The correlation between hygiene and productivity. It’s scientific, even.

I’m supposed to be writing a 1200-1800 word paper on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s due tonight and I have not yet started it. Well, unless you count my title page as a start. Procrastination is my middle name. Well, not legally but I know it would be easy to change if I would just quit putting off filing the paperwork.

Anyway, I have made an odd discovery in recent weeks. My activity and productivity level is directly connected to whether I take a shower or not and the time of day that the shower occurs. For instance, if I wake up and decide to skip a shower, or at least put it off till later I find I am a complete waste of air and space. But, if I get up and shower before 10am then I’m virtually unstoppable. Basically, being a stay-at-home-mom has made me a complete sack of shit, in many ways.

I suck at time management. I am not an independent worker with self-sufficient motivational skills and I’m lazy. Unless I take a shower. What? Maybe others can relate and maybe not. Maybe I am the laziest SAHM on the planet, maybe not. Regardless, I am lazy and wish I wasn’t. But, like my dad used to say, “Wish in one hand and shit in the other, see which one fills up first.” I have been wishing I wasn’t so lazy since I was a kid and have nothin’ to show for it. Dad was right. Fanfuckingtastic. Thanks dad.

So, what do I do when I wish I wasn’t so lazy? Do I take that shower and then tackle my duties? Fuck no! I go to the fridge, grab myself some lunch and plop my fat ass down in front of the tv to watch my soaps. (**Note… Anyone out there needing a poster child for the cynical version of stay-at-home-moms, I’m your girl.) When my soaps are done I find myself wandering around the house in a daze because I know there are things I should be doing but I just don’t want to do them, ie: vacuuming (the kids are playing on the floor in my way), writing my paper (haven’t conducted the research needed and don’t know where to start), laundry (ok, that much I have done), shower (why bother now? It’s snowing hard and I have nowhere to go…). So I sit down at my computer to check email and decide to blog. Anything to avoid what I should really be doing.

Is it just because it’s winter? Is this just part of my natural hibernation progression and it will break with the onset of Spring? Yeah, maybe. But I have days like this in the summer too… just not as many. Truth be told, if I don’t have errands to run outside of this house then I find it hard to exist and define my duties. My house is clean, it always is (aside from some essential vacuuming of the stairs…. I put that off because it’s a big chore). The laundry has not piled up beyond control in months (thanks to a new system I started a few months back) and I don’t do the cooking so preparing dinner is not on my radar.

Ok, first of all, stop calling me names. I know you are. It sounds like I’m a spoiled brat with a neatness complex. And I guess you would be right. But still, don’t be mean. I told you, I’m lazy as hell. I’m just lucky to have a very small house that is a cinch to keep clean and I can’t stand clutter. There are plenty of other things that don’t get done and that I completely forget to do which causes enormous stress on the hubs. Trust me. I’m a professional ass-chapper. They don’t make enough Chapstick® for his ass.

My kids are still in their pajamas. AJ stayed home from school today because he got sick last night. I kept Mateo home from preschool because of the snow and because I didn’t want to drag AJ out of the house. So, there is a reason for my intense lack of productivity today but I’m still feeling like a drag. If only I had showered this morning, I wonder where we would be right now? World domination? Shoveled sidewalks? Completed championship levels on the Speed Racer Wii game?

Nope, none of that. Just a few clean clothes, some emails and a blog post. Everything suffers because I gave up hygiene for a day.

I hestitate to say “I’m back” but, I am, kinda.

I stopped blogging months ago. For some reason the joy and the thrill… the passion and the desire had left me. Ok, well, not really. It was more like subject matter seemed non-existent and I had other, more important things to do. So I hung up my cleats and called it a day. But, I could not bring myself to delete the blog. I was saving it so I could print out the entries, someday, and put them into a primitive sort of book… kind of like a 3 ring binder with about 300 pages in it. Well, that didn’t happen, or has not happened yet and now, here I am trying to start blogging again.

Now it’s 2010, a brand new decade, and for the first time in quite a few years, this new year is starting off quite well. The stress level we had grown accustomed to is diminished greatly and that is such a good feeling. But don’t worry, I’m not about to shoot rainbows and puppies out of my ass. I’m still sarcastic and judgmental…. I just smile a lot more while being sarcastic and judgmental.

Instead of trying to recap everything from the past 9 months or so why don’t we just skip and start fresh. Nothing major happened anyway. And if it did I’m sure I will cover it in a later post.

My blogroll needs some major updating so I will probably be doing that in the next few days. If you don’t see your blog on the list or have moved and need me to update your link then just let me know. That is, if I’m not talking to myself right now. And in all honesty I probably am because I have deserted everyone so it’s only fair that I be deserted. I will try to make the rounds and announce my probable return so I can reconnect with a lot of the bloggers that I miss out there.

Aside from blogging, I’m on Facebook, daily… well, hourly… ok, minute-ly…. so you can always find me on there. For some reason I can’t get a Facebook widget to work on this template though. Anyway, we’ll be talking soon.

Peace out.

The Evolution of a Mother’s Day

For us mom’s we were either pregnant during our first Mother’s Day or had that beautiful new baby… and in some cases, babies. For me, I was pregnant and getting ready for the birth of my first son a few weeks later. There is nothing like that first Mother’s day. When it comes around you feel like you are finally part of an elite club and your new membership card is all shiny and wonderful.

If you were pregnant during your first Mother’s Day then your husband probably did something cute like get you a nice card from your future child, some gorgeous spring floral bouquet and maybe even took you out to a nice breakfast… to enjoy the solitude before the storm of parental duties set in.

If you were in the throws of sleepless nights and size 0-2 diapers on your first Mother’s Day then your husband hopefully let you sleep in and did all the diaper changes that day, along with a nice card and maybe even a pedicure. You probably got flowers too.

In either case, you were probably ecstatic to be able to finally relish in the day yourself instead of making sure your own mother got a card and some flowers on time. Well, of course you still made sure your own mom got her card and flowers on time. And if you were like me you may have even said to your husband something like “Oh, thanks sweetie! You didn’t have to do that! I don’t mind! I’m a mom! This is great!”

A year goes by and soon another Mother’s day is upon you. This time you have a toddler in tow and crumbs in your hair. Your husband and toddler make you breakfast in bed and you eat a very oddly shaped pancake created just for you by your child. You receive a beautiful card signed by your husband and child and a small bouquet of flowers. You enjoy your morning and then get up to begin the rest of the day of light duty, even though you still vacuum, do some dishes and change a few diapers. Your husband tries to make sure you have a day of rest but you insist that it’s not necessary. You love being a mom!

Year three comes fast and you cannot believe that you have a child who is potty training or in preschool already! Where did the time go? By this point you may even have a second child or one on the way. Mother’s Day is filled with special construction paper cards adorned by child-sized hand-prints and probably a cup full of “special” dandelions picked just for you by your child. You are greeted in bed with the cards, breakfast and dandelions and you smile so bright that the house lights up. You even go back to sleep for a little while. Later, your kid or kids try to help out a little more on this day as you get them ready to head out to a Mother’s Day gathering with family. You try to wash a few dishes but your husband comes and takes over the duty so you can relax. Instead of putting up a small fight you relinquish control and let him finish the dishes and you head off to find something else to do.

Mother’s Day #4 arrives so quick that your head is still spinning from the previous year. There is a small family gathering planned at your brother-in-law’s house and you get up to start the day and finish the side-dishes you are supposed to bring. Your husband kisses you and say’s “Happy Mother’s Day honey!” and you head upstairs to dress the kids. Suddenly, you turn around and say, “you know what honey? would you get the kids ready for me? ” and you go back to sipping your coffee. You decide to try and relax just a bit on this fourth Mother’s Day. Even though you didn’t get a card from your husband, you still love the little things your kids made you in preschool and figure that it’s enough. Soon, they come running down stairs dressed in clothes that don’t match and scream “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY MAMA!” You smile and hug them tight. When messes are made you pretend like you are going to clean them up but secretly hope your husband takes over. When he does, you smile and thank him. If he doesn’t you clean it anyway and think, “jeez! would it be so hard for you to take care of this, especially today!?”

Mother’s Day #5 comes. You got your Mother’s Day gift 3 weeks earlier in the form of a pair of shoes you just had to have even when the funds were running low. You agreed with your husband that those would suffice as an early Mother’s Day gift. He didn’t get you a card but you got a sweet Mother’s Day kiss and some coffee. Your kids hug you and say “Happy Mother’s Day” and then run outside to play. You need a shower but feel too lazy to take one. You have to be somewhere at 1pm for a family gathering and you are procrastinating. The had kids dressed themselves while your husband watched SportsCenter. He needs a shower and the kids are wearing completely mismatched clothes and you have to ask them if they remembered to put underwear on. You grab your coffee and a donut and make sure you wish all your friends and family a happy Mother’s Day. The kids are fighting, your husband is trying to run interference and there are dishes in the sink.You have no plans to touch those dishes and if he expects you to you will probably kick him in the nuts.

We can only imagine what the 6th Mother’s Day will be like… I will let you know when I get there.

Happy Mother’s Day to ALL of you amazing and wonderful mom’s out there! God Bless all of you!

Values, not just a positive economic term these days.

For most of my life I have had a bad habit of basing my self-worth by the accomplishments, failures, talents and traits of other people. If I met someone prettier than me, I was jealous and called myself a troll. If I met someone smarter than me, I was dumb loser. If I met someone with any amount of talents, I was just a sad, boring shell of a human.

If you are thinking that I’m dramatizing my thoughts or embellishing my feelings then you are dead wrong. Those thoughts are 100% authentic and true, because I’m dramatic. You can probably imagine the antithesis to those feelings  when I was among people who didn’t seem prettier, smarter or more talented than myself. That is an ugly truth and by-product of my insecurities.

So, the entire problem lies with judging myself by other people. The rest of the world’s population are not my own personal barometer for my worthiness! Recently I figured this out because of certain circumstances that I had never experienced before. After that I swore to myself that I would not let anyone else make me feel like I’m not worthy whether it be anything they said to me or by just feeling they are superior. Unfortunately it’s not easy to break a lifetime-long bad habit.

Today, I slipped back into the old ways and felt like an untalented, crappy mother. Now, judging my personal values and self-worth before kids was bad enough; I’m not as skinny as my friend’s girlfriend or I don’t have as nice a car as my co-worker does. Whatever the case was I could find a way to feel inferior. Well, after having kids that issue compounded itself and became 100 times worse. I believe mommy-envy is a major problem for many women. If we see a mother doing something better than us we naturally get jealous… well, not every mother does, some are actually secure in themselves to not let this happen. Becoming a mother made me almost competitive. My friend’s little boy is not even two yet and knows some letters of the alphabet by sight. My boys didn’t know that at his age. Oh my gosh, where did I go wrong!? Can I flip a switch and go back in time and teach my boys their letters sooner? Heh. Riiight.

I blame myself for so many things. I also happen to be fighting the ghost of my father and trying not to be like him, but I slip so often. Sometimes I think that I’m so consumed in fighting off my dad’s bad habits and worrying about being a good mom and keeping a clean house that I forget to just breathe, sit down with the boys and not move. I should read more books, play more games and not worry so much about the little messes. I’m too controlling to let that go though. I’m too wound up all the time. Sitting down and just being with the boys means there are other things I’m not getting down. Plus, I know that being with them won’t be peaceful for long because one of them will want to read one book and the other won’t and then the drama starts… or something else begets a fight… so I don’t bother usually.  Deep down I think that I’m doing the best that I can. But the daily self-reminders of how I’m not a “playful” mother, I’m not a spectacular photographer and don’t have amazing photographs of my kids, I’m not a world-class cook who can whip up kid-friendly creations to eat and I’m certainly not a calm and centered parent are just too much to handle sometimes. Today was one of those times….

Awhile later, as I was going about my day here at home, tidying the house and doing laundry, I heard my boys in the shower screaming at each other. A bit later they were upstairs screaming at each other. Earlier, before the shower, they were fighting over the coloring book and paint brushes. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks….

I’m raising these two boys, who were at one, long point in time both in diapers and I would love to see someone step into my shoes and do a better job than me. Maybe they could. Maybe they would display more patience, better referee skills and a better execution of discipline. Sure, I don’t doubt that one bit. But, in my heart of hearts I know that I am doing the best job that I possibly can. Parents make mistakes all the time and I am definitely one of them. I’m ok with making mistakes, as long I don’t repeat them…. often.

People have no idea what my boys put me through, day in and day out. They reserve all of their best stuff just for me and their daddy. So, when I’m beating myself up over ruining my kids or being a bad mother I just think about how I have two boys…. two boys who are crazy and outnumber me. The things that I would love to do with my boys are not always possible because of our specific dynamic. Believe me, I have tried. Simple things like spreading out a mat and letting them play with play-dough is a huge production. They fight over the colors, they throw the play dough at each other instead of using it the way it’s meant to be used, they find ways to scatter it all over the place, including my floors, etc, etc.

My boys make me work, hard. I do the best I can (most days) to be the mom they deserve. But, honestly, some days I’m lucky to make it through in one piece. They have a talent for reaching every single last nerve in my body and twisting it in a way that makes me want to climb out of my own skin. Then, there are days when they are really good and I forget about the day before. Regardless of what kind of day it is, I wrap my arms around those boys and never want to let go. I said in an earlier post that I feel like I’m holding the entire world in my arms when I hold them both… they are still little, and cuddly and still need me. Someday they might be taller than me and my hugs won’t mean the same things to them and they might push me away. I just hope that if or when that day comes they remember how much I love them and how hard I tried to be the best mom to them that I could. I hope they know that I poured my heart and soul into them and made many mistakes along the way.

This world is full of talented and beautiful mothers and I am happy to know those specials ones in my life. At first I thought I was inferior to them and while technically maybe I am, it doesn’t mean I’m not good enough. In fact, they make me strive to be a better mom, a better friend. Instead of being jealous of them I need to just try and learn from them and remember that I’m special too.

My self-worth isn’t based on the people I meet or the beautiful moms who surround me. They are all special and wonderful and despite what I might try to believe, they aren’t perfect…. and neither am I. This is something I have to remind myself of daily in order to really change my way of thinking. A good way to remind myself of that is by asking this question…

“When I’m on my deathbed, am I going to regret not having a perfectly clean house or not reading more books to my kids?”

I’m writing to tell you that I have nothing to say. What a novel idea, huh?

Well, I haven’t been kidnapped from the trail yet so that’s a good thing. I really haven’t had much to write about and I guess I spend most of my time on Facebook, when I’m not doing laundry, dishes, cleaning, being a parent, driving the kids to and from school, running errands and so on.

Unfortunately I have not been out on the trail in the last 2 weeks and I miss it. It’s mostly because of the weather and since the weather has been crappy on most of the days that I could have gone out on the trail, well, it has caused me to lose my motivation. The wind is a BIG hinderance to my walking, too. If you have even been to Chicago on a windy day you might understand. So even when the weather was semi-decent, I couldn’t go out walking because the wind would irritate my eyes and generally make me miserable on my walk. Remember, I hate the wind…. at least the wind here. I hope to get back out there soon. Very soon. But, the weather is yet again, crappy. Very very crappy.

In the meantime I have been doing a lot of Spring cleaning and organizing. It feels so great to accomplish everything I have wanted to do. I also consider that cleaning as a form of exercise so I’m not being sedentary or anything, despite not going on my power walks. I am even drinking… (gasp) WATER! Ok, not nearly enough still, but I am drinking it daily. That’s a huge step.

Spring is definitely here, even though the weather has been crappy. Everything is green and budding and my lilac tree is on the verge of blooming. That is my most favorite sight in the Spring. Along with the emergence of Spring comes a lot of yard work, of which we have yet to begin. That is last on my list of Spring duties and of course means the weather needs to be sunny… not rainy like it has been. So the yard work is on hold for now.

My yard work goals this Spring/Summer are to convert each of my little flower beds into wildflower beds and continue to use hostas as ground cover in other areas. I also want to get a compost pile started. This will take a bit more work and cooperation from the husband… which he is not really willing to cooperate yet. So I must turn on the “wear him down” technique and see if that convinces him to help me.

Aside from all of that, in case you haven’t noticed the date yet, it is April 28th. This day may not be important to any of you but it should be, because it is my awesome sister-in-law’s birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLIVIA!

ehem….

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday deeeaaarrrrr Oliiiiiviiiiia!

Happy birthday to YOU!

Hennyway, I realize the boring nature of this post and hope you aren’t asleep yet. If you are even there, of course. Hopefully more exciting posts will follow but given my recent track record, don’t count on it.

So, let me leave you with the question for the day…

If you only had three things to teach your children before you left this earth, what would you want them to know?

The Trail and Me

You may have thought that I was crazy before reading this post. You may have even entertained the thought that committing me in an institution might be the best thing for human nature. And, after reading this post you may wind up feeling completely validated in those feelings and end up sending messages to my husband who is now on Facebook (thanks to me) that he should run for his life and take the children with him.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, hubs and I are really trying to make healthier choices and I have added walking/running into my weekly activities. I have not succeeded all that well in the food department as I have eaten a lot of milk duds and Easter candy along with the broccoli and yogurt with granola. I justify this by truly believing that as long as I’m walking/running each week that I can have all the candy I want. Delusional, yes.

I am succeeding in my exercise program, however. I manage to complete my walk/run a few times a week now and my stamina is increasing rapidly. I have a great running mix of music that I made as a playlist on my iPod and it really motivates me and helps me keep at a quick pace. We are fortunate to live in an area that has a bike trail which goes for miles and miles. I jump on it a block or so behind my house and take it for about a one mile or so before I turn around and head back. The trail is straight and cuts through the heart of my neighborhood and then right behind our mall area and on through a wooded and uninhabited area and so on and so on.

It is in this “mall” part of the trail where it gets a bit more lonely, seedy and honestly unsettling. The entire trail is lined with trees and in the area behind the mall there are large swampy ponds, creeks and backwaters as well. People will pass on bikes or on foot and a courtesy wave will be given. Occasionally one will pass a single person who isn’t exercising but rather simply wandering aimlessly aside from the fact that they are on a straight trail.

I tend to take my walks in the evening hours because that is when hubs is home to watch the boys while I’m gone. Spring is coming and it stays lighter a lot later than it did in the winter so evening walks are not a problem. However, this does not mean that macabre, morbid and gruesome thoughts don’t permeate my head as I pounce through the trail while listening to “Pump It” by the Black Eyed Peas and “1999″ by Prince.

My ghoulish mind tricks might be the result of watching too much CSI, Law and Order and Without A Trace episodes. In fact, they must be. Regardless, they cloud my exercise euphoria and cause me not to fully enjoy my temporary freedom. As I pass the swampy ponds I imagine bodies floating to the surface. Each person that passes me who doesn’t seem to be walking with a purpose causes me to stiffen up and clench my fists somewhat.

There are parts of this trail that just seem destined to have a dead body found and may even already contain a few missing persons; in my mind anyway. I imagine a man jumping out from the trees to snag an unsuspecting woman who is just out for a run. The next thing we know she is on the 10 O’clock news as a missing person or just another body found in a wooded, swampy area.

I try to shake these thoughts from my head, I really do. I try to to enjoy the fresh, crisp air and lose myself in my music but I just can’t fully let go. And, to be honest, I believe that is a good thing. I need to be aware of my surroundings. I need to know when there are people behind me or if there are any freaks lurking behind some trees ahead of me. I need to be ready. The way I see it is that I’m new to this whole “exercise” thing and the way my luck works I would be the one trying to better myself, lose weight and get healthy only to end up dead and floating face-down in the beaver damn behind the Target. Sigh.

Tonight, just when I thought I should let my guard down and lose myself in the high I came upon a very cagey man. Prince’s “1999″ had just finished and I was on the last two songs of my playlist, the slow down pace. “Homecoming” by Kanye with Chris Martin was playing and as I got closer to this man I got more nervous. He was one of those people on the trail who wasn’t there to exercise and probably wasn’t soul searching to find a higher state of existence.

He was carrying a brown paper bag and I could see he was wearing headphones. He was walking down the left side of the trail and there was no one else around except him and me. My pace quickened as I got closer to him. He was walking slowly and aimlessly and then he stopped. He took a beer out of the paper bag and took a long chug. Then, he lit a cigarette. At this point I pretty much imagined my own demise. Snatched, screams muffled, beaten and.. well… hello Heaven.

I got very, very nervous as I approached him. I watched his every move and just waited for the seconds it would take me to walk by him to pass so I could breathe again. I felt the tension in my chest and sensed the feeling of him grabbing me and pulling me into the trees. I felt validated in my crazy thoughts for once! As I passed him I kept turning my head to the left to use my peripheral vision so I knew where he was. Once I was several steps past him and his puffs of smoke I removed my headphones so I could listen for quick footsteps behind me. I walked faster.

Soon I was well beyond him and let my guard down a tad; just a tad. I kept my headphones off and walked the rest of the way home in silence, save for the sounds of teenagers, a pick-up baseball game and cars passing by. I began to think, maybe he is just a sad alcoholic and likes to take evening walks in peace. Maybe he just had a fight with his girlfriend and stepped out to clear his head. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. That trail is open to everyone; you certainly don’t need to be on a mission of health or anything to use it. But, he was the epitome and perfect profile of a serial killer so that benefit of the doubt didn’t get far with me.

If he was a normal, honest person, he had to realize just how sinister his actions might appear to a woman walking by. And, if he were truly a rapist, murderer or abductor, then he knew exactly what he was doing; he was the perfect cliche of a snatch-and-kill man.

Alas, I made it home safe and sound. Regardless of his intentions, I’m not taking the trail in the evenings anymore unless I’m on my bike. Or, if I do take the trail, I won’t take it as far as I did today. I simply want to enjoy my time out there in the fresh air and not worry about every person I pass. I figure that if I change up my routine, stick to the neighborhood streets a bit more and ride my bike on some evenings then maybe I can relax and enjoy myself.

I am fully aware that I’m a morbid thinker but I figure it keeps me alert and might actually help, in my twisted logical  fashion. I find it incredibly ironic how I can feel so completely distrusting in this type of setting yet be so naive and trusting with other, complete strangers in different scenarios.

As always, I am the perfect blend of consistent inconsistency.

How I’m dumber than an 8-year old

I am often dumbed down by my friend’s son. Today was no different. He spent the night with my boys last night and when he and my older son, DramaBoy, woke up, I guess C started telling him some old ghost stories and legends. Later on, after breakfast, C was telling me how he had told my son some cool old ghost stories like the one about the Flying Dutchman.

I was like, “Oh yeah, like that one on SpongeBob, right? They have a flying Dutchman on Spongebob!”

He paused and said, “Uuum, no. As in the Legend of Davy Jones… you know?”

Once again I looked like an idiot to an 8-year old.

Then, to make matters worse I had to Google “Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman” just to figure out what it was. I had heard of it before but not in any way that would explain the legend or that it was even a legend.

That is when I found a small semblance of satisfaction and a return of my pride… care of Wikipedia.

In the Spongebob Squarepants episode “Born Again Krabs”, Davy Jones’s Locker is shown to be the underwater equivalent of Hell, being “the resting place of all bad undersea folk”, literally being a gym/school style Locker, and also containing smelly socks belonging to Davey Jones himself (“…he works out a lot”). The Flying Dutchman takes Mr. Krabs to Davy Jones’s Locker after he is fatally poisoned from eating a rotten old Krabby Patty, and Krabs begs him to give him one more chance, promising that he will no longer be cheap.

SEE! I was right! Sort of…

Everything I need to know I learned from SpongeBob. All hail SpongeBob.

Love is tangible.

When I hug both of my boys at the same time I get this overwhelming feeling that I am holding the entire world in my arms… like I’m holding pure, raw love as if it were a tangible, touchable thing…and I never want to let go. Even with simple moments like hugging them goodbye in their preschool classroom…. or if I’m stepping out to run a few errands, I never leave the house without hugging and kissing them and telling them I love them. Never…

…because they are my entire world. They are tangible, touchable love.

(This is what has been playing over and over in my head for days now… so I wrote it down )

Giving up: Junk food

Are you laughing as hard as I am right now? Seriously? Me, give up junk food? Yeah right.

Well, today, hubs and I both said, “we need to change our eating habits.” For the first time we are both on the same page at the same time! This has never happened before. Ever. I can tell we are both ready for this and since we are both ready and willing then maybe we can actually do this.

This weekend is our last hoo-rah and then next week we begin our “lifestyle change”. Heh. Lifestyle change. That is what it’s called now, not a diet. Diet seems to strike fear in the hearts of every weight challenged person on the planet. Due to the dedication it takes to actually succeed at a diet people actually alter their thinking and their lifestyle, hence the new moniker “lifestyle change”.

So this is what we are embarking on. We are not making giant promises or holding ourselves to anything we can’t really commit to. We are going to make little changes here and there and hopefully start changing the way we think and feel. I have come to realize in the past few months that my issues are in my head, like most people’s. I realize that my cravings are habitual and emotional and addicting. If I can trade one craving for a 100 calorie pack of cookies or a yogurt and actually satiate my sweet tooth then at some point my mind will shift and I won’t crave the bad junk anymore. This is my hope… and I know it works because all the success stories I have seen on t.v. say that is what happened to them and how they overcame their bad eating habits.

In my life, I need to cut out certain things like candy and Cheese Nips. I also need to stop eating after 6 or 7pm. That is a huge hurdle that a lot of people face and I’m one of them. Cutting back to one Dr. Pepper a day will help as well. And if ANY of you leave a comment that I should switch to diet DP or cut it out all together, well,  you know what will happen to you if you have read this blog for any length of time. If you are new to this blog, trust me, you do NOT want to suggest it.

I’m here to tell you right now, I weigh over 150 pounds (and I’m 5′7″). The actual weight is unclear because I don’t have a scale. In Arizona I jumped from 150 to 155 in a short amount of time. Since I have been home I have dropped a couple pounds, ok, maybe only 1. Either way, my goal weight is 130 and that is what I’m shooting for. I will never be my 118 again but 130 I can live with.

Even though we don’t officially start this untl next week, my own changes have already been set into motion this week. Gosh I hope I can finally succeed at this… I never have in my whole life so I’m scared. I’m scared to make promises I can’t keep and I’m scared to say things are really different this time. So I won’t. I won’t say it. I will just try… lord help me try! LOL!

Good-bye milk duds. Good-bye Cheese Nips. Good-bye candy. Oy!

** Funny how I put this post up on the exact same day that I change my layout and feature my passion for Dr. Pepper. Oh the contradictions.

Giving up: The wishy-washy life.

Here’s a newsflash: I guess I’m a giant failure at this month’s NaBloPoMo. And here is an even bigger news flash: I don’t give a shit. I tried, but then life got in the way.

I have been getting up each day and actually doing chores, instead of sitting in front of my computer. I have been doing dishes and laundry and vacuuming before 4pm! I have been remembering things, running errands and actually being productive. It’s like living in a paradoxal universe. And I like it.

In my new paradoxal universe I’m even listening to NPR as I write this post. This comes as part of my new and insatiable desire to learn anything and everything I can about today’s current society and the government that the United States is lucky to have. I cannot get enough. I want to know everything. I want to pull my head from the sand and pay attention to the country that I’m blessed to live in. All my life I have  just skated by with a basic and essential knowledge that left me unable to enjoy intelligent debates with people or formulate my own real opinions.

I have also come to realize that I have lived my life with the notion that I’m afraid to be wrong. I have played up my Libra diplomacy to it’s fullest and have always seen both sides of an argument. That may be noble to some people but to me it has just been exhausting straddling the fences all these years. I have come to idolize the strong, opinionated people much more than I have the fair and diplomatic people in recent years. To me, it shows that they have strength and stand up for what they believe in and whether it be wrong or right didn’t matter. They had an opinion and expressed it in a society that allows for that. I see this as power and it’s something I admire greatly now.

I want to be that strong and opinionated person. I feel like I have wasted years upon years of just taking the information fed to me and accepting it. I have formulated my opinions based on the fear that I might be wrong and always allowed myself an escape in case I was wrong. I have been a doormat for everyone and in every aspect of my life. I have not been able to really dissect things. I would just listen to or read something and move on. But now that’s changing. I want to scrutinize everything and try to learn it, understand it and take it all in.

This is an age of political history that we are so lucky to be a part of. 9/11 changed the world and the way we live life in America. This year, we innaugurated an historical figure as our president who has ignited the passion in Democrats and the disdain in Republicans. Controversy and hatred for him are everywhere as well as the love and hope invested in him. His canidacy and subsequent presidency has inspired me to open my eyes and my mind. I just wish I could have learned this lesson years ago. But, as they say, it’s never too late…

I can easily place myself in an earlier life… one set in the 1960’s, full of passion and knowledge and protests. I would have loved to have lived in the 60’s and protested against the war and yelled out my prayers for civil rights. Maybe I did that. Only God knows….

I can wish I was that passionate and stubborn person all I want but that won’t change anything up to this point. Now, at 33 I’m seeing a new woman emerge from within myself. This woman wants to be remembered for her strength and not her cowardice straddling of fences. If I were to leave this Earth tomorrow what would be said about me? Probably things like, “she was fair, she saw the good in everyone…” blah blah blah. Well, you know what I really want said about me? I want people to say, “She stood up for herself and for what she believed in, right or wrong. She loved with passion, she learned with passion and she died with passion.”

I know that is morbid, but I am a morbid thinker. I have kids to think about and a legacy that I want left behind. I don’t want to just live this life and leave no footprints… well, I don’t want to leave non-eco-friendly footprints. I don’t want to stop evolving and learning. Ever. I will still see the good in people before I see the bad. But I don’t want that to blind me like it may have in the past. This is incredibly self-centered but that goes along with who I am.

In the Christian sector, of which I reside, pride is frowned upon. It’s a deadly sin in fact. It’s one I break daily. But, would God really want me to leave this Earth without leaving a proper legacy for my children to live by, one that will make them better people? I don’t need to entombed in a bronze monument and I don’t need to be immortalized in stone. I simply want my family to know a few simple things… (1) care for the environment the best way you can but understand we aren’t perfect and it isn’t always easy. (2) take a stand, take a side and have a real opinion, not just what someone else thinks. (3) live with passion for everything. And finally, (4) love. Just love… but allow yourself to make mistakes.

I’m going to try to live my own life this way and set that example for my kids. Their future lives are more important to me than anything and I want them to be everything I was not. I don’t want them to wake up at 35 one day with regrets and wishes that they were different people, like I do.

In recent weeks I have often thought of writing each of my boys a letter… a long letter. One that would be held for them and given to them when they are older and the time is right, or, God forbid, if something happened to me. I want them to know how I feel about them and the dreams I have for them. Many parents do this for their kids and I want to make sure mine have that same gift. I hope to have this done by the summer. I will give them to my husband for safe keeping. I dream of giving them these letters when they are teenagers as we are conflicting and at odds as parent and teen. Time will tell…

This is a heavy post… I know. It’s just a conglameration of thoughts that I have had for quite a while now… Life is incredibly crazy right now. Historically and personally. We are living in a time that we will be telling our grandkids about. If I can’t wake up and take notice now then I’m doomed. I’m just sorry it took a pattern of events like this to make that stand.