Unexpected Hope from the Littlest Lovebug

We are having unexpected January temperatures in the beginning of December and my mood is that much poorer for it. We have barely made it above freezing for the past 10 days and we are expected to hit a balmy 5 degrees on Sunday. I could feel myself slipping when I started replacing my water for hot cocoa and my daily workout with doomscrolling in my recliner. I hung on to happy-go-lucky D!  with my fingernails, as if I were scratching out the demons’ eyes who were ready to overtake me with one skipped breath, one exaggerated sigh too many.  And then like they did when they announced their presence on the ultrasound 17 years ago, Ez gave me hope.

Our car rides can range from dead silence, as they lose themselves in their headphones and Spotify, to full on philosophical discussions that are only halted by my pulling into the driveway. The other day, they were feeling philosophical. 

“If you were a mouse and you could only eat three cheeses for the rest of your life (keeping in mind a mouse’s life is only 4-5 years) what three cheeses would you choose?” It took me a minute, but I finally chose Camembert, honey goat Gouda, and Muenster for everyday snacking. They responded with Colby jack for every day snacking, pepper jack for when they were feeling spicy, and Bella vitano for the fancier times. We agreed that I have a wider breadth of cheese knowledge than they do, but they classed it up with the Bella vitano choice. 

We then talked about making positive changes in our lives, with Ez taking steps to get healthier through exercise and more water, fruits, and veggies. Once they started talking they opened up about how they are feeling better, losing weight, and feeling the mental benefits of regular exercise. I knew they were right and that’s half the reason I started to tumble into the weeds of depression that ensnare me in winter. I eat just fine, with The Mayor carefully curating a meal plan that is both healthy and delicious. But exercise is my bugaboo. I had finally found something that seemed to work for me, lifting weights and doing my walking and step ups every other day through autumn, but since The Mayor quit his job before Thanksgiving, I bumped and rolled right off that wagon and into the mud of “I just don’t feel like it.” 

But something about seeing Ez get excited about their walks around the lake and packing their lunch for work instead of the regular Crunch Wrap Supreme on the way home gave me the spark of hope that I needed. I made it a point that afternoon to do my step ups and lift my weights that had been untouched for 10 days. Feeling the natural high of my blood pumping through my arteries and my synapses firing on all cylinders, I vowed to get some form of exercise every day, even if it’s a simple walk around Meijer or Fresh Market. It is so easy for me to slowly descend into slothfulness and inactivity with my commute literally being 22 steps from the bedroom to the recliner, but I legitimately feel better if I give myself that endorphin rush. 

From the moment I knew they were growing inside my belly, Ez has been a source of hope for me. I remember half-joking during my baby shower that I hoped they weren’t a dud, since I had already been blessed with two kiddos who were perfect in their own unique snowflake kind of way. Ez has been anything but a dud. They continue to inspire me with their words and art, and they give me hope that I can pull myself up when I see them making positive choices that will affect their future. I don’t think there is anything more you can ask from a 17 year old on the cusp of adulthood.

I love you all, some more than others.💜🌻

A Present to My Future Self

I am a procrastinator at my very basic core. My friends can attest that I spent my college years doing everything last minute. I even wrote the speech I gave at graduation 2 hours before I was to deliver it, nearly giving my roommate, Karri, a coronary in the meantime. Somehow I never had any natural consequences because it always amazingly got done. 

This habit followed me into adulthood, through my marriage, divorce, raising kids, and finally meeting The Mayor. My procrastination techniques did not sit well with him, as The Mayor lives by a “future you will thank you” philosophy. He is the first to get the worst chores out of the way, rarely putting off til tomorrow what can be done this instant.

Now, although we had vastly different philosophies, he never lectured me to be more responsible. Instead he led by example. It started benignly with Christmas shopping. I grew up shopping and wrapping up until the 24th. The Mayor’s family celebrates on Christmas Eve, so we had to start earlier. Over the years, I have morphed into the one buying gifts months in advance and socking them away. This allows me to spread out the damage and shop the sales. Plus the kids always end up getting more on Christmas morning in the long run. I also never have to worry about stores running out of what I want and can enjoy the holiday season relatively stress free.

The Mayor has infected me with this philosophy in other areas of my life as well. Putting off a phone call? He’ll mute the Spotify and say “get it over with then it won’t be hanging over your head.” And he is always right. The temporary pain is minor compared to the stress of dragging something out.

Yesterday when Ez got into the car, they told me how they wished they weren’t such a procrastinator, as they stayed up past 10 the previous night to finish a presentation. I told them they come by it naturally, but they also have no natural repercussions, because they aced their presentation and the only downside to doing it so late was they were tired and grumpy during school. A boba tea and lunch at Bibibop after school straightened that attitude right up, and I gave them an example of how The Mayor’s philosophy has helped me and might help them.

I told them that earlier that day I was feeling puny and I didn’t feel like working out even though I haven’t worked out since last week. Instead of thinking of excuses I picked up my weights and told myself I was only going to do my bicep curls and then I would be done. Once I finished my reps, I thought “since I have my weights out, I might as well do my shoulder press …” which led to a couple of sets of triceps and finally abs and obliques. What started as me making deals with myself to stop sooner ended up with me saying just one more and a full workout. 

Oftentimes what I say as their mother goes in one ear and out the other, but maybe, just maybe, they will put more credence in The Mayor as the voice of reason. It’s a hard habit to break, and there is something to be said for brilliance under pressure, but I have learned that just getting started is half the battle. Once you write the first few words, make the first few presentation slides, do the first rep, you gain traction and momentum that carries through to a superior result.

 I still fight myself to not put off what should be done now, but I have trained my brain to override those foreboding thoughts by repeating, “Future you will thank you.” I know Ez has to learn that lesson themselves, but I hope as they make their way through the deadlines and projects of life, they will remember our conversation and relieve some stress by starting a bit earlier. Even if it’s one slide at a time. Future Ez will thank them, and that is one of the best presents I could give.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Here We Go Again Edition

  1. The Mayor and I gifted ourselves with the DDP Yoga workout package–we did the first instructional this morning and are pouring with sweat.
  2. DDP has so many success stories from people who have changed their lives, we can’t help but be inspired. If that 500 lb man can drop 315 lbs and touch his nose to his knees, then I can no longer use my medicines as an excuse for my extra pudge.
  3. How do you get your child to stop asking for stuff? I think R asks for stuff just to ask for it–she certainly doesn’t need it. She got a hand sanitizer and a body spray and Bath and Body Works just because her sisters had gift cards and got something for themselves–a he didn’t want to be left out. And not 10 minutes later she asked for a new book from Barnes and Noble. Sometimes it seems like it’s never enough.
  4. Following up on #3, I have grateful kids who appreciate what they have, but it doesn’t hold their attention long. Drives me crazy.
  5. J is no longer allowed to hang out with one of her best friends because her friend’s parents are afraid that J is going to turn her gay. I never thought J’s open mindedness and self-proclaimed pansexuality would be used against her in this day and age—so disappointed in other people.
  6. Ez knows the difference between figuratively and literally and how to use them correctly. I am so proud of her–and impressed with the Language Arts program at her school.
  7. The bright side of the new medicine? I’m not tired all the time and don’t require 11-12 hours of sleep at night. I can now get by on 9-10–which seems like bragging to some people, but I can still do a lot with my day if I’m up by 9:30 instead of 11:30. Hooray for small victories.

I love you all, some more than others.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Fed Up Edition

  1. Hairballs are disgusting; I am glad I have The Mayor to clean them.
  2. I must remember that losing weight is a journey not a sprint. I am 7 weeks in, 7 lbs down and already fed up with how slow this is happening.
  3. I had a mini breakdown yesterday due to lack of motivation for working out. But as a good friend says, those days are going to happen, it’s how you handle them and then crush your goals despite them.
  4. I might be looking to bootcamp again. I think I miss the camaraderie and the accountability.
  5. Any bootcamping will have to be done after June 1 because we will be moving before then.
  6. That’s right, we got approved, put an offer on a house, it was countered, then I accepted. Closing is May 16, which means I only have 36 more days of nerves to deal with.
  7. I want to go to the first day of Bunbury so bad: The Killers, The Mowgli’s, Red Wanting Blue. Now I just have to find a sitter for 12 hours.

I love you all, some more than others.

A Weighty Issue

It’s no secret to those who have grown up with me that I’ve always struggled with my weight. Both my parents have weight problems and the apple does not fall far from that tree in this house. I was never the skinny cheerleader—my soccer thighs precluded me from splits and handsprings. In my adult years, back to back to back pregnancies took their toll as three little ones entered my life. After my youngest was born, I was bound and determined to lose the baby weight once and for all and found great success with Drs. Chris and Kara Mohr with their nutrition wisdom and kickass fitness bootcamps. I shed my baby weight and then some and weighed less than I did in 8th grade. And then my divorce happened. And after that a mental breakdown. Six years later, multiple medication changes for meds that are known to pack on the pounds, and here I am 100, yes that’s triple digits, 100 pounds heavier than I weighed when I was boot camping and crossfitting and paleo-ing my life away. Continue reading