Mommy goals

To understand where someone IS, you must first understand where they have BEEN. 

Six years ago I was a single Mom. I lived off of Ramen noodles & camel lights. My idea of exercise was walking around the building at work to go smoke. It wasn't unusual for me to drink an entire bottle of Captain Morgan in one sitting & to go days without eating. I was a lost sheep when my daughter was with her Dad. I didn't know how to cope with the lonely & filled that emptiness with broken relationships & unhealthy habits. I was struggling through an awful never ending and very costly divorce & working as many hours as I possibly could. Yet sadly, it wasn't even the most unhealthy point in my life. 

3 years ago, I was pregnant with our son. I was almost 100 pounds heavier than I am now. I was depressed, nicotine withdrawing & exhausted. I was sick through most of my pregnancy & tried to just eat & sleep off the whole thing. I wanted to close my eyes, & it all be over. I remember crying when my sister Lynsey, (God love her.) told me she was throwing me this baby shower. My anxiety was through the roof regarding having to even attempt "looking cute" when I felt like a cow; let alone be the center of attention and open gifts in front of everyone. I must've seemed like an ungrateful B. But it killed me. 

2 years ago, I started a couch to 5K program very very reluctantly; ready to turn my life around. When I started, I couldn't even run 30 seconds. I was still 65 pounds heavier than I am now & even in my glory days of High School where I was a total jock & played every sport, I was never a runner. Regardless, I started moving. What's that saying about 'objects in motion stay in motion.' ? Well it's true. I had quit my job of 7 years that was giving me chair ass, where donuts and cake and bagels sat on a desk in front of me staring at me almost every day; to stay home with my babies and start a daycare. I had NO idea what I was doing. There were days I would cry when they cried. Even though I had been a mom for 6 years already, taking care of other people's kids was nothing like taking care of my own, even if I loved them. Was I out of my mind? Had I made a huge mistake? But I kept on trucking. I forced myself to work out while the kids napped. I did Jane Fonda videos, Zumba, various fitness videos on YouTube. I'd work out with kids crawling on me, or barricade myself in the kitchen- whatever I had to do to get it in. That's when I realized, hey- this is great! I can work out "on the clock!" What a blessing! Most people would love to have this opportunity! And I embraced the crap out of it. 

And here I am just a few years later. The process has been EXTREMELY slow. I've watched my friends do circles around me  on the track; & watched their weight seem to just fly off while mine didn't budge for an entire year! But I didn't give up. My goal was to be strong & fit. Never skinny. I was skinny before & not heathy at all. I knew I didn't want to be there again. There has been a LOT of fluctuating. (Actual graph of my progress.) 

A ridiculous amount of tears as I am finally to my pre-pregnancy (ever) weight but am still not able to get back into those old jeans on account of my body shape changing so much. My boobs have been through the freaking ringer with nursing 2 babies & all of this yo-yo'ing. Not to mention, it seems like just now other people have finally taken notice & are starting to say things & compliment me. I know it's not humble at all but when you work out 5 days a week, and you drop 55 pounds, you start craving those accolades! But that is not what this is about. This is about YOU. Your courage to start. You think you'll never be a runner? You think your life is destined to always be the same? Think of where your life was six years ago. Bet you had NO IDEA where you would wind up now. I hope I can encourage you on your journey by showing you what a real one looks like. It's not about losing weight quickly and getting thin. It's about being healthy. Being able to play with my kids for hours on end without being exhausted. Not feeling guilty when I indulge in some ice cream with them. Having the ability to move the furniture around without my husbands help. Not letting my body issues ruin our sex life. Confidence is the sexiest thing there is. I didn't need to change what I looked like for him. But I needed an internal makeover on how I felt about myself. When I'm headed in a health minded direction with my body...my mind, my spirit, my soul, follows suit. I have always had a super addictive personality and maybe all of this is just my new drug of choice. Well it's about time I replaced some of those negative addictions with positive ones. 

With the help of God, and a close friend who got me through the first 4- I met a goal this morning, and hit my 5th mile, all by myself. I never thought I'd see this day. And the best part is, I'm not even close to finished. And neither. Are. You. 

Mommy Blues

I want to be annoyed by our daughters cryptic Instagram titles:

"I'm hurt but I can fake a smile"

"Head up, stay strong, fake a smile, & move on."

And so on and so forth, only to be deleted and replaced 19 times in the next 24 hours. 

Yes dear you have a rough life. What was it, TOO MANY vacations this year? All out of size zero at Abercrombie? Only 78 likes on your picture?? <insert eye roll here 

And then I remember she's THIRTEEN. I wouldn't trade places with her for anything- other than to spare her the pain if I could. 13 is awful. The worst. She's headed for junior high this year.

I think back to what my Junior High years were like. 

I had started my period. FIRST. Got boobs. FIRST. ew. Along with that curves when the fashion was BODY SUITS. (So I was a cow.) I had held hands with a boy. My boyfriend of 5 minutes. An eighth grader.  (So I was a slut.) I seeked validation any & everywhere I could seek it. One minute I was the top dog & the next I'd be right back at the bottom crying my eyes out because someone said I wore too much makeup. (So I was a clown) or my clothes were too dorky. (So I was poor.) I went to church often. (So I was religious and weird.) I got good grades. (So I was a nerd.)

I do hope she can turn to her guidance counselor at school. I don't know what I would've done without mine.

Lord knows I didn't turn to my parents often and it wasn't because they weren't there for me; it was because I was a teenager and everything was "if Dad finds out, I will DIE!"

So today I have the Mommy blues. The ' I wish I could save you from yourself but I can't.' Mommy blues. The 'sometimes you have to experience the pain of life & there's not a damn thing I can do about it.' Mommy blues. The 'I've been there and it sucks ass' Mommy blues. 

I miss knowing her toughest day in life involved rocky road or Mint chocolate chip. 

I miss her wanting to spend time with me. 

I miss her innocence. 

I've got the Mommy blues. For my step daughter- who has a "real" mom who loves her very much and doesn't need need me. But she's never been anything but a daughter to me anyway. And I love her with all of my heart Mommy blues.

 

Mommy Judging

What they don't tell you about motherhood- when you're prepping to be a mom, is that you shouldn't be out buying all of the most expensive gadgetry, and picking out cute little outfits to "get ready" for the baby, you should be prepping by practicing making a bottle with one hand, sleep training yourself to survive off of only a few precious hours of sleep a night, start taking showers only every 4 days & have someone screaming their head off outside of your curtain the entire time.

Truth be told you never appreciate your own mom more than the exact moment she offers to take your kids for you so you can enjoy a weekend vacation with just grown ups. 

Last night I was walking my kids home from the park and my 8 yr old was continually pushing the stroller with my son in it into the street and letting go after being told not to several times. Eventually, I snapped. "Payten why don't you listen?!? How many times do I have to tell you?!? Do you want your brother hit by a car?!? Give me the stroller back, you're not responsible enough." And then I turned the corner & saw them. People. Grown ups. They gave me a sheepish smile as if they understood, but I saw right through it. Into their eyes. Their judging eyes. And I heard myself from a strangers point of view for the first time. Ew. How ugly. Is that who I have become? The lady that snaps at her children for trying to help? The mean lady with the condescending tone? 

And it's not just them, I do it too. I've seen the mom at the grocery that counts to 3 ten times & I think... Maybe if you would stop giving so many chances, your kid would actually listen to you. I've seen chubby kids eating candy and thought, wow you really need to pull back on the sugar lady. I've even gone as far as to discuss it, "can you even believe he's still not potty trained?" Or "Seriously she still has her binky?!" Or "can't believe they let their kid watch that movie!" The very thing that would hurt me the most; to be judged as a parent, is the thing that I myself still do.

Being a parent is the best thing ever. And the hardest thing ever. And the most exhausting thing ever. And the most rewarding thing ever. It's all of those things and so much more. Why are we so hard on ourselves and more importantly- on each other? Aren't we all just kind of winging it? Making up the rules as we go along. We should be high fiving one another every chance we get. Helping the Mom at the grocery store when clearly she's just trying to get out of there before the crap hits the fan. Hugging the mom who has been trying to potty train her kid for years now. Praying for circumstances and strength and patience. (I know, I know, you're not supposed to pray for patience, just put it on the list of things I do incorrectly.)

Let's remember we are all on this roller coaster of parenting together and be the village. I'll call you Tuesday when Asher is having a meltdown because I didn't get all of the white peel off of his orange good enough & you can bring over a bottle of rum. In return, I promise to not make a big deal out of it when your kid pukes on my carpet because you forgot to mention their lactose intolerance.