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.
Friday, August 20, 2010
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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