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.