Three Realities, One Truth

As I was fighting my way through traffic to get to a doctor’s appointment the other day I had a thought. Well, I had two thoughts. The first was allergies and driving do not mix well, every time I sneeze and my eyes water while I'm speeding down the road, I'm pretty sure I'm riding the line between life and death. But, the second thought was “I'm an idiot.” And here’s why:

There are three things that are currently true about my life. My three realities that consume so much of my thinking energy I should be making a salary.

My first reality is that I'm fat.

Yup. I used the F-word. Fat. Fat. Fat. Sure, you could say I'm overweight but really, I'm fat. Or, to make my mum happy, my body is fat (because, I'm Angela and fat isn't really an identity… but for me it kind of is.) At 5’4 inches, I weigh north of 200 and south of 245. When I got married almost 10 years ago, I weighed 145. Two kids, too many fast food meals and a desk job later… well here I am. I don't like being a fat person. I hate it. I hate myself for getting this way.

My second reality is that I can’t afford what I want to do:

I want to take vacations every year. Particularly to Disneyland and the beach and fancy schmancy hotels. I don't care if I don't live the fancy life the rest of the year, but on vacation, bring it on. I want to live in a house. We live in a pretty nice apartment complex. It’s quiet and the neighbors are nice enough. But I hate that we don't have our own space. I don't like having to tiptoe at night so we don't disturb anyone. I want to paint my walls and make my kids mow the lawn. But, we can't afford it. Are we broke? Not really. We have debt that we are trying to pay off. Much of it comes from the 8 months my husband was unemployed/working at a dead-end-job for less than $9.00 an hour. The problem is we don't really budget and we spend far too much eating out.

My third reality is that I’m pretty damn unhappy:

It’s true. I love my husband. I love my kids. But I feel like this dark cloud smothers all of that. When I think about why I'm unhappy it’s because (and here’s where the I'm an idiot part comes in) I’m fat and I can’t afford to live the life I want. Yikes. It also hit me that I have one problem that’s tied to all three of my realities, I eat out way too much. It’s not even that I'm too lazy to cook. I don't mind cooking really, even on super busy days it’s not impossible to toss something into the crock pot. I know how to cook healthy or at least mostly healthy dishes. It’s just easier to eat out. Also, I'm an emotional eater. I get bored, pass the chips. Feeling stressed? I'll take that cookie. Not only do I feel emotionally comforted with my food, I feel like my life is better when we can spend money to eat out.

One Truth:

This is going to sound really weird, probably. But, I think if we're sitting down together as a family eating out, which must mean life is good. That must mean everything is okay because we can eat out like normal people. I told you, it isn't rational. But, it’s just what I think and while it’s usually subconscious, sometimes it’s not.

There are a few other things I could do to make my life a little easier, but I had this thought in my mind that this really is a huge problem for me. A stressful day with work or the kids is a huge trigger for me. And when we head out to do something fun, I feel like it has to end with a good meal. And sometimes, that’s fine. Hanging out with friends? Okay. Planning a meal out with a fun activity, cool. But eating out whenever we step outside: Not okay.

Now that I've figured that part out, I just need to figure out how I'm going to nip that habit in the butt. Of course I’ll need to find my emotional blanket elsewhere, but I feel like this baby step change could make a huge difference… Have you had to give anything up to make your life better?

Are you Crying Again?

Today sucks. I don't even have the energy to try and be come up with a more professional/acceptable word. Traffic always gets me cranky but this morning, some lovely coffee-seeker was acting like a bozo hogging the entire road and nearly caused an accident while I was driving my girls to school (and we were running way late to top it off). My girls listened as I yelled that the driver was an idiot and honked at her like a crazy woman.

Thirty seconds later, I hear “You scared me, mommy.” From the backseat. Great. I offered an apology and explained that I was just mad that the driver was making the road unsafe but my oldest went off to school looking slightly dejected and I left feeling like a major jerk. Still in a dour mood, I headed to the grocery store pharmacy to grab my youngest daughter’s seizure meds. I called the prescription in three days prior because this pharmacy is known for never having it ready by the next day. Ever. When I went to get it they informed me that hadn’t filled it and acted like I was a bozo because I “tried” to use the phone system. Tried? I've been doing this for months, pretty sure I know how to operate a phone.

So we waited.  We waited twenty-five minutes because there were other customers they had to “take care of first.” Lovely. While we waited, I talked to a manager who informed me he was working on it. I’m not the only person tired of the runaround apparently. By the time I got home from what should have been a 30 minute trip, an hour and a half later, I was exhausted. But I still had to get my youngest daughter cleaned up and down to the bus stop. 

After she got on the bus, I left to go get a small fry from McDonald’s because honestly, I stress eat. And fries sounded yummy (don't act like you don't do it too!). I tossed the bag on the seat and turned out of the parking lot and the ENTIRE bag tipped upside down, dumping my fries everywhere. Really?

I am just out of sorts today. I'm cranky and on edge and I just cannot figure out why. I don't really have time to be this cranky because I have a million things to get done today. This week has been one heckuva week. This morning after the grocery store debacle, I was crying because I couldn't find my phone. I thought I'd left it at the store and was in a slight panic. My daughter came up and put her hand on my cheek, "Are you crying again mommy." Yes. Yes I am.  

Is there a reset button, anywhere?

Changing my perspective

I have thought about this blog post for a day or so and tried to decide how I should write it, or even if I should. But, I came to the conclusion that I can’t possibly be the only person dealing with this and if some other mom is sitting at home feeling like a horrible person, then maybe my honesty will at least make her feel a little less horrible.

When Elizabeth was born, my husband and I were excited to raise another beautiful girl. We were excited to watch her grow up and learn. When she didn't roll over by herself until she was 8 months old, I thought she was just taking her time. She started walking by the time she was 12 months old and in every way seemed to be developing normally.

At 18 months we started noticing that she was acting odd. She would stop playing mid action and freeze. Her face would go completely blank, she’d twitch a bit and then she’d snap back into reality and just start playing again. The first time it happened, I figured she just spaced out. But the episodes started to happen more frequently, sometimes up to 10 or 12 times per day and they got more severe. She fell over once and other times I was worried she’d hit her head on the table during dinner.

She was finally diagnosed with myoclonic epilepsy, basically she was having absence seizures. After several months of testing medications and dosages, we finally found one that worked well with few side effects. Some of the most difficult times were the frequent blood draws. It was a nightmare every time we had to get her little arms and hands poked to make sure her liver was handling the medication.

It’s been two years in November since her last seizure. Once we reach that milestone she could be weaned off of her medication. We are excited and hopeful, but the medication and the seizures have taken their toll. She’s behind in speech and learning. I was told this was a possibility from the get go but I’m not sure I really comprehended the idea.

Her sister, Emmy, is very bright. She’s excelled in reading and enjoys socializing. In every way she’s a normal 7-year-old who happens to be very good in English class. Liz is very quiet. At five she still has trouble with her colors and numbers. She can say the alphabet and count to 15. But she can only name a few letters and she can’t write any. She is the most loving little girl, but she struggles in some areas.

We were excited when she first started preschool. We hoped being in the learning environment with other kids would be helpful. During the first few weeks we were approached by a Special Ed teacher who asked us to consider having her tested for learning delays. This wasn't a huge surprise, but my stomach clenched a little. Liz’s IEP (Individualized Education Program specialist) has been a godsend. She’s wonderful and Liz loves her. Over the last several months her personality has blossomed and she is making more friends. She’s still quiet but she can speak in full sentences and her focus is better. The extra help is working.

We have been preparing to transition her to kindergarten next year. Planning on taking her and Emmy to school together every day. Debating whether full-time or part-time would be better and worrying about how she would handle a new classroom.

I was approached by her IEP specialist the other day with the suggestion that I consider enrolling Liz in a slower-paced kindergarten class. If she attends she will be bused to a different school and attend class with 7 other kids (instead of 29 other kids!). The pace will be slower and the teachers will have more 1 on 1 interaction with the teacher. Her IEP specialist is concerned that Liz will get lost in a traditional classroom.

I attended the open house today to learn more about it and I wanted to cry. I feel like every time I talk to a new teacher I have to emphasize that my child isn't stupid. Whenever I talk about Liz needing help in school I feel like my friends and family should know that’s she’s not getting extra help because she’s dumb. Because secretly I feel like I did something wrong. Maybe I’m not teaching her enough or working hard enough to help her get better so she needs teachers to make up for what I lack.

It’s this constant guilt. Maybe if I stopped working on my writing projects, maybe if I spent hours reading to her and creating perfect crafts and learning tools. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Or maybe, she’s just a little girl who is having a hard time in school. Maybe she’s just a little personality who needs extra help.

I've watched mom’s with children who have far more serious disabilities and delays and I wonder how they do it. In perspective, Lizzy is doing well. Things could be far more difficult and I know there are moms who are dealing with a lot more. But, still I somehow feel like a failure. Like I’m failing as a parent because Liz isn't “just like everyone else.”

I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. I’m pretty sure I mess up a lot. I know I could do better. But, I am trying. Maybe part of this journey is learning to accept that there are things I can’t control. There are things that I can’t make easier for my little ones, no matter how much I want to. Maybe.

For the Love of Women

Lately I  have been extremely frustrated with this upswing of hating on other women. Everyone knows bullying is wrong, especially when it comes to our kids. We preach tolerance and talk to our kids about being kind and not spreading rumors about other people. And then we pick up a magazine for women and peruse through snarky comments on celebrity clothing and hair styles.

I'll be the first to admit that I've flipped to the worst-dressed list more than once. I've even entertained myself by looking up ugly prom dresses. But, Self Magazine took it to another level when they contacted a woman and asked for a copy of  a photo of her running in a marathon in a tutu. They then used HER photo as an illustration in which they made fun of her. In addition to being dishonest and tacky, they also managed to insult the wrong woman. This brave lady is battling a brain tumor. And if you look at the photo closely you can see that her friend's badge says "Die tumor die." In addition to being nasty, their editors and writers were apparently oblivious.

I stopped reading the gossip rags a long time ago because I simply can't handle the snark and blatant insults tossed around. But, I love Self magazine. The magazine is designed to empower women who are trying to get healthier. And yet, this magazine that promotes self improvement and confidence thinks it's okay to turn around and belittle a woman who is obviously bettering herself by running in a marathon. The commentary was high-school at best. I'm disappointed.

This magazine is not the only place that this type of behavior happens. All over the internet on blogs and on women's/mother social sites (cough cough....Cafe Mom...cough cough) women take precious moments out of their day to slander other women. It's disgusting and it's disheartening.

I firmly believe that we are all entitled to an opinion and we are entitled to express that opinion, but just because we can doesn't mean we should. It's one thing to take a stand against something that ruffles your morals (scantily dressed women, prostitution etc.) it's an entirely different thing bash and insult women because you don't like what they are wearing or how they look or because they don't do things the exact same way you do.

With all the preaching of a modern woman and empowerment it seems we would be better off spending less time pursuing "sexual freedom and empowerment," and more time finding ways to build other women up for the more important qualities (compassion, kindness, brilliance, bravery etc.)

As women we need to stop acting like high school mean girls and set an example for our daughters. It isn't funny or brilliant to insult belittle women. It's degrading to our gender to support this type of nasty behavior.

To be or not to be.... Fat

Photo courtesy of harmonyharbor.com

The other day I went to the store to get a pair of jeans and they didn't have a single pair in my size. Not one! Now, I know that I am overweight and it is something I am making a conscious effort to fix, but I think it’s silly that stores don’t carry anything larger than a 12. It’s embarrassing. I walked out of the store in tears, tired of being fat.

I have been reading a lot of blogs today about weight loss success stories and tips people have for sticking with it. I have wondered for a while what the difference is between the person who is able to succeed and the person who doesn't.

It can’t be that one person just has better luck. We all have crappy things that happen to us and often the people who lose a lot of weight have suffered far worse than those who can’t seem to hack it.

It certainly isn't money. A lot of people lose weight using nothing more than an outdoor track and their own body weight.

I had a wake-up moment yesterday, in which I think I figured out the major difference between the people who successfully get healthy and those who keep failing. My husband and I hit the gym yesterday for the first time in a while. I was pretty pumped up about my work out until I came home to shower. I stripped and was standing in front of the mirror and it just hit me: Losing the weight I need to is going to take forever, and wham! Just like that my excitement and adrenaline rush dropped through the floor.

It didn't seem to matter that I figured out how many pounds per month I needed to lose to meet my goal (or that the goal was pretty doable), it didn't matter that I’d busted my arse on the elliptical and it didn't matter that I’d given up soda. I was fat and the weight was not coming off easy.

When I told my husband that going to the gym made me feel even fatter, he responded that I was “looking at it the wrong way.” He told me, instead of focusing on how far I still have to go, that I should be focusing on what I already accomplished. I went to the gym-for the first time in six weeks and I didn't die. I haven’t had soda in 53 days. We haven’t eaten out in 36 days.

What I think the difference is between people who successfully lose weight and those who keep failing is that those who finally succeed do so because they start focusing on the right things. Instead of focusing on what they “can’t have” or how much longer it’s going to take, they really focus on what they are going to get in the end.

No, I can’t have my Dr. P. No I can’t snarf down pizza for late night snacks and no, I can’t sit on the couch for hours on end and expect to lose weight. Yes, it hurts like mad to work out. Yes, I cry because I’m an emotional eater and I am no longer eating to get rid of my stress and it’s an embarrassingly emotional issue for me. Yes, it’s going to take a full year for me to lose the weight I want while maintaining a lifestyle that is doable for me.

I know that I am capable of a lot more. I just never finish anything because it gets to hard or too stressful. I know if I can just lose this weight I’ll know that I can do anything, and my hope is that boost of self-confidence will help me make improvements in other areas of my life.

So my goal this week is to stop the self-sabotage. Stop quitting before I really get going. Stop making excuses to avoid the long journey and just do it. Like I tell my girls: Suck it up Buttercup! It’s time to put my big-girl pants on so I can fit into little girl pants!

In what ways do you find yourself sabotaging yourself when it comes to finishing a goal?

Silly Mommy Moments

Sleep. It's a precious commodity worth more than gold once you have kids. I feel like I've been exhausted since the day I gave birth to my oldest, almost seven years ago. Not getting enough sleep is bad for your health, promotes weight gain and can cause delays in reaction time as well as comprehension. I can attest that this delay in reaction time and comprehension can be dangerous, and even embarrassing. Let me illustrate:

http://www.randomoverload.net

My oldest was not a sleeper. She hated to sleep. The first week we brought her home, I was tempted on multiple occasions to return her. She cried all the time. When she wasn't nursing or staring aimlessly around, she cried. We started out with her bassinet next to our bed to make getting to her easier. Within in a few months she was cozily snoozing along side us, both of us too exhausted to put up much of a fight. After one particularly bad night, I was exhausted. I had barely gotten three hours of sleep and we'd finally gotten our little one to really sleep around 5 a.m. 

At that time my husband worked early morning shifts as a janitor on the college campus. This meant that he was usually up and gone by 4:30 or 5 a.m., which also meant he had an alarm set for around 4 a.m.. One early Saturday morning, my husband had the day off. Unfortunately he had forgotten to shut the alarm on his phone off and he'd left it in the living room the night before. When it went off the first time, I hustled out of bed to the living room, hit snooze and came back to bed, shutting the door on my way back in. My sleep induced brain did not think to shut the alarm off or bring it back to the room. For some reason ,shutting the door so it wouldn't be as loud, was my brilliant plan. 

The alarm went off again about 15 minutes later. I could hear it through the door which meant my peacefully sleeping 6 month old could too. I jumped out of bed and ran towards the living room. In my haste, and exhaustion, I forgot that I had shut the bedroom door. My forehead became very well acquainted with our bedroom door, as I slammed face first into it, landing on my back on the floor. The resulting slam was followed by my husband's confused "What are you doing" and the wails of a now not-sleeping infant. Unfortunately my husband's brain caught up with him much faster than mine and he spent the rest of the morning reenacting my graceful morning wakeup call. 

Then there's the time I left the car keys in my daughter's hands and tried to start our car with a plastic set of toy keys, going to church without a bra on (and not realizing it until I started to change afterwards) and tripping down stairs while holding the hand of our oldest, taking her down with me.

I'd like to think that my brain has gotten a little less fogged as my children have gotten a little bigger. But, distractions of older childhood serve as just a powerful brain killer as dealing with a newborn. 

Last year I was at home with my oldest (I feel like I blame a lot of my klutzy moments on her....) she spilled something on the floor. It wasn't a big deal, but I was in the middle of working and a little irritated. So I stomped over to the hallway closet to grab her a towel. I was in such a tizzy that I yanked the door open. grabbed the towel and slammed the closet door--- into my face. 

The resounding crack and then the thump of me hitting the floor ,with my face cradled in my hands, brought my daughter into the hallway.She just stood there and stared as blood poured between my fingers. I'm pretty sure I traumatized her for life.I finally managed to snag a towel from the closet and get it over my face, so that I could get her to call her dad on the phone. I jacked up my nose pretty good and not have a scar to prove it. 

Being a mom is hazardous. Not only do we have to deal with the basic parenting trials, but there are physical dangers that result as we get less sleep, eat less and lose our tempers more. I'd like to include a motivational picker-upper, but I fear that there's little hope for eliminating the physical scars that come from parenting, and I'm not sure I'd want to totally eliminate the risk. They make for funny stories and great ways to get your kids to do something for you. Keep that "I carried you around for nine months' speech in your pocket and pull out the trusty, "You know I used to spend most of my nights awake rocking you! One time I was so tired...." It makes for a much better story (0= 

Enjoying my Spoonful of Sugar

Photo via Inscrib'd

I had an experience the other day that changed my outlook on life a little. Our family is going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but really who isn't. The economy kinda stinks and there always seem to be too many bills. Some very kind people have offered help and we've graciously accepted what we need and people have generally been polite and very nice about everything.

And then... I found myself being screamed at by someone who had good intentions but wasn't very considerate of me or my time. I was called "ungrateful" and "rude." I can assure you I was neither. It's truly not in my nature to be like that. To make matters worse, my six-year old daughter was standing there watching this person go bonkers at me. She also witnessed my complete melt down after she left and quietly excused herself to another room.

Now, the situation has been handled and I was informed that there are some other issues that may have impacted this person's response, and while it was completely inappropriate, I can empathize with reacting emotionally rather than rationally.

As I was thinking about this incident I thought about how bad it made me feel. I didn't like feeling like less of a person because I am not. As I thought about this, I started paying attention to things I do, like getting testy at silly drivers on the road or groaning at the very long line at the pharmacy or feeling frustration at difficulties but not taking enough credit for my own contribution to the mess. And sometimes, I even judge people in my mind when I really have no idea what I'm talking/thinking about.

So, I decided to make a goal: I'm going to adjust my personality. When people are really friendly to me, I get a buzz or adrenaline. Good customer service makes me feel really good. But, I also noticed that when I'm truly friendly to someone, when I take the time to look at them and offer a genuine smile and a real "Thank you." It feels good. It feels good to be nice, to have the confidence to really pay attention to someone and acknowledge their helpfulness or their presence.

It may also be a little entertaining to see the shock flicker across someone's face when you are genuinely kind. I can't decide if it should make me laugh or cry when someone seems taken aback at kindness. Are that many people rude, or even just neutral?

More than anything, I want my girls to be happy and to be good, kind people. No matter how I'm feeling about myself of about how crappy things seem to be going, I feel good when I am able to lift someone else and for those few moments I actually feel content.

So, Piglet, thank you for the advice: "Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."(Winnie The Pooh)

The Art of Driving (Me Insane!!)

Everyone who knows me would say I'm a nice driver, a patient driver, a forgiving driver. Not. I'll admit I get a tad stressed when I'm on the road. I'll be honest, I didn't even get my driver's license until I was 22 and the only reason I got my license was because I was getting married and there was no way I was getting married without a driver's license. It just didn't seem right. 

I've been driving for a while now and I've overcome some major obstacles. I learned to drive a stick shift (ask my sister how well I did when her head stops bobbing from all the jerks and stalls), adapted to driving in a bigger city and made it through last winter without keeping my kids home from school all winter simply because I LOATHE driving in the snow.

Now, I've only been driving for eight years but I've gotten through mostly incident free. I don't count the time I took a friends side-mirror off with a pole (it wasn't my car- so it doesn't count).  I also don't count the time I forgot there was a parking barrier in front of me (there was a road on the other side and I couldn't see the barrier from the driver's seat... plus I was tired from working out) and ended up straddling it like a turtle on it's back, when I gunned the car. 

As I was saying: I'm a mostly-incident free driver so I think I can safely assume I know some basic driving etiquette. Now, I understand that most road rules go out the door in the school parking lot but there should be some sense of "hello I have basic parking knowledge." It's a free for all when when that final bell rings. So I'm generally forgiving (or I at least mutter under my breath) when a car drives the wrong way through the parking lot (it's marked by arrows, hello!), parks in a handicapped spot or darts across the front of my car like a jackrabbit and expects me to stop on a dime. But, I don't forgive parking spot hogs. 

There are a limited number of parking spots at the school. It's like winning a lottery to snag a spot. I have to get to the school 10 minutes early on a sunny day to get a spot and in the winter- I show up 30 minutes early (note that I hate driving in the snow so I take my time). How hard is it to park your car in ONE spot. When you get out of the car and notice you are sitting squarely in two spots, it's time to hop back in and repark. 

I was sorely tempted to write a thank-you note to the guy hogging two spaces after I rolled around the parking lot three times waiting for spot to magically appear but I didn't have a piece of paper, plus I wasn't feeling very kind and you know what Thumper always says... "If you can't say something nice..." 

A Special Kind of Crazy

My life is a special kind of crazy. Today I needed to get my youngest into the shower. Usually, she loves taking a bath. She'll play in the tub for hours. There are days she begs for three or four baths. But, seeing as we were running late for preschool, a quick shower was on the menu. After several minutes of begging her to "please take her clothes off," I tossed her over my shoulder, tickled her feet and headed back to the bathroom.

I managed to wrangle her shirt off when my oldest, who is home from school with a sore throat, called for my attention. In the 30 seconds it took me to look around the corner and address her, my four year old managed to put her shirt back on. It was inside out and backward, but it was on and she was happy. She then darted between my legs and back into the living room.

It's hard to get mad when she's laughing. So I tackled her, tickled her and told her if she didn't come voluntarily we'd get in the shower fully dressed. This seemed to amuse her, and I actually don't think she believed I would do it. So I tossed her over my shoulder (again) and walked her straight to the bathroom. Needless to say, she was more than happy to strip for her shower.

I was thinking about this, rather typical occurrence, I realized my family is a special kind of crazy. Our favorite friday night activity is pulling the mattresses out of our bedrooms and camping in the living room. Just the other day we spent well over an hour shooting each other with nerf guns and playing "Don't throw me in the hot lava."

Our car trips typically consist of listening to the "Now That's What I Call Disney" album (usually the same four songs over and over), a myriad of "Are we there yet," and "Stop yelling or I'm going to stop this car and we'll go straight back home." It's not always pretty, but it's always pretty awesome. It's just that sometimes the awesome sort of looks like an unbelievable disaster.

I watched this video on YouTube today and I laughed so hard I was crying. Why? Because quite honestly, I think he sums up life as a parent much better than I ever could.

Do you see what I see?

I ran into a charming ( I use that term very lightly in this case) gentlemen tonight when I took my girls to play on the McDonald's Play Place . As I was standing in line to grab a snack, I could hear quite a few shrieks from the play area. No big deal, it's a playground for kids. The guy in front of me huffed and puffed every time a particularly loud shriek rang out. My first thought was that he must not have kids.

And then my four-year-old came prancing out with her pants half down on her way to the bathroom. Now, I realize this isn't sanitary, appetizing or particularly appropriate behavior. Believe me I know. She knows. The whole family knows. Once when she was three, she even disappeared on me in the library only to show back up a few minutes later pants completely around her ankles. I was so proud that she went to the bathroom on her own that I sucked up the embarrassment. But now, she's almost five so really she needs to stop dropping trou all the time.

I leaned over and firmly told her to keep her pants up, she's a big girl and she needed to keep her pants up on her way to the bathroom. The guy in front of me (Sir. Moans and Groans), snickered and then commented that his kids used to do that (my bad for my initial mis-judgement.) I commented that it was something we were working on, to which he replied: "Yeah. I've learned that most of the faults kids have are a result of their parents."

I was little taken aback. I mean, do I honestly look like the kind of girl who drops her drawers in the middle of a restaurant as I head to the bathroom? I should hope not. And then I thought, that was a little cynical... wasn't it? But as I pondered his seemingly insulting comment, I realized he had a point, except I'm not sure if it's the one he was trying to make.

I think I apologize for my kids too much. I mean, they are kids after all. Am I shoving "faults" or bad behaviors on their head simply because I see what they are doing as unacceptable from an adult's perspective. Obviously, I don't condone seriously inappropriate behavior and I do believe children should be taught manners and how to behave.

But, how often are we guilty of quickly getting out kids to button up and shut up because we worry what other people think? Kids will do silly things, things that may embarrass us but otherwise cause no harm. I think for me, the lesson was do I need to be correcting their behavior all the time? No. If they are a little loud in the library I don't need to walk behind them hissing for silence. Kids are kids. They are allowed to be a little loud, a little messy and a lot of fun.

I want my kids to grow up to be normal, fully-clothed adults. But I don't want them to grow up to be uptight and overly concerned about pleasing everyone around them. Maybe, the faults in my kids aren't really faults, just a result of blind parenting.

My Little Drama Queen

I am directionally impaired. To utilize an old cliche: I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag. Seriously, I still get lost at church and I'm there every week. (To be fair, the building is a ridiculous maze of hallways). So driving new places, especially at night, makes me a little tense. Last night my daughter had a skating party at a fun center I'd never been to before. Add in the fact that it was at 5:30 p.m. and I knew the area it was in well enough to know that traffic was going to be insane, and you have a recipe for an Angela Surprise.

The night started out so well. We got on the road, I was getting through the traffic with only a few honks and muttered words under my breath. And then, I realized I was lost. I thought I was going the right way, so I was focusing on not dying in the mad rush of traffic and not paying attention to the street signs. Turns out, I had gone just a few blocks too far, not a big deal, but traffic was nuts and I was stressed. So I turned quickly, thinking I would be able to find a street that cut off and take me where I needed to go with little fuss. Not so. I drove for another 15 minutes before I finally pulled over and yanked out my GPS. Mind you, I had already been hollering at anyone that cut me off or tried to talk to me for the last 10. My poor kids.

In total the trip took about an hour, when it should have taken 25 minutes. And.... the mood was set. The kids had a good time skating and climbing through a gargantuan play area. I had a good time averting a migraine, sneaking in a game of skee ball and people watching. When it was time to go, it got ugly. "Wait," you say. "But, the trip there was ugly, surely going home couldn't have been worse." But, you'd be wrong.

I am pretty aware that my oldest is a little bit of a drama queen. She's one of the sweetest kids and really well behaved....except sometimes she's not. I'm grown up enough to admit that while I think my kids are the most amazing kids on the planet, they have their faults. And I'm also willing to admit they get a few of those faults from yours truly.

After letting her skate around "three" more times (read about 12 more times) I finally got her shoes on. She suddenly decided she wanted to jump on one of the bouncy houses "just once." I firmly replied that we needed to get home so she could finish her homework and go to bed. Of course she kept arguing, this wouldn't be a good story if she didn't. She tried to make a run for it after I refused to pay $3 for her to jump just one time. Fortunately the guy guarding the entrance was the size of a linebacker and she decided not to try and swindle her way past him.

The entire time we walked out she kept muttering the traditional "You don't love me. This isn't fair. But my friends..." I've heard (and used) those complaints enough to just tune them out. By the time we got to the car she wasn't speaking to me. (To be quite frank and probably a horrible mother... I was a little relieved. Tuning out the complaints was getting a little wearing and I didn't want to get mad at the kids after I'd let out my lost-driver induced hail of crankiness earlier).

As we drove I turned the radio up to relieve a little stress and an oldie, but goodie came on.  Green Day's Time of Your Life. I crooned along with it and as the last words faded out (I hope you had the time of liiiiife...) I heard my drama queen in the back mutter, "Well, I didn't."

Fortunately, I'm pretty good at making me kids not hate me any longer than necessary and she even told her dad how fun it was when we got home, completely editing out the ugly parts. The way I figure it, when you cut out the ugly part of most days it's a lot easier to see how good it really was, because the ugly parts are only parts and usually not very big ones at that.

What's the Difference?

I was watching Biggest Loser the other night, and I thought, what do they have that I don't? How are some of these contestants able to lose over 100 pounds and keep it off? As my personal trainer was kind enough to point out, they have: 8 hours a day of pure exercise, a strictly monitored diet, no distractions and little else to do but work.

Working out for 8 hours is not only impossible for most people, it isn't particularly desirable either. Now, offer me $100,000 and I may sing a different tune. The day after my training sessions I normally wake up sore. Really sore. I work out with my trainer for 30 minutes and then add another 30 minutes of cardio. I cannot even begin to comprehend how sore I would be if I had to do it for even four hours a day. I guarantee I would not be able to roll off of my bed, much less walk myself back to the gym and hop on the elliptical again.

My husband and I are both trying to lose weight, so we've come up with this plan to do a Biggest Loser challenge together. The contest is going to run for about 12 weeks, enough time to lose a pretty good amount of weight and roughly enough time to get our tax returns back (we file pretty early). Hello cash prize.

We are not well off by any means, so the promise of a $500 prize for the biggest weight loss in 12 weeks is sufficient motivation for me to get up and get moving. I have already informed my trainer of this challenge and he's more than willing to hop on board and help me win.

I'm only going to have an hour a day to work out. I have a lot going on. But, I really am going to have to think a lot more about what I am putting in my mouth. I've already learned a lot but I'm sure I'll learn a lot more. It's also quite possible I will be writing some of my posts in a pasta/bread-free haze so you may have to ignore any lunatic rantings result.

I feel like I've been down this road a dozen times. I start and I don't finish. But as my girls get older I see them forming similar eating and behavioral habits and I really want to put a stop to it while they are still young enough to forget the torture of sugar withdraw.

Every week my husband and I will have a different challenge and we'll need to journal about our journey in some way. Welcome to my journal. I need your help too! If you have any motivational stories, tips and recipes, please share them!

Let your Conscience be your Guide

Today I dropped my youngest off at preschool. As I left, I had this plunging feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's a feeling with which I am very familiar. Guilt. As I was driving home to work, I had the thought that of all the human emotions, I think I can honestly say I predominantly feel guilt. Not happiness or sadness or anger.

I feel guilty when I have to work and my kids want my attention. I feel guilty when I'm playing with my kids and not getting more work done to help pay our bills. I feel guilty that I am struggling so much to lose the weight that I know needs to get gone. And I feel even worse that my kids are picking up my eating habits. Much to my chagrin I feel guilty when I drop them at the gym playroom so I can work out with my trainer. Then I spend the first half hour after they go to bed feeling like I didn't do enough.

I like to think that perhaps this guilt is just a normal part of being a mom. That maybe I'm just one a regular mom trying her darndest to make her family function, and then feeling responsible when life isn't perfect.

I read an article in Glamour magazine today about recovering from a breakup. I thought it was interesting because the author talked about how we have to really accept the loss. We have to embrace the heartache and move on. I think to some extent, guilt is the same way. If we hold on to needless guilt it keeps us from moving on.

For the longest time if someone asked me what I felt the most guilty about, I would share this story: When I was in ninth grade (believe me, it's long enough ago to make the fact that I still felt guilty about this pretty darn ridiculous) I was asked to a dance by a boy I really liked. Really really liked.We'll call him Bob. So of course I told him yes. However, my family had a rule: no dating until 16. And I wasn't 16.

I was too afraid to tell Bob that I couldn't come, and too afraid to even ask my if I could go. The whole night of the dance I stared at the clock and my stomach stayed clenched in knots the entire time. The next day I tried to talk to Bob but he just ignored me. I later found out he stood around waiting for me most of the night. Bah. Even as I write this I get a little clench in my stomach.

Fast forward to last year and I happened to find Bob on Facebook (oh wonder of technology). I still felt so guilty that I sent him a note of apology for an event that happened 15 years previous. Not surprisingly, I didn't get a response. But, much to my surprise, I did feel better.

I think as moms there are things that we should feel guilty about. Guilt motivates us to make better choices and to focus more on the important things. But feeling guilty when we do things that are necessary, especially when we really are doing our best, is pretty silly.

When we learn to embrace the guilt, look at it and decide whether it is important enough to dwell on or not, we will learn to find more balance in our lives and spend less time wasting away on pointless guilt and more time focusing on changing the things that need fixing.

That being said I'm off to spend time with my family as my own personal Jiminy Cricket is telling me to lay off the blogging and read my kids a story.

Thanks Giving Month

November is a unique month for my family. First: November is Epilepsy Awareness month. My youngest daughter was diagnosed with myoclonic seizures at 18 months. They are more commonly known as absence seizures. Fortunately they aren't nearly as severe as a grand mal seizure, but they have impacted her life and ours as well.

About a year ago this same little girl, fell out of our third floor apartment window. She was transported to the ER and spent three days in the hospital. By a miracle she was largely uninjured. She suffered a minor concussion, bruised lung and minor cracks in her spine. She has since fully recovered and hasn't had a seizure since the accident.

November is also the month of Thanksgiving. To me it feels especially relevant to our little family of four. We have so much to be grateful for this year. Despite a recent job loss, financial struggles, a cancelled vacation, the death of a family member and a seriously annoying case of bed bugs (brought in through a brand new mattress we bought), it's been a tough one. But, it's been a good year too.

We have so much. When I look at others who are not surrounded by helpful loving people, friends who care and family who offer what support they can, I realize that despite our trials we truly have been blessed. So I dedicate this November to my little angel. I truly am grateful for an entire month I get to count my blessings!!

What is one thing you are thankful for this year?

Love will Keep us Together

As I am sitting here writing this, my oldest is next to me writing sentences. "Sneaking is the same as lying." It's a flashback to childhood when I would have to write "I will not tell a lie" 100 times. I've only assigned her 10, and she's freaking out.

I have a theory that we have beautiful, amazing moments as parents. Those moments take our breath away and make the rest of the time completely worth it. Some of those beautiful moments become so etched in our memory they make it easier to forget the times in between. This moment, this isn't one of them.

Em has always been pretty well-behaved. She does well in school and her teachers tell me how sweet she is. She's coming out of her shell and loves making friends. And for the last 6 1/2 years she's been a very well behaved child. Cue first grade, and my rose colored glasses have been shattered into oblivion.

Suddenly everything I do as a mom isn't good enough. I'm "not fair, not fun, boring, mean, too bossy... blah blah " It's exhausting being such a horrible parent.

I hate discipline. It's my least favorite part of parenting. I think that we should all be happy and love each other all of the time. But we're human and it just doesn't happen. Instead there seem to be endless bickering arguments over really stupid stuff.

Today, the argument turned into me ignoring everything that came out of her mouth for fear I'd really lose my temper. We don't call each other names at home. We use silly names and kind names, but it's a rule that we never tell anyone they are stupid or ugly or dumb or anything of the sort. I like to think that if I've taught my kids anything, it's that being kind is the best way to solve problems.

So when Emmy started spewing insult after insult at me, I knew she learned it from her friends. And while she's really not very good at insulting me (she kept telling me I was a boy... her tone implied and insult, and I suppose I can see her logic... (0= ) the intention was still the same. That intention to hurt me with insults was both frustrating and, well, hurtful.

I already know tonight is going to be entertaining. Roy works nights and we usually pick a movie to watch together, since they don't have school. Not tonight. Tonight it's sentences, cleaning their room, a bath and straight to bed.

Part of me fears that this lesson will go unlearned. That despite how not-fun tonight is, she won't remember the lesson and we'll have this fight all over again. The same fear I had last time and the time before...

As I look over at her, I see her sneaking one last sentence onto her pencil-filled page: "Mom I'm Sory," (spelling error intentional). Maybe, maybe this moment will turn into one of the good ones.

Goodbye 20's, Hello 30's

In t-minus 36 hours, I’ll be 30 years old. Yikes! I’m leaving my 20s behind and part of me feels like I’m losing a good friend: my youth. By no means is 30 old but it feels very grownup to me and despite the fact that I’m married and have two kids, being even more grownup seems scary. I’m no longer a young adult. I’m officially, just an adult.

Gone are the days of being carded at the store when you buy cold medicine. Hello days of being addressed as ma’am.  I now understand why my mom detested being called ma’am; it feels so…so like my mom!

My 20s have arguably been the best 10 years of my life. I’ve accomplished quite a lot in the last decade including:

Visiting the ocean for the first time

Finding myself

Visiting New York City for the first time

Graduating college

Getting my driver’s license (yes in that order too…)

Getting married

Getting hired for my first REAL job

Having two babies

Buying my first car

Writing a novel

Becoming an aunt several times over

Going to Disneyland for the first time

Stuck out on my own as a freelance writer

Taken my oldest to her first and last days of kindergarten

I also accomplished a few not so good things including quite a bit of extra baggage that I’m trying to get rid of! As much as I’m terrified to turn 30 and as anticlimactic as it will probably be, I’m looking forward to getting a little bit wiser. Learning to accept things that are and forgetting about the things I cannot control.

I may not always make the right choices, sometimes I might worry a little too much about fitting into a mold and I may not always be cheery cherry. I’m pretty determined to make my 30s much more satisfying.

I won’t lie. It’s possible some tears will be shed and I’ve been a regular grouch over the past few days. Getting older scares me, mostly because I wonder if I haven’t done everything I could. It means I have less time to accomplish what I want to. And it’s getting harder to change. But it doesn’t mean I can’t.

As scared as I am, I had a minor glimpse of the possibilities. I can change. And while my kids are continuing to get bigger and it makes me sad, I also see the joy in their learning. I see how much fun we can and will keep having together.

As Roy and I get a little older and our bodies get a little slower, we find joy watching our kids hang from monkey bars like their arms are made of steel, flip through the grass like they are indestructible and dash about with the boundless energy of kids. There are days I’d like to feel that young again, that energized, that free. But, it’s at least as sweet watching my girls enjoy it.

Here’s to the next ten years. And the development of tropical storm Angela, due to erupt about 10 years from today when 40 looms over my head!

The Gift of Forgiveness

To say that the last few weeks have been stressful would be an understatement. Between moving (packing, cleaning, unpacking and paying extra rent), a mysterious allergic reaction that's had me on four different medications and in the ER, and the every day stresses it's been a little overwhelming.

I've been more temperamental and a lot less patient with my children. The other night I lost it. My youngest was refusing to go to sleep.She's a very playful kid and loves to laugh and play and run around. So when she sneaks out of bed, she thinks us chasing her down is a game. To be fair, when she points at me with her tiny finger and argues "but... but... but... but mom", it's hard not to laugh, which only encourages her.

In any case, I was not having it this night. I had a lot of work to catch up on and quite honestly I needed some serious alone time. So I got mad. I snapped at my oldest, who was already in bed and laying there like a perfect little angel (believe me this has been 6 years in the making) and she started to cry. She'd called my name to remind me- for the 900th time- to check on her, something I always do, but she likes to remind me anyway because she thinks it's funny. But apparently, I didn't that night.

I found myself back in their room a few minutes later cuddling in be
d- mostly out of desperation so they would go to sleep, it was a school night after all. I whispered an apology for being so grumpy. My oldest curled up behind me and whispered back, "I forgive you for yelling at me. I forgive you for everything you do to make me sad."

I was a little alarmed. I'm grateful she's willing to forgive me, but do I do that much that makes her sad? Her unabashed forgiveness for everything I've ever done wrong was surprisingly comforting. As a mom, wife, freelance writer, friend, sister and person, I get a little worn out. I feel guilty all the time and the stress of everything not being perfect all the time takes it's toll.

I've gone to bed, more often than I care to admit, tearful that I'm ruining my children and they'll never forgive me for being so distracted. But, that open and innocent love of a child really opened my eyes. Not only am I vowing to do less things to make her sad, I'm vowing to be more forgiving of myself and of others. It's OK if my kids aren't perfect in the grocery store all the time (hem hem, cranky lady who felt it was her job to parent my children), and it's OK if my dishes aren't done. It's even OK if we have cereal for dinner twice this week.

I want my kids to remember me having fun and laughing with them. Are they going to remember that I got all of my work done in a timely manner? Nope. Do I want them to remember that? Nope. What I want them to remember is that life isn't black and white. Things will rarely be smooth sailing and it's OK to mess up. It's OK to take time to laugh, smile, play and cuddle. It's OK to make mistakes. It's OK to ask forgiveness and it's more than OK to offer it freely.

Sunday Spiritual: I saw the sign

At church today we talked about whether seeing miracles or signs from heaven could create faith. I shared the thought that I didn't think signs or miracles alone were enough to develop faith. For sure, they can jump start your journey to true faith but people who base their belief or faith in God only on signs from heaven aren't really exercising faith are they?

My experience has been that it's when I exercise faith that I see the signs and miracles, not the other way around. I can sit here and pray all day that I can have a healthier body and I can truly believe it's going to happen, but if I don't ACT on faith and work towards helping that goal happen, it's never going to happen.

If I woke up full of energy tomorrow morning, with a healthier heart and more stamina would I even notice? Probably not as much as I'll notice when I put the work in, and act on faith that eating healthy and working out will help me get to that same point. And if I did notice, a few months down the road would I believe it really happened or would I justify that I must never have been as out of shape as I thought anyway?

I think the Lord blesses us all the time. He gives us signs and answers and our own personal miracles every single day. But most people are too wrapped up looking for the big signs that they fail to notice what they are already being given. So, no  I don't think seeing signs from heaven develops faith. I think that when we develop the right level of faith we'll see signs and miracles because we'll be able to recognize them for what they are.

What do you think?

Saturday Special: Sacrifice

Anyone who knows me really well, knows I'm pretty much obsessed with Disneyland. It's almost embarrassing to admit how many Disney blogs I follow. We took our first trip to Disneyland last fall and I've been obsessed with going back since. In fact, this time last year we were in the middle of our vacation and it makes me a little more than sad not to be there again right now.

All year long I have been preparing and planning and trying to find ways to get back again. It was the most fun we've had as a family and it was a fantastic week away from the stresses of the every day life. It was amazing having that time to just focus on us. My kids have even caught onto the Disney bug and watch the vacation DVD at least once a week, though with school in session it's waned down quite a bit. (My three year old even recognizes the theme song from the DVD when it comes on the radio... eek.)

I've looked at staying off site (at a non Disney hotel), flying, driving, taking a train, taking a bus and packing all of our food in a cooler to save money. For a while I actually thought we'd make it. When I realized September/October wasn't going to fly, I settled on March. Unfortunately, mostly because we're completely irresponsible and can't seem to control our spending, March doesn't look like an option either.

This factor, combined with us trying to decide if we want to have another child, has put a serious crinkle in my Disneyland vacation plans. My husband and I have been talking a lot about putting all of our knowledge into action. We have gathered a lot of information about budgeting, saving, paying off bills etc. And yet we haven't learned one important factor: sacrifice.

Instead of sacrificing the dinners out, the extra trips to the grocery store to pick up snacks we didn't need and unnecessary trips to the movie theater, we now have to sacrifice our Disney Vacation. As much as I didn't want to sacrifice all of the small things, after all what kind of fun can you have it you can't even stop at a restaurant for lunch, I realize I'd rather have sacrificed a few more of those dinners out than my trip to Disneyland.

Lesson learned. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices and do things we don't want to do in order to get what we know we deserve or want. Over the last two months we've been hitting the gym pretty hard-core. It's hard work but we know the sacrifice will be worth it in the long run. The results have been slow but this, more than anything, has reinforced the feeling that I need to make more sacrifices.

I guess the most important thing I have been realizing is that we already know what life is like when we don't make sacrifices and we don't choose to wait for things we want. We know what the result is and we don't like it. Maybe it's time to try something new and see if we like those results better.

Albert Einstein (or perhaps Benjamin Franklin, it's debatable as to the original source) once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. How true is that? Perhaps we've not been lazy all this time, simply insane. Trapped in a delusion of comfort that isn't really comfort, only self-gratification.

Financial Freedom

If there is one thing I know all too much about, it's the crushing power of debt. My husband and I started our marriage with a little student debt, which continued to grow through the first few years of marriage. We managed to add a significant amount of consumer debt on top of it.

Every time we've managed to make a dent, we fall back into old habits. It's not a pretty sight and it's a very frustrating situation that we've put ourselves in. But, through several roads we've taken, we've learned a few things about debt that I believe are vital to controlling it.

Cut up your credit cards: Don't just freeze them. We tried that, but it's all too easy to defrost that hunk of ice when you want to spend money you don't have. Chop them up and get rid of them forever. If you can't stop spending money on the cards, give them the old boot.

Yes, you need a credit card to rent a car (you can use a debit card but it's a huge hassle) or to purchase plane tickets. However, if you have as much debt as I think you do, you shouldn't be planning very many trips in the first place. If you must, keep ONE card for emergencies only and put it somewhere that is not easily accessible.

Stop spending: Duh, right? Really though, stop spending on credit. Quit buying things with money you don't have. If you can't afford it, you don't get it. The end.

Debt stack: This is possibly the MOST important thing I can ever teach you about getting out of debt. This is a 100 percent guaranteed way to pay off debt quicker.

The trick works this way: Lets pretend you have three credit cards you need to pay off. Credit Card A has a balance of $2000, with a minimum payment of $45 a month and a 25 percent interest rate. Credit Card B has a balance of $3,000 with a minimum payment of $65 and an interest rate of 22 percent. Credit card three has a balance of $5,000 with a minimum payment of $100 and an interest rate of 19.5 percent.

You choose one card (typically the card with either the lowest debt of the highest interest rate) and you pay an extra amount per month. Let says you can afford an additional $50 on top of the minimum payment. So, instead of paying $45 a month on credit card A you start paying $95 (minimum payment plus extra $50). You continue making minimum payments on the other two cards and sack any extra money you have towards paying off card A.

After you have paid off this first card you'll have an extra $95 a month free. Instead of using this extra cash to spend on things add it to the amount you are paying on credit card B. So instead of paying $65 you are paying $150 per month (minimum payment plus what you were already paying to the other credit card you just paid off.)

When you are finished with credit card B you'll now have $250 per month you can dedicate to paying off your last card (minimum payment for credit card B plus what you were paying for the previously paid off cards.)

You'll save months, if not years, plus thousands of dollars in interest by approaching debt this way. It will require sacrifice and discipline but it will work. You'll save money and get your debt paid off much quicker than just paying minimum payments on each card.