Happy Birthday to Ben

...twice.

For my brother Ben's 23rd birthday yesterday we ordered an 8 X 12 (25 serving) Cold Stone Creamery Limited Edition Dark Peppermint Pleasure Signature Ice Cream Cake. According to the website description, there are "layers of red velvet cake and dark chocolate peppermint ice cream with chocolate shavings, covered in ganache (my favorite), and garnished with candy cane."

The serving suggestion must be very generous because the 12 people living in my parent's house who are old enough to eat solid food have celebrated Ben's birthday twice now and we still have 1/3 of the cake left. This is certainly not because the cake is NOT good...rather quite the opposite. Let's just say that many usually unappealing vegetables have been happily consumed in the past day!

As it turns out, Shelley and Genevieve like the cake and not the ice cream, while I like the ice cream and not the cake. Perfect combination for my taste buds, not my thighs. I've had at least 2 full servings for myself and several more leftovers from Shelley and Genevieve (as well as a constant picking at the chocolate shavings!).

I recommend this cake to anyone who loves minty or chocolate ice cream, red velvet cake, and/or extra thick chocolate ganache. I do not recommend this cake to people who like their thighs the way they are.

The Scale That Rules The World

I peeked.

I couldn't help it -- I weighed myself this morning. I hadn't in such a long time. When your clothes are tight and nothing looks good, you just know. But, I've been feeling better lately. (It may have something to do with the fact that I am on vacation and surrounded by my family who loves and supports me no matter what). Also, I've been running and have only had a few minor food incidences.

To my great surprise, the scale was kind. Now, I'm far from happy with my weight. I still don't fit into my clothes. I am simply accepting the number as a place to start and recognize that things could have been worse...much worse.

This fear of the scale -- where does it come from? I can be perfectly happy with myself, step on the scale, and become a swinging pendulum of emotions depending on WHAT THE SCALE SAYS. When did I lose so much control over my emotions to an inanimate object?

Well, whenever I lost control, I want it back. So, do I reject the power of the scale by avoiding it entirely? Or, do I battle the scale every day and try to swing my own emotions? I have never weighed myself every day, at most once a week. I have lost weight without regularly weighing myself, but (obviously) I have also gained weight using this haphazard method. Herein lies my first dilemma.

Another issue is scale discrepancies. Right now, I'm using my mom's scale and the earliest I'll be able to weigh-in with my scale is January 7th. What if there are major scale discrepancies and I instantly "gain" weight I had already mentally lost? That could be very sad for me. Should I wait to officially weigh myself until I can use my own scale? Or, is my scale innocence already gone, so what's the point of these questions anyway?

I think the latter. Good night.

Merry Christmas to All

...and to all a good night -- well, not yet.

I thought I'd go to bed, but I just couldn't resist writing about one of the best Christmas Days ever. Why you ask? For several reasons, actually.

First, I'm with my family. The time here was certainly overdue. Only the people who have lived several thousand miles away from their families for more than seven years can understand this one. We were able to visit Brady's long-lost sisters, Julie and Alisa, and their families. We exchanged some cool toys, had some great food, and Kelsey and Genevieve even spent the night with their cousins! We were also able to celebrate my Grandpa Smith's 81st birthday with various cousins, aunts, and uncles.

Second, it's a white Christmas. As a Floridian, I have grown to love the convenience of year-round outdoor play. However, the fresh coat delivered last night was especially fun to watch as cars struggled up the hill in front of my parent's house. This has provided many hours of entertainment over the years -- and even a 911 call by me a few years ago. This year, Brady, my dad, and brother helped at least 5 cars, but we couldn't find the missing Blackberry somebody dropped while pushing their car out (yet).

The girls have also enjoyed making snow angels, snow people, and even shoveling. Genevieve asks at least three times a day to play in it, and would stay there all day if I'd let her. Kelsey just wants to find -- and eat -- icicles (yuck). Shelley mostly likes to watch her "sissies" and find dangerous places, like stairs. I usually let them, and even encourage it, because our time here is limited.

Third, Santa was generous this year. Thanks to my mom (and Dad, too) and other donors, this year was a dream come true for my kids. Not only do they get to be with their grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins, but they got just about everything they've wanted this year. It's no secret that this year has been difficult. Whenever my kids tell me something they want, I always say, "put it on your Christmas list," which is an acceptable substitute for "no" (it really works!). But, this year it actually happened.

I can't let this moment pass without expressing my love and admiration for my mom. My mom is the most generous and loving person I know. She would rather give my girls their dreams, than anything for herself. A few months ago my mom's 25 year old washing machine broke, so she replaced it with a super big one -- but not the dryer (well, it wasn't broke!). For my parents and brother this uneven situation is fine. However, between my sister and I and our kids, and Sienna's naps (she sleeps in the laundry room), the dryer has slowed things down a bit the last week or so. I made a comment about it the other day to my mom, who just shrugged. Today, I found out why. A super dryer means so little to my mom when compared to the look on Kelsey's face when she opened up her very first American Doll. Or when Genevieve opened the Fairytopia Barbie she's wanted for almost a year. Or when Brady opened up the Ipod he's drooled over for years. Or when I am able to run outside while she takes my kids to work every day, which is a sweet luxury for me.

And the list goes on...last year, she found out we couldn't afford to pay for one of my last classes to complete my bachelor's degree and the money was in the mail the next day. When I started a weight loss group earlier this year, she not only paid my fee, but sponsored the weekly prizes as well. My crock pot broke and she bought me a new one. She bought me clothes when I hadn't had anything new for months -- and you all know how much I love clothes!

But don't just think it's money. When I left for California the day after I was married, she got an 800 number at the store where she works so I could call her whenever I wanted. And I do. Now, she even got me a cell phone so I REALLY can call her whenever I want.

My parents don't have a luxurious house, or even very many valuable things in it. Instead, they give their luxuries away. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

And finally, Brady and I scored more than $550 in airline credit by changing our flight plans. With two family reunions in the works for this summer, we have plenty to plan for.

This Christmas has certainly raised the bar. How could it possibly get any better than this?

Sweet Caroline

"Where it began, I can't begin to knowin', But then I know it's growing strong."

Neil Diamond, Sweet Caroline.

Last night, in the middle of a good movie, Caroline helped me clean up vomit -- without being asked. Ladies, we all know there ain't much better than that.

"Sweet Caroline, Good times never seemed so good."

The Value of Ups and Downs

I realized today that it's not as much the altitude that makes me huff and puff, but the hills. In Utah, my run is a constant stream of ups and downs. My dad used to tell us that he walked to school uphill both ways. Now, like most things, I am realizing that my dad was right (As a parent I now fully support the idea that parents are always right!).

Even with all the huffing and puffing, I LOVE HILLS! At first, there's a bit of fear when I see one looming so tall in the distance. But, if I just relax and keep going something strange happens -- the hill disappears (very slowly in my case). Getting to the top of the hill doesn't happen with one giant leap. Instead, it's a collection of baby steps, each requiring only slightly more effort. In just a short week of hill workouts, I feel stronger, still huffing, but stronger.

For me, this lesson has more than running applications. When I am faced with a challenge that seems insurmountable, if I just keep going, with baby steps, I usually get there. Some challenges I can anticipate, others come unexpectedly (like potholes hiding beneath the snow). However, the process and results are the same -- I feel stronger.

For a long time I thought this strength only came from the struggle to the top. The downhill has always been a difficult part of the hill for me to accept (like taking days off from exercise, taking naps, watching an occasional episode of Oprah, and just giving myself a break in general). I know I need to rest, and I usually do, but not without a ping of guilt. No matter how often I tell myself it's OK to enjoy the decline, I just can't let it go.

This guilt also beats me up over small imperfections and minor setbacks. Today, I ate everything in sight and I'm struggling to put it behind me. It is what it is, so I just need to sum it up as a bad day and get on with the rest of the climb. Baby steps to the top, right?

I can do it.

Am I A Bad Mother?

Do you sometimes wonder if you are a bad mother? Just read on and wonder no more.

Last week, I was running on the treadmill when Shelley woke up. Brady happened to be home for an afternoon break, so he brought her into our bedroom while I finished the last few minutes of my workout. First, she was sitting happily on our couch watching me sweat like a pig, running nowhere. Bored with this, she decided to play with our computer (or should I say on?). Fine, fine -- I just wanted to finish my workout.

Well, next thing I know she's got an OPEN PERMANENT MARKER heading toward our couch. Immediately, I slam the STOP button on the treadmill and hurdle over our bed to reach her. Unfortunately, my shoe gets twisted in our unmade bedspread and I fall directly onto my hurt knee. I wince and cry out in pain. I could hardly move. I try to move my leg manually, but I cringe and cry some more.

In the midst of my agony, I look up and see my sweet Shelley standing near me with tears in her eyes. She's really sad for me -- and probably a little scared, too. So I say, "Shelley, come here." When she hesitates, I say again, "Shelley come here, sweetie." She walks gently toward me and I...

...reach out and take away the open permanent marker! (Of course I gave her a hug next, but does that erase my callous first thought?).

If that weren't enough, I have yet another confession.

My kids have been waking up promptly at 5 am here in Utah (7am Florida time). When I choose to wake up at 5 am, I am almost bearable after an hour. But, when others beat me to the punch -- watch out -- they usually get the punch instead!

So, a few days ago Shelley and her cousin, Fox, were running around the family room while Caroline and I tried to catch a few more winks of sleep (this is perfectly acceptable behavior for exhausted mothers). I look up to see Shelley coming down the last few stairs from the kitchen. The next thing I hear is a small thud -- meaning she probably only fell down the last one or two stairs onto the incredibly plush carpet. And what do I do? I say, "Oh Shelley, you fell down. Come here and let me hold you in bed." And, like the well-trained daughter of a lazy mom, she did.

My gift to you today: the wonderful at least-I-didn't-do-that feeling. Enjoy!

The Difference Between Altitude and Sea Level

Where I come from in Florida (after almost 8 years I should probably claim the state as my own), elevation is measured by the amount of feet above sea level. Our house stands a proud 8 feet above sea level, which is very high for the area. The only hills we have are bridges.

Here in Utah, elevation is referred to as altitude and is mostly measured in thousands. Logan has an approximate altitude of 4500 feet. Hills are virtually unavoidable, especially since my parents live on the side of a mountain.

So, what is the difference between altitude and sea level?

For me, blue lips.

I went for my first high altitude run today and I thought I was going to pass out. My goal was just to make it through the run alive -- or at least without having to seek medical attention. The good news: I survived, and even enjoyed the change in running climate. I think the cold affects my bladder, too, because I didn't have to pee at all (whew!). The bad news: I think my lips were blue due to oxygen deprivation.

Because of this, I am seriously re-contemplating my participation in the Salt Lake City marathon this spring, seriously (I know I said seriously twice, but I thought it deserved emphasis). The problem is two-fold. First, Saturday marathons in Florida are rare. For being in the Bible Belt, people sure do find a lot of other things to do on Sundays besides going to church. Second, I didn't run last year with my sister-in-laws and this year would be a redemption run for me. But would it be too little too late?

As for my full-body pics next year, I am SERIOUSLY re-contemplating that! I glanced at myself this morning in the brutal Utah light of my parents house and I almost laughed (or cried, sometimes it's difficult to distinguish the two). But, alas, I have committed to myself and all three regular bloggers that read my site (thanks mom, Anna, and Alisa). So, come the new year, I'll be baring all that is within my moral limits to help the cause of regaining my skinny self.

Until then I'll try not to glance -- and try to enjoy the altitude.

Tommorrow, Tomorrow...

...I Love ya, Tomorrow -- you're only a daaaaaay aaaaaaaawaaaaaaaay!

From the movie Annie, of course!

Tomorrow we're off to Utah for the month! My girls are so excited about the endless Christmas activities my mom has planned that they can hardly sleep! I'd post a picture of them, but Shelley lost my camera a few hours ago while I was trying to pack. When Brady gets back from his Bishopric meeting I'll put him right on it (I am the loser in the family and he is the finder -- that's just how it is).

In other news, I now understand yet another reason why snowbirds (people who live 6 months up north and 6 months in Florida) don't pack their winter jackets and sweaters -- they don't fit!! One coat takes up half the suitcase. It's a good thing my winter wardrobe has dwindled since moving to Florida almost 8 years ago. Still, a girl needs options, so it's a good thing my parents are bringing 2 cars to the airport tomorrow!

So long sunny weather, hello freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezing cold!

Here Today, Forgot Tomorrow

Ordinary World, Duran Duran.

"Ooh, here besides the news, Of holy war and holy need, Ours is just a little sorrowed talk."

As of 11 am this morning, I have eaten everything -- healthy and not -- in my house and haven't exercised. Whatever line was drawn yesterday, has somehow been blown away today. I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm procrastinating (which is a great reason for me to eat), I'm whatever.

"And I don't cry for yesterday, There's an ordinary world, Somehow I have to find."

I really didn't want to start food journaling until next year, but I probably should for my own sanity. Turns out, I'm just an ordinary person, like everyone else, struggling to overcome my weaknesses.

"And as I try to make my way, To the ordinary world, I will learn to survive."

To most, I don't publish my weaknesses -- I'm too busy pressing forward. But this blog is a place for me to let it all hang out. So pardon my dust, I'm under construction.

Thanks for stopping by.

I Can Feel It Comin' Back Again...

...Like a roll of thunder, Chasing the wind.

Another oldie, but goodie -- Live, Lightening Crashes. (High school music just totally rocked for me, I guess).

The lyrics were certainly fitting as I exercised this morning (yes, I said morning). I can finally feel my healthy self coming out. You know the feeling: you're running at your normal pace and, suddenly, you feel like doing it a little faster, or a little longer. You're no longer watching the clock to see when it's over, but to see how fast you're going.

Also true is that I sound like thunder and am definitely behind the wind. (I said I ran faster, not FAST).

Still, it's been a long time since I've exercised regularly, but it's been an even longer time since I exercised in the morning. Today I say "morning" very loosely because it was 7:15am, which may be like afternoon to some, but for me it was earlier than normal.

Because my life is so variable, I have to be flexible with my workout time. I've exercised at 10pm, 5am, 10am, and every time in between. However, while I have learned to be flexible, I still haven't learned how to transition from one time to another very well. I usually end up taking significant time off in between, which corresponds with weight gain, which perpetuates the break, which leads to total frustration, which -- eventually -- leads to a new schedule.

This cycle is relatively new to me -- post high school, for sure. And I don't become obese, simply unhappy with my state of being. Where ever this comes from, it's gotta stop. I have three girls. Count them -- one, two, THREE! I want them to grow up with a healthy body image and eating habits. The best way for me to give them this gift is to give it to myself first, right?

So, I'm drawing the line. (If Karl G. Maeser did it, so can I). Baby steps to better eating and exercise.

And, PLEASE, DON'T BE NICE TO ME! (At least online where I can cry in private). I don't need sugar-coated support: Good job for working out one day this week. You're just so busy. You needed that time for other things. Besides, you look just fine to me. INSTEAD, I need your knee in my flat booty saying: Hey! Lazy bum! Remember your priorities, your goals! You make the time to be healthy and everything else will be where it should. And, you may look just fine now, but you could really BE FINE if you reach your goal!

Thank you in advance for your continued support of my crazy ideas.

You Must Not Know 'Bout Me

Beyonce's Irreplaceable. I could listen to this song on repeat for hours (and I do). It got me through my graduate school application and many late night study sessions. The song's about a girl who kicks her boyfriend out by saying,

You must not know 'bout me, You must not know 'bout me, I could have another you by tomorrow, So don't you ever for a second get to thinkin', You're irreplaceable.

Once again, I was inspired by words that I created:

Baby I won't shed a tear for you, I'll lose the weight you see, 'Cause the truth of the matter is, Replacing you is so easy.

I'm not kicking out my boyfriend (I happen to LOVE the one I'm with), I'm kicking out my old self. That's right old me -- I'll have another me by tomorrow, in fact, she'll be here in a minute. So, Go ahead and get gone...You can pack all your bags we're finished.

So there.

Junk in the...

...inflated side air bags??

I certainly have junk, but it's definitely not in the trunk! The only time I had booty was when I was doing step aerobics a few years ago at the YMCA and the only reason I know this is because Brady told me. (With a lifetime of flat booty, there really was no reason to look back there). It made me feel really good that he noticed something I hadn't already pointed out to him. This is just one reason I love my husband.

My junk is definitely in my thighs. This is why looking in a full-length mirror is so essential for me. At this weight, I pretty much look big all over, but my thighs are my biggest problem area. I've got tree trunk legs and an excess of arm fat, but when I want to see results I look to my thighs.

This is why I have decided to chronicle this experience with full-body pics, thighs and all (starting next year, of course). This may sound a bit crazy, but I don't want to reach my goal and wonder what the difference is -- I want to see it!

Which brings me to the secret junk stash in my head. This is the junk that is so devastating to me. As a perfectionist, I can be so critical of myself. Rarely does someone point out a flaw in myself that I haven't already battled.

So, to start the new year (it is almost 2008, you know) I'm gonna de-junk -- my thighs and my head. Although I am 30 as of one week ago, I think my body still has it in her to be healthy. I am confident that with a good diet and exercise I will be at my goal sometime in April. After that, it's maintenance, baby. (Did I just say maintenance and then BABY? Hmmmmm...).

As for my inner junk, I hope that gets thrown out the window on the highway driving really fast, never to be seen again. In fact, I think I see something in my rear view mirror right now.

How about you? Got junk??

She's Porkin' Away

Another Pearl Jam inspired title. (I couldn't help it. I've been listening to music while I run and they seem to come up frequently when my computer shuffles). It's really from a Neil Young song (thanks, Caroline), Keep on Rockin' in the Free World, but on Pearl Jam's Live on Two Legs album they play into it at the end of the song, Daughter.

Now here's something funny: I thought the words were, "She's porkin' away, She's gonna get ahead, She hates her life and what she's done with it, That's one more kid that will never go to school, Never get to fall in love, Never get to be cool." However, when I checked online tonight I found these words instead, "Now she puts the kid away, And she's gone to get a hit, She hates her life, And what she's done to it, There's one more kid that will never go to school, Never get to fall in love, Never get to be cool." Talk about Freudian error...

Last night I decided to get a head start on our Christmas gifts. We're assembling our traditional goodie jars as a family on Saturday, and I needed to prepare some things earlier. This year, we're making Cinnamon-Sugared Nuts (very delicious as reported by my husband and sister today). Ten batches of warm, sugar nuts, which are a personal weakness of mine, at one o'clock in the morning. Not my best idea ever.

The song hit a second nerve today when I got a letter in the mail from FGCU (my former graduate school) congratulating me on my full tuition award for next semester.

Bummer.

I called Brady after the initial shock, and none of the sadness, wore off. His reaction: Maybe you should just go. What?? Were you not just in crisis?? Then I remembered this reaction was coming from a guy who actually wears the free t-shirts they throw into a crowd at sporting events. (And not just around the house.) Truthfully, it was tough -- even for me. I practically lick my kids' plates after dinner, how could I throw away free education?

My decision to apply to graduate school was not planned. I was actually looking for a job on FGCU's campus in the Counseling Department when I found a link to the Mental Health Counseling program. Everything seemed to fit what I needed and at the end of it all, I'd be doing something I loved, instead of working the graveyard shift at Target.

The prospect was met with mixed reviews... "Why don't you just be happy being a mom?" I thought about that one for some time. I was, and am, happy "just being a mom." But who really is just being a mom?

While my application came as a surprise to most people, it didn't to the people who really know me. I'm always doing things -- even I amaze myself sometimes. I also enjoy learning, especially about the inner complexities and dynamics of people and families. But (as always, it's a big one) I hate homework, all kinds. I don't even think kids should have to do it. That's why they go to school for six hours a day, right? Still, I loved the program, the professors, and even my crazier-than-me classmates.

Will the opportunity come again for me? I hope so. Until then, I'm just "one more kid who will never go to school."

And porkin' away.

Fade to...Black

When in doubt, quote the classic rock band, Pearl Jam.


All that I am...


1. A graduate school dropout. Yes, that's right. As of today I've officially terminated my enrollment in the Masters of Arts in Mental Health Counseling program. After a grueling semester, I realized that to take three more years of this was not in my, or my family's, best interest. I was okay with the workload, but not the stress load. The commitment weighed so heavily on me, I couldn't just shake it and relax. I know this may sound silly to some, but I no longer had the energy to make my kids' lunches and that REALLY bugged me. It was the little things I couldn't let go of.

After all that, I thought I'd feel a huge relief this morning. To my surprise, I'm REALLY sad. It was something I had started to dream about, and it bugs me that I couldn't get it together enough to continue. Sure other people (I'm not gonna name names, but his name starts with B- and ends in -rady) could have been a little more understanding, and I could have worked through my own issues as well, but I didn't see that happening in the next few months, and as much as they drive me crazy, I really do love my family.

So, I feel like a bit of a failure right now. But, for those of you who know me, I won't be down for long. I'm back to the things I missed the most -- momming, running, and shopping. And, thanks to Anna, my newest venture -- blogging.


2. A little fat. What a crazy year it's been. I went from big to small to the biggest I've ever been, and I didn't even have a baby this year! Earlier in the year I started a weight loss group called Girls with Goals, affectionately known as GG's, and was in the low 130's. At 5'7.25 I consider that pretty good (I used to be 5'7.75, but, thanks to a prayer for a taller husband, I'm shrinking!). It didn't last long, though, because the group ended, we put our house on the market, and I became obsessed with keeping our house in show condition. It was also the summer and I had all three girls (Kelsey 8, Genevieve 4, and Shelley 1) at home. It was a really rough summer, to say the least. Immediately after that, I started graduate school and it's been a whirlwind ever since. Hence, the fat.


3. Crazy. I don't think there's anything wrong with this one. My life certainly isn't dull.



All that I'll be...


1. I've always said that after I graduated I'd start scrapbooking. Well, I graduated from BYU last December and my time came and passed and it still didn't happen. While I think it's a lovely and enviable hobby, the draw just isn't there for me. First and foremost is probably the cost. (I think we can all admit it's gotten a little out of control). Secondly, I just don't have that kind of space. I mean, people devote entire rooms to it!

But, (and mine's a big one) this whole blogging things is ideal -- cost and space efficient. Perfect. I kept a journal growing up that most people will never see, which is probably a good thing considering how many different people I was going to marry. On a blog, you can not only share your journal with a crowd, but you get to peak at other people's, too. Cool.

So, here it is, my very own blog.


2. Skinny, again. Yup, I'm gonna whoop something big and make it small again. Starting next year (well, I can't start yet -- it's the holidays!!) I'll be counting calories and food journaling. I find that works well for me. I like mini goals so here goes: (1) be 155, (2) be in the 140's, (3) be in the 130's, (4) maintain 130-135. Secretly, I'd like to just be in the 120's for a minute or two, but I don't see myself realistically maintaining at that level.

As embarrassing as it is to admit my weight at this point, it is even more embarrassing to be fat and being accountable is a great way to stay motivated. I plan to weigh myself daily and blog my stats at least weekly. I may or may not include my food journal. That may just be too much for me. However, I've been toying with the idea of a photo log so I can see my progress and because I think blogs with pictures are cool. Me in a sports bra may not be so cool right now, but stay tuned boys and girls, it's gonna get hot in here!!


3. A running runner. Once as runner, always a runner -- just sometimes more (or less) of one. I like training for marathons (I've done 2 and trained for 4) because of the structure, goal, and variety. Besides, I can't get enough LSD!! I'll shoot for SLC in April (again), but after this year's last-minute cancellation, I'll be taking it one day at a time. December 17th starts the 18-week program, so I'll be reporting on that one, too.

4. Healthy. I wrote happy and then deleted it. I can't remember a time I was healthy and not happy, but I most certainly can be happy (if not just momentarily) and not healthy. Eating cookies makes me happy, but not healthy, so I'll take the latter.


Anyway, that's who I am and who I'll be (thanks, Eddie). My assessment session is complete. I hope you'll lurk around my blog and comment every now and then.

Happy blogging!

Hello

Well, hello.

I kept this post as a tribute to Erin for originally inspiring me to blog. I said I would and I did...once. ;)