I am a mommy. It is part of who I am. I can promise you that 10 years ago I never would have thought I'd be a stay-at-home mommy to two little boys. The idea simply would never have crossed my mind. 10 years ago I was in HS. 10 years ago I was a new driver with a new truck, I was concerned with myself and little else. I was an active and busy student whose entire world revolved around a social schedule. Where does time go?
I enjoy being a mommy. In fact I love it. But I have recognized and come to terms with the fact that this aspect does not define me. I need other things in my life to fulfill me. But today? Today I focus on Mommy.
This is the most important job I will ever do and I don't get to start over when I screw it up... and believe me I screw it up. Daily. There are just so many choices to make when it comes to your kids and you can't ever get it all right. Which drives me batty! I want to get it right, damnit! With Carson I tried to do it all... and most days succeeded. I breast fed for as long as my body allowed and then had to come to terms with the fact that my body just stopped one day. I made organic, all natural, preservative free baby food. We played, we did flash cards, I focused almost all of my attention on him all of the time. And then when 1 year rolled around I was exhausted! So I found a MDO program and rolled my guilt into a corner of my closet and started focusing on other things for a change.
With Logan, things have gone a bit differently. I did breast feed but I had to pump. And so that did not last very long because pumping every 3-4 hours while dealing with an infant and a 2-3 year old and trying to keep a clean home and trying to cook meals... well there just aren't that many hours in the day. I have not made baby food. I mean a couple of things but, let's face it, that free time that abounded when Carson was a baby? Well that is nowhere to be seen. So jars it is! And another ball of guilt rolls into that closet. We go to the gym and the boys go to child care. Another ball of guilt. I run an at home business so Logan gets a lot of alone playtime on the floor in the office. Another ball of guilt. Every time I take time out for myself... another ball of guilt.
But here is what I've learned: nothing stops the balls of guilt from rolling on out of you. It's what you do with them later on that counts. Mommy guilt is something that just comes with the territory. There is little to be done with it other than recognizing that you are doing your best. I second guess every decision I make! I strive to do my best with my boys. To teach them and play with them. To love them, to make sure they know they are loved. To make sure that they know discipline is a form of that love and that they could never do anything that would make that love stop. It is unconditional and theirs for the entirety of their lives. So you put those balls somewhere else and you close up the entrance because they are unimportant.
So this mommy thing, it is part of me. I live with it... I live in it. It is a constant and changing force that drives me to do better everyday. It's also the best and funnest thing that has ever happened to me. Children bring a joy into your life that is almost impossible to describe. It's the truest of loves, a warmth that comes from the center of you and lights the ways for your children. I will probably screw them up in ways that I can't even grasp at the moment and that's okay... I'm putting money aside for therapy later on.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Redfinition
So this will be my new blog focus for a few weeks. Redefining myself. Or really, coming to terms with the definitions as they are already in place.
So I was in Ozona recently doing jewelry shows for my mom and a friend from school. I made the comment that I think I've changed a lot since my HS days and my friend disagreed. And as I got thinking about it I wondered why? Am I really the same or have I changed? And if I've changed, how exactly? And is this change something only I see? And if I'm the only to see it is actually real?
So now after a few weeks of wondering, thinking, deliberating... maybe I haven't changed. Maybe I've just become comfortable with who I am. When you grow up in a small town, as small a town as I did anyway, you are not always loved for who you are. So when people say things like, just be yourself, you can't actually ever do that because once your true colors are out there you can't hide them, you can't take them back. You know that letting people see you, for who you actually are, can be a major step in the wrong direction. You are constantly editing yourself, your behavior to fit into some mold. I never did really fit. No matter how hard I tried and believe me I really tried. It's all I ever wanted really. Growing up I just wanted to blend in. I just wanted to be like everyone else. Even when you look at pictures with friends and I, it easy to see that that was never, absolutely never going to happen. All of my friends were blond, blue eyed, thin, cute. Not short but not exactly tall either. I'm only 5'9", red headed, dark eyes, curvy... could never be described as cute in a million years. You see where I'm going here, right? If I couldn't blend in physically why did I ever think I blended in any other capacity?
Then lets go ahead and focus on the fact that I'm not quiet. I talk. I talk a lot and it has taken me years to be okay with that. And in the years when I wasn't okay with it and tried to sensor my every word, I looked and felt horribly uncomfortable. Because I was. It just isn't who I am. I'm not a wall flower, I don't hang on anyone's every word and I certainly have an opinion of my own.
But when you are a teenager and interested in boys, as I certainly was, you just want to be like everyone else. I would look in the mirror and think, I'm sort of pretty, I have all the right things in all the right places, so why don't any of the boys in my home town like me? Looking back I can accept the fact that teenage boys are not comfortable with a girl who knows what she wants. Let's be honest most grown men aren't comfortable with a woman who knows what she wants. And even though I've definitely had interims of space where I was confused or searching, most of the time I know what it is exactly that I want in life and I'm striving to get it. I was never good at playing the games. Stroke the ego and such. I just wanted someone to like me for who I was.
I always thought of myself as a giving person, but that wasn't cool so I just found other ways to do it. Like volunteer work or extra curricular activities that focused on community service. I was mean to people when others were because that is how you are "supposed to act" when you are a teenager but it always chafed. I wish I had been one of those teenagers we read about now-a-days. The ones who grasp opportunities to change their communities, who are comfortable in their own skin, who are focused and driven. Don't get me wrong, I was very active in almost everything in HS but I wonder, did I do it for me? Or because I was grasping for something? I tried so hard to fit in that when I left and allowed myself to be who I was I thought I'd changed.
So circling back to this change thing. I guess that friend of mine was right. I haven't changed. I even look pretty much the same. I just like myself now. Or moved to a place where I was allowed to grow and like myself. I didn't stay there. I couldn't. I was never accepted. I never fit in and even today when I return I find myself trying to edit my behavior. There is a Cross Canadian Ragweed song that says you are always 17 in you hometown. Well, that's accurate! As soon as I hit HWY163, I feel the change take over. I'm 17 and racing the clock back from Angelo on a Saturday afternoon with Jessica in the front seat of my truck, singing John Cougar Mellencamp.
Hhhhmmmmmmm, and then I'm jolted back by a swift kick to the back of my seat.
So I was in Ozona recently doing jewelry shows for my mom and a friend from school. I made the comment that I think I've changed a lot since my HS days and my friend disagreed. And as I got thinking about it I wondered why? Am I really the same or have I changed? And if I've changed, how exactly? And is this change something only I see? And if I'm the only to see it is actually real?
So now after a few weeks of wondering, thinking, deliberating... maybe I haven't changed. Maybe I've just become comfortable with who I am. When you grow up in a small town, as small a town as I did anyway, you are not always loved for who you are. So when people say things like, just be yourself, you can't actually ever do that because once your true colors are out there you can't hide them, you can't take them back. You know that letting people see you, for who you actually are, can be a major step in the wrong direction. You are constantly editing yourself, your behavior to fit into some mold. I never did really fit. No matter how hard I tried and believe me I really tried. It's all I ever wanted really. Growing up I just wanted to blend in. I just wanted to be like everyone else. Even when you look at pictures with friends and I, it easy to see that that was never, absolutely never going to happen. All of my friends were blond, blue eyed, thin, cute. Not short but not exactly tall either. I'm only 5'9", red headed, dark eyes, curvy... could never be described as cute in a million years. You see where I'm going here, right? If I couldn't blend in physically why did I ever think I blended in any other capacity?
Then lets go ahead and focus on the fact that I'm not quiet. I talk. I talk a lot and it has taken me years to be okay with that. And in the years when I wasn't okay with it and tried to sensor my every word, I looked and felt horribly uncomfortable. Because I was. It just isn't who I am. I'm not a wall flower, I don't hang on anyone's every word and I certainly have an opinion of my own.
But when you are a teenager and interested in boys, as I certainly was, you just want to be like everyone else. I would look in the mirror and think, I'm sort of pretty, I have all the right things in all the right places, so why don't any of the boys in my home town like me? Looking back I can accept the fact that teenage boys are not comfortable with a girl who knows what she wants. Let's be honest most grown men aren't comfortable with a woman who knows what she wants. And even though I've definitely had interims of space where I was confused or searching, most of the time I know what it is exactly that I want in life and I'm striving to get it. I was never good at playing the games. Stroke the ego and such. I just wanted someone to like me for who I was.
I always thought of myself as a giving person, but that wasn't cool so I just found other ways to do it. Like volunteer work or extra curricular activities that focused on community service. I was mean to people when others were because that is how you are "supposed to act" when you are a teenager but it always chafed. I wish I had been one of those teenagers we read about now-a-days. The ones who grasp opportunities to change their communities, who are comfortable in their own skin, who are focused and driven. Don't get me wrong, I was very active in almost everything in HS but I wonder, did I do it for me? Or because I was grasping for something? I tried so hard to fit in that when I left and allowed myself to be who I was I thought I'd changed.
So circling back to this change thing. I guess that friend of mine was right. I haven't changed. I even look pretty much the same. I just like myself now. Or moved to a place where I was allowed to grow and like myself. I didn't stay there. I couldn't. I was never accepted. I never fit in and even today when I return I find myself trying to edit my behavior. There is a Cross Canadian Ragweed song that says you are always 17 in you hometown. Well, that's accurate! As soon as I hit HWY163, I feel the change take over. I'm 17 and racing the clock back from Angelo on a Saturday afternoon with Jessica in the front seat of my truck, singing John Cougar Mellencamp.
Hhhhmmmmmmm, and then I'm jolted back by a swift kick to the back of my seat.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
From where I'm sitting...
Life is a whirlwind right now. I haven' written in a while, not since my "outburst". Thank you everyone for your kind words, thoughts, insights and for believing in me. I did get a part and am now in rehearsal. I'm daily reminded that it has been a while since I've done this. The rehearsal schedule reminds me that I have one week to get my lines memorized and no, typing it and re-reading it, did not make it seem less scary. It is still unbelievably petrifying... aaaahhhhhhhh!
The Christmas season is actively crawling its way to my door and that in and of itself is crazy! Where has this year gone? I know at the beginning of it I was pregnant, expecting my second little boy. And now he is almost 7 months old, huge and I'm pretty sure will be crawling by Christmas which is another active volcano of fear in my world.
I started selling Premier Design Jewelry which I am so far loving. I'll be honest and say that I started because something had to give financially. Two kiddos need a lot and I'm not good at budgeting so I had to find some way to bring in something extra. But I love jewelry, I love people, I love to talk, so this seemed like a great fit and like I said so far so good. I'd like/ love a little more work so if you are interested in hosting a party... please let me know... shameless plug done.
And as for my own business, The Jellybean Giraffe, I've been busy there as well. It's the season! Lots of custom clothes and bows and the such. I am however starting to not like my sewing machine so I may have to take a little break from ti for my own sanity.
I'm working on some ideas for some blog projects next year so I hope that they being to congeal in my head and really become something. I'll let you know more about those as they take root a little deeper. Okay that is all for today. I feel a little clearer. Back to the hot glue gun I go!
The Christmas season is actively crawling its way to my door and that in and of itself is crazy! Where has this year gone? I know at the beginning of it I was pregnant, expecting my second little boy. And now he is almost 7 months old, huge and I'm pretty sure will be crawling by Christmas which is another active volcano of fear in my world.
I started selling Premier Design Jewelry which I am so far loving. I'll be honest and say that I started because something had to give financially. Two kiddos need a lot and I'm not good at budgeting so I had to find some way to bring in something extra. But I love jewelry, I love people, I love to talk, so this seemed like a great fit and like I said so far so good. I'd like/ love a little more work so if you are interested in hosting a party... please let me know... shameless plug done.
And as for my own business, The Jellybean Giraffe, I've been busy there as well. It's the season! Lots of custom clothes and bows and the such. I am however starting to not like my sewing machine so I may have to take a little break from ti for my own sanity.
I'm working on some ideas for some blog projects next year so I hope that they being to congeal in my head and really become something. I'll let you know more about those as they take root a little deeper. Okay that is all for today. I feel a little clearer. Back to the hot glue gun I go!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Brain Vomit
Ready. Set. Vomit...
I moved to Denton in the Fall of 2002. I loved everything about the city. I still do, even though I don't live there anymore. There is a vibe to Denton. I miss it most of the time. But I'm realistic in knowing that we can't possibly live there because it is much too far for Jason to drive to work. But... just because my brain knows that does not mean that my heart does.
Oh my goodness if only you could see all of the typos in the above paragraph. But of course you can't and you won't because I will fix them before I post this.
See I'm trying this word flow thing. And my brain works on a much faster level than my hands on my keyboard but since I'm trying to empty my brain I'm going to go with that is just not important at the moment.
I auditioned for a play. A play I really like. For a role or a couple of roles, that I really like. And I didn't tell anyone I was auditioning, which meant that I was probably too emotionally involved because I'm an open book on most things unless I'm emotionally invested in which case I keep my mouth shut. Anyway, I auditioned for this show and here is why that is important:
I'm scared.
Really scared. That I don't actually know how to be on stage anymore. That I've forgotten how important acting is to me and dove so far into being a mommy that I've lost who I am some how. I used to define myself by being able to take on a character. To live that character and maybe the only character I know anymore is Mommy. And that scares the shit out of me because I like to think I'm so much more than that. Not that it would be a bad thing if all I ever did with my life from this point on is raise two well adjusted, smart and wonderful little boys but really, I want so much more.
Even as I type this tears are streaming down my face which probably means that I'm being more honest right now that I've been in a long time. I'm really good at hiding things. I wrap up my world in a pretty bow. A tastefully wrapped, seasonally correct and festive package and present it to the world and hope that everyone loves it. I am the epitome of the hostess extraordinaire. Except that every time I throw a party I think that someone hates it... all of it. That everything I've done is wrong and boring and ugly.
I'm probably the most self conscious person anyone will ever meet except for the fact that you'd never know it. Unless you're smart enough to look past everything I present. Which some people are but lets face it no one really ever wants to get more than surface involved.
And let's talk about that. Surface Involved. It's the involved where you know someone but you would not be able to actually define anything real about them because you've never asked, they've never volunteered and you know if they did you'd find a reason to go take something out of the oven.
And though I'm good with metaphor, isn't just a way for a writer to ignore the truth? Really? I come up with phrases that express my mind but don't actually say what the problem is.
So here's the problem: I'm waiting. I'm waiting for cast list which I'm pretty sure, damn near positive, won't have my name on it and I'm not really sure why it won't? Do I just not have it anymore? That thing that makes people want to see you on stage? Have I lost something profound? I made my grandfather cry once. I was playing Lynda Loman in Death of a Salesman in High School and he cried. Of course you didn't know my grandfather, for that matter, neither did I but he just wasn't the type of guy who cried. Especially not at a play. So it was something that stuck with me, even then. Maybe I have something.... But after the last couple of days maybe I don't.
Maybe I never did. Maybe people were humoring me. Maybe I'm just mediocre and got lucky with some parts. Because everything I've auditioned for since I started having children has turned me down. I out on a brave face, I pretend that it doesn't bother me. But talking with a friend last night I realized that it's okay that it bother me. I'm older and I'm busy and I have to be picky and choosy about what I audition for because it's a time commitment. I can't just audition for everything and hope to get lucky. I have to check the calendar and make sure everything is going to work and so I don't get to audition very often. So when I do, I really want it. I've read the play, I've researched the author. I can talk plot and character development and foreshadowing and suspense. I have a vested interest. I WANT it. And so the older I get the more it hurts when I don't get the part. And maybe that is just how its supposed to be. Maybe the fact that it didn't hurt before meant it didn't mean as much as it does now or maybe I'm just reaching a point where I've analyzed my thought process to the point of no return. I see all of the angles, the ins and outs and the different analytical prospects.
The point being is I hate to wait. And I want to vomit but instead I word vomited, right here, for everyone to read.
Welcome to my head.
I moved to Denton in the Fall of 2002. I loved everything about the city. I still do, even though I don't live there anymore. There is a vibe to Denton. I miss it most of the time. But I'm realistic in knowing that we can't possibly live there because it is much too far for Jason to drive to work. But... just because my brain knows that does not mean that my heart does.
Oh my goodness if only you could see all of the typos in the above paragraph. But of course you can't and you won't because I will fix them before I post this.
See I'm trying this word flow thing. And my brain works on a much faster level than my hands on my keyboard but since I'm trying to empty my brain I'm going to go with that is just not important at the moment.
I auditioned for a play. A play I really like. For a role or a couple of roles, that I really like. And I didn't tell anyone I was auditioning, which meant that I was probably too emotionally involved because I'm an open book on most things unless I'm emotionally invested in which case I keep my mouth shut. Anyway, I auditioned for this show and here is why that is important:
I'm scared.
Really scared. That I don't actually know how to be on stage anymore. That I've forgotten how important acting is to me and dove so far into being a mommy that I've lost who I am some how. I used to define myself by being able to take on a character. To live that character and maybe the only character I know anymore is Mommy. And that scares the shit out of me because I like to think I'm so much more than that. Not that it would be a bad thing if all I ever did with my life from this point on is raise two well adjusted, smart and wonderful little boys but really, I want so much more.
Even as I type this tears are streaming down my face which probably means that I'm being more honest right now that I've been in a long time. I'm really good at hiding things. I wrap up my world in a pretty bow. A tastefully wrapped, seasonally correct and festive package and present it to the world and hope that everyone loves it. I am the epitome of the hostess extraordinaire. Except that every time I throw a party I think that someone hates it... all of it. That everything I've done is wrong and boring and ugly.
I'm probably the most self conscious person anyone will ever meet except for the fact that you'd never know it. Unless you're smart enough to look past everything I present. Which some people are but lets face it no one really ever wants to get more than surface involved.
And let's talk about that. Surface Involved. It's the involved where you know someone but you would not be able to actually define anything real about them because you've never asked, they've never volunteered and you know if they did you'd find a reason to go take something out of the oven.
And though I'm good with metaphor, isn't just a way for a writer to ignore the truth? Really? I come up with phrases that express my mind but don't actually say what the problem is.
So here's the problem: I'm waiting. I'm waiting for cast list which I'm pretty sure, damn near positive, won't have my name on it and I'm not really sure why it won't? Do I just not have it anymore? That thing that makes people want to see you on stage? Have I lost something profound? I made my grandfather cry once. I was playing Lynda Loman in Death of a Salesman in High School and he cried. Of course you didn't know my grandfather, for that matter, neither did I but he just wasn't the type of guy who cried. Especially not at a play. So it was something that stuck with me, even then. Maybe I have something.... But after the last couple of days maybe I don't.
Maybe I never did. Maybe people were humoring me. Maybe I'm just mediocre and got lucky with some parts. Because everything I've auditioned for since I started having children has turned me down. I out on a brave face, I pretend that it doesn't bother me. But talking with a friend last night I realized that it's okay that it bother me. I'm older and I'm busy and I have to be picky and choosy about what I audition for because it's a time commitment. I can't just audition for everything and hope to get lucky. I have to check the calendar and make sure everything is going to work and so I don't get to audition very often. So when I do, I really want it. I've read the play, I've researched the author. I can talk plot and character development and foreshadowing and suspense. I have a vested interest. I WANT it. And so the older I get the more it hurts when I don't get the part. And maybe that is just how its supposed to be. Maybe the fact that it didn't hurt before meant it didn't mean as much as it does now or maybe I'm just reaching a point where I've analyzed my thought process to the point of no return. I see all of the angles, the ins and outs and the different analytical prospects.
The point being is I hate to wait. And I want to vomit but instead I word vomited, right here, for everyone to read.
Welcome to my head.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I lack FOCUS... continued...
1. Get dressed. Including shower, make-up and hair.
2. Finish, photograph and upload letter order.
3. Organize and sort all wreath projects.
4. Finish Believe Album.
5. Make 15 holiday bows.
Seems simple right? It wasn't... and I knew that by 10am. When Logan was refusing to nap and Carson wouldn't let me do anything without him behind immediately by my side. I eventually got Logan down, pulled out some "projects" for Carson, which did distract him enough for me to take a shower by myself. So what did I accomplish today? How did the single tasking work for me?
I showered. I finished, photographed and uploaded the letter order. And I organized and sorted my wreath projects. I DID NOT put on make-up or fix my hair (although I still might fix my hair tonight because then I won't have to do it in the morning, which will save me some time), I did not finish the BELIEVE album, although I did get a few more steps out of the way. And I did not even start on the bows. Unless you consider picking out all the different ribbons and accents a start.
The thing with this single tasking is you are supposed to dive into a project 100% and do it and it alone until you finish. Don't jump to anything else, don't put it aside and get up and go do something else. Just start and finish. Read this article for more info. This does not work in the world of Mommmy to babies and toddlers. Let me explain: Putting on my make-up and fixing my hair is something I like to do alone or just not do it. So I do this during nap time or before the boys are awake. Obviously some days I have no choice but to do it while Carson stares at me and constantly asks what "those" are and Logan coo's or fusses, depending on the day from his bouncer at my feet. But if we aren't going anywhere and I don't "have" to, then I just don't.
The letter order was pretty easy. It just needed some finishing touches and to dry completely but even that didn't work exactly right. Because after I took the photos Logan woke up from nap #2 and I had to feed him before I could upload the pics. I mean I didn't jump to another task after I fed him, I did upload the pics but still. Start to finish with one task without doing anything in between? UGH! The wreath projects were done during, the blisfullness that is double nap time (meaning they both slept at the same time), so one thing was started and finished and done quite well. It also didn't take very long because I wasn't thinking about anything else.
Now the last two. I started on the BELIEVE album and was distracted by Logan... he wanted to be played with and when I came back I wasn't "feeling" it anymore, so I started picking ribbon for the bows and then it was time to prep dinner and feed Logan and so on and so forth and now it's evening and I'm ready to have a glass of wine and decompress.
So, I'll try again tomorrow because I really think that this one thing at a time concept is something I need to try but today... not so much.
2. Finish, photograph and upload letter order.
3. Organize and sort all wreath projects.
4. Finish Believe Album.
5. Make 15 holiday bows.
Seems simple right? It wasn't... and I knew that by 10am. When Logan was refusing to nap and Carson wouldn't let me do anything without him behind immediately by my side. I eventually got Logan down, pulled out some "projects" for Carson, which did distract him enough for me to take a shower by myself. So what did I accomplish today? How did the single tasking work for me?
I showered. I finished, photographed and uploaded the letter order. And I organized and sorted my wreath projects. I DID NOT put on make-up or fix my hair (although I still might fix my hair tonight because then I won't have to do it in the morning, which will save me some time), I did not finish the BELIEVE album, although I did get a few more steps out of the way. And I did not even start on the bows. Unless you consider picking out all the different ribbons and accents a start.
The thing with this single tasking is you are supposed to dive into a project 100% and do it and it alone until you finish. Don't jump to anything else, don't put it aside and get up and go do something else. Just start and finish. Read this article for more info. This does not work in the world of Mommmy to babies and toddlers. Let me explain: Putting on my make-up and fixing my hair is something I like to do alone or just not do it. So I do this during nap time or before the boys are awake. Obviously some days I have no choice but to do it while Carson stares at me and constantly asks what "those" are and Logan coo's or fusses, depending on the day from his bouncer at my feet. But if we aren't going anywhere and I don't "have" to, then I just don't.
The letter order was pretty easy. It just needed some finishing touches and to dry completely but even that didn't work exactly right. Because after I took the photos Logan woke up from nap #2 and I had to feed him before I could upload the pics. I mean I didn't jump to another task after I fed him, I did upload the pics but still. Start to finish with one task without doing anything in between? UGH! The wreath projects were done during, the blisfullness that is double nap time (meaning they both slept at the same time), so one thing was started and finished and done quite well. It also didn't take very long because I wasn't thinking about anything else.
Now the last two. I started on the BELIEVE album and was distracted by Logan... he wanted to be played with and when I came back I wasn't "feeling" it anymore, so I started picking ribbon for the bows and then it was time to prep dinner and feed Logan and so on and so forth and now it's evening and I'm ready to have a glass of wine and decompress.
So, I'll try again tomorrow because I really think that this one thing at a time concept is something I need to try but today... not so much.
I lack Focus...
If you know me, you know this is true. I lack focus! I do a million things at one time. I feel like I have to. I've got 5 or 6 sewing projects going at one time, 2 or 3 craft projects going, 2 or 3 painting projects going + laundry, organizing, bill paying, cleaning, changing the sheets and towels, running errands, grocery shopping... well you get the idea. But today, thanks to Susie Moore, I found this article and thanks to the above I found this article.
FOCUS... who has the time to focus? I'm busy. I'm a stay at home mom who is trying to run a business (soon to be two businesses) and still find time for a shower and make-up and get food on the table 3 times per day. I'm the type of person who doesn't feel she's accomplishing anything unless she's accomplishing a lot, so I take on a lot. I'm not going to lie, I like it that way. I like to be busy. It's all I've ever known. I used to joke, but there was some serious truth to it, that I saw my parents more the year after I went to college (6 hours away) then I did my Junior and Senior years of HS. You laugh but like I said... TRUTH! I played golf, was a Varsity basketball manager, on the yearbook staff, was in charge of sports photography, took dance lessons, student council, church youth council, 4-H leadership council, multiple 4-H activities, One-Act play, multiple UIL events, Health Occupations Students of America, volunteered at the county museum and if someone asked... chances are I helped. I am conditioned to be a busy person.
Now recently there has been a lot of articles and news programs about how much our children do, when is it too much and so on and so forth but... I was of the first generation. The first generation of the multi-tasking youth who pushed hard, worked hard and never slept. When I got to college I rebelled! I didn't go to football games, I didn't join organizations, I didn't participate. I did one show my freshman year and when I wasn't cast in anything my second semester, I didn't dive into any other projects, I just took a step back and took a deep breath. As college progressed I dove back in. And then one day I looked up and I was once again doing it all.
So I am conditioned to be this way. It's who I am... it is ingrained into my being. And it's time to change that.
It's going to be a long process. Even as I type this blog I've jumped from article to article and checked my email and changed a diaper and refilled my coffee. Some things can't be avoided (diapers...yuck!) but some things can. So it's 8:40 am and I'm going to try this single tasking thing today. I've got a list of 5 things to accomplish today, beyond the normal "take care of my children" tasks, and I'll weigh in tonight. Here goes...
FOCUS... who has the time to focus? I'm busy. I'm a stay at home mom who is trying to run a business (soon to be two businesses) and still find time for a shower and make-up and get food on the table 3 times per day. I'm the type of person who doesn't feel she's accomplishing anything unless she's accomplishing a lot, so I take on a lot. I'm not going to lie, I like it that way. I like to be busy. It's all I've ever known. I used to joke, but there was some serious truth to it, that I saw my parents more the year after I went to college (6 hours away) then I did my Junior and Senior years of HS. You laugh but like I said... TRUTH! I played golf, was a Varsity basketball manager, on the yearbook staff, was in charge of sports photography, took dance lessons, student council, church youth council, 4-H leadership council, multiple 4-H activities, One-Act play, multiple UIL events, Health Occupations Students of America, volunteered at the county museum and if someone asked... chances are I helped. I am conditioned to be a busy person.
Now recently there has been a lot of articles and news programs about how much our children do, when is it too much and so on and so forth but... I was of the first generation. The first generation of the multi-tasking youth who pushed hard, worked hard and never slept. When I got to college I rebelled! I didn't go to football games, I didn't join organizations, I didn't participate. I did one show my freshman year and when I wasn't cast in anything my second semester, I didn't dive into any other projects, I just took a step back and took a deep breath. As college progressed I dove back in. And then one day I looked up and I was once again doing it all.
So I am conditioned to be this way. It's who I am... it is ingrained into my being. And it's time to change that.
It's going to be a long process. Even as I type this blog I've jumped from article to article and checked my email and changed a diaper and refilled my coffee. Some things can't be avoided (diapers...yuck!) but some things can. So it's 8:40 am and I'm going to try this single tasking thing today. I've got a list of 5 things to accomplish today, beyond the normal "take care of my children" tasks, and I'll weigh in tonight. Here goes...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Update on my baby!
Logan is just fine! At this point he has not been diagnosed with Tuberous Sclerosis. I say at this time because well, there is no test that will ever be able to give us a definitive yes or no answer. He shows no other symptoms other than the Rhabdomyoma on his heart and is growing and progressing as every other normal infant. We will monitor him from this point on every 6 months or until it is determined that we simply do not have anything to worry about.
So: Cardiologist every 6 months, Geneticist every 6 months, Pediatrician... the normal 1st year schedule. We will be seeing a lot of doctors.
He such a happy baby and normally sleeps wonderfully. He's teething a little sooner than I would have liked but as they say, every baby is different. He's taken to rice cereal like a champ and I can already tell food is going to go over splendidly. Carson keeps Logan entertained and Logan keeps Carson entertained... they both just keep me very, very busy!
So: Cardiologist every 6 months, Geneticist every 6 months, Pediatrician... the normal 1st year schedule. We will be seeing a lot of doctors.
He such a happy baby and normally sleeps wonderfully. He's teething a little sooner than I would have liked but as they say, every baby is different. He's taken to rice cereal like a champ and I can already tell food is going to go over splendidly. Carson keeps Logan entertained and Logan keeps Carson entertained... they both just keep me very, very busy!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Carson's Birthday
My baby turned 3!!!!!!!!!! AGH! Where have the last three years gone? I swore to myself that I'd never be that woman who said, "The time just goes so fast", but really? It does! It goes so fast and you look up and your baby is 3 years old!
And so lets be realistic, he's not a baby anymore, he's a little boy, with quite a bit of spunk lately I might add, and he has changed so much. He talks all the time, if he thinks it he does it, and he knows there are boundaries but his current mission in life is to push them until Mommy thinks she might pull out her hair. :) But he still remians the sweetest thing. He constantly tells me he loves me and he's so helpful at this age. He loves his little brother and loves to talk and sing to him. And he's so polite! Sometimes I get tired of hearing please and thank you actually.
He's OBSESSED with Cars. So for his 3rd birthday we went all out with the Cars.
And for his present, Mommy and Daddy searched out the Radiator Springs set for his Geotrax! It has been a huge hit at our house. Of course it's gigantic and now takes up most of the space in his room but as long as he loves it I guess that is all that matters.
And this was the first year he actually got the concept of blowing out the candle and making a wish. and just like the wonderful little boy he is, he wouldn't tell Mommy his wish.
And finally the bounce house (Thank you Monica!) was enjoyed by all! I think it was a great party and I KNOW Carson was exhausted at the end. I guess it's time to start planning Logan's 1st birthday now... or maybe I'll wait until after Christmas. He is only 4 months old after all!
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Never Ending Battle...
It's been a while since I wrote anything and sent it out here into this unknown cyber world. So today I'll start with "the journey". If you've been reading, you know that I'm on the weight loss journey and right now it really feels like one. A journey. A long, hard, never ending, relentless journey that is a constant reminder that I am not moving as fast as I would like up these mountain trails. Not roads... not nice paved highways. Let's not mistake this journey. It's an animal track at best, up a mountain in the Swiss Alps. Most of the time the track is impossible to distinguish and just looks like dead grass...
Obviously I've hit a plateau. I'm tired of going to the gym. I'm tired of watching what I eat. I'm tired of constantly reminding myself that I'm trying to lose weight. I'm just tired.
And this is not the time to be tired people! Fall is around the corner and there are jeans to fit into! I will say, I am back in a couple of pairs but nothing looks quite the way I want it to look yet. Things are a little more snug than I'd like. And I DO NOT want to buy new clothes. I want to fit in what I own.
So the plan had been 5 days a week for 5 months and that went great fro the first two months. And now... well let's just say the last 6 weeks have been more like 3 days a week. I've tried, I really have but between nap schedules and pre-school and The Jellybean Giraffe and trying to keep my house at least a little organized, something had to give. And it was the workouts of course!
I am in need of motivation. Any advice followers? Do you have any advice?
Obviously I've hit a plateau. I'm tired of going to the gym. I'm tired of watching what I eat. I'm tired of constantly reminding myself that I'm trying to lose weight. I'm just tired.
And this is not the time to be tired people! Fall is around the corner and there are jeans to fit into! I will say, I am back in a couple of pairs but nothing looks quite the way I want it to look yet. Things are a little more snug than I'd like. And I DO NOT want to buy new clothes. I want to fit in what I own.
So the plan had been 5 days a week for 5 months and that went great fro the first two months. And now... well let's just say the last 6 weeks have been more like 3 days a week. I've tried, I really have but between nap schedules and pre-school and The Jellybean Giraffe and trying to keep my house at least a little organized, something had to give. And it was the workouts of course!
I am in need of motivation. Any advice followers? Do you have any advice?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Policies, Schmolicies!
I went to the gym today! Yeah me!!!!! It was raining, I'm in a lousy mood, and I just didn't want to go... but I did. And I got through upper body weights when the ever annoying intercom announced, "Amanda Green to the Fun Club. Amanda Green to the Fun Club."
So down I went praying for a dirty diaper because that's quicker to deal with than an upset Logan or, and it hasn't happened yet, a Carson who has broken a rule and now has to leave. (Oh and I'll get to that nonsense!) But a dirty diaper it was not. It was Logan, screaming because he was hungry, because he refused to eat before we went, because he refused to nap, so he was in a crappy mood and not cooperating with Mommy. So I, who came prepared (which I never am, so the preparedness was quite an accomplishment), took Logan to the locker room to feed him. And I had to sign him out. Of course! He is an infant and when someone removes an infant or child from the Fun Club they have to sign said infant or child out.
What I didn't know is that once signed out they cannot be signed back in! No one has ever told me this. No one has ever explained to me that a child can only be signed in and out once a day regardless of circumstances. No one has ever told me that even though you get two hours of child care per day, if you sign out your child after 45 minutes you are done... they cannot come back in. No one has ever explained to me that their policies are crap!!!
Oh I knew most of them sucked since when my children get dirty diapers I get paged, because the staff is not allowed to change diapers... yeah that is as stupid as it sounds. "We run a child care program but we don't change diapers." BLAH! I say BLAH to that! If a child cries for more than 10 minutes you are paged... now this one doesn't bother me as much because I don't really want my children getting that upset but... again, I don't get a phone call from preschool if Carson is having a tantrum do I? No! They deal with it. But this one? This one really pushed me over the edge today...
If I had known that by signing Logan out to feed him I would not have been allowed to bring him back I would have gone and gotten the bottle and fed him in the nursery. If I had known that by signing him out, he couldn't come back I just would have signed out BOTH of my children and gone home, and fed him at home, where it's more comfortable... and clean. And why? OH WHY? When I signed out my infant did someone not say... "Do you want to take Carson too?", because at least then I would have asked why? And then someone could have explained to me this ridiculous policy!
What if I want to take two 1 hour classes but they are at different times of the day? Too bad for me, I guess. What if I have an emergency and need to pull my kids out but I can come back later? Too bad for me!
Look, I love the people who work there, the place is really clean and well kept. And I've even found a couple of sitters. And I'm sure if you have potty trained 5 year olds than it's a great place. But for those of us who have small children, un-potty trained children, infants... it down right sucks. Most of the time I get through my workouts without and issue. Both kiddos are fine. But today when I needed... NEEDED... to work off some energy. To get on that treadmill and go... just GO! To sweat and move and release all of this tension. I get paged. And well, then I get screwed by policies. so tot hat I say, "Policies, Schmolicies!"
So down I went praying for a dirty diaper because that's quicker to deal with than an upset Logan or, and it hasn't happened yet, a Carson who has broken a rule and now has to leave. (Oh and I'll get to that nonsense!) But a dirty diaper it was not. It was Logan, screaming because he was hungry, because he refused to eat before we went, because he refused to nap, so he was in a crappy mood and not cooperating with Mommy. So I, who came prepared (which I never am, so the preparedness was quite an accomplishment), took Logan to the locker room to feed him. And I had to sign him out. Of course! He is an infant and when someone removes an infant or child from the Fun Club they have to sign said infant or child out.
What I didn't know is that once signed out they cannot be signed back in! No one has ever told me this. No one has ever explained to me that a child can only be signed in and out once a day regardless of circumstances. No one has ever told me that even though you get two hours of child care per day, if you sign out your child after 45 minutes you are done... they cannot come back in. No one has ever explained to me that their policies are crap!!!
Oh I knew most of them sucked since when my children get dirty diapers I get paged, because the staff is not allowed to change diapers... yeah that is as stupid as it sounds. "We run a child care program but we don't change diapers." BLAH! I say BLAH to that! If a child cries for more than 10 minutes you are paged... now this one doesn't bother me as much because I don't really want my children getting that upset but... again, I don't get a phone call from preschool if Carson is having a tantrum do I? No! They deal with it. But this one? This one really pushed me over the edge today...
If I had known that by signing Logan out to feed him I would not have been allowed to bring him back I would have gone and gotten the bottle and fed him in the nursery. If I had known that by signing him out, he couldn't come back I just would have signed out BOTH of my children and gone home, and fed him at home, where it's more comfortable... and clean. And why? OH WHY? When I signed out my infant did someone not say... "Do you want to take Carson too?", because at least then I would have asked why? And then someone could have explained to me this ridiculous policy!
What if I want to take two 1 hour classes but they are at different times of the day? Too bad for me, I guess. What if I have an emergency and need to pull my kids out but I can come back later? Too bad for me!
Look, I love the people who work there, the place is really clean and well kept. And I've even found a couple of sitters. And I'm sure if you have potty trained 5 year olds than it's a great place. But for those of us who have small children, un-potty trained children, infants... it down right sucks. Most of the time I get through my workouts without and issue. Both kiddos are fine. But today when I needed... NEEDED... to work off some energy. To get on that treadmill and go... just GO! To sweat and move and release all of this tension. I get paged. And well, then I get screwed by policies. so tot hat I say, "Policies, Schmolicies!"
Monday, August 23, 2010
We just don't know yet...
This is quite possibly the worst phrase in the English language. And if I spoke other languages, it would probably suck in those languages too.
My husband has a heart murmur. Carson has a heart murmur. And Logan has a heart murmur. But because Logan's was not discovered until his 2 month well child visit, we got to go to a pediatric cardiologist to have his checked out. And this was a lengthy process. We were told not to worry at this point. We went in and his heart was listened to and blood was drawn. He was labeled with an innocent murmur and we scheduled another appointment for pictures and video to be taken of his heart later.
We went in and this was done... the pictures and video, and then we scheduled another appointment to go over all of the results. Again, don't worry. So really I didn't. I'm a pretty positive person. I believe there is always a time for everything and I had not yet reached the time in which I was supposed to freak out. All the doctors seemed calm and they seemed to have order to this process. So their calm order kept me calm and collected.
Today we went for this follow up. Today I watched as my baby was once again hooked up to this machine that I know does not hurt him but I can't hold him so how can I possibly know that he's actually safe... because as we know in Mommy world, my baby is only safe in my arms. Then we went to another room and in comes the pediatric cardiologist. "I want to show you something Mrs. Green." Thump, thump, thump! That's my heart beating which suddenly seams very much louder and now my brain is working and that calm, collected order I was talking about, well it has flown the coop.
So as my baby lies in his diaper alone on the sterile looking, white table the cardiologist preps to do another ultrasound. (Surely by now we have all realized that I have a very, very active imagination and it sometimes is very detrimental to my mental stability.) "Logan has what we call a Rhabdomyoma." Thump, Thump, Thump. Basically this is a growth on the left ventrical wall of Logan's heart. It is not blocking the valve. And it may go away and we may never have to worry about it again. Or... it can stay there his whole life and he'll have to have it monitored his whole life. Or... it can grow or shift, block the valve and need to be removed. Really, as serious as it all sounds this is not the worst news in the world and really I should not be freaking out and really, really, this is not where it stopped.
Rhabdomyomas are also symptoms of a genetic disorder called Tuberous Sclerosis. Now having done my scary WebMD, Wikipedia and Mayo Clinic website research I also know it is commonly referred to as TSC. This is an ugly, ugly disease. So now we get to go see a geneticist. So now I get to wait until said geneticists office calls me, probably tomorrow. So now is the "We just don't know yet" phase of my week. The cardiologist was highly optomistic that TSC is not in our cards as Logan has not shown any other symptoms. He told me not to worry. He told me not to search the internet... which had he not said I probably would not have done. He told me that until we know more we should just be positive.
That little boy is my baby! I grew him in my body, I loved him before seeing him and in my mommy brain, that is highly over active, I worry that I did something wrong. In my mommy brain I go to all of the places we tell others we would never go: What if I have such a happy baby because God knows I only get him for so long? What if he has this TSC and he will now live with us for the rest of his life? What if because of this TSC I will forever be bound to my home because I'm now "that" woman with "that" child? Have I mentioned that Logan has not actually been diagnosed with TSC? Because he hasn't... Remember... "We just don't know yet..."
And I HATE NOT KNOWING YET!
My husband has a heart murmur. Carson has a heart murmur. And Logan has a heart murmur. But because Logan's was not discovered until his 2 month well child visit, we got to go to a pediatric cardiologist to have his checked out. And this was a lengthy process. We were told not to worry at this point. We went in and his heart was listened to and blood was drawn. He was labeled with an innocent murmur and we scheduled another appointment for pictures and video to be taken of his heart later.
We went in and this was done... the pictures and video, and then we scheduled another appointment to go over all of the results. Again, don't worry. So really I didn't. I'm a pretty positive person. I believe there is always a time for everything and I had not yet reached the time in which I was supposed to freak out. All the doctors seemed calm and they seemed to have order to this process. So their calm order kept me calm and collected.
Today we went for this follow up. Today I watched as my baby was once again hooked up to this machine that I know does not hurt him but I can't hold him so how can I possibly know that he's actually safe... because as we know in Mommy world, my baby is only safe in my arms. Then we went to another room and in comes the pediatric cardiologist. "I want to show you something Mrs. Green." Thump, thump, thump! That's my heart beating which suddenly seams very much louder and now my brain is working and that calm, collected order I was talking about, well it has flown the coop.
So as my baby lies in his diaper alone on the sterile looking, white table the cardiologist preps to do another ultrasound. (Surely by now we have all realized that I have a very, very active imagination and it sometimes is very detrimental to my mental stability.) "Logan has what we call a Rhabdomyoma." Thump, Thump, Thump. Basically this is a growth on the left ventrical wall of Logan's heart. It is not blocking the valve. And it may go away and we may never have to worry about it again. Or... it can stay there his whole life and he'll have to have it monitored his whole life. Or... it can grow or shift, block the valve and need to be removed. Really, as serious as it all sounds this is not the worst news in the world and really I should not be freaking out and really, really, this is not where it stopped.
Rhabdomyomas are also symptoms of a genetic disorder called Tuberous Sclerosis. Now having done my scary WebMD, Wikipedia and Mayo Clinic website research I also know it is commonly referred to as TSC. This is an ugly, ugly disease. So now we get to go see a geneticist. So now I get to wait until said geneticists office calls me, probably tomorrow. So now is the "We just don't know yet" phase of my week. The cardiologist was highly optomistic that TSC is not in our cards as Logan has not shown any other symptoms. He told me not to worry. He told me not to search the internet... which had he not said I probably would not have done. He told me that until we know more we should just be positive.
That little boy is my baby! I grew him in my body, I loved him before seeing him and in my mommy brain, that is highly over active, I worry that I did something wrong. In my mommy brain I go to all of the places we tell others we would never go: What if I have such a happy baby because God knows I only get him for so long? What if he has this TSC and he will now live with us for the rest of his life? What if because of this TSC I will forever be bound to my home because I'm now "that" woman with "that" child? Have I mentioned that Logan has not actually been diagnosed with TSC? Because he hasn't... Remember... "We just don't know yet..."
And I HATE NOT KNOWING YET!
Friday, August 20, 2010
I work!
I don't get vacation days or sick days or personal days. I work through migraines, stomach bugs and fevers. I'm a maid, a housekeeper, a minor emergency nurse, a maintenance worker, a gardener, a chef (or special order cook depending on the day), a teacher, an interior decorator and an event/ party planner. I repeat myself constantly and on a daily basis am faced with the challenge of never enough time.
I grocery shop and menu plan. I budget and spend. I worry. I worry. I worry. And I care more than one person should.
I try my best to get a shower in everyday. I try my best to look presentable. I try my best to keep everything together.
I don't have a union rep but boy would I love one. Even though, let's be realistic, I can never actually go on strike. I don't get a paycheck or a tax break or aid from our government. Even though I'm solely responsible for two members of the future of our society and culture. There was no licensing exam for my job. No one checked to see if I was qualified. There was no interview process.
I've been entrusted with lives that are not my own and told repeatedly by society that it is important that I take time out for myself. Which I try to do. But that time to myself is usually spent wondering what is going on while I'm not there. My brain never shuts off, my lists are always getting longer and nothing is ever actually finished.
However...
I am supplied with never ending stories and laughter and smiles. Giggles and tickles and playful wrestling. I read and I play and I color and I bake and I eat and I'm brought to tears by the wonder that is the "first" time. The first smile, the first crawl, the first step, the first tooth. The first art project, the first big boy hair cut, the first hug... and most importantly, the first, "I love you too, Mommy."
I get bath-time and play-time and bed-time. I'm amazed at how much two little hands can change in two little years and how just by looking at those hands I knew my oldest wasn't a baby anymore. I change diapers and though lets face it, it's a job I could do without, I'm needed. My existence on this earth is priceless. I'm depended on. Two little men know that no matter where they go or what they do with their lives, their Mommy loves them. Or if they don't know it now, they will some day.
Because all those "things" that I do, I do for them. At no point in my life before children did I contemplate my life with children. And no point did I ever think I could gain so much joy and happiness from the word, Mommy, being spoken by a 1 year old. At no point did I think it was possible for my heart to literally fill and overflow by merely placing a baby in my arms. Before you have children you never wonder what it is like to hold a life you created and brought into this world. And it is impossible to put into words.
Motherhood is hard. It is often thankless. It is also more than often the best job you will ever take on. But make no mistake it is work. But anything in this life that is worth it is more times than not a lot of hard, thankless, work.
I grocery shop and menu plan. I budget and spend. I worry. I worry. I worry. And I care more than one person should.
I try my best to get a shower in everyday. I try my best to look presentable. I try my best to keep everything together.
I don't have a union rep but boy would I love one. Even though, let's be realistic, I can never actually go on strike. I don't get a paycheck or a tax break or aid from our government. Even though I'm solely responsible for two members of the future of our society and culture. There was no licensing exam for my job. No one checked to see if I was qualified. There was no interview process.
I've been entrusted with lives that are not my own and told repeatedly by society that it is important that I take time out for myself. Which I try to do. But that time to myself is usually spent wondering what is going on while I'm not there. My brain never shuts off, my lists are always getting longer and nothing is ever actually finished.
However...
I am supplied with never ending stories and laughter and smiles. Giggles and tickles and playful wrestling. I read and I play and I color and I bake and I eat and I'm brought to tears by the wonder that is the "first" time. The first smile, the first crawl, the first step, the first tooth. The first art project, the first big boy hair cut, the first hug... and most importantly, the first, "I love you too, Mommy."
I get bath-time and play-time and bed-time. I'm amazed at how much two little hands can change in two little years and how just by looking at those hands I knew my oldest wasn't a baby anymore. I change diapers and though lets face it, it's a job I could do without, I'm needed. My existence on this earth is priceless. I'm depended on. Two little men know that no matter where they go or what they do with their lives, their Mommy loves them. Or if they don't know it now, they will some day.
Because all those "things" that I do, I do for them. At no point in my life before children did I contemplate my life with children. And no point did I ever think I could gain so much joy and happiness from the word, Mommy, being spoken by a 1 year old. At no point did I think it was possible for my heart to literally fill and overflow by merely placing a baby in my arms. Before you have children you never wonder what it is like to hold a life you created and brought into this world. And it is impossible to put into words.
Motherhood is hard. It is often thankless. It is also more than often the best job you will ever take on. But make no mistake it is work. But anything in this life that is worth it is more times than not a lot of hard, thankless, work.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Now is the Time
How do you feel about the Mosque being built 600 feet from Ground Zero? I have to be honest, this question has been playing through my mind for weeks now. My initial reaction was, "No, absolutely not!", and then something told me to reconsider my feelings on this. People that I respect, have looked up to, have admired most of my life have a very strong stance against this Mosque. And then there are others that I have the same type of relationship with who say it doesn't matter. So in effort to hash out my feelings and learn more about my personal leaning where this Mosque is concerned I've come here.
I wonder what, if I had the immense pleasure of sitting down with them, Ghandi or Mother Teresa or even (yes, I'll go there) Jesus would say. Would they tell me that as a Christian it is important to stand for my beliefs? (And yes I realize that Ghandi was not a Christian.) That as a Christian what the Muslim believers did that horrible day is a travesty and that my belief in God should allow me the strength and conviction to stand against them in this debate. Or would they tell me that, as a Christian, my job is to love? To forgive? That my job on this earth is to know that I am saved and that my place is secure and that my ability to love all, given to me by divine forgiveness, should be where I turn to in these difficult times?
This has always been my Christian dilemma. I feel many Christians use their faith as a hammer. Something to beat others down with in the name of eternal righteousness. And at the same time I know we are called to bring others to Christ. And if we don't speak and tell the truth as we see it, are we failing in spreading the name of Christ? But I also have this; we are told to love all. This has always stood out to me. Jesus loved all. He taught all. He healed all. He lived a loving, caring and forgiving life. And in a world of so much hate, so much "dieing in the name of...", and so much war, I feel love is my calling.
Now don't misunderstand me, I fail all the time. I can be horribly judgemental of people and it is something I work on daily. But now, in considering this Mosque, I have begun to really wonder about my calling as a Christian. What am I here to do?
I could skip over the big things in the world and say that I'm here to be a good mother, wife and woman. Here to love and here help bring my children to Christ. I could keep it personal and go on with my day to day life as if the world was not in a constant state of war and hate. But that is, unfortunately, selfish.
And then of course I have to take into consideration my very, very strong sense of patriotism to this country. We all know where we were on 9/11. We all know how we felt. I was angered, hurt, extremely emotional. We, as Americans, felt safe. Felt above an attack of that caliber. It happened elsewhere to other people but not to us, here on our sacred soil. We are a young country and I believe, to those of us who have strong convictions towards the USA, that we still see our country as a place that our ancestors fought for. A place that was given to us and with that gift comes a responsibility. A responsibility that we had all begun to take for granted. And when I combine my beliefs, I am told that as a Christian I am to follow the laws of my leaders.
I am what I will call a presidential supporter. I won't always agree, and the man in office may not have received my vote, but I support and respect the decisions made. I have the right to free speech and my opinion. I can support those that are more closely in line with my thinking and I can speak against what I see as detrimental to our country but the president and the office deserve my respect. That is a job that I never wish to hold and the people who run this country are people who have taken on a thankless service. But that is another topic for another day.
With all of the above said... I think that this Mosque is a step in the right direction. We claim as Americans that our country is built on diversity and just as Christians have extremists who use God's name as a weapon, as a tool to spread hatred and violence, so do Muslims. And those Muslim extremists took something from me that day. A sense of safety that my 17 year old self had always known and will never know again. And I will never be able to teach my children or raise them within that safety net I was raised in. I can never blindly wrap myself in that American cloak and walk as if my world can not be once more shattered.
But I can also not judge all Muslim believers on the few that make the headlines. Just as I hope and pray that one day not all Christians will not be judged by the ones who use our belief system as their tool to destroy and claim in Jesus' name. I think it is time to place the focus on love. On forgiveness. I in no way want to be misunderstood as saying it is time to forget about 9/11. It is not and will never be the time to forget. But what is supposed to separate me from those who attack with hatred and violence, is my ability to forgive and move forward. We should rebuild and remember. Pay homage to the lives lost and continue to fight for our freedoms and the freedoms of those less fortunate. We should always wake and know that our safety is a privilege and not a right and that men and women, and in some cases children, have lost their lives to ensure that our freedoms are in tact. I pray that the images of that day are never removed from my television. I want all to remember and know that 9/11 changed us, as a people, as a country.
I also want all to know that we can't use what was done to us that day as an excuse to attack and hurt all Muslims. We can't use 9/11 as a tool to spread blind hatred of a misunderstood community of people. Especially as Christians. Especially since at one time we were that same misunderstood community of people. At what point to we start to spread love? At what point do we put others before us and learn to again walk together in our diversity? At what point, do we as a country stop the spread of hate? I think it is time.
I wonder what, if I had the immense pleasure of sitting down with them, Ghandi or Mother Teresa or even (yes, I'll go there) Jesus would say. Would they tell me that as a Christian it is important to stand for my beliefs? (And yes I realize that Ghandi was not a Christian.) That as a Christian what the Muslim believers did that horrible day is a travesty and that my belief in God should allow me the strength and conviction to stand against them in this debate. Or would they tell me that, as a Christian, my job is to love? To forgive? That my job on this earth is to know that I am saved and that my place is secure and that my ability to love all, given to me by divine forgiveness, should be where I turn to in these difficult times?
This has always been my Christian dilemma. I feel many Christians use their faith as a hammer. Something to beat others down with in the name of eternal righteousness. And at the same time I know we are called to bring others to Christ. And if we don't speak and tell the truth as we see it, are we failing in spreading the name of Christ? But I also have this; we are told to love all. This has always stood out to me. Jesus loved all. He taught all. He healed all. He lived a loving, caring and forgiving life. And in a world of so much hate, so much "dieing in the name of...", and so much war, I feel love is my calling.
Now don't misunderstand me, I fail all the time. I can be horribly judgemental of people and it is something I work on daily. But now, in considering this Mosque, I have begun to really wonder about my calling as a Christian. What am I here to do?
I could skip over the big things in the world and say that I'm here to be a good mother, wife and woman. Here to love and here help bring my children to Christ. I could keep it personal and go on with my day to day life as if the world was not in a constant state of war and hate. But that is, unfortunately, selfish.
And then of course I have to take into consideration my very, very strong sense of patriotism to this country. We all know where we were on 9/11. We all know how we felt. I was angered, hurt, extremely emotional. We, as Americans, felt safe. Felt above an attack of that caliber. It happened elsewhere to other people but not to us, here on our sacred soil. We are a young country and I believe, to those of us who have strong convictions towards the USA, that we still see our country as a place that our ancestors fought for. A place that was given to us and with that gift comes a responsibility. A responsibility that we had all begun to take for granted. And when I combine my beliefs, I am told that as a Christian I am to follow the laws of my leaders.
I am what I will call a presidential supporter. I won't always agree, and the man in office may not have received my vote, but I support and respect the decisions made. I have the right to free speech and my opinion. I can support those that are more closely in line with my thinking and I can speak against what I see as detrimental to our country but the president and the office deserve my respect. That is a job that I never wish to hold and the people who run this country are people who have taken on a thankless service. But that is another topic for another day.
With all of the above said... I think that this Mosque is a step in the right direction. We claim as Americans that our country is built on diversity and just as Christians have extremists who use God's name as a weapon, as a tool to spread hatred and violence, so do Muslims. And those Muslim extremists took something from me that day. A sense of safety that my 17 year old self had always known and will never know again. And I will never be able to teach my children or raise them within that safety net I was raised in. I can never blindly wrap myself in that American cloak and walk as if my world can not be once more shattered.
But I can also not judge all Muslim believers on the few that make the headlines. Just as I hope and pray that one day not all Christians will not be judged by the ones who use our belief system as their tool to destroy and claim in Jesus' name. I think it is time to place the focus on love. On forgiveness. I in no way want to be misunderstood as saying it is time to forget about 9/11. It is not and will never be the time to forget. But what is supposed to separate me from those who attack with hatred and violence, is my ability to forgive and move forward. We should rebuild and remember. Pay homage to the lives lost and continue to fight for our freedoms and the freedoms of those less fortunate. We should always wake and know that our safety is a privilege and not a right and that men and women, and in some cases children, have lost their lives to ensure that our freedoms are in tact. I pray that the images of that day are never removed from my television. I want all to remember and know that 9/11 changed us, as a people, as a country.
I also want all to know that we can't use what was done to us that day as an excuse to attack and hurt all Muslims. We can't use 9/11 as a tool to spread blind hatred of a misunderstood community of people. Especially as Christians. Especially since at one time we were that same misunderstood community of people. At what point to we start to spread love? At what point do we put others before us and learn to again walk together in our diversity? At what point, do we as a country stop the spread of hate? I think it is time.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Going, going, gone...
Okay not completely gone but my motivation is drifting away slowly. I'm almost 1 month in and though I feel great I don't really see much of a change and that is frustrating. Beyond frustrating actually. It royally pisses me off. I'm working out 5-6 days a week. That, my friends, is a lot and I look in the mirror and am still just not at all happy. Maybe it's just today but all I can manage to see are the problems, the thing I hope to change. I'm busting my ass here and I would like to see some instant results...
...which I realize is not at all how this works. I'm going for a life long change here and it's going to take time. Blah, blah, blah! Just once I'd like some instant results! I want to wake up tomorrow morning and look in the mirror and see something I like. Yes, if I stood there I could point out the areas I like but I'm first drawn to the ones I don't and by that time my positive thinking has hitched up its skirt and found the nearest exit. And honestly, today, I just didn't feel like chasing that b*tch down.
So instead I drug myself to the gym where I did an hour and 15 minutes of cardio (split up between the stationary bike, the elliptical and the treadmill) and then did 20 minutes of ab work. And in the end I was sweaty, tired, smelly and really just wanted some chocolate. Brownies maybe? Homemade chocolate chip cookies... oooooh, or chocolate cake. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Chocolate cake with pecans, maybe a strawberry filling. No, no, a raspberry filling. And when I got home instead of baking anything I fed my boys, got them down for naps and had a very, very large salad with carrots and cucumbers and tomatoes and boiled shrimp. And let's not forget the large glass of water, which makes number 4 for the day.
If I sound bitter it's because I am. I want whipped cream and cheese and bread to be the things that are low in calories. I want ice cream and red meat and cream sauces to be the things I should be focusing on. Why, oh why, could I not have been born a size 2 who eats everything in sight and never gains a frackin' pound?!?!?!?!?!?!
Okay venting complete. So as I hit this wall, I look to Monday which begins Week 5 of 5 Days for 5 Months. It also, is the start of Boot Camp. Stay tuned for my thoughts on this little adventure. But right now? Well, I hear a baby crying...
...which I realize is not at all how this works. I'm going for a life long change here and it's going to take time. Blah, blah, blah! Just once I'd like some instant results! I want to wake up tomorrow morning and look in the mirror and see something I like. Yes, if I stood there I could point out the areas I like but I'm first drawn to the ones I don't and by that time my positive thinking has hitched up its skirt and found the nearest exit. And honestly, today, I just didn't feel like chasing that b*tch down.
So instead I drug myself to the gym where I did an hour and 15 minutes of cardio (split up between the stationary bike, the elliptical and the treadmill) and then did 20 minutes of ab work. And in the end I was sweaty, tired, smelly and really just wanted some chocolate. Brownies maybe? Homemade chocolate chip cookies... oooooh, or chocolate cake. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Chocolate cake with pecans, maybe a strawberry filling. No, no, a raspberry filling. And when I got home instead of baking anything I fed my boys, got them down for naps and had a very, very large salad with carrots and cucumbers and tomatoes and boiled shrimp. And let's not forget the large glass of water, which makes number 4 for the day.
If I sound bitter it's because I am. I want whipped cream and cheese and bread to be the things that are low in calories. I want ice cream and red meat and cream sauces to be the things I should be focusing on. Why, oh why, could I not have been born a size 2 who eats everything in sight and never gains a frackin' pound?!?!?!?!?!?!
Okay venting complete. So as I hit this wall, I look to Monday which begins Week 5 of 5 Days for 5 Months. It also, is the start of Boot Camp. Stay tuned for my thoughts on this little adventure. But right now? Well, I hear a baby crying...
Monday, July 19, 2010
So far so good...
I'm two weeks into this 5 Days for 5 Months journey I've put myself on. And so far so good. I've lost 1" in my waist but as I said before no scale so who knows weight wise. I feel good, I feel positive, I feel every muscle in my body! And they scream loudly! But the endorphins have kicked in and it's easy to get myself to the gym. I really thought it would be at least a month of me forcing myself and dragging myself to the gym before I started looking forward to it but like I said I'm enjoying myself. I'm averaging an hour of cardio 5 days a week with weight lifting and ab work 3-4 days.
I am sore though and it's a never ending constant sore since I'm using different muscle groups and really pushing myself to do a little more each time. My good friend Monica keeps it interesting by forcing me to use that damned rowing machine... I hate that thing! But I got even by making her get on the stair machine. However my rear end feels like it's been hit by a Mack Truck.
I've never been good at the food thing though and I feel like I've made some real progress. I've doubled my veggie and fruit intake and really watched the carbs. And I've been relying on dark chocolate to get me through the sweet cravings. One, little piece of dark chocolate. I know it's okay to cheat every now and then but I feel like I have to make it a couple of months at least before I can let myself cheat once a week. I have a bad habit of binge eating. Standing at the door of the pantry and just eating cookie after cookie, or standing in the kitchen picking at a hundred different things. I can finish off a family size bag of M'n'M's without even thinking and then I will just feel guilty so I'll eat more. Emotional eater anyone?
Tonight I hit the gym with Monica. Lord, give me strength!
I am sore though and it's a never ending constant sore since I'm using different muscle groups and really pushing myself to do a little more each time. My good friend Monica keeps it interesting by forcing me to use that damned rowing machine... I hate that thing! But I got even by making her get on the stair machine. However my rear end feels like it's been hit by a Mack Truck.
I've never been good at the food thing though and I feel like I've made some real progress. I've doubled my veggie and fruit intake and really watched the carbs. And I've been relying on dark chocolate to get me through the sweet cravings. One, little piece of dark chocolate. I know it's okay to cheat every now and then but I feel like I have to make it a couple of months at least before I can let myself cheat once a week. I have a bad habit of binge eating. Standing at the door of the pantry and just eating cookie after cookie, or standing in the kitchen picking at a hundred different things. I can finish off a family size bag of M'n'M's without even thinking and then I will just feel guilty so I'll eat more. Emotional eater anyone?
Tonight I hit the gym with Monica. Lord, give me strength!
Dreamin'
Picture this: You are laying on the side of a river. Tall grass, birds flying over head, washed in sunlight, puffy "Simpson-esque" clouds floating above you. And blackout! You are being forced into a Hannah Montana costume by Candice Bergen ala Ms. Congeniality and your "boyfriend" is standing beside her telling you that, "you have to agree to do this... everyone is counting on you... don't worry, it will all be over soon".
I'm going to go with the Disney channel is on way to often in my household. I have strange dreams, I always have. I once dreamed I drove my sister, in her old Ford Escort, off the side of a cliff onto a giant trampoline because my niece told me she wanted to fly. My niece was like 3 at the time and I was all of 12 maybe 13.
Pregnant with Carson I used to dream he would crawl out of me, sit on my belly and talk to me. Not about anything important, just that he wanted his bottles warmed up and I was to make sure that all of his blankets were soft and none of his toys were girly. I should have known then I was going to ave a picky child.
And pregnant with Logan? Oh good grief. I gave birth to purple martians who sang show-tunes, I was locked in a bubble with Hillary Clinton while she gave me parenting advice (that might fall into the nightmare category), and my personal fave, Logan is born but is a girl and spend the entire dream telling my wonderful husband Jason, that I don't care if "he" was born female! "His" name is Logan and we already decorated the nursery and "he" would just have to get used to the idea of being a boy!
But the latest one takes the cake. I promise. There I am enjoying a nice peaceful rest on the side of a river and suddenly I'm back stage being forced into costume to go onstage as Hannah Montana. Only backstage looks very similar to the bathroom I had growing up (long, narrow and painted blue with yellow countertops) and the evil manager who is forcing this one me is Candice Bergen as the character she played in Ms. Congeniality. Needless to say, she's the bad guy in this scenario. The "boyfriend" standing by my side throughout looks like one of the Jonas brothers but I'm not really sure which one and he's telling me, "I have to do this"!
So now picture me in a tiny little teeny bopper costume (luckily in my dreams I still look the way I did at 16), semi-rocker chic with lots of hot pink and purple extensions and wrist warmers, walking to the stage crying that I don't know the songs or the dances, that I'm going to make a fool of myself and they can't make me do this! The last thing I remember before I'm shoved on stage into the bright circular spotlight and I finally wake up is this, "Just make up the words! No one will know!"
................................................
Quit laughing! Okay don't but analyze with me. Most of the time I feel like I'm making it up as I go. And most of the time I am. I've never been a parent before, it's not like there is a manual or a rule book or anything. But my biggest fear is that someone will look at me some day and say, "You're a big phony. You don't know what the hell your doing!" So although I'm not really sure what any of the rest of the dream meant I got the ending loud and clear... It's time to relax. To trust myself and just go. In the end there only two people I have to answer to, myself and God. That is quite possibly the best advice Cher ever gave!
I'm going to go with the Disney channel is on way to often in my household. I have strange dreams, I always have. I once dreamed I drove my sister, in her old Ford Escort, off the side of a cliff onto a giant trampoline because my niece told me she wanted to fly. My niece was like 3 at the time and I was all of 12 maybe 13.
Pregnant with Carson I used to dream he would crawl out of me, sit on my belly and talk to me. Not about anything important, just that he wanted his bottles warmed up and I was to make sure that all of his blankets were soft and none of his toys were girly. I should have known then I was going to ave a picky child.
And pregnant with Logan? Oh good grief. I gave birth to purple martians who sang show-tunes, I was locked in a bubble with Hillary Clinton while she gave me parenting advice (that might fall into the nightmare category), and my personal fave, Logan is born but is a girl and spend the entire dream telling my wonderful husband Jason, that I don't care if "he" was born female! "His" name is Logan and we already decorated the nursery and "he" would just have to get used to the idea of being a boy!
But the latest one takes the cake. I promise. There I am enjoying a nice peaceful rest on the side of a river and suddenly I'm back stage being forced into costume to go onstage as Hannah Montana. Only backstage looks very similar to the bathroom I had growing up (long, narrow and painted blue with yellow countertops) and the evil manager who is forcing this one me is Candice Bergen as the character she played in Ms. Congeniality. Needless to say, she's the bad guy in this scenario. The "boyfriend" standing by my side throughout looks like one of the Jonas brothers but I'm not really sure which one and he's telling me, "I have to do this"!
So now picture me in a tiny little teeny bopper costume (luckily in my dreams I still look the way I did at 16), semi-rocker chic with lots of hot pink and purple extensions and wrist warmers, walking to the stage crying that I don't know the songs or the dances, that I'm going to make a fool of myself and they can't make me do this! The last thing I remember before I'm shoved on stage into the bright circular spotlight and I finally wake up is this, "Just make up the words! No one will know!"
................................................
Quit laughing! Okay don't but analyze with me. Most of the time I feel like I'm making it up as I go. And most of the time I am. I've never been a parent before, it's not like there is a manual or a rule book or anything. But my biggest fear is that someone will look at me some day and say, "You're a big phony. You don't know what the hell your doing!" So although I'm not really sure what any of the rest of the dream meant I got the ending loud and clear... It's time to relax. To trust myself and just go. In the end there only two people I have to answer to, myself and God. That is quite possibly the best advice Cher ever gave!
Friday, July 9, 2010
And the journey begins...
... The Weight Loss Journey... The Tone-Up Journey... The Just Like What I See in the Mirror Journey... The Less Jiggling Journey... The No More Muffin Top Journey...
I could come up with names for hours for the ridiculousness that is my battle with my self confidence, which is directly related to my battle with my body. I'm not fat, don't think I'm saying that. I'm tall and I'm curvy and I carry weight very well so most of the time people look at me like I'm crazy when I say I want to lose 30 lbs but really... I want to lose 30 lbs!
I say 30 it could be 25, it could be 40, really I wouldn't know. I don't own a scale and I don't intend on buying one. That's the way I like it because I try to look at weight as just a number. A number that doesn't matter as long as I like the way my clothes fit and am relatively happy in a swim suit. I also want to be healthy and fit and active. I want to be able to do everything my boys want me to do with them, be that swimming or hiking or camping or playing soccer or whatever. So as of July 5 I started what I'm calling 5 Days for 5 Months.
For the next 5 months I will workout at least 5 days a week. Today is July 10 and I can honestly say that I did it! Well this week at least. So week 1 down and... (I suck at math)... however many more weeks to go.
I'm working on a plan, a what I'm going to do plan. But so far just lots of Cardio and Pilates. I have a fear of bulking up. I'm not exactly petite... or even close to it really and I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could be a female body builder. And since I have no desire to look like a female version of The Governor of California, I will more than likely stay away from all exercise that involves lots and lots of heavy weights. Toning is the goal here, a semi-flat tummy (I've had babies, so I'm being realistic) and little to no jiggle in the thigh and buttocks area. I'd also like to get rid of that underarm thing... you know what I'm talking about.
So here it is, on the World Wide Web for all to read and hold me accountable. 5 Days for 5 Months... May the force be with me!
I could come up with names for hours for the ridiculousness that is my battle with my self confidence, which is directly related to my battle with my body. I'm not fat, don't think I'm saying that. I'm tall and I'm curvy and I carry weight very well so most of the time people look at me like I'm crazy when I say I want to lose 30 lbs but really... I want to lose 30 lbs!
I say 30 it could be 25, it could be 40, really I wouldn't know. I don't own a scale and I don't intend on buying one. That's the way I like it because I try to look at weight as just a number. A number that doesn't matter as long as I like the way my clothes fit and am relatively happy in a swim suit. I also want to be healthy and fit and active. I want to be able to do everything my boys want me to do with them, be that swimming or hiking or camping or playing soccer or whatever. So as of July 5 I started what I'm calling 5 Days for 5 Months.
For the next 5 months I will workout at least 5 days a week. Today is July 10 and I can honestly say that I did it! Well this week at least. So week 1 down and... (I suck at math)... however many more weeks to go.
I'm working on a plan, a what I'm going to do plan. But so far just lots of Cardio and Pilates. I have a fear of bulking up. I'm not exactly petite... or even close to it really and I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could be a female body builder. And since I have no desire to look like a female version of The Governor of California, I will more than likely stay away from all exercise that involves lots and lots of heavy weights. Toning is the goal here, a semi-flat tummy (I've had babies, so I'm being realistic) and little to no jiggle in the thigh and buttocks area. I'd also like to get rid of that underarm thing... you know what I'm talking about.
So here it is, on the World Wide Web for all to read and hold me accountable. 5 Days for 5 Months... May the force be with me!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
I'm BACK!!!
I started this blog almost a year ago with the intent that it would be my go to place for all of life's Jellybeans. You know what they are. They're the little tidbits that fill up your brain and spill over. The thoughts, the creativity, the worries, the to-do lists, the pieces that fill you up and never seem to have anywhere to go when you lay your head down at night. I was tired of them. I'm still tired of them. So I'm back!
I let my vanity keep me away. I'm one of those people who appears confident. You've met me in someone before, I promise. I look like I've got it together. Like I know what I'm doing and nothing gets in my way. Well, that is a mask of who I truly am. What I am is someone who's brain overflows constantly. I think too much and those thoughts crowd me and I compartmentalize them until the compartments are brimming and I must empty them. So I'm here to empty my tank. To shed my vanity and lay myself bare to the world (whoosh, that was heavy).
I didn't know what I wanted this blog to be and so I left it empty. And that is sad, very sad. Because this is where the fullness should be, not inside my head but here, written out so I can see what I dwell on, instead of dwelling on it. This sounds very deep, doesn't it? Well it's not. Sometimes what I dwell on is an idea for a new craft or a recipe or an idea for a romance novel... that' right, sometimes I dream of writing trashy novels for all of us women. From now on I want this blog to be my bowl of Jellybeans.
So feel free to come here and read. Come and laugh at my children and their crazy antics. Come here and find recipes and craft ideas and learn about me, who I am and who I want to be. I'm not overly important in any special way, I won't reveal the secrets of youth, fertility and God. I'm just a woman. Not defined by being a wife or a mother or a believer in God but completed by those things. Reach your hand in the Jellybeans and pull one out. But be careful when you bite into it... it might not be the flavor you wanted...
I let my vanity keep me away. I'm one of those people who appears confident. You've met me in someone before, I promise. I look like I've got it together. Like I know what I'm doing and nothing gets in my way. Well, that is a mask of who I truly am. What I am is someone who's brain overflows constantly. I think too much and those thoughts crowd me and I compartmentalize them until the compartments are brimming and I must empty them. So I'm here to empty my tank. To shed my vanity and lay myself bare to the world (whoosh, that was heavy).
I didn't know what I wanted this blog to be and so I left it empty. And that is sad, very sad. Because this is where the fullness should be, not inside my head but here, written out so I can see what I dwell on, instead of dwelling on it. This sounds very deep, doesn't it? Well it's not. Sometimes what I dwell on is an idea for a new craft or a recipe or an idea for a romance novel... that' right, sometimes I dream of writing trashy novels for all of us women. From now on I want this blog to be my bowl of Jellybeans.
So feel free to come here and read. Come and laugh at my children and their crazy antics. Come here and find recipes and craft ideas and learn about me, who I am and who I want to be. I'm not overly important in any special way, I won't reveal the secrets of youth, fertility and God. I'm just a woman. Not defined by being a wife or a mother or a believer in God but completed by those things. Reach your hand in the Jellybeans and pull one out. But be careful when you bite into it... it might not be the flavor you wanted...
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