The Human World

...it's a mess! (Sebastian from The Little Mermaid)

Apparently, I am being welcomed into a new world I've never known. My sister-in-laws were surprised this week to see me in the Human World as I gained weight on the scale and struggled to re-gain control of my eating. What they don't know is I've been here all along, struggling with the rest of you.

Isn't it funny how we create these worlds for other people that seem to have everything, especially the things we don't?

I'm not overweight so surely I don't struggle with my weight, my body image, self-esteem, cravings, moodiness, impatience, and every other sign of The Fall. No, I float over that on my own little cloud.

One advantage to living far, far away from all your family is that you're like the Heirloom Fine China that gets taken out once a year (or less) ~ everyone talks about how lovely it is and feels special when they get to see it (okay, that may be an overstatement, but you get the point). When really, it's just another dish, with scratches and dents like the ones you use every day. People don't always recognize that, though, because they see them so little.

That's what I LOVE about this blog and My Food Journal. It will surely put to rest all the misconceptions about my life that are fabricated from being seen so rarely (this would also happen if more reunions were held in Florida ~ just a little more expensive :).

So, welcome me all you want. But, I've been here a while ladies ~ and I'm probably not going anywhere soon.

Food Is NOT My Life

So why was it taking up so much space in My Journal?

I'm still going to be accountable for what I eat and post my recipes, but just not here. Check out my new blog @ kariannsfoodjournal.blogspot.com, or just click here.

Now, on for the best news of all ~ I found a running buddy! I was up early this morning trying to muster the strength to run outside, when what do I hear...the pitter-patter of feet outside our study window (and going at a nice clip, I might add). It was a runner!! I hopped my shoes on and was out the door in 2 seconds flat!

She's someone I've known before (a former Dog Watcher) but she's recently lost 30 pounds by running and eating well. She runs 10-12 miles most days and makes me look much less like an amazon. While she's tiny (she's 5'1" and weighs 103 lbs), she's definitely got some kick ~ and she loves to talk! She runs from 5 -7am every morning and she's practically OCD about running ~ which makes her The Best Running Partner To Have!

I also saw Post-Surgery Girl, Sherry, from last year and had to explain my MIA status. Everyone agreed my life was a bit over the top for a while, but that it was good to have me back.

With My Food Journal in it's own space, it's nice to write about my real life again. It IS good to be back.

What I Think About

I was completely inspired by Becky's post about what she thinks about BEFORE she indulges. So, here are the places I try to go when I need help stopping...


...tomorrow's run. Eating junk before a run does NOT feel good. It makes me feel sluggish, no matter what I weigh. When I fuel up well, I run well. I love the feeling of my body when it does exactly what I tell it to, which means very little involuntary jiggle (in case it's been a while, I use my very vivid imagination).


...my girls.

Like most teenagers, I had acne. It wasn't the worst I've ever seen, but I struggled with it well into adulthood. So, when Kelsey was blessed as a baby, I asked Brady to mention her skin. We settled for blessing her organs (after all, your skin is an organ). I think Brady was hoping that would make her tall, too. We want to give our girls everything we had ~ and everything we didn't.

With food it's the same. I used to tell the girls "just one" and then overindulge myself. I've learned that Mommy-Sizing and Special Mommy Food can only last so long. If I want them to grow up making healthy decisions, respecting their bodies, then I better do more than tell them ~ I need to show them.


...being touched. There's a sense of pride when I'm tickled or someone brushes against me ~ and it doesn't jiggle.

Even more, it's when Brady touches me...and his hand curves in only the right places.


I have a sign on my refrigerator that reads: The chief cause of failure and unhappiness in this life is trading that which we want the very most in life for that which we want at the moment.

So, when I take the time to think before I eat, I usually ask myself, Is this what I really want?


Some days it works, some days it doesn't ~ but I always know it's there.

Move Over JT...

...I'M Bringing Sexy Back!

While babysitting for Caroline and Gabriel' s Anniversary last night, I borrowed (is it borrowing if I never give it back?) some more appropriate exercise clothes for my Zumba class today. My sister has been a serious fitness junkie over the years and now I am reaping the benefits.

I wore a black exercise tank with black, boot-cut spandex pants and purple retro Skechers (also hers, but "borrowed" years ago). The tank is a first time-er for me because it has a built-in bra. I've been exercising while pregnant or nursing for so long I had forgotten what they normally look like. My usual TANK bra (I call it that because it has so many clasps and buttons) holds me in so tight, I can barely breathe, let alone make any sudden movements. I took a friend with me to class today, so I felt a little funny shimmying in front of someone I know. BUT, for those of you who know me, you know I'd shake it no matter what.

So, I was feelin' pretty hot after Zumba and came home to do my Pilates DVD (I really can't count shakin' flab as a workout until I get at least half the moves). My Pilates goal is to be able to do an Omelet Flip (don't worry, that's not official Pilates terminology). It's where you lie flat, with arms extended above your head, and, keeping your arms straight and back against the floor, fold yourself completely in half ~ like a perfect Omelet Flip. Go ahead and try it...I'll wait...


Not so easy, huh? Or maybe it is and I'm just especially Powerhouse-challenged. I really don't have THAT much belly flab, and there is something semi-not-soft underneath a layer of squish, but I just can't do the thing. Maybe it's my upperbody/lowerbody ratio. Or, maybe the weight of my hips and thighs are holding me back (or maybe it's my heavy brain ~ yeah, that's it).

Either way, it's gonna be a long time before this Omelet is done.

President Hinckley: My Beloved Prophet

Yesterday was our Southern States Stake Conference broadcast. President Monson presided and was the concluding speaker. His first comments were of President Hinckley and how he knew he would have loved to be there. Later, I commented on how tired President Monson looked.

This morning I found out why. Last night, President Hinckley passed away in his apartment, with his family at his bedside. It is no wonder President Monson seemed tired -- his heart was with his friend.

In 1995, the night before President Hinckley was sustained as Prophet, I spent the night on the sidewalk surrounding Temple Square with the hopes of being in the Tabernacle on that occasion. Although we froze and barely missed the general admission cutoff for the first General Conference session, I forged a special bond with President Hinckley that day as I stood to sustain him in that sacred calling.

While I never shook his hand, I have been in his presence several times and have witnessed his strong spirit. His energy rivaled that of my own, despite his almost 60 year seniority! I aspire to be like him, not only physically, but spiritually as well.

While I am sad in his passing, I know that his reunion was a sweet one. The years without his eternal companion and lifetime partner, Marjorie, have been lonely I am sure. A love like theirs is also an aspiration of mine.

Thank you, President Hinckley, for sharing your life with me.

Gone With The Wind

There must have been a gusty wind today because it seems that all my good intentions were blown away (apparently they were pretty light). Today was my first time as party host since starting my new plan -- and I bombed! As it is, Sundays are especially difficult because church is in the middle of the day and our meal times get all wacked. Still, I really tried to make healthy choices (I didn't even lick the German Chocolate frosting), but the tragedy is I made too many healthy choices, if you know what I mean.

For me, I have even BIGGER problems after the party. Subconsciously, I think parties stress me out -- all the temptations and choices. So it's after the party, when everyone is gone, that I usually give in to the first temptation that comes my way.

Tonight, the temptation was Hot Ham & Cheese Sandwiches. I figured I'd make 4 sandwiches, for "Brady and the girls," and that I'd just scrounge for crusts (my favorite part anyway). Instead, Brady didn't want any and Genevieve wanted Plain Toast With Cinnamon Sugar. So, I let myself "just have a nibble"...and then another...and another...and before I knew it I was telling the girls there were no more -- the reason I made them in the first place!

In my Ideal Weight World, I should have asked who wanted one FIRST and only make that amount. Or, I could have saved the unwanted sandwiches for tomorrow's lunches. Or, I could have made a less tasty snack. Or, I could have just said no to the late evening snack (probably my best option).

Instead of ending my week with a bang, I got a bomb. Now, I'll just have to head back to Tara because...tomorrow is another day (insert theme music from Gone With The Wind and imagine me holding a carrot in a field).


Strawberry Mini Wheats & Milk: 300

Veggies & Hummus: 350

Potluck & Turkey Tasters: 350

More Tasters: 200
Strawberries: 20

Ham & Cheese Bomb: 650


Note: All calculations made today were pulled out of my bum, so read with caution (and maybe a clothespin!).

I Am Soooo White!

In case you haven't figured this out yet, I kinda like to do things myself -- take care of my kids, make dinners, etc. For this reason, I am very guarded about who watches my children. When Brady and I go out, I always put my babies to bed first (one nice thing about early bed times) and I only use a very short list of sitters (maybe 2 or 3 in 6 years). My children have virtually never seen the inside of any child care facility. When Kelsey was almost two she went to the gym child care a few times a week, but only because my running partner (and Primary President) worked there. Otherwise, it's Caroline (my sister) or Brady.

So when I decided to try out a Zumba class at the YMCA, I made sure someone I knew would be there to take care of Shelley. My long-time friend, and overall one of the most awesome people that I know, Ofa, just happens to work on Wednesday mornings from 8 -12, during the 8 o'clock Zumba class. Although Shelley cried a bit today while I was away, she made it through without any serious emotional trauma (or at least she didn't tell me about any:) so I decided to give the class a go...

AND I LOVE IT!

I showed up wearing my usual running gear and felt quickly out of place when the instructor arrived wearing some cute, and very tight, black capris and a floral tank -- along with a rockin' body (which gave immediate encouragement -- no wonder infomercials work). As for my moves, I had no idea what I was doing half the time and the times that I did were worse than the "bad" auditions on So You Think You Can Dance. I tried to do salsa, some meringue, hip-hop, and a few other things I can't pronounce or didn't hear because I was too busy concentrating.

I don't know about any physical fitness from today's attempt at dancing, but shakin' my hips and swinging my booty (in whatever direction) sure did my soul some good.

The Truth Is...

...I don't want to win.

Last year, I started a weight loss group, Girls With Goals (aka, GG's). At the end of a 12-week program I had lost the most weight, with 132 pounds my lowest weigh-in. I was $250 richer, but it didn't matter because the money didn't last long (not when you're paying bills, anyway) and neither did the weight loss.

As most of you know, March was the start of our financial crunch, followed by 6 months of daily, intense cleaning to keep our house suitable for sale (everyone knows how much I HATE cleaning my house!), and my application and admission to graduate school, etc. I handled the stress well in most areas -- I still did my callings, made homemade meals, stayed on a tight budget, packed lunches, threw baby showers, organized play groups, and was almost mostly (ok, sometimes) nice to my family.

The only area that really gave was me. I had virtually NO time to take care of myself, even to sit down. It seemed that if I sat down for one second I would fall behind in one way or another and lose even more of my precious time. Did I have to eat myself into so much weight gain? No. But did I chose that over Plan B? Yes.

The result was humiliating. I gained back all the weight I had lost and more I am sure. I stopped caring after a while. It was like wearing a fat suit. Just having the courage to do regular things like attend church, go to the park, see my friends took more courage than I knew I even had. Still, just because I have it in me, doesn't mean I EVER want to do that again.

I know people think that because I gained the weight back so quickly that what I was doing to lose the weight was drastic. Quite the opposite actually. What I did AFTER I lost the weight was WAY more drastic than what I did to lose it. I was overeating every day and every night -- every time I opened my mouth I would binge. I was trying to feel happiness because my life was so stressful. And the saddest thing (that we all know) is that it didn't even work.

So what do I want out of this Throwdown? I want to lose weight, duh -- and keep it off. My starting weight, your starting weight, the date we officially start, it's all secondary to my goal to just lose the freakin' weight, for good this time. Our little friends from High School Musical said it well, We're All In This Together.

Who's kickin' who's butt is not as important as what our butts look like anyway.

How Do I Look?

Alisa reminded me about something I tried to do a while back. Now that we have a faster internet connection, I can finally post my pics. (Sorry the Before Pic is so bad. Genevieve's quick snap of me was my only clear head shot).

So, which should I be -- Cameron, Jessica, Olsen, or Paltrow?

Or, try it for yourself.

I Didn't Deserve It...PERIOD

Note: Contains discussion of feminine issues.

So, this past week did NOT go well. While I exercised, the only calories I counted were guesstimates and not recorded anywhere but my fuzzy head. Sunday's Ward Potluck, Monday's Family Home Evening Treats, and this morning's hangover eating didn't help much, either. Needless to say, my eating has been less than stellar.

To make matters worse, I started my pseudo-period on Sunday. After having a baby it usually takes about a year-and-a-half before I have a period and even then it's irregular and light for a while. Lucky, I know (except when I want to be pregnant). With Kelsey I worried all the time that I was pregnant, with Genevieve I worried less, and with Shelley I've been enjoying it entirely. I've probably had less than 20 cycles since getting married almost 11 years ago. It's a good thing, too, because I make a VERY cranky PMS-er. Still, it sure does make getting pregnant a whole lot easier ;)

While this explains the weekend cravings, it does not excuse them. AND, it lead to Monday Munching Madness and already Totally Terrible Tuesday. I've eaten everything in our house and have tried to lay Shelley down for a nap three times so I can exercise (or so I say), but to no avail.

I want to quit. I want to give in. Actually, it's too late -- I already have.

So, now what?

Well, I need to write down what I eat, at least for a while. I don't know if this will be a lifetime practice, but it is essential for me to reach my goals. I need to detox for the rest of today and tomorrow. Most importantly, I need to relax. If I have one good day of eating, I usually feel better. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this (instead of clicking my heels three times, I'm smacking my lips...where's Glinda when I need her?).

As for my weigh-in, I really didn't deserve the number. I waited until after I exercised because I just couldn't face the scale. After the feeding frenzy of yesterday and today, next week will be harsh without better eating the rest of the week. Anyway, here it is:

Current Weight: 148.0
Current BMI: 23.0


PS Sorry about the delay in posting ~ Brady did our taxes last night. Go Brady!

A Date With Ice Cream On Top

...and I'm not talking about the fruit! Brady and I went on a date tonight, which we haven't done in a while.

Now, when I say a while, I mean a few weeks before our vacation. I am one of those girls who likes to be taken out -- and regularly. It doesn't have to be expensive, it just has to happen. After I have a baby, there's a small window where we can't go out for a few months, so we counter this by stocking up at the end of my pregnancies. Once the baby is on a good nighttime schedule, we hit the town. I just love being with my husband in that way. I also enjoy the time to be Me - Kids. Me - Kids still = Me, just another side. I get to walk slower, think more, and EAT SLOWLY! Love it.

Tonight I was a little nervous about going out to dinner, so I persuaded Brady to just take me to a movie instead. I had been at the park all afternoon with friends and we even ate dinner there. We planned ahead and all brought food to share so when we went home it would just be get-ready-for-bed time. Aaaah.

I made some calzones with white/wheat dough, cottage cheese, mozzarella cheese, mushrooms, and olives (I'm still trying to use up the giant box of mushrooms I bought from Sam's Club this week, can you tell?). I love making fresh bread and I have a super easy recipe for pizza dough (thanks, April). Now that I have a Kitchen Aid, too, (thanks, Tara) this process is much easier and surprisingly still enjoyable. After years of hand mixing and kneading, my wrists were getting quite sore, but nothing could stop me from my sweet bread (Alisa, I have come a LONG way since our college Great Harvest Honey Whole Wheat experimentations).

The good news is, the calzones were great, especially dipped in my favorite chunky marinara. Even though Brady gripped a bit about the cottage cheese instead of ricotta, he still ate two and seemed satisfied. Maybe I'll try pureeing it next time to get a less chunky texture. The bad news, I think I ate 3. I say "think" because with so many nibbles, who really knows the exact amount.

So, when Brady mentioned dinner AND a movie (which usually means dessert, too) I was a little hesitant. He understood, so we skipped dinner and just went to see National Treasure 2. (If you've seen the first, you've seen the second. I do think the movie is well-made and entertaining, though).

And, no, I did not have movie popcorn. I am one of those people who smuggles food into the theater. I think I'd probably pay the ridiculous prices if they just had what I wanted -- 94% fat free popcorn. Instead, I pre-popped my own bag. I have no shame when it comes to health -- really, I don't.

After the movie, instead of Cold Stone (please refer to prior posts about my love for that stuff), we opted to share a large White Chocolate Mousse/Peanut Butter swirl cup at TCBY. The employee was so nice, even though we came in 15 minutes before close. He let me sample as much as I wanted, answered all my questions, showed me the nutrition information, and even weighed our ice cream on the electric scale. While licking it up, Brady and I spent about 10 minutes in the car looking up gram to ounce conversions on his Blackberry to calculate the exact amount of calories in our treat. Oh, the things you do without kids!

While I am not entirely happy with the day, it could have been much worse. I did not eat ALL the dough or the calzones; I brought my own popcorn to a movie; and, I shared a treat with my husband. What a guy!

Speaking of great guys, mine just got even better -- he agreed to run a 5k race with me in February!! I could not be more excited if I were given a new outfit from Banana (although I'd like to test that theory). Even more, my sister's gonna run it, too! I'm all for this one because she babysits my kids while she trains. Tonight, she ran 2 miles on my treadmill while babysitting during our date. And she wants to make this a regular thing...uh, sure!

Tomorrow, I am completing the unpacking process. Although I tried to resist accepting reality, my Vacation Continuation officially ended today when I cleaned the house. While I didn't get everything done, it was still a strong effort, definitely NOT vacation quality. So, tomorrow I'll unpack the girls' suitcases, put away three baskets of laundry, transfer all of Shelley's clothes to her new room, put away her 12-18 month clothes, bring out her 18-24 month bin, organize their new toys, go to a YMCA open house, drive Kelsey and a friend to another friend's house to go to the circus, stop at the church to grind some wheat, make four loaves of wheat bread for a pot luck, and I'll plan the combined Sharing Time/Singing Time activity for Sunday.

Yeah, vacation's definitely over.

Uh-Oh

OK, so I just took my Before Pics and I am seriously embarrassed. Maybe I should have taken the pictures BEFORE I said I would do this crazy thing, so at least I could see what I was getting myself into!

We just got back to Florida tonight and I was planning tomorrow (like I always do) and realized if I waited until tomorrow to take my pics, I would have to take the pictures myself. While the embarrassment would be only slightly less during the process, the outcome would probably be much worse with my camera balanced across the room on a chair or something. Instead, I decided to have Brady snap a few tonight.

Ugh.

If you ever need motivation to lose weight, have someone take a half-naked picture of you! The camera does not lie (thanks a lot everyone else for telling me I looked good -- now I KNOW you were lying). There is no "flattering angle" when you're hardly wearing any clothes. I have gained a new respect for the Biggest Loser competitors. They are very brave. Try it and see for yourself.

Despite my run-in with reality, there is some good news: I am totally motivated and I think we're getting a high-speed internet connection in a week or so (yes, we still have dial-up), which means I'll be able to upload more pictures. The bad news: My connection will be slow until then (fewer pics) and you may need to wear sunglasses (do I really live in Florida??).

The Plan:
I'll post my weight once a week, with blogs in between. If I can bare it (pun intended), I'll post pics once a month. Initially I thought I'd take pictures once a week, but I really want to see results and not just embarrass myself needlessly.

Thanks to everyone for being supportive of my goals. To those of you with similar goals, thanks for sharing the embarrassment!

The Long Road to Perfection

My purpose is clear. I want to be a better person, someday even perfect. I am FAR from achieving this, with a long and difficult journey ahead of me. Sometimes I fail or fall short. Fortunately, I am surrounded by people who understand my goals and encourage me not to give up, even when I totally suck (as many of you have experienced firsthand).

When I started a weight loss group last year, several people asked me why I was doing it. The truth is, I wasn't overweight and, according to my BMI, was considered healthy. I did it because I knew I could be healthier and look better. The truth is the same today.

Some people have expressed concern about my weight loss goals. Why, I really don't know. It is still in a healthy BMI range -- I am WAY above the Milan fashion show standard of 18.5 (;). So why the fuss?

For those of you who don't know, I have never been one to shoot for the trees. I'd rather shoot for the stars and hit the trees, than shoot for the trees and hit the mud. Just like no one would applaud my moral efforts to be Telestial, I only want the same for my physical goals.

One Slice of Pie Please

...humble pie, that is.

Last week, I was feeling pretty good and decided to weigh myself. Why, oh, why did I do it? I knew it was not good, but I just couldn't resist. As I posted, the scale was kind and I felt great...for the moment. But, no matter what, I was doomed.

So, the scale was kind. That made me happy. That also made me feel like I could eat anything I wanted -- for a week. Ugh. Still, if the scale would have been more than I expected, I probably would have given up and eaten everything anyway. I lose control when I'm happy, I lose control when I'm sad. I really need to work out this whole self-control thing.

Either way, weighing myself was not good. So, why did I do it? Why should I do it for that matter? Really, what is the big deal about weight anyway? Why can't we judge ourselves by how we feel and not by a number that fluctuates like a roller coaster? Should I face the scale every day? Once a week? Never?

While I'd really like it to be never, I still have my goal of 130 for this year (I just can't let myself off the hook that easy). And, yes, I am still going to document my progress with pictures. If the sight of my pasty white skin blinds you, you may have to avoid the blog every Monday starting next week. While the thought of posting a half-naked picture of myself has not been motivation enough to keep me away from treats this holiday season, I am hoping that your laughter at my fat will be.

This kind of accountability is just what I need to keep me on track. Anyone interested in losing weight with me, post here on Monday! Better yet, post your weight goals and pictures here, too. We can do this together! Oh, it will be great...a bunch of half-naked "losers" blogging together...what more could you need!

I know it will be difficult, but, then again, my most treasured accomplishments have been my most difficult challenges. And, in the end, we'll be a bunch of half-naked HOTTIES!

Forget the slice, I may need the whole pie.

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!