Hhhmmmm...

I mentioned to Major Hunk that I needed to wash out the garbage can before I put a new garbage bag in. It started to rain. I took the trashcan outside for a good soaking.

Ingenious housekeeping or lazy housekeeping??

Either way.

Back in the saddle...

The main reason that the Racer and I started this blog was to be involved in a weight loss blogging community. In order to link to their weigh ins, we needed a blog. So, we dipped our big toes into the blogging world. If you read our early posts, you can see all the gruesome details of our weight loss journeys. Since then, the site has ceased to exist. And, clearly, so have my weight loss efforts.

Life has happened. You know how it goes, right? Major Hunk comes home from the desert. We eat out lots of yummy goodness that he has been missing. We buy a house. I stop going to the gym. And weight watcher meetings, well they became a thing of the past. And, if you have spent any time here whatsoever, you probably know that I am an emotional eater.

So, over the past 6 months, I have gained 15 pounds.

Out of 36 lost.

UGH!

Now that I have had some time to ponder the changes I need/am willing to make, I'm ready to go public. The Racer and I have talked much this past week about how one of the things we need to address is that we have lost focus. During our "weight loss 2007", we were spending time encouraging one another in the journey. We were exercising together. We were sharing recipes and encouragement we found online. So, I am ready to get back at it, before none of my clothes fit me anymore.

So, I will be checking in here with all of you, my interpeeps, to put some accountability back into my life.

These are my goals for the week:

• cut soda consumption down to one a day.
• exercise at least 4 times.
  
• take measurements so I can track inches lost as well as pounds.

Alright, there they are my first baby steps back into the world of healthy choices...

So, tell me friends, what things do you do to encourage a healthy lifestyle?

Attention, Attention!!

The Amazing Racer is a finalist over at Shannon's.

She wrote a haiku for the back to school contest.
Clearly, her's is the best.

But jump on over there and vote.

And then tell all your friends to vote too.

Carry on. (after you vote, I mean.)

Meat...it's what's for dinner.

In this house, if people don't eat, people get cranky! So, I was rushing around trying to get the rest of our spaghetti dinner done. I just have to throw the garlic bread in the oven. Turn it on to bake at 425. Drain the noddles, mix in the sauce, slice the sausage, toss the bread in the oven...WAIT A MINUTE...

When I opened the oven door, there were 5 plastic animals staring back at me. They had turned soft and were beginning to seep through the oven rack. A sheep, two pigs, a goat and a cow were rescued before they dripped onto the bottom. There were 2 hamburger buns thrown in there as well.
It's as if the culprit realized they would all make yummy burgers :)

Healing Balm

We had a seriously convicting message in church this morning. I was feeling pretty battered and bruised even just a few minutes in. On top of that, there are so many really big things going on in the lives of many of my friends. I am overwhelmed by the enormity of it at times. So, I was feeling a little fragile, as I like to say.

Toward the end of service, I stepped out for a moment. When I came back in, one of the babies in the back row smiled at me. He followed me with his eyes. So, I leaned in to say hello. When I did, he leaned toward me. I asked if I could hold him. His mama obliged. I stood in the back singing worship songs to my Lord holding that sweet baby boy. As his little body settled into mine, I could feel his heart beating against my chest. As I swayed to the music, he lay still against my shoulder. And as I rested my face against this little blonde haired, blue eyed cutie, the tears began to fall. I closed my eyes and realized that this is the first time I have meaningfully held a baby since Baby Blues passed away. The first time that I held a baby and allowed myself to think about it. And while unanswered questions flooded my mind, it was a healing balm to my soul.

I handed that sweet little guy back to his mama with hair wet from my tears. And I thanked the Lord for using that little guy to apply some much needed salve to my wounded heart.

Oh, the nostalgia...

It seems I keep being struck by these realizations that my baby, well, she's just not a baby any more. I mean in one sense, she will always be. But, in age, never again.

It happened in Target the other day when I walked past the baby section and glanced down the aisles. Just like I have been doing over the past 2 1/2 years or so. This was the first time that I was struck by the fact that I no longer need to purchase anything in those aisles. In the past week or so, my little girl has managed to just about potty train herself. While I am super excited about this, it is a huge indicator that my girl's growing up. And that she will do it with or without my permission :)

And then tonight: She informed me of some truth that she learned in her class in church on Sunday. I am oh-so-grateful that we attend a church that believes in educating our children in the Word, not just babysitting so we can attend without distractions. But, again, I recognized that this was a little girl standing in front of me, challenging my motives. And while it was a little out of context, I gave in, because, frankly, I want to encourage her to speak His Truth always.

And the final straw that sent me straight to the computer to write this: a picture taken 2 years ago today. I looked into the face of a baby in that picture. A happy, round-faced baby with really short-looking bangs. And, while it was familiar face, it was clear that this was not the same little girl who had fallen asleep on my lap as I dug through pictures tonight.

To my Cutie: You light up my life. You make me laugh each and every day. You love life and the people you share it with. In the past two weeks, you have grown and matured so much. I have watched you kiss me goodbye and roll your backpack away as you go. You are itching to go to school in a big way. Your friends are in school and you are awaiting the day. I just know you will love it. You are a tender friend who loves in a big way. You learn new things each and every day and you love to discover things on your own. You can be easily frustrated at times and a touch impatient. But, what can I say, you have me for a mom. But, each time you hold my hand, or climb into my lap, you challenge me to be a better mom for you.

I love you baby girl.

Even if you do get big :)

Part Deux.

We returned from our family vacation that summer, and I promptly put off taking Dirty Job in for his checkup. Some time back (before Dirty Job was born) a friend of ours had shared about some research she had found regarding the link between the MMR shot and autism. I had had an extremely limited amount of exposure to anyone with autism, save Rainman and a little boy in our church who was cute as all get out but didn't speak a word, and liked the soles of his feet hit really hard.



Apparently, I had stored her findings somewhere in my brain, because I just kept avoiding going to the pediatrician. And I could easily justify not going, because we have a ridiculous copay. Finally, Cpt Mom asked me if I was avoiding it because of the things our friend had shared. I don't remember my answer, but I remember feeling extremely conflicted internally. Part of me kept thinking about the ridiculousness of avoiding it, that I was being fear-driven. The other part of me kept thinking, what if it's true?



Eventually, we made an appointment to see the pediatrician. We needed one for a referral for his now speech delay. I remember talking with them and everything was just fine, he was on track with the exception of his lack of verbal communication. The office gave me a list of developmental pediatricians to check out, and I promptly called Cpt Mom for her opinion. In her former life, she was a developmental preschool teacher and had worked with many, many different special needs kids AND with therapists who worked with the evaluations of these doctors.



We found a doctor and they sent us their 50 page induction packet. I promptly jumped on filling out the ridiculous amount of paperwork. Why on earth would they need so much information just to refer my kid for some speech therapy? I sent in the packet, and then called to make sure they had received it and to find out when I could expect a call to schedule an appointment. When the receptionist responded that the waiting period for an appointment was anywhere from 9 to 12 MONTHS I about flipped my lid!



I prayed that God would be able to solve such a crazy problem. With a 9 month wait, I figured Dirty Job would be way behind in speech then.



I gotta say that during this time, Cpt Mom was invaluable to me. She was (and is still) so open to answering my questions and so honest in her observations. I must have asked her a least a dozen times her observations of Dirty Job. I remember one day specifically sitting at Chilis and her saying to me that a child with autism typically would not be able to tolerate such noise. Dirty Job didn't have any sensitivities to noise and somehow that one comment calmed any fear I had about autism even being an option. Looking back, I can't determine whether that was denial on my part or the Lord offering my heart a sense of peace in those moments for what I could not change in the upcoming months.



Either way, God really answered my prayer in a big way. The developmental pediatrician's office had had a cancellation for December 19th, and would I like to take the spot? Umm, Y.E.S. It was already November and that gave us the hope that he'd be in speech therapy lickety-split. We practically had the problem solved.



Or so I thought.

Words from the wise...

My therapist told me today that I don't get to decide how other people react. What?!

While I know that in my head, I can recognize that I censor myself due to who I am talking to and how I think they will react. If I think that they will be offended by something I say or do, I won't say or do it. Sometimes, even when I know it is the right thing. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think that gives me permission to say or do things that are hurtful.

But, I tend to swing to the other side. I become overly concerned with how someone might take something I say or do. I find myself analyzing conversations, texts and emails . I worry that something may be taken out of context. That something I will say or do will trigger something in them and make them feel bad based on their history. Again, in my head, I know I am not responsible for others and all their emotional history. But, in my heart, that's another story.

Here's to working on my stuff...

yipee.

Dirty Job. Episode 1.

Dirty Job was born Jan. 5, 2005. It was a fairly uneventful pregnancy, and aside from the fact that my hubs TOOK A NAP DURING LABOR; delivery was normal as well. (My hubs will want me to write in his defense that he was up extremely late the night before putting together a toddler bed for What Not To Wear. I had a checkup the next day and they decided to induce me because my blood pressure was on the rise. He wouldn't have put the bed together if we had known about the induction. That is all.)

Dirty Job was born with GIGANTOR lips. This has nothing to do with anything, I just felt I needed to point it out because I didn't have the "first time mom goggles" on this time around. You can throw things at me, but the fact of the matter is that the birthing process is quite traumatic to the appearance of the baby. Two days in, all adorableness ensues. 1 minute in, your baby is not the cutest thing ever, nor is he/she remotely happy about leaving the womb. That was all for free, folks.

Anyhoo, we had the "textbook" second born personality. Laid back, go with the flow, easy to get on an eating schedule, and for that matter, a cinch to nurse. These were all very good things, because right after he was born, we had to temporarily move out of our condo for what ended up being 3 and a half months.

My little man loved his first taste of food at 4 months, sat up around 6 months, crawled at 7 months, and walked at 9 1/2 months. I found myself enjoying our guy more and more as time went on. He was, most definitely, an easier baby than our girl. Part of that had to do with some of her medical needs, part of it had to do with the fact that, um, hello, I had no clue what on earth I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to survive on 6 hours of sleep. Silly, silly me.

As the summer of '06 approached, we decided we ought to take Dirty Job off the pacifier, and that we'd do so after our summer vacation in July. Around that time, someone had asked me if I was concerned with his lack of talking. I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes (in my mind) and said I wasn't really concerned at all. He was our second born, a boy, had a deep love for his pacifier, and had hit all developmental milestones with no problems.

Little did we know what was in our future...

I done broke the thing

Umm, in an attempt to face lift our bloggity blog, I ruined it.

Sorry.

And send help if you know how to fix it!

Phelp's Diet

If you've been following the olympics AT ALL, you have certainly heard about Michael Phelps. And his diet. Just this morning, I saw the headline posted about his 12,000 calorie a day diet.

For the record, he stole that diet from me...I was on that meal plan when Little Boy Phelps was on the tadpole team. So don't be so impressed. Or shocked. Or whatever.

That is all.

Goal Setting

I'm pretty sure I have effectively avoided blogging about anything with meaning over the past two and a half months. That would be because this summer has been, to put it eloquently, HARD. I had high hopes and some serious expectations for myself. And I'm pretty sure I failed miserably in most areas.

On a more positive note, I am giving myself this 1st school week to just adjust and, well, rest. Come Monday, I hope to create some goals (everyone needs something to work towards, even this mediocre mom), and have a loosely sketched schedule to follow.

I also hope to blog about the journey I walked the year Dirty Job was diagnosed with autism, as I intended to do back in February. Time really has slipped away from me!!!

Houston, we have a problem...

Last night our pastor was teaching a message on God's will for our lives. He was sharing how 99.9% of God's plan for our lives is spelled out in the Word just waiting for us to search it out.

The point that has really stuck with me was an illustration he used about a rocket. Did you know that if a rocket is even 1 degree off it's intended target at takeoff, that it can be hundreds of thousands of miles off it's intended target when it gets into space? That got me thinking that if my life is even 1 degree off of it's intended target of God's will for my life, that in the future, I could be far off the mark. I could end up in a place that looks nothing like God's intended will for my life. Uh Oh. But, what about grace? Well, the rockets can be corrected by mission control and set back on course. Likewise, God is our "mission control". He can get me back on track and headed in the right direction. But, like the rocket, I have to be in communication with mission control. If we lose contact for even a few moments...

Lord help me to keep my eyes on the course. And remind me of the importance of being in constant contact with you, my "mission control".

girl's night out

I don't know about all of you, but life gets hectic around here. My hubs has been home from his deployment for 6 months now and it's funny that many of the transitions we expected to occur months ago have just settled in. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. There are just transitions to be had when you live apart for almost 2 years. And have I mentioned that we have a 2 1/2 year old? And that said 2 year old just so happens to already understand the concept of the loophole? Like today, I reminded her not to take drinks into her room. She set it just outside of her bedroom door on the tile. She looked at me and said, "Not in my room." True, true sister. And have I ever mentioned that we live on the surface of the sun?? Nothing brings out cranky mom better than some 154 degree temperatures. So, I share all of these things to say that sometimes I need to get out with the girls, without our kids and just laugh our faces off.

We did just that last week. The Racer, the bff and I all went out for dinner and shared some scrumptious fajitas, ate huge servings of ice cream and window shopped for jewelry. After all this fun, we met up with another friend and played Singstar on their game system. If you have never seen some 30-somethings bust out with some dance moves and some rockin' duets, you have missed out on some big laughs (at our expense). We laughed until we cried. The bff even shot Diet Coke out of her nose. I believe that these times away help us to be better moms, wives and just better women in general.

So, to my girls: Thanks for helping me blow off steam, keeping me sane, living life with me and loving me right where I am at. You guys rock!

must read

If you have children, love children, or find yourself surprised at our society's desensitization of all things se%ual, hop over to Vicki's blog and read this post.

I read her review and I still watched the clips with my mouth dropped open and my eyes bugged out. Shocking...that's all I can say about that. I would advise not watching the clips until your children are far, far away from the computer.

Vicki shares in her post how you can take action against this type of propaganda that our tax dollars are paying for. After read it, I hope you will join me in taking action.

she cracks me up

This morning, the Cutie dropped some of her breakfast on the floor. I asked her to please pick it up. She looked at me defiantly, and started walking away. I said in a firmer voice, "First&middle name, get over here and pick this up like I asked you." She looked at me and said, "I am going to time out!"

Stand strong, Hubs.

Notice how far away my hubs sits from me in this picture. He's surely trying not to be sucked into the vortex of baby deliciousness. It was too late for me. My ovaries were already doin a jig at this point.