My journey as a writer

As I sit in front of my computer, I’m trying to come up with ideas for a few pieces I am writing on rustic furniture. If you look around my apartment, my furniture is definitely not considered rustic. Used and worn, yes. Rustic—no. 

There would have been a time when I thought that writing three articles on rustic furniture would be beyond my skill level. I would have thought I wasn't smart enough or versed enough on the subject to create anything worth reading.

That was then….

When I started college, I was 17. I knew I loved to write and I loved to read so I took a creative writing class my freshman year and was slightly dismayed when my writing wasn't the best in the class. In fact, I wasn't even close.

I did however find a creative writing club through that class. I met with five other students and shared things we’d written. That writing club, the New Word Order (weren't we creative?!), was the first place I felt comfortable enough to share my writing with anyone. I finally felt like I fit in. Every week, rain or shine, I was there. Even if I was only one of three to show up. I never felt belittled. It was the beginning of me learning to accept my voice.

During that time I was majoring in English-Literature. I thoroughly enjoyed my classes. I loved reading the stories. But I hated interpreting and analyzing the works to death. I fully understand the importance of learning from other writers, but ripping stories to shreds took away the magic for me, and it wasn't something I felt passionate about. I realized I was stifling my voice. Instead of studying other writers and teaching people what other writers had to say, I wanted my voice to be heard.

As I transitioned from an English-Lit major to a journalism major, I started to feel like I’d found my place, but I was scared. I know now that a little fear is good. It pushes you to be better, and that’s what journalism did for me. Journalism really shoved me out of my comfort zone. I was forced to use my creativity by following strict rules. As a journalist you have to present facts, not opinion. There are grammatical and structure rules and you have to be willing to edit, rewrite and really dig in.

I did fine in my classes. I worked my way up to an editor on the college newspaper (a job I still remember with fondness) but I was never the teacher’s pet. I wasn't the star writer of the class and my work was rarely, if ever, picked to showcase in class. At the time I was frustrated. Why couldn't everyone like my work?

My first job after college was at the Standard Journal, a small paper in Rexburg, Idaho. If deciding to major in journalism was scary, starting my first day on the job was terrifying. I can still remember turning in my first article like it happened yesterday.

My editor, Joyce, called me to her desk and had me watch her as she fixed every single thing I’d done wrong. I was horrified. I was certain I had written a much better article than that. I went back to my desk in tears, certain I was a hack.

Day after day, article after article, she called me to her desk and showed me everything that needed to be edited. At first, I thought she was torturing me. I kept waiting to get fired. If I kept making so many mistakes, how could I ever be good writer?  Eventually, the number of edits my work needed decreased.  And then one day when she called my name, it was to tell me that I had written an excellent piece and that my article would kick off a series we were running.

This experience had a bigger impact on me than anything else I've ever done. I truly credit my first editor with any success I've had since. Once I really learned to follow the rules, I could play with them. I could start letting my voice be heard, and people would hear it.

Eventually I got married, had our first daughter and stopped working at that newspaper, but I continued to write. I filled notebooks and jump drives with articles, book ideas and stories. When I finally ventured into freelance work, I was terrified, once again, that I wouldn't be as good as I thought I was. And I’m probably not.

But I am good. It took me a long time to accept that I am a good writer.

It’s taken me even longer to feel comfortable saying that I’m a good writer. I still get rejected. I have clients who don’t like the way I write something and I get an ego slap-down, when I have things sent back to edit. But, I've come to realize that I’m human and sometimes my writing is going to stink. And I've also grown comfortable with the idea that not everyone is going to like my writing style. Heck, I don’t even like my writing sometimes.

When I start having doubts about the choices I've made, about my decision to keep pursuing my writing even when I didn't think anyone else cared or noticed, I stop. I look back at the freshman me, naive and unmolded, and I realize that this is what I am supposed to do. I may have been just a wanna-be-writer when I started college but now when anyone asks what I do, I say “I’m a writer,” and I am.

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.

Telling Nasty Nelly to Shove Off...

http://www.dearlydepartedtours.com/

I am starting week three of T25. If you haven't heard of it yet, it's a Beachbody workout program that takes 25 minutes (really 28 with the cool down). It's not very long but it's also not very easy. And as a woman who has a lot of weight to lose it's almost torture. Fortunately, I have a good husband who sweats his duff off alongside me and kind neighbors who endure a half hour of stampeding overhead.

It's hard. It's short but it's hard. So I should be proud that I've managed to stick it out for two full weeks and I have enough motivation left to keep going into week three. I should be happy that I've lost almost four pounds in the last two weeks without starving myself.

I've made small changes (like actually eating breakfast) and opting for healthier dinners. It really hasn't been nearly has painful as I thought it would be. But instead of being excited after I got through my workout today, I was bummed. I just kept thinking, 'What if I'm not doing enough?" "I'm not working hard enough."

It's like this constant battle in my head. I know I'm making good changes and I know I didn't get fat overnight so I'm not going to get healthy overnight either. I know there are more things I can do to be even healthier, and I am working on it. But, it's still so easy to belittle myself and my efforts. It's really hard to keep that Nasty Nelly voice out of my head.

Maybe I'm not perfect yet but I'm trying. I feel like part of the reason I (and maybe other women too) keep losing this weight battle is because we are setting our expectations too high and we don't give ourselves enough credit for what we can do. It's just so much easier to berate ourselves for not being good enough than to actually be proud of ourselves for doing something so seemingly small.

My mom made a comment about this earlier that stuck with me, she said that our brain learns habits. It retains things we repeat (like tying our shoes and feeding ourselves). When we repeat an action often enough it becomes lodged in our brain. These repetitive processes can actually change our brain. So if I've been telling myself I'm not good enough or not doing enough often enough (and I can assure you I have), my brain actually thinks it's true. I don't know if I can ever fully reverse the damage of lousy self-esteem, but I'm pretty sure I can repair the damage.

I'm making a goal to replace all of my negative thoughts with a positive one. So when I think, "Well, that was a great 25 minute workout, but you should probably be doing something more," I'll replace it with "I got through that 25 minute workout and I am still standing. Hot damn."

Do you have any tricks to staying positive?

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?

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)

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.

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.

Small Steps

I have been working with a personal trainer for a few weeks and going to the gym four to five times per week for at least five weeks. It's been a lot of hard work.

I haven't lost as much weight as I thought I would, but I have accomplished a lot of  "little victories."

-I can fit into a pair of skinnier pants without having to lie down to zip them up!
-I raced my daughter to the car and wasn't out of breath
-I climbed a pretty big hill and wasn't out of breath
-The basket that we buy from a local Co-op was much easier to carry this week than in the past.

They are small achievements but they make me excited. I can see that I'm making progress. Now if I can just getting a decent eating schedule...

My Search for Happiness

I have recently discovered that getting older stops being exciting, awesome, fun or even pleasant around the time you are about to turn 29. I have been struggling with this birthday more so than any others for some reason. Part of me is worried that my 30s can't possibly be better than my 20s and I'm not really ready to let go. I have had a rather eventful last 10 years.

I have:

-Gone to New York City for the first time
-Seen my first Broadway play
-Taken my first summer vacation with college friends to California
-Seen the ocean for the first time
-Fallen in love
-Had my heart broken
-Learned to Swing Dance
-Graduated from college
-Gotten my drivers license (and yes, in that order)
-Gotten married
-Seen Josh Turner in concert (this totally deserves to make the list of awesomeness)
-Became a mommy of two girls
-Became an aunt five times
-Finished writing my novel
-Spent more than 100 dollars on a dinner
-Went to Disneyland for the first time
-Hugged Mickey Mouse and Captain Hook
-Eaten sushi, fish eggs (ick), sardines (double ick)and octopus
-Sat on the hood of my car and watched the fireworks with my four-year old
-Spent countless hours cuddling with my babies
-Enjoyed being married to my best friend

 I guess my biggest worry about leaving my 20s behind is that I haven't done enough. Have I really lived? Did I make the most of my 20s that I could have? I don't want to turn 30 feeling like I haven't lived enough. I certainly don't want to turn 30 as an overweight, unpublished crab.

As I look back over the last few years I have regrets and some of them scare me. Have I tried hard enough to be better? Have I spent enough time with my kids and my husband? Have I really focused on the most important things and why the heck have I not turned my book into a publisher? I have always been painfully aware that time marches on and that it can't be turned backwards.

As I watch my girls getting bigger every day my heart breaks a little more. My Em starts kindergarten and I still find it hard to believe that it was over five years ago that I held her for the first time. My baby is 3 and she's is chasing after her sister like she's playing catch-up for the two years Em had ahead of her. Watching they grow up makes the passage of time sweet and bitter. I can see time passing more easily as I look into their faces and I wonder if I am showing they how to really live. I don't think I am.

The other day I was sitting at the gas station when I saw a car full of teenagers pull in to fill up their tank. They were young, fresh on summer break and care free. As I watched them flitting around without a care in the world I felt more than a twinge of envy. I flashed back to that feeling and realized I never took advantage of it. I feel like I have been living my life always looking forward to WHEN. Now, I don't want to look forward to any more when's because they include me getting older, my kids growing up and leaving the home, losing my parents, and not recognizing anything on the radio as resembling anything close to music. I have been living for when for far too long.

I think that's what makes me sad... (sigh... drum roll... dramatic music) I guess there is where my lesson comes in. I have been thinking about what I want to do with the next year. It is, after all, my last year as a young adult.

So my goal this year is to stop living for when and start living for now. Instead of focusing on "when we have more money," "when I lose weight", or "when we move into a house" I am going to start focusing on today. I want to remember this year as the best year of my 20s, not the worst year because I was so worried about turning 30. I am going to start accepting that all I really have is today.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring and I don't know who will still be here in the morning but I know that I have now to be happy. I can't keep waiting for happiness to happen to me. So here's to 29 years and one excellent adventure! I hope you'll stick around with me and share in my joy of living for today. Feel free to share ideas of making the most of today! Love-