Olive, Queen of the Cats

I remember now why I quit blogging... because writing a post is near impossible if it is not five in the morning. I do miss those early mornings. All was so still and quiet and right with the world when I had a hot cup of coffee and a few moments to just write.

Oh, I'm sorry! Perhaps you don't know that the New Jan Brady was eaten. Yeah, she quit working out, and traded vegetables for ice cream and beer. Needless to say, she sleeps in now. 

Now it is almost 8 pm. Kids are tucked into bed and the kitchen is clean. Chris is watering the lawn. I want to write but I'm tired.

Our cat, Max, died recently which has left Olive as the sole pet. Max was the dominant cat and since his death, we have seen much more of Olive. She was never allowed (by Max) to spend the night in the master bed so she has been giddy about her new status. I've spent the last few nights being awakened every hour to a little clawed paw tapping me on the shoulder. I awake, open my eyes, and spot Olive's wide eyes shining back at me. I think she is just excited to still be in the bed and making sure I know it. I'll pet her (or make a grumpy noise and pull the sheets over my head which is always a mistake as she is persistent) and then she settles back down, resetting her internal alarm clock for one hour later. And I spend the night tossing and turning and greet the next day exhausted.

This morning Nils discovered a roll of banner paper. And then I discovered Nils with a handful of Sharpies in various colors and banner paper spread across the kitchen. He looked up innocently from his work and declared, "I'm making a water slide for my stuffed animals." Oh, that guy. So I let him continue on crafting. I hope his stuffed animals have a great time.

The summer is moving right along. Yesterday included a trip to the library and lunch with some of our favorite people. We went to the dollar movie this morning and have plans for seeing great friends tomorrow. For now, I'm tired. And Olive is already in our bed.

Run and Grab It

Once when I was working out and a cute British gal was instructing she talked about the British tradition of having the first words out of your mouth on the first of each month be "rabbit rabbit rabbit" and this ensures good luck in the month to come.

I thought she was saying "Run and grab it!" until I remembered the British thing of saying "rabbit." For those few moments of lying on my back bench pressing my bar and thinking "run and grab it!" I was totally in. I love that. Forget about "rabbit rabbit." Let's run and grab it.

January and February were disastrous when it comes to eating well. They were highly successful months in terms of drinking beer and eating queso and having a great time. Thankfully I kept working out so not all is lost.

March is going to be different though.

I'm committed to March as a back on track month, which for me means Simply Filling. Anyone who wants to have a great March can join me. No more 10,000 cookies before bed.

My plan is simple... to go back to the basics. I'm going to eat healthy food for every meal I am in charge of (which is most meals). I'm going to only have beer during Spring Break (beach!). Other than Spring Break - no alcohol this month. Rodeo night (tomorrow) I'll eat crapola. Other than that, I'll be on track. I've got to run and grab it.

That's the plan and I'm sticking to it. If you need the moral support of knowing someone else is committing to this month on track - I'm in whether you're coming with me or not.

It's March. Run and grab it.

I DID IT!

Last year I actually made a 2015 New Year Resolution.
And then even more surprisingly, as of this morning, it is now safe to officially say: I DID IT!
I went to 515am Bodypump and Bootcamp for the entirety of 2015.

I wish I'd thought to do a formal "before" photo back in January. It honestly just didn't occur to me. I knew that I would stick with it. I knew that it would be transformative. I just didn't think to take a before pic. Here's the best I've got:

December 2014

I was in pretty good shape this time last year. I was going to BodyPump twice a week and lifting a "normal" amount of weight for a female. At least I'm just guessing that was what an average female is lifting in Bodypump based on the fact that I was lifting around what every other female in my class was lifting.

Then for NY15 I resolved to not miss a work out. I was already going to 515am m/w BodyPump regularly and showing up for Friday bootcamp every once in a while so my resolution was to go to m/w BodyPump and Friday 515am Bootcamp. Every week. The only legitimate excuses were migraine or being out of town.

And then... I did it. I went. And I went. And I went. I missed a few summer bootcamps while I was on vacation (but sadly, not too many. note to self: go on vacation more). I missed a few classes along the way due to migraines (but thankfully only like one or two!). But overall... I didn't miss. I'm always there. I've practically worn a hole in the floor from the door to "my" spot. I've become a fixture in those classes. People I don't know know my name. The instructor sometimes talks to me during the class (like, in her microphone). When I do miss, people notice and asks where I was.

Weird, right?

But it's not weird anymore... it's now my normal. Which is weird.

So, one full year of working out. What's changed? Well, I'm a heck of a lot stronger. The resolution was simply to show up. But I found that I started focusing on getting stronger and competing against myself. I didn't want to just show up and then end 2015 where I started. I wanted to keep moving up in my weights. Bodypump is all about high reps for lean muscles rather than bulking up. So for instance we might do like 100 reps of different bicep curls. I think I've almost tripled my bicep weights from what I was lifting a year ago. Now when I look around I'm lifting what most of the men in the room are lifting. Meanwhile, bootcamp has driven me in such a way that my doctors are thrilled when they read my blood pressure numbers on their charts. People assume that I've lost weight. Interestingly, I haven't. I'm a Weight Watchers Lifetime Member so I know that I have lost exactly three pounds. I think I've dropped two pant sizes though. Can I just say "weird" again? Physically, I've just become a person who works out regularly, intensely, for an hour three times a week. And it feels great.

It's also been good for me emotionally. I like to say "it's cheaper than therapy!" even though it isn't since therapy would be free on our insurance. So... yeahhh... it is good for me though. There's something great about going to the gym three times a week where only two people know anything about me. I just sweat and work hard and make weird faces and talk to myself in the mirror (usually something to the tune of "oh just do it!" when I'm about to drop a heavy weight). It feels good to set small goals (like add a weight or run faster) and then accomplish them.

This morning right after my last workout of the year I asked Chris to take my picture (nothing like looking worse in your "after" photos, right?). I was pretty tempted to just upload a picture of Chris with his big bushy beard as my after photo. Ha! But I can't find one so I guess I'll just show you what I've been working on.

2015: the year of exercising.
Now I need something to keep me motivated for 2016. Uh oh... any ideas?

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Sitting in the back of my parent's minivan (or was it the Astro by then?) on the way to my first week at Camp Allen's overnight camp I clearly remember my dad's very solid advice: "Just tell the girls in your cabin this story and everyone will want to be your friend!" The story was a captivating, especially to a third grader, and involved little Jimmy in boy scout camp, a bunch of shaving cream, and a shower stall. I showed up at camp with my ginormous duffel, my bedside fan, and my ace in the hole story. I settled in for the night and began my tale.

I had a great week that first year at camp. How could I not? It was camp! I had candy and did arts and crafts every single day! I swam and swam and swam. Messy games, fun songs, more swimming (there wasn't actually that much to do in those days besides swim), it was a great week. The last night one of my bunk mates sat in my bed chatting. "You know," she remarked in that third grader candid kind of way, "you're pretty cool. It's too bad Regina George told all of us to not be your friend at the beginning of the week."

Luckily for me, I'd been too busy having fun to realize that I hadn't made any friends.

I've been going to boot camp on Friday mornings for about six months now. It's the same faces each week. And those are the faces that I tend to see on Mondays and Wednesdays as well. Most people go with a friend, but I fly solo as my workout buddy hates bootcamp (and is now preggo and traveling across the entire country for the next few months).

Last week we went outside to run and a group of girls commented on the skunk smell. "Oh, man!" I said, "When I was pregnant..." and proceeded to tell a fabulous story about being pregnant with my second child, a skunk smell caught in our car air conditioner, and throwing up on my feet.

Nailed it.

Rocky Ridge and the Kansas Prairie

From Laura Ingalls Wilder's Letter to a Child February 1947:

"The Little House books are stories of long ago.

 The way we live and your schools are much different now,

so many changes have made living and learning easier.

 But the real things haven't changed.

 It is still best to be honest and truthful;

 to make the most of what we have;

 to be happy with simple pleasures

 and to be cheerful and to have courage when things go wrong."

My Open Love Letter to Beth Bojarski

One day recently (so, like, in the last year or so) Kelly asked me to name people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included). Now, if you know Kelly at all then you know that this question was not one that merited a casual response. Kelly wasn't looking for an off the top of my head reply. She wanted an in-depth analysis of the most influential people in my life. Who were these people? How did I meet them? What impact did they have upon me? Give specific examples as to how am I living out that influence today. I don't remember if I passed the oral portion of the examination, but I've decided to submit the written part here.

Her question was intriguing. One I've thought about since that day. I thought about sending a letter to my most influential person, but I like the public nature of blogging. Plus, the drug my neurologist has me on makes my fingers go numb (an expected side effect) and thus lengthy letter writing will not be in my portfolio in the near future. It also makes for some interesting Bodypump classes - try doing a million clean and presses with numb hands. It's weird.

So... without further ado... surprise Beth! You are the first person that popped in my mind when Kelly asked me that question. Why? Because you are perhaps the person who I have most purposely looked up to and tried to learn from in my adult life. Surprised? Perhaps. Let me get everyone on the same page...

Beth was one of the first people I met when Chris and I moved to Virginia in 2006. The very first person in fact. She was our next door neighbor and was outside wearing a superman t-shirt and ready to help unpack our u-haul when we pulled up. She met us with a smile and a welcome basket from the seminary and a promise to always have an open door should I need to borrow an egg. Although... now that I type this out that was right around the time she went vegan... so... hmmm... Beth and a bunch of dudes unloaded our trailer for us and then sat down with a cooler of crappy beer and welcomed us to the neighborhood.

Getting a picture of how cool she is already?

Unfortunately for me, I met Beth before I had my "aha moment" in 2009 when I realized I was the "common denominator" in never making friends. *cough* More on that later if any one is interested. Or not. I'll summarize it for you: I had a moment of clarity when I realized I never made friends because I never tried to be anyone's friend. Tricky.

Fortunately for me, Beth is pretty damn cool and kept reaching out to me anyway despite my tendency to stay firmly put in my hobbit hole. So, here is how Beth influenced who I am today:

The first way that Beth impacted who I am today was a very specific occasion. Beth had a weekly gathering at her apartment (see, she knew how to make friends! sheesh) and at one such gathering the conversation turned catty. Beth was not one to normally partake in making fun of other people behind their backs (another thing I tried to pick up from her), but that particular night she said something rude. Who cares what she said? Who even remembered? It was just one comment among many that were said by a bunch of girls. The next day I found an email in my inbox from Beth sent to everyone who had attended. In it she acknowledged that she'd said something she regretted and wished that she could take it back. She apologized to everyone for hosting a party that ended up turning sour. I was 24 at the time so a bunch of girls sitting around and making fun of someone behind their back didn't seem to me like a party turning sour. That's just what a party was, right? {*see note above about how I did not yet know how to make friends at this time*} Beth's email in terms of my needing an apology didn't matter. But it changed my life! It was the first time that someone had reached out in reconciliation in that particular way. I knew that none of us needed Beth to apologize for her comment, she had needed to apologize. A year or so later I was at a party and made the same mistake. Sorry to burst your bubble people but seminary is a fish bowl. Seminarians say mean things when in a fish bowl. I found myself back home after the party and regretting the thing I'd said and the way I'd potentially made other people feel uncomfortable with my having said it (I'd made fun of a classmate). So, I took a page from Beth's book and sent everyone an email. And it was freeing. From then on I've done my best to always reach out in reconciliation when something is eating at me and that has been life changing.

Which leads us to my second point: Beth is one of the most genuine and openly honest people I've ever met. Perhaps the most genuine and openly honest person I've ever met. She is caring and compassionate and willing to share those feelings. But more than that she is willing to share the whole gamut of feelings. She doesn't hold back, but she does so in a way that is holy, in a way that invites others in and allows them to be a part of something holy. She showed me how to speak my mind no matter what the emotion. Being in school and a small group with Beth I saw her interact with a variety of people in a variety of situations and was amazed by her ability to voice her opinions in a way that didn't diminish the opinions of others. She stood firm in what she felt and believed, but didn't try to stomp on someone else's feet in giving voice to her thoughts. I saw her speak openly to friends when she was concerned for their well-being even if it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. I saw her share her fears, her triumphs, her mundanes of life - and it was all beautiful - and I realized, that sharing one's life, one's whole life with people is in fact truly beautiful. Beth's ability to be so open and honest gave me the desire to live my life in the same way and it is something that since meeting her I have actively pursued. What I've found is that it's freeing and has opened new opportunities in my life for friendship and love. I have found that more often than not that sharing with people results in "me toos!" and closeness and community and friendship. Sure sometimes it's uncomfortable, vulnerability is... well... vullneerrabblee... but it's so worth it. Beth gets credit for teaching me that sharing one's full gamut of emotions allows others to share theirs and opens up new paths for friendship and depth and holiness.

On a lighter note, Beth taught me how to layer! Ha! Literally. With the first cold snap we had in Virginia Beth found me wearing a t-shirt and a coat. I remember very clearly her saying to me, "Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of layering?" And I've survived cold weather ever since. Turns out you can be in the snow and not be cold. Huh, who knew?! Perhaps every Texan needs a friend from upstate New York.

So, Kelly, there you have it. Beth Bojarski wins as the non-relative non-teacher non-obvious-choice for most influential person in my life. Hands down. No contest. No one else even comes close. Unfortunately for Beth the winner of this contest receives a none-expense paid trip to Tejas where they can revel in right-wing hysteria, eat large quantities of beef, and throw away unused paper products just to remind the trees who the boss is around here. I jest, of course... I jest... I'm kidding... a joke... right? *sigh* 

The Tracks of My Tears

"People say I'm the life of the party cause I tell a joke or two. Although I might be laughin' loud and hearty, deep inside I'm blue... take a good look at my face, you'll see my smile looks out of place. If you look closer it's easy to trace the tracks of my tears."

This morning began on a very high note. Bodypump has a new release out so it was fun to start the day off with new moves and good (overall) music. And then - the fit muscular guy behind me in class came up to me when I was putting away my weights and exclaimed, "You are really strong! I am new to this class and have been following your lead as to how much weight to put on my bar. You can lift a lot of weight!" I laughed and thanked him for the compliment. Then he said, "women don't tend to get that strong in their upper bodies but I had a hard time keeping up with you! I'm impressed" - and I couldn't have been prouder.

Then I came home and Chris' looming visit with Dr. Snippet (sorry, tmi) suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks and I crumpled into a crying mess on the couch.

{sigh} Sometimes it's just so hard to know what the right thing to do is.

I Kellyed myself up and packed some lunches to bring to the library with us. A good time was had by all at toddler time (with plenty of dancing and clapping by Nils), and Carolena ran into a friend from school who hung with us for the rest of the morning. The girls had fun playing and choosing books and then we all headed out to feed the ducks and enjoy a little lunch. Some of the ducks had "a little 50 shades of gray thing going on" as the other mom put it and the girls had to be redirected to picking flowers lest they be trampled by overzealous fowl.

So, here we are midday on a day with high highs and a low low. Nils is sound asleep and Carolena is plowing through the new books we brought home. I'm trying to think about what I might be willing to force myself to eat for lunch. It's hard to eat when you spent the morning sobbing.

This afternoon: sonic drinks, the park, the ymca, a haircut?? The possibilities are seemingly endless. Whatever we do, we'll do something fun. That's the plan and I'm sticking to it.

Something for me to keep in mind in the future: that other mom has no idea what a blessing she was to me today. We never even remember one another's names. She has no idea that I spent the morning in tears facing the hardest decision of my life. She has no clue that I easily could have spent our entire trip to the library wallowing and fighting back tears and feeling distracted while my children ran amok. Instead, seeing her there helped turned my day around - good conversation with someone who loves to read nonfiction, has heard of Ernest Shackleton, bought her husband Undaunted Courage recently. Yep, I need to remember to be kind to people. You never know what's happening underneath the surface in their lives. And perhaps I need to find a way to force that girl to be my friend.

Can I Get an Allel...?!?!

I am so tempted to wait a few more days to post this so that I can shout out the A word from the rooftops. Alas, it is still lent so you'll just have to imagine my deep sense of joy and hope. I went to the neurologist and you guys... it. was. awesome.

I went in with a very skeptical attitude. I started getting migraines in 2001 and they were diagnosed in 2003. I've lived with this for quite some time now and know most (all?) of my triggers. I have Imitrex to treat my pain. And this year, I hit rock bottom with my migraines. They've been so frequent and so horrible I don't even really want to go into detail and relive it. Suffice to say I would choose childbirth over a migraine any day.

So, I went into the neurologist feeling hopeless and discouraged and pessimistic. The only reason I was even going was out of despair really. And at the pressure of two of my doctors. Plus, there's the whole "new Jan Brady" thing in which I'm trying to be the person I want to be. So, reluctantly, to the doctor I went. Imagine my surprise when the neurologist turned out to be awesome! Imagine my relief when he met me where I am with my migraines rather than where I was back in 2001 as I'd feared he would. 

He was so compassionate and competent and all around awesome. He assured me that we will find the right medications for me and the right doses. He is confident that my migraines will be under control. He was honest and said that they aren't going to go away, but that with his help we'll get them manageable so that I won't spend 24 hours or more of every week lying in bed incoherent. So, hooray! I started my meds on Friday and so far so good. I haven't even had any "crunchies" - which is Casey code for the feeling that I was feeling almost everyday in my neck. Now that I've been to a doctor I know that "crunchies" are evidently blood vessels in the base of my brain freaking out and beginning to dilate. Huh, go figure. That explains the pressure feeling.

So, things are looking up! Just a few days ago I couldn't imagine a life without migraines. Now I am giddy with joy and hope for my future. Woooooo!!!!!

Full Disclosure

I knew my pregnancy with Nils would be my last pregnancy. Not because I don't want more children, but because, as it turns out for me, pregnancy sucks. With all of the vomiting, and migraines, and bed rest, and blood pressure concerns, and failing organs and all that jazz... I just can't do it again. I would love to have another child, but my health is more important. Taking care of the two beautiful little munchkins I already have is more important.

And when I came to fully realize that, I found that I was crushed.

And no, not crushed in the CRushD kind of way that I love when I combine my initials and my maiden name.

Crushed.

I spent most of last year crying. I'll tell you what, crying every day isn't as glamorous as it sounds. And then sometime in the fall I decided it was time for another Kellying. It was time to rally and pull myself up by the bootstraps. A new haircut, weekly workouts, more makeup, a fresh take. Except, when you're facing something so deeply difficult, sometimes that just isn't enough. Daily prayer led me to daily thanksgiving. I decided to be happy and thankful for what I have, rather than sad and pouting over what I want.

What I want is to be pregnant again and have it be easy. That isn't going to happen. So I might as well change what I want and want what I have: two wonderful children.

Giving thanks changed everything. It got easier. I cleared out all of our baby clothes and got rid of all of the things Nils has outgrown. That was surprisingly freeing. They were like shackles around my ankles. Getting rid of all of that stuff has allowed me to move forward. I think it was around that time that I stopped crying. My last infant has been weaned. Our bottles are gone. We are moving forward to the next phase of life, and I am excited to see what this new phase holds.

Overall, I'm doing okay. In fact, I'm better than okay. I'm doing pretty great. As it turns out giving thanks changes everything. And if I find myself in a moment that is rough I go visit this picture of Leona and her two... and I smile.

Bookish

Sometimes I think about writing a book. In fact, I have a few different Word documents hanging out on the old laptop. And I work on them and wonder to myself... what would people want to read from me? Anything? Nothing? Motherhood musings? Theology? Both?

And then I think, aw screw it. This is a lot of work. And I go visit my dear old friend Google and look at pictures like this:

Seriously though. If any of you people want me to ever get something published you are going to have to stop being so shy and start commenting on my blog. Publicists care about that stuff. I know you are out there... I can see how many people read my blog. Hi shhhyyy little readers. It's okay. Come on out...

Oh, and tell your friends.

Or don't. I might never finish any of this and just keep hanging out drinking iced tea with my good friend Google. And that lemur. He's hilarious.

Inertia

I gave up caffeine.
Then I hurt my back (again).
And now Chris is out of town for the week.

This object at rest just wants to stay at rest.

But, I know how hard it is to return to bodypump after a week off and I fear that two weeks off will be too depressing. I love how I feel when I'm working out regularly so I'm going to do my best to get to the Y this week. The kids will love it. They always do. I will love it. I always do. Why is it so hard to get my hiney into the gym when I fall out of the habit? Seriously! I only skipped a week!

I remember thinking a few years ago that life without caffeine was really fabulous. Was something wrong with me? I'm going to give it until Easter (at least), but man, no caffeine sucks. The trade-off of daily caffeine for more frequent migraines might be worth it.

I'm wearing my workout clothes. I've texted my workout buddy. I told Carolena to get excited because we're going to the Y. No excuses. This week I'll do my best. Next week Chris will be back home and I'll get back into the 515 routine... sans caffeine. Oh. My. God.

9:15 (am of course. pm is bedtime)

At 420 my alarm went off just as I was about to open a box full of Kathy Orgain's fruitcake (which was evidently very exciting in dream world. Does she even make fruitcake? I don't know - but I have had her cookies... mmmm). Literally, I was lifting the lid when the alarm went off.

At 545 I found myself lying on the floor in a pool of my own sweat while a small woman who looks strikingly similar to Kate Hudsen told me that while I was down there I should do some pushups. On one leg. So I did.

At 630 I walked through the door to a dark quiet calm house.
At 631 I heard Carolena yell, "Hi Mommy! Nils and I are awake!" and Nils began screaming.
At 632 I found a boy covered covered in poop.

At 645 both kids were relaxing the in the bathtub eating waffles. Turns out breakfast bathtime isn't a bad idea.

At 715 I drank a second cup of coffee

8something Chris (who gets credit for washing out poopy sheets and clothes) and Carolena headed out for some errand running

830 Nils helped me start sorting through toys and reorganizing... it goes without saying that it is now worse than when we started.

905 and Nils is in his bed loudly protesting his nap. Laundry is going and going. Ella, Frank, and Billie on the playlist. I'm ready for a hot bath with a good book. And perhaps another swig or two of coffee.

Time Enough at Last

Friday morning I arrived home from boot camp (yes, really) and announced to my family,
"Pack your bags and get in the car. We're going to Austin!"

After days and days of dreary cold weather and nothing notable to do, we were itching for an adventure. So, we made it happen. A couple of hours later (we he had to wait for the foundation dude to come out - I'd forgotten about that) we were off!

After a great day in our capital city a.k.a our old stomping grounds and the birthplace of Carolena we arrived back at our hotel room, bathed the nuggets, and got them both tucked in.

The night was young. I could hear the pleasant sounds of my children sleeping and the rain falling upon the window. I was enjoying the bliss that comes from lying in a bed with clean sheets that I did not have to wash nor put on the bed. My pajamas were cozy. My body was exhausted from the early workout. I was under a big fluffy comforter with a David Sedaris book and small reading light.

Content and giddy with the prospect of lying in bed for hours reading an enjoyable book, I flipped on the light and began to read. One paragraph later I watched in agony as the small led book light dimmed... dimmed... dimmed... and died.

 

Time Enough at Last indeed.

And Cut. That's a Wrap.

When Chris and I were engaged I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table working on something for the wedding (I have no memory of what it was) and totally stressing out about it. My mom finally put an end to it by yelling politely suggesting, "Casey, everything you touch is turning to shit right now! Put it away!"

I immediately turned to my brother, grabbed his shoulder, and then cackled, "Ha! Mom just called you shit!"

Remember the time I spent months working on a handmade project for my sister and then decided right before Christmas that I didn't like it and started something new?

Last night I showed Chris the new project and we determined it is ungiftable in it's current state (which was in theory "finished"). Hopefully it's not unsalvageable. I then made a double batch of caramel corn for Carolena's teachers that was taken from the oven and dumped into the trash.

Today I woke up at 4am, drank a ton of coffee, and worked out. Caramel corn: take two. Kelly's handmade gift: take three. Coffee drinking: take one million.

Hunter, want to come over and entertain me while everything I touch turns to poo-poo again?

Starstruck

Last night I had the opportunity to go to a book signing of Col. Chris Hadfield (former commander of the International Space Station, hit youtube sensation, all around loveable Astronaut).

Guys, it. was. awesome.

He was signing copies of his new book, "You Are Here." It's a compilation of photographs of Earth that he took during his five months on ISS. He and his wife are giving all of the proceeds to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinsons research. Yeah, he's pretty cool.

After he spoke for a bit about life on ISS he opened up the floor for questions and all two hundred (from my quick count) people's hands shot up. And he called on me! Moi!

I asked him to speak about what it was like to return to Earth after so long in space. He began by saying, "Think about your body. You heart is pumping blood five and a half feet... no... wait... five feet seven inches all of the time." HA! How awesome is that?! He said that the return to Earth was really physically demanding and that the first month was like the combination of a long serious illness and a horrible car accident and that he was nauseous all of the time. It was fascinating.

But the best answer came in response to the last question. A person in the front row asked what there is that could possibly be left on Chris Hadfield's bucket list... and his answer was phenomenal. It was a summary of how I try to live my life and was so great it deserves it's own blogpost.

To be continued...

Marriage Material

Chris and I have been married for eight years. We've been dating for eleven. In all of those years of dating and marriage how many times do you think I've been to his parents' home?

The answer is: a lot. A lot of times. Over the course of eleven years. Eleven.

Now, remember that.

Chris and I are a great couple if I do say so myself. We really bring out the best in one another and complement (and compliment) one another's personality quite well.

That said, for eight years Chris has been putting up with my untidiness. Now, don't get me wrong, if you come to our house it will look clean and clutter-free (at least I hope), but if you were to open any closet or pantry you would find disarray. Placing pots and pans back into the cabinet in such a way that they nest with one another rather than crashing out on the next unsuspecting cook has just never been high on my priority list. I just open the cabinet, cram those suckers in there, and shut the door as quickly as possible before they all come clanging out upon my feet. And, for eight years of marriage, it's worked out nicely.

For me at least.

A few weeks ago I was at my in-laws' house. Remember how many times I've been there? A lot. So, here I am at their house for the bazillionth time, and I go to toss something in their trashcan. I open the pantry door for what might be the 10,000th time in my life and suddenly I realize something: everything in their kitchen has it's own place.

*mind blown*

Suddenly, I understood why Chris is always frustrated with our shared bedroom closet. His clothes hang in neat tidy lines organized by color and type. My clothes are organized by "is this too dirty to wear again?" I thought back on how every once in a while he stands exasperated in front of our pantry moaning about how he wouldn't have to reorder everything in there if I would just put things back where they belong. (Things belong somewhere in there? *mind blown*)

Chris grew up in a home where everything had it's place.

Woah.

{Right now my mom is probably reading this and sighing and rolling her eyes. She's spent like half of her life fighting the mess and disorder caused by my dad, siblings, and me. Sorry Moom. Oops. I don't think I ever noticed.}

Chris' mother always says that she raised her boys to be marriage material. She did a fantastic job. I laugh that the only thing I had to teach Chris was how to sew on a button. He insists that he never learned but knowing Dianne (who could write the handbook on how to raise sons who are marriage material) I have a hard time believing that.

So, I spent the morning cleaning out the pantry while Chris slept in (and by that I mean he got to sleep to like 730). Of course, the minute he came into the kitchen I knocked a beer off of the top shelf and it crashed to the floor covering everything in beer and broken glass. But that's neither here nor there. What I'm trying to say is... you should see our pantry. Damn. I'm good.

Then I tackled a spot in our kitchen that we've been calling the "wasted prime real estate" by moving our china to higher shelves and more often used items to the prime real estate.  Damn. I'm really good.

Then I pulled everything out of our closet. And reorganized it. And vacuumed it.

Get ready Chris Duncan, it's the new Jan Brady.

My clothes are now all shoved together and condensed to one part of the closet and organized by... well... not organized. That's really asking too much of me.

It's the New Jan Brady

I've been asked to present my "success story" at Weight Watchers. Our leader sent me home with a few questions to ponder before addressing the group, and I've enjoyed thinking over them so I figured I would answer them here on my blog. My blog is mainly just a creative outlet for me so this is a little different (and honestly makes me somewhat uncomfortable), but I post this to keep myself motivated and hopefully to motivate others as well. So, without further ado, it's the new Jan Brady:*

How did you feel before you joined Weight Watchers?
In January I gave birth to my second child. As you can see in this never before seen on the internet photo, I had a lot of weight to lose:

I left the hospital with a body conveniently large enough to rest my newborn on while he snoozed. I actually felt pretty good though. I've never been one to suffer from low self esteem (thanks to my fabulous parents) so in typical sunflower-hat-wearing Casey fashion, I figured I looked pretty good for having just had my second child. I was happy to not be pregnant anymore, had a beautiful newborn to stare at, and though I felt uncomfortable from the weight, I reminded myself that I had just had a baby after all. A few weeks went by and as the pounds came off I felt better and better. Then, I hit a plateau. I'd lost about 20 lbs and felt great about that, but I felt stuck and uncomfortable in my own skin. I knew the summer months (heat!) were coming and soon I'd be squeezing myself into too-small shorts and feeling awkward in a bathing suit. I knew all of the extra weight would make a Texas summer miserable, the heat unbearable. One night I plugged my weight into a BMI calculator and I came up as overweight. The next morning I was sitting in what would become my new home for Tuesday mornings. I was in a Weight Watchers meeting for the first time. 

What helped you believe that you could change successfully?

Early on when I began losing weight someone made a snide comment in front of me (as part of our conversation, knowing that I could hear). We were talking about weight loss and this person said to the person next to her, (with a wave of her hand as if dismissing me) "well, it's easy for her because..." It was a moment in my life in which I actually got to be in someone else's shoes. It's easy for me?! Wow. I am usually the one saying/thinking that about other people. "That mom lost all of the weight because it's easy for her. She doesn't like dessert." "That mom lost all of the weight because it's easy for her. She has time to work out." "That mom lost all the weight because it was easy for her. She's always been small." That mom..." After my first pregnancy I was full of "reasons" that other people were losing weight while I wasn't and I never finished burning off the last of the weight.

Hearing someone be dismissive of the fact that it might actually be hard for me was eye opening. It made me realize that whether or not losing weight was hard or easy for me has no bearing on anyone else. I realized that even if losing weight was easy for me, that didn't change that woman's reality. In that moment I understood that whether or not it's hard or easy for other people to lose weight doesn't change my reality. This woman's snide comment was about her, not me. It was her excuse for why she wasn't losing weight. Though rude, it actually had nothing to do with me. Weight loss and maintenance is hard for most people. It is. Accepting this reality made me able to believe that I could change. This woman's rude comment was freeing for me. It freed me from kidding myself with the hope that it would somehow be magically easy. It freed me to accept that it is hard for other people too. This new freedom allowed me to believe that I could change. Realizing that it wasn't going to be easy and recognizing that other people's ability to lose weight has nothing to do with me, that was freeing.

Now that I have hit my goal I am aware of how often people make that comment to me. It takes different forms but it's always the same message, "It was easy for you because..." This is irritating in that it belittles the hard work that I have put in (and continue to put in). It assumes that I have not chosen to pass up many a margarita at the beach this summer. It ignores the number of times I have awakened before 5am in order to squeeze in a workout. It underestimates the number of times I've stood in my pantry shoveling peanut butter or chocolate chips (or both) into my mouth all the while knowing I will beat myself up about it later. I remind myself that other people's ideas about why it's "easy" for me are just that: their ideas, their excuses, their problem. Not mine.

How did you feel when you reached your goal?

Honestly, it wasn't the balloons falling from the ceiling, confetti flying feeling that I thought it would be. I felt a little unsure. Was this really goal? Should I lose another pound? Or two? Or three? I spend so much of my life trying to be a better person (in a healthy way). It seemed uncomfortable to announce to the world, "this weight is the one I'm happy with!" For me, reaching goal was a time of reassessment. Yes, it was exciting, but it was confusing and scary too.

The day I received lifetime membership was different. The six weeks of maintenance were really good for wiping away those bits of worry. Yes, I do feel good at this weight. Yes, I feel confident and comfortable in my own skin. Getting my lifetime membership recognition was much more exciting than goal for me. I feel like I've accomplished something awesome. I feel like I've won. 

How do you ensure that your relationship with food is changing for good?
For me, this means following the Simply Filling plan. With Simply Filling I've been able to keep a lot of the meals I fed my family in the past with some tweaking to the recipes. I make red beans and rice twice a month. I swapped out the white rice for brown, reduced the oil I use, and just ditched the cornbread all together. Hamburgers, taco salad, and stir fry are all still in the normal menu rotation - just with leaner meat. I switched to skim milk, no fat cheese, and keep a fruit bowl stocked at all time. I also go to meetings every week. Every. Single. Week.

As I mentioned, losing 45 pounds (25 with ww) hasn't been easy. But, it has been as easy as possible. Weight Watchers gave me exact instructions on how to lose weight, and I learned early on that if I follow the "rules" then I win. If I cheat on my eating, then I don't lose weight. It's that simple.

What are the things holding you back? You look at me and think (or say), "It's easy for you because..." because what? Because I'm young? Yeah, my mom is twice my age and just lost a ton on of weight on ww too. Next!
Because what? Because I gained the weight from pregnancy? Yeahh... and McDonald's and Taco Bell and Blue Bell and the list goes on. Newsflash: the fat didn't know how it got on my body. It was there. I had to burn it off. End of story. Next!
Because what? Because I have time to work out? See the above comment about waking up at 430am. Next!
Because what? Because I don't freak out and shovel food into my face like I've been lost at sea for a year? Uh... you're right... no... I don't do that... ahem... awkward guilty silence... Next!

Because what? What are the things holding you back? Don't ignore those things. Think about them. Then kick them in the face. In the words of my favorite three year old,

"YOU CAN DO IT! I KNOW YOU CAN!"

*How many of you are typing "it's the new Jan Brady" into Google right now?

I Called the Witch Doctor He Told Me What to Do

One of the things we talked about in my "witch doctors" meeting this week (known to the rest of the world as Weight Watchers) was how important it is to be positive. When we tell ourselves or others that we can't do something then we actually increase the likelihood that we will not in fact do the task. We were encouraged to spend time saying (to ourselves and out loud) I can.

I found it interesting that we discussed that in my meeting since this is something I have been working on lately on my own. I'm trying to give myself the same advice and admonitions that I give to my daughter. They take different forms at different times but here are some of the basic themes:

"You are very capable."

"You are a very smart girl."

"You need to try something before you say you can't do it."

"You need to try something before you say you don't like it."

"If you don't put your toys away, I will throw them in the trash."

"We're the kind of girls who go on adventures so that means we're just going get some bumps, scrapes, and bruises along the way."

"What if your viking ancestors could hear you whining/stressing about that? Shake it off. We come from a long line of strong women."
She'll be repeating this one to a therapist some day... but seriously, stop talking about the "little tiny baby hole" on your finger. The "little tiny baby hole" you are obsessing over doesn't even classify as a cut. And to myself I can say the same thing, "stop talking about the {fill in blank with a variety of things}..."

"You can do it! I know you can!"

This new and improved version of thinking positively has changed my life for the better over the course of the last month. I've started going to "the witch doctors," been to a ton of awesome group exercise classes, gained muscle, and lost fat. I have a new friend and workout buddy. My first obstacle run is just over a week away. As Kelly likes to say, "It's the new Jan Brady!"