was so much more my speed, elegant, beautiful, full of makeup and shining lights.  But I wasn't beautiful in my eyes anymore so I begged my mom to let me quit.  I remember bawling at my last recital because I was the fattest girl in the class and I just knew everyone in the audience would be making fun of me. My dad agreed to coach my basketball team though I think he was a little bewildered by my sudden desire to play a sport instead of be a cheerleader.  I continued to play basketball and noticed that while I wasn't skinny by any means, I was toned.  I had a good bmi according to my health screening at school but my mom was having to buy me "women's" clothes instead of children's clothes.  This meant I couldn't wear all the cute clothes that my friends were wearing.  In my mind I was "wearing old ladies clothes with pleats to hide my fat stomach."

I began slowly letting some friends into my life thanks to joining church youth group and having a wonderful youth minister who unknowingly saved my life with a phone call my junior year.  My friends and I went on a mission trip where I rode my first roller coaster, much to the chagrin of my youth minister and his almost broken hand I'm sure.  However, friendships were formed during that trip that I thought would last forever.

Three months into highschool I found out that even the bonds that were built during that trip couldn't last. Again my friends turned their backs on me during the worst time in my life.  I was alone which mainly meant that I didn't have anyone my age to talk to even though my parents and youth minister were always present.  I hated myself and began slipping into a long season of depression.  My depression lasted most of my high school career during which time I would have bouts of anorexia, bulemia, and suicidal thoughts.  Of course the anorexia and bulemia were never long enough for me to lose weight because what really made me feel better was just eating and being happy about the taste of food.  I would starve myself during mission trips because I knew people thought I was fat and I didn't want them thinking I was like that because I overate.  The truth was that eating was the only time I felt calm and the more I ate the more I slept and the less I had to think about my pathetic life.

So enough with the background and time for the million dollar question...How did I turn it all around?  I became a teacher and in 2006 I found out I was pregnant.  A few months before that day I had weighed 221 pounds and while I imagine by this time I weighed more, I can't be sure.  The day I saw the second line light up on the pregnancy test I begged God to help me fix myself so I could live a long and happy life to be with my children in everything that they did as they grew up and for my grand children and maybe even great-grandchildren.  At this point, I had high cholesterol, borderline blood pressure problems, and some borderline sugar problems not to mention a rather repulsive roadmap of stretchmarks.  I knew if I didn't make a change, I wouldn't be able to run with my kids and they would end up just like me.

I set out to learn as much about portions and healthy eating as possible.  I LOVE food so I knew I couldn't restrict what I ate but I also knew that I could restrict how much I ate.  I started reading about portion control and found out that when McDonald's started their burger was about the same size as their happy meal burger and a french fry was the size of their small fry.  That was what adults were eating for their meal.  So, when I went to McDonald's that's what I got instead of my regular double quarter pounder extra value meal supersized which really makes me want to gag now just writing it down.  My mom showed me some plates she had found that had belonged to my great-aunt and we compared the size of the old plate to the size of new plates.  The old plate fit inside my plates with a good inch and a half extra around the entire circumference.  So, when I ate off of my plate, I envisioned my great-aunt's plates and cut my intake in half.  I also constantly reminded myself that this wasn't the last time I would eat whatever meal I was eating.  Finally I started walking during my recess duty and almost every day during lunch. 

I dropped twenty pounds in almost three weeks and was thrilled to gain only seventeen back during my pregnancy.  I dropped that weight plus twenty more pounds through little things like standing up the entire time I was at work and maintaining portion control but I added in eating healthier foods thanks to my new little munchkin.  God blessed me with an infant that became extremely colicky when I ate greasy foods.  So, I quit eating grease...mainly my beloved french fries.  I went back to the doctor three months after I had my son and was elated to discover that all of my health concerns seemed to be erased or much better than before.  I was inspired and I knew at that moment that I would make sure my children learned everything possible about eating healthy and staying active and maintaining a good mental health.

Since that time I have continued shrinking my portions, eating healthier foods and staying active although the latter is something I must focus more on.  I am down to on average 155 pounds which is borderline overweight for me still.  That fact alone has made me realize just how unhealthy I was.  I regret that I can't undo the damage to my heart and arteries that I did during the past twenty years but thanks to God and his gift of perseverance I have saved my body from even more damage.  Most importantly though, I can live my life with my children not watch it from the sidelines with a bag of Doritos. 

Believe me when I say that I "tried" everything before getting having a life experience change my habits.  To every person that struggles with their weight, I know exactly where you are and if I can do it, then you can do it.  All it takes is a complete refocus of priorities and complete knowledge about the food in our culture.  For me those two things alone have changed my life.  I hope they can change yours.

The Calm Before the Storm

First I must apologize to my readers for taking a break from blogging. I have been swimming late almost every night which is exhausting with two kids.

I noticed today the signs of school starting. Every advertisement in the newspaper today was for school supplies being on sale. I looked at my calendar and noticed that I have meetings for work scheduled each week until school officially starts. We picked up the Little Man's school supply list for the first time and while there was a moment of teary eyes I am so excited for my son to experience school. All that being said I decided that today would be a calm day before a crazy week and a crazy start to school.

We finally settled on pizza, cars, and a sno cone! It has so far been fabulous but is beginning to make me sleepy! More blogs to come soon. I made some awesome chocolate chip crunch cookies and I will put that recipe up later tonight or tomorrow.

Not for Weak Stomachs

Warning:  This post contains body fluids, well kind of fluids I guess or maybe more solids.  If that makes you sick, don't read this post.

So, Mr. Man is off saving the world by creating his army of service warriors...(he's leading a mission trip).  This leaves me being a single mom for a week.  Can I just say yuck and super huge made props to all the single moms out there especially during potty training? 

I had decided that today would be a low key day because the house is still relatively clean from Mr. Man completing his honey-do list and it's too stinking hot to do anything outside.  Everything was going great until about 4:30 this afternoon when my Little Miss decided that she was for sure not going to take a nap and she was tired of the potty training business so she was going to poop on her brother's floor.  Yes that's right ewwww, gross.  The worst part of this beginning of the end of my confidence as a temporary single mom...yesterday she ate about two bowls of peanuts.  All of the moms out there reading my blog know exactly why that is significant.  Little Miss didn't just decide she wanted to mark her brother's room as her territory, she also decided to step in her markings and trail it through the upstairs.  Where was that child's mother you might be asking yourself here...well, I had ran downstairs as fast as possible to get my angels some juice.  They were out of sight for maybe 2 minutes and poop was everywhere. 

So, I stick Little Miss on her toilet and tell her to stay, clean all of the spots that I could find on the floor, along with some extra spots for good measure and began running a bath for the pooper.  I first wiped her down with wipes, then added a tiny bit of antibacterial soap to her bath but not too much because she has very sensitive skin and I didn't want her whelping up everywhere.  I scrubbed her top to bottom and was taking just a moment to catch my breath when I notice that her bath water is slightly darker than it should be because I did after all wipe off all of the residual poo from earlier.  I pull her out and notice a distinct smell.  I look down to see, you guessed it poop squished between her toes just like she'd been playing in the sand or mud.  At this point I was thinking, I have a pretty tough stomach but that is just repulsive.  I fought back a quick wave of nausea and stuck her on her toilet again and told her to stay.  This time she wasn't so cooperative.  She instead rubbed her stinky, poopy body parts all over my legs...gross (have I taken a shower yet?)  :-)  I decided I had to ignore that because they only way to get her clean was by putting her back in the tub.  Luckily the poop tub was her little one so I pulled that one out and emptied it and gave her a new bath in the big tub with once again some antibacterial soap. 

Finally I had her clean again and I slapped a diaper on that bottom faster than a cow to the barn at milking time.  I grabbed the bleach to begin cleaning her tub and the toys and the big tub and her toilet and the floor.  While the toys were soaking, I sat down with a book to unwind for ten minutes when the Little Man says, "mom I found a rolly poley." 

"Awesome let me see," I said secretly trying not to gag at the thought of seeing a bug.  My fake smile was wiped of my face as I realized my son had a tick crawling on his arm.  I was so proud of myself because I was able to remain calm but in the process of getting the tick I tickled my son's arm and he knocked the tick off into the high pile carpet.  Seriously...I can't make this stuff up.  With my super quick attack mode brain still on from the poop adventure, I ushered the kids into a bedroom and pulled the vacuum up in record speed.  My thinking was that I would suck up the tick, then empty it into the trash and take the trash to the dumpster outside.  Super thinking right!  If only it had worked.

I hadn't taken into account the number of toys laying around so as I moved each one, I checked it for the tick.  Then I vacuumed, then came trouble.  When I went downstairs to empty the vacuum canister it was jammed full of dog hair, human hair, and dirt.  I shook it a couple of times inside the trash can to knock it loose and on the third time I missed the trash can and the whole bottom part of the canister went flying across the kitchen...well at least it wasn't clogged any more.  Problem now was that I had dirt and dust and junk all over my kitchen floor, two kids upstairs doing who knows what and a tick somewhere in the house.

I resigned myself to the fact that one of us will get a tick sometime this week and I can only hope it's the dog.  I put Little Miss to bed, played Monopoly Jr. with Little Man and lost for the second night in a row, gave him a bath, and put him to bed.  I am tired and utterly defeated.  Is it Sunday yet? And who is volunteering to pay for me to go to a day at the spa next week because oh by the way, our tags on both vehicles were not renewed on time and we exceeded the maximum fine so we're down a relatively large chunk of change.  Wake me up when it's August, I'm ready to go back to work.

A Daughter of the Ozarks

The title of this book idea comes from an elite group I have the pleasure of belonging to called Daughters of the Ozarks. We are still in the early stages of gathering but have some very clear goals and plans for growth.  The idea for this book came to me during my most recent visit to Southern Missouri while I was sitting at a top of a mountain letting my daughter nap in her car seat.  I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know if you want to hear the rest of the story.  I'm trying to narrow down my book ideas and I need your help!  As always the story is fiction so please those of you that know me don't read anything into real life.

I can do this.  We can do this.  It will be an amazing adventure.  I stood at the top of Skyline Drive staring out over a magnificent view of the Current River.  The trees were every shade of green, red, orange, yellow, and brown imaginable and the river snaked through them looking like grey ribbon.  The cool breeze blew through my hair and I wished I had packed warmer clothes.  Hell, I wished I'd owned warmer clothes.  I felt energized and excited about my idea for the first time in what seemed like years.  "The kids are still young," I told myself.  "They won't mind moving."  I could make an impact here.  I could start educating people and help this area flourish.  This is where I needed to be.  I could live and work in a place I loved.  Best of all it was so far away.  I wouldn't have to see Jacksonville ever again and maybe the hard work here would help me forget or at least ease the pain of what I'd been through in the recent months.

I hopped back in my car and began driving around the Southeastern Missouri Ozarks with no direction.  I drove through tiny town after tiny town and couldn't decide in which town I wanted to start my new adventure.  Every house I drove by that was for sale was either way out of my price range or had wooden boards or sheets for windows and doors.  I wondered how much it would cost to build my own home.  I didn't need much.  I'd need to find a realtor.  Of course Ryan's grandfather had offered me to stay at his vacation home for as long as I needed but I couldn't impose for too long.  That's why I was there in the first place.  Ryan's grandfather, Bennett, had thought it might be good for me and my children to get away from Jacksonville for a little while given recent events.

Bennett was the nicest man I had ever met.  He had worked hard during the great depression to keep food on his family's table even though he was a child.  Bennett had fought in World War II as an under-aged soldier just to send the money home to his mother.  I still wasn't sure how the government didn't figure out he lied about his age.  Bennett was honorable and passionate.  He had finished school upon returning from war and turned a glimmer of an idea into a very profitable business, the beginning of the Go Green movement.  Bennett had reminded me so much of my own grandfather whom I cherished.  I remembered meeting him when Ryan and I first started dating and thinking, "if Ryan is half the man Bennett is, I will be a happy woman for the rest of my life."  I couldn't take advantage of Bennett's kindness, however.  He had offered the vacation home indefinitely but I couldn't just move in.  I had to find a place of my own.  Maybe Bennett could give me the name of his realtor.  No, that would clue him in to what I was planning and then he would insist that I stay at the vacation home.  I was just going to have to call around and find someone I liked.  I could do this.  I had bought a house before.  At least I had bought half a house before but Ryan had taken care of most of that.  I didn't even like our realtor then.

I could feel my earlier confidence about my decision beginning to shake.  The tears started to swell in my eyes as I drove through Big Spring and headed back to the vacation home.  I just needed to leave.  I needed to go back to Jacksonville, continue teaching, and live in misery for the rest of my life because no matter what I did to my home Ryan would still be a part of it.  Even if I moved into a different home in Jacksonville there would still be constant reminders of him, of us.  I was right back to where I started.  No direction for where my life was going or where it needed to go.  There was a time in my life where I would have asked God for direction here but, at this time in my life, regardless of what anyone else said, God had left me.  God wouldn't answer or help me.  I was alone.  Alone with two children to raise, who needed me to be strong for them because they were as lost and confused as I was.

I pulled into the driveway of the vacation home and allowed my mind to think about how amazing it would be to live here.  Bennett had designed the home on his own after searching the area for years trying to find a place he loved.  The vacation home was a two story, well three if you counted the garage as a floor, home built on top of a bluff.  It had a very Frank Lloyd Wright feel to it.  The outside was all natural wood siding stained in a medium red wood color and almost wall to wall windows.  You drove right into the bottom floor to park your car or your boat or your ATV or whatever vehicle you had need for at a river.  It was really just a slab of concrete with huge wooden telephone poles being used as supports for the rest of the house.  Actually I thought the wood telephone poles were really steal beams surrounded by rounded wood facade but I couldn't remember for sure.  It was wide open.  No garage doors, no gates, almost like a fancy carport with stairs in the middle.

I got out of the car, struggled to get my 40 pound child and my 30 pound child out of the car without waking up either of them and began climbing up the stairs.  I wanted to just sit down and cry.  I didn't want to do this for the rest of my life by myself.  I didn't want to have to take care of two children alone.  Ryan and I had always said we could only have two because then they didn't out number us.  Now, I was outnumbered.  What choice did I have though?  These two beautiful children were the only family I had left.  They needed me and somehow we would survive.  Hopefully do a little better than just survive.  My thoughts carried me and my sleeping children to the first floor of living space.  The couches were just to my left and I scurried quickly to plop each child on a separate couch.  I collapsed in the chair facing the fireplace and just stared.  What was I going to do?  I needed some guidance, some inspiration, maybe a fairy godmother. "Someone help me," I quietly muttered as a drifted to sleep.

As I began waking up I could feel eyes staring at me.  I could feel a person's body heat on either side of my body.  I kept my eyes closed and waited for a few seconds to see if my children would say anything.  My son was the first to speak up.

"I think she's dead," he said in his cute little three year old voice.

"She's not dead, she's sleeping so let's leave her alone," my daughter stated.  My daughter had always been the one to take pity on her old mom.  I could still feel them staring at me.  I began to develop my plan.  I tried to feel where their bodies were without making a move.  Then as I felt them move, I opened my eyes, screamed, and tackled both of them to the floor in a massive tickle war.  It was me versus them and I knew I would loose the battle.  I was the most ticklish person on the face of the planet but it was well worth the torture to hear my children laugh to the point of gasping for air.

"I'm hungry," my son said abruptly standing up thus indicating that the war was over.

"Okay, little man what are you going to fix for dinner?" I asked anxiously awaiting my favorite response.

"Oh, Momma, don't be silly.  I am just to small to fix dinner," Josh said with a grin on his face.  I smiled.  I didn't think I could ever get enough of his oh Momma's.  I hopped up forcing myself to be energetic and plodded over to the kitchen with Thing 1 and Thing 2 in tow.  The kitchen was really just an extension of the living room and dinning room.  It sat in the Southeast corner of the house which was the perfect location to watch the morning sunrise as you cooked breakfast and not experience added afternoon heat when you cooked dinner.  I stood staring into the refrigerator.

"Well," I said with a smile, "I could make turnip greens, frog legs, or gizzards."

"Eeeewwwww!"

"Don't like my ideas huh?  Well do either of you have a better idea?"

"Pizza, hot dogs, Jolly Cone, Dairy Shack, chips, and ice cream," rang out in a chorus so loud I couldn't distinguish which child said what.

"Okay, okay, okay."  I could tell this wasn't going to be an easy win but we had been driving all afternoon and with gas almost $4 a gallon, it was a battle I was going to win.  "I'm going to give you some options.  Each of you can pick one.  If they match up, great that's what we'll eat.  If they don't match up, I'll draw out of a hat.  Deal?  Okay, I can make grilled cheese and tomato soup, black bean enchiladas with cheese sauce, you get to eat chips with this one, or lasagna."  I held my breath hoping they would choose the same one and to my surprise, they did.

"Enchiladas," both of my children said at the same time with laughter in their voice.

Score!  That was what I wanted to make which of course is why I told them they could eat chips if I made that.  My children loved helping me cook.  They had always loved helping me cook.  Every night at least one if not both of them would be in the kitchen working.  Ever since Ryan had...well let's just say recently I had both of them more often then not.  We began cooking our meal together, with me making sure that Emma let her brother help.  After putting the enchiladas in the oven, we cleaned up our meal preparation mess and set the table.  The dining room table looked odd in this house to me.  It was some sort of round metal trough looking pedestal with a thick piece of round wood sitting on top of it.  It definitely had a consistent design feel to it but a round table in such a square and linear house had always been odd.  Ryan's grandfather had round tables in all of his homes though.  He said round tables reminded everyone sitting there that they were equals and kept them honest.  I think he played a lot of poker.  As Emma finished putting out the silverware the timer beeped telling us dinner was ready.  I pulled out the enchiladas as the smell of peppers, chicken and cumin filled the room.  We had just sat down to pray, yes I still modeled faith for my children even though I was currently filled with a lack of faith, when my phone rang.  I glanced at the number and recognized the area code as Jacksonville.  My breath caught in my throat.

*Don't forget to give me your thoughts.  Especially if you eventually want to find out what happens.*

Not Exactly Fairy Tale

Let me start by explaining what I'm going to do with some of my posts. A person whom I hope was not just an appearance maker in my life suggested that I write a book. I'm having some difficulties narrowing down my ideas. I thought instead of my picking, I would write the first part of my ideas on my blog and let my readers help me decide. Let me also say ahead of time that these will be fiction stories but will of course be influenced by my experiences in life. I may also write in the first person. Please don't assume that anything in my book writings is true.  My characters will be fictitious. Thanks for helping me and enjoy the read!

I remember the day that horrible thought first swept through my mind. I was curled up in the corner of my bathroom with tears streaming down my face. My chest was heaving as I tried with all my might to keep silent. I had finally broken. I had lost the ability to hold my emotions in check. My family was sitting at the table eating my delicious dinner and I was near hysterical on the cold marble tile of my bathroom floor.

I looked over at my floor length oval mirror and I didn't even recognize the person I saw. My eyes were not only red and puffy from my brief fit but they had a look of pure misery.  Not misery, rage.  I was furious.  I couldn't believe this was happening again.  I had worked all day in a job I was supposed to love but really resented, came home took care of meeting my children's needs and cooking dinner and my husband was going to sit at the table with his phone checking Twitter and Facebook, again.  This after I had kindly asked him to not bring his phone to the table.  

"I want out.  I want to take the kids and leave.  I want a divorce." I was utterly shocked the minute the words silently exited my mouth.  I stared at myself in the mirror.  Who was this person in the mirror?  It couldn't be me.  I took vows and I married the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armor.  I couldn't possibly have even thought that divorce was the answer.  I splashed some water on my face, gave my body a good shake, plastered a smile on my face and walked back to the dinner table to finish eating with my perfect family.

For the next few nights I became very quite and thought a lot about the state of my marriage and how everything had changed.  It felt as if my brain and my heart were at war and I didn't have a clue who was going to win.  My brain was saying my life was falling apart and my heart was saying it'll get better.  I didn't know what to do.  Who do you talk to about your life falling apart when everyone thinks you are the luckiest woman alive? That's what pre-marital counseling should tell you.  They should give you resources on what to do if you start thinking about divorce.  Who was my pre-marital counselor anyway?  Maybe she does have some resources.  Of course if I call her then I would be admitting to someone that I can't take care of my marriage and that I'm a complete failure.  After the week finished, I was still at loss.  

So, here I was stuck in a world that was exactly what I wanted by appearance and nothing at all what I wanted in every matter that counted.  I got out of bed at the sound of my youngest crying through the baby monitor and looked at my husband who had covered his head with a pillow to drown out the sound.  "Must be nice," I thought to myself, "just cover your head and pretend your child doesn't need you."  I made the trip down the hall opened the door and scooped up my third little angel.  Her cries immediately stopped and she snuggled close as we marched down the dark stairs to the kitchen.  Our routine was peaceful.  Sometimes it was the only thing in the day that I could depend on being perfect.  I went to grab a cup from the shelf and there wasn't one.  I looked on the counter, still no baby cup.  I dreadfully opened the dishwasher with it's light that said not clean lit up.  Of course, all of my baby's cups were sitting in a dishwasher that was full and had soap in it but had not been started.  "If I have to be up at 5 in the morning and I don't even have a clean cup for Delilah, then you're going to be the one to get up and wash it...BY HAND," I said in my head to my husband. I stormed upstairs and down the hall with my feet slapping against the bare wood floor.  I flung open the door and was received by the fake, startled gasp.

"Is something wrong?" Robert asked.

"Yes, something is extremely wrong.  Delilah doesn't have a clean cup and if I try to put her down she'll scream and then wake up everyone in the house," I snapped.

"So, you'd rather just wake up me?" Robert said as he replaced the pillow over his head and rolled over.

"If I'm gonna have to do everything on my own like a single mom I might as well be a single mom," I quietly said as I once again slapped my feet down the hall.

Once back in the kitchen I managed to hand wash the cup while holding my baby, got her milk and snuggled down in our favorite chair with a book. She drank her milk and while I was reading her book to her I began wondering how hard it really would be to be a single mom.  I wondered why people even got married in the first place.  Maybe a hundred years ago it was important to have someone to take care of you and procreate legitimately "in the eyes of the Lord" but women fought hard to get people to understand that we can take care of ourselves and who really knows what God thinks about out of wed-lock pregnancies anyway.  Of course my pregnancies were all in wed-lock so I was safe there.

"Maaaam!" My daughter startled me back to reality and signed that she was hungry.  So we went to make breakfast.  As I cooked my favorite breakfast meal of bacon spinach quiche, any excuse to eat pie crust for breakfast, I could feel my anger from the morning melting away.  I knew this recipe by heart and it was effortless to make.  It was one of the only ways to get my family to eat spinach which I guess is supposed to be some sort of super food or something.  It was also one of the only recipes I could quickly manage with a baby on my hip for 98% of the time.  My Delilah smiled and chattered as she watched me cook.  I gave her the fork and let her stir the mixture.  We poured the egg mixture into the pie shell and stuck it in the oven and grabbed a snack while we waited for the quiche to cook.

An hour later, the quiche was cooling, the table was set for breakfast, and I was waking up all my men in the house.  My husband and two sons were silently going through their morning routine as I fed Delilah.  Robert was the first to make it to the table.  Neither of us spoke to each other.  He was almost finished eating when I asked, "do you think you could watch Delilah while I jump in the shower?"  I tried to keep my tone in check but wasn't as successful as I had hoped.

"I haven't take a shower in like a week," Robert responded.

"Okay," I replied while secretly thinking about how gross that was and wondering why he didn't make time for a shower and mentally adding that to the list of reasons to divorce.  Okay, that was a stupid reason but still super gross.  I just got up and took Delilah with me towards the shower.  On the way upstairs I passed my oldest Atticus who gave me a cheery high five, then Bonnie who looked barely awake, and Caleb who had his hands full of "exploring gear".  I gave Delilah some toys and hopped in the shower finishing in record speed with my frustration with my husband mounting equally as fast.

When I got downstairs the kids were ready to go so I snatched them up and we were out the door.  All of the kids said good bye to their father, I did not as I was seriously contemplating changing the locks before he got home, or maybe just packing up the kids and moving in with my father, God help us.

Broken Barriers

For those of you that know me well, you know or have seen that the past year has been a struggle for me.  I've been in a season of change and it's been one of the more difficult periods of my life.  I've been in one of those seasons in my life where intrinsically I was questioning EVERYTHING.  I was questioning my callings in life, my faith, my profession...everything. I have been blessed enough to have some amazing people in my life stand by my through this roller coaster of a year and support me even when none of us knew what I wanted or needed. Today, I am putting to rest this past year.

I am attending a workshop called Great Expectations which is an amazing approach to educating.  My instructor has been fabulous but really outdid herself today.  One of the things I have felt this year is a lack of dreams, thus a lack of direction with my life.  I have everything I've ever wished for and once achieving these things was left wondering what to do next.  I was really at the point where I felt it was almost pointless to dream anything else because it couldn't possible come true.  Our information today was all about dreaming.  As a part of making our dreams come true we had to identify our dreams and the barriers that keep us from those dreams.

I sat in this classroom all day, literally trying to avoid listening to my instructor because what she was saying was hitting too close to home.  I would feel tears well up in my eyes.  I was doing everything to keep them hidden.  I would look up at the ceiling, close my eyes, pretend to be yawning so I could rub them and anything else I could think of to keep my tears from streaming down my face in front of my brand new co-workers.

"You are going to break through these boards and I am going to teach you how to do it so that everyone in this room is successful," my instructor confidently shared with us.  The skepticism was so thick hanging in the room you could feel it.  We have every type of person in our class; athletic, frail, overweight, old, young, energetic, reserved, confident, doubtful and everything in between.  I think each of us started out thinking that our instructor had lost her mind.  In my mind I knew that she wouldn't ask us to do this if she wasn't confident it would work, and she had done this same thing last week so if it hadn't worked, she certainly wouldn't be doing it with us this week.  But my heart was reserved and doubt began creeping in as I was watching her model our task.  There was no way I was going to break this board on the first try.  Maybe I would break it after ten hits and it was a little weaker from being beaten.

We picked our boards, and proceeded to write on our boards those barriers that kept us from achieving our dreams.  I wasn't sure at first what my barriers were going to be and as I sat there staring at my blank board I began to clear my mind, knowing that this practice would open my mind to accept God's voice. I began writing the first barrier on my board and this voice said dig deeper.  So, naturally I listened a little more and began writing a second barrier and again a voice said something in my head (yes I might be slightly mentally disturbed because I do sometimes think I hear voices).  The voice said one word and I thought of course.  I struggled writing this word on my board, at times my hand shaking as if it was afraid of the word or not wanting to finish.  Finally, after the board breaking had begun around me I finished my writing, found a partner and opened my eyes to look and feel my barriers.

I prepared to hit my 1 inch thick board by taking my stance, one foot in front, soft knees, arms offset. It was the same stance I had used in my self defense class which as I think about that is kind of ironic or interesting because by breaking this board I was defending myself against myself and a lack of ambition that was taking me over.  I took a couple of practice motions making sure that I had the placement on the board correct and that I wasn't going to miss the board completely and fall flat on my face.  I began pushing out of my mind everyone else in the room and focusing solely on the task in front of me.  I was going to break this board.  I was going to stop letting doubt have a place in my life.  But with each practice motion thoughts of doubt creeped into my brain.  Then it happened.

Almost without me even knowing what was going on it happened.  I had prepared myself ahead of time to do everything down to the yelling expulsion of breath the way we were told to.  And then, I didn't. I was fully anticipating another practice when my mind just completely cleared and as I brought my arm forward in what seemed like slow motion my voice in my head said just another excuse.  My hand smashed right through the board on the first try with a liberating movement.  Liberating because I had done this kind of "manly thing"; liberating because I was back in my self defense movements (something that I loved); but, liberating mostly because the last word I wrote on my barrier board was 'excuses'. 

The adrenaline was amazing and I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or laugh but I felt alive for the first time in a long time.  I took a few minutes to regain my composure.  I checked my hand to make I hadn't broken anything.  I washed the purple marker off my palm and had the opportunity to hold the board for my partner who also broke his board on the first try.  Then I proceeded to text pictures to two of the people that have both caused my struggles and helped me through them...my husband and my brother.

For me it was easy to say that poor time management is what keeps me from my most recent dreams.  It was even kind of easy say poor self esteem because I'm used to that. However for me, I know that my biggest barrier is making excuses for everything.  I don't want to work out because Mr. Man won't work out with me.  I don't want to read that book because I'm tired. I don't want to pick up the kids toys because they are just going to get them right back out.  I make excuses for everything and today is the beginning of the end of them.  While it may be a long process, today, my life changes and I begin to take action!

An Eery Silence

As promised in my previous post, here is the unexpected turn in our exploration adventure. On our way back home Mr. Man randomly decided to turn up this street instead of just going home. We drove about a quarter of a mile when we started seeing some downed powerlines next to brand new poles. In Oklahoma this means one of two things...either the sight was caught by wind or a tornado. Judging by our location and incredible knowledge (thanks to D. Payne and the rest of KFOR) we knew it was the latter.

We continued driving and I really thought maybe we'd see some trees bent and broken but nothing could have prepared me for what we saw.

As we drove farther I began to get an unsettled feeling like something wasn't right. It was about that time when I glanced at the top of a hill and realized that the house or farm or whatever it was that was supposed to be there wasn't. We sat there staring in disbelief with a driveway leading to nothing on one side of our street and the mangled top of a silo on the other, close enough to touch.

An eery silence came over us as we sat there and I had this strange urge to get out of the car and kneel on this broken land. I felt the power of the tornado speak through it's damage and felt an urge to tell the tornado I understood. I finally understood what it was capable of.

Pictures are sad and unsettling but following a path of destruction and seeing with your own eyes the sheet metal sticking through a tree or the soda can wrapped around a barb wire fence or a hundred year old tree twisted like a piece of paper turned into a telescope is beyond words. It's an experience I think everyone in Oklahoma needs. We all laugh about Mike Morgan's weather tie and D. Payne's sense of adventure but if you weren't below ground and this tornado was a direct hit, you didn't stand a chance. Seeing the destruction with my own eyes and feeling the power of this amazing storm sealed my mind that if there is ever a chance a tornado might come towards me we leave! We will no longer wait and see...we leave!

My Mr.Man took numerous pictures and I'm sure he's posted them to his blog...check out becksbytes.blogspot.com

Las Exploradoras!

For those of you that don't know what that means, it's Spanish for explorers.  That is what the family and I did today.  It was a sandstone exploration adventure and those of you that are true Oklahomans know what that means.  For those of you that aren't, I'll provide a short description.  You hop in a truck or SUV with gloves, shovels, and water (it's hot here now) and set out driving away from civilization.  Once you find a dirt road, you turn on that and then turn on another dirt road, and then maybe one more dirt road.  From there you start exploring for sandstone.

Sandstone exploration is an in-depth and high-tech process that really requires multiple people.  One person has to drive while at least one other person is watching the gullies on the side of the road for sandstone.  Once the sandstone is spotted, the driver must slow almost to a creep so that the spotters can determine whether the sandstone is loose and can be picked up or if it is stuck in the ground.  Why look in the gullies you might ask?  The rushing water in the gullies sometimes causes the very brittle sandstone shelves to break off.  These broken pieces are just the ones you're looking for to create whatever sandstone landscaping you might want.

Today was the first time we took a child with us that could actually help.  It was a fabulous experience and The Little Man had a blast.  We found a few pieces early on that were extra brittle due to the extreme dry weather we've had recently.  Then we happened on a hub of sandstone rocks.  Mr. Man was loading them up when The Little Man decided he wanted to help.  As The Little Man ran around the truck to help his dad, I noticed some dense foliage by the hub and reminded The Little Man not to touch it because we don't know if he's allergic to poison ivy and while I have no idea what poison ivy looks like, I really don't want to have a miserable Little Man.  Mr. Man froze, slowly looked towards the foliage and regretfully announced that it was all poison ivy and he was pretty sure he had gotten into it.  Now, those of you that know Mr. Man know that he is extremely allergic to poison ivy...thus, I expect the steroid shot bill to come in about five days from now.

That ended the sandstone exploration.  It was a sad way to end it but did encounter another adventure of the awe inspiring kind on our way home, but, that's for another post.

Summer Reading

I love reading! So, when I realized I would be in the car traveling for six hours at a time I was ecstatic because I knew I could get in some great reading time. I was correct. I read two complete books and am about half way done with the third.

The first book is a part of a series by Joanne Flunke. The books are a very quick read and easy to figure out "who dun it." That for me makes it more fun because I find myself yelling at the main character to not go to so and so's house because they are the murderer. Each of the books is filled with recipes! I am hoping to try some out but definitely need some places to dump cookies. I am sure my neighbors and maybe my mom's clinic will gladly accept some!

The next book was the most recent in the house of night series. I have written about this series previously and really enjoy reading them but I am astonished to see young children reading them. This most recent one really disappointed me because it not only had S-E-X scenes but the author also used the f word. In a book written for adults this still bothers me but I understand that sometimes that's the character that the author needs to portray. This book however is not a book for adults. This series is read by children that I know as young as fourth grade. I felt it was very irresponsible of the author to include the scene she did and the language that she did.

The last book I'm working on is called Mr. Peanut. It is really good and a little bit eye opening. Currently it's a did the husband kill the wife mystery but the difference so far is that it discusses in detail the reasons for killing a spouse and shockingly enough I can actually sympathize with the suspect. I heard about the book on NPR and so far I am well pleased.

I also read Nate the Great and Jigsaw Jones with the little man. He loved them both. Jigsaw is a second grade detective and I was surprised at some of the things the book talked about but, I'm sure I'm just naive about what second graders are like.

If you have any good book ideas or want my input on a book, let me know what it is...I will be reading a lot this summer!

Wool, Copper, and Desk Sets

In my previous blog you read about my fabulous dress shopping experience in search of the perfect dress to wear for my seventh anniversary.  Just over seven years ago I married my knight in shining armor.  I expected a fairytale life from then on and I can honestly say that the vast majority of our time has been just that.  We've had our fair share of trials and children definitely add a whole new depth to a relationship but, through it all we have persevered and will continue to grow together...hopefully!

This post will not however be all about the mushy, gushy, how much we love each other business.  This post is all about the seventh anniversary date and the seventh anniversary gift.  Did you know that wool, copper, and desk sets are the suggested seventh anniversary gifts?  As my facebook friends know, I was having a terrible time deciding which dress to wear.  I posted pictures and got mixed responses though most of them leaned toward wearing the black one for the date.

I woke up Sunday morning with an ingenious idea.  I would wear both dresses...not at the same time of course because that would look silly.  I would wear the yellow dress to church and our lunch with my parents, then transition into the black dress for a night on the town.  It was the perfect plan!  I should have known as soon as I said, "this is perfect" that it would not be quite so perfect.

Everything went exactly as planned until about 9:30 am when we arrived at the church for Sunday School.  I got out of the car and was greeted by my least favorite aspect of Oklahoma...everyone altogether now...THE WIND!!!  My car door blew open so hard that it left a big scratch on the car next to me. (I hope that person doesn't read my blog.)  I could barely keep my below knee length skirt from pulling a Marilyn Monroe on me.  In fact, I probably could have taken a picture exactly like that.  After hurrying into the church with the skirt of my dress pulled as tightly to my body as possible, I was greeted with an office full of huge eyes.  Did I have gravy or fruit loop dust all of my dress already?  No one said anything, so I scurried into Andy's office and did a quick look over.  Nothing on the dress, all important parts of the body were covered, no marker or huge mascara lines on my face.  Hmmmm.  A few minutes later after walking the Little Man to his class one of the church members came up and said, "you look absolutely breathtaking."  I was stunned but managed a very shy thank you and proceeded to go hide in the youth room and eavesdrop on the revelations discussion on of the Sunday school classes was having.  Dead horses...really? 

After church we spent a couple of hours at my parents having an early Memorial Day lunch because my dad had to work on Memorial Day.  Andy took a picture of me in the yellow dress and you can see how windy it is:

We went back home to prepare for the evening.  At this point I still don't know where we are going for dinner or what we are doing afterwards.  The anticipation is killing me.  My mind was in full on hyperactive mode.  "Maybe we're going to the Melting Pot, he said that was on his radar.  Or maybe we're going to Hastings, I've been talking about how much I want to go there, or maybe he's taking me to Cafe Nova, we haven't been there in a while, or maybe he's taking me someplace new that we haven't been to.  No I bet he's taking me to Melting Pot, but maybe..." and so on all afternoon.  (You have to read that part with a really fast, high pitched voice to get the full effect of my brain that afternoon.)

As I was getting dressed, I realized I had a problem.  I didn't have a purse to go with my dress.  Either I was buying a something or I was going without a purse.  Well, my knight didn't want to carry my phone, ID, gum, lipstick, and cash so I opted to buy a nice little purse to go with the dress.  Actually I matched the purse with my sunglasses that are super glam.  I couldn't believe that I found the exact shade I needed.  I did run into a problem upon entering the car after my super find.  My short little skirt on my perfect black dress was definitely going to fly up if I was outside for any length of time.

We ended up eating at Deep Fork Grill which was amazing.  We got a wonderful parking spot which was crucial in me not mooning the entire parking lot with the strong wind working against my quest for perfection.  The chef sent out complimentary chicken bruschettes and our waitress brought out complimentary strawberry cake which was by far the most moist cake I have ever eaten.  Upon finishing dinner Andy informed me that his plan would not work because of the wind.  He had planned to spend an hour or so walking around Bricktown before seeing a late movie but with the wind that was a no go.  So, instead we went down to a very secluded location for a photo op of me in my black dress:

 After a couple of quick photos before the security guards got any sneak peaks, we drove home to watch some TV and change clothes, again, for the movie.  I opted for my favorite holey jeans with an incredibly soft t-shirt that could have been used in the movie Footloose.  We watched bridesmaids which was just the right amount of crude humor for me.  I understood most of it and thought there were some incredibly funny parts.  I actually laughed out loud... a lot.  I was a huge fan of Dougie's sister on the airplane and loved that they gave her character some depth to pull the main character out of her depression.  I also loved that the will they won't they love interest was just some average policeman.

At about midnight we arrived back home, I crawled in bed with a still very full tummy and slept until 8 am thanks to Mimi and Papa who had a sleepover with this kids.  It was a fabulous day.  The weather was gorgeous if you forgot about the wind.  For a few short hours I was able to actually let go of my need to control everything and have some planned and unplanned fun with the man that I love.  It reminded me a lot of when we were dating, a feeling that I've been missing lately.  That pretty much sums up the seventh anniversary date for you.  Yeah for seven years of marriage!  I can't wait to see what the next 60 bring us!

I make you a deal honey!

My seventh anniversary is Sunday and I desperately needed to buy a new dress! While Little man was at school for his start the summer party, little miss and I went to the mall with my children's favorite child care giver le-le or luh depending on which child you're talking to. I looked at a few stores and found that while dark purple is the "in color" for this summer, I do not look good in dark purple. I was pretty discouraged after store three.

As we walked to the next store I saw a very cute, flowy, polka dot, strapless dress in an expensive store that I never shop in. Le-le told me to go try it on and I said no way it's going to be too expensive. She said you never know if you don't try it on. Reluctantly and with no hope I walked in and looked at the tag...$50...not bad...okay maybe this will work out. "What are you looking for honey?" came this gruff Germanic sounding female voice. I responded that I was looking for a dress for my anniversary. My new stylist said, "oh honey, you pick out dresses I find the perfect one!". A smile immediately spread across my face. "I love this lady!".

She picked out four dresses for me to try on including the polka dot one. The first one I tried on was a kind of mustard yellow Marilyn Monroe style dress. I had my doubts. I mean really mustard yellow? I tried it on and was astonished. I looked amazing and more importantly I felt amazing! I had never looked in a mirror and thought, "wow". I was sold and I hadn't even looked at the price tag..."yikes I hope it's not too much because I might walk out of here paying more than I want." A voice shook me from my thought, "you try on the black one next honey."

I tried on the black dress. The black dress was asymmetrical with a sparkly jeweled strap on one side. It was ruched along the side. It had it two ruffled skirts layered on top of each other to a height of just above my knee. I walked out of my dressing room to a chorus of wows. Le-le and my new stylist both said it was breath-taking. I asked which was better and my new stylist said, "honey, you try others on. I try to do something for you."

So I tried on the polka dot dress. It was pretty lack-luster after the two I had just tried on. I walked out and asked what everyone thought. Le-le's response was "eh" and my new stylist said, "you want me to be honest?"

"Um, of course I want to look my best."

"The other two just pop. This is not your dress." Alright then that settled that decision which left only one more dress. The last dress was a beautiful cranberry color. It crossed in the back for dramatic detail and again was gorgeous. It was however a little too short for my still chunky thighs (I've gotta do jazzercize more frequently).

I then made the comment that I didn't know which one I was going to choose. My new stylist said, "you give me the black and yellow dresses. I see what I can do." I had checked the price tags and decided that if she gave them both to me for $150 I'd buy them both. That was about 40% off and I did look amazing in both of the dresses. I walked up to pay and my stylist leaned in real close and said, "I give you both for $95."

"Holy cow!" went running through my mind. I knew that was just a fraction of what I should pay. "I'll take them both then." My stylists response, "oh, I know you do honey!"

I was shocked and amazed and so thankful. Stuff like this never happens to me. Wow what a day. Stay tuned for my anniversary blog. I'll post pictures of the dresses and you can see which one I decide to wear.