Groundhog Day

Stay-at-home moms get a bad rap. Yes, we stay in our yoga pants all day, but this is not a choice. It is by default. I try to look like a girl more often than not as the boys have gotten a little older, but I will admit that most days I'm rocking the mom bun, yoga pants, & I'm free-boobin' it.

If you have ever wondered what it is like to have twins & a toddler, have ever desired to have this combination or happen to fall into this scenario, allow me to enlighten you to how things run around here.

Somewhere between 6:00 & 6:30am: boys wake up to nurse. I am, usually, deep into a creepy dream about an ex-boyfriend and drooling on my pillow, but I stumble in, grab the boys & nurse as I fight sleep. Boys go back down.

7:00am: In a hushed whisper, as close to my face as humanly possible, "MOM! MAMA! CAN YOU TURN ON A CARTOON FOR ME?"

Turn on cartoon. Back to bed.

8:00am: "MOM! MY CARTOON IS OVER. CAN I WATCH SOMETHING ELSE? AND I'M ALMOST STARVING. CAN I HAVE SOME CEREAL?"

Cereal, cartoon. Back to bed.

9:00am: Boys wake up. Nurse.

9:01am: Insert Chai tea IV.

The morning is a blur as walkers are whizzing around the room, Maddie is, as per usual, lining up her toys and yes. You guessed it. In her underwear.

9:30am: Feed the boys vomit cereal breakfast.

10:00am: Pile into the big bed for cuddling, talking, phone games, and to annoy the bejeezus out of the parents.

10:05am: I'm over it. Emails. Boys are fussing by now. Naptime.

11:00am: Boys are awake. Time to take photos of the boys in their swag for the blog. 

- Set up the room. 

- Dress the boys.

- Get Maddie to jump around like an idiot to make them smile.

- Lose my shit because Jax is trying to roll off the bed & kill himself, Jett is sucking on his shirt, his shoes or his fingers, and Maddie is screaming at the top of her lungs.

- Manage to get ONE shot. Post it. 

- Pretend like life is picturesque.

- Dry my pits that are now dripping sweat.

Her Tiny Tribe                                                                   Made by Molly

 Made by Molly                                                               Riley Clay Designs

 guguberry

12:00pm: Lunch. The boys get bottles, Maddie wants "sprinkle cheese and 5 pieces of apple." Ugh. Fine. Eat whatever you want.

12:30pm: Boys back down. Threaten Maddie with naptime if she doesn't hurry up & finish her damn food.

1:00pm: Silence. 

2:00pm: Once I have reached the end of Pinterest, Instagram & Facebook, work my fat ass out. 

2:45pm: Shower. Look like a girl again. Take a selfie to prove that I got dressed. And because #narcissism.

3:30pm: They are awake. Snacks. Cartoons. More chaos in the living room.

This happened. Texted Maren, begging her to tell me that it was ok that the kids were driving me crazy, so I hid in the pantry, dipping my carrots in Nutella. She assures me this is normal.

4:00pm: Operation: get these kids out of my house, unless it's spring thru fall & then I'm FREEEEEE. Working, but FREEEEEE.

Kids vs. no kids. Either way, there's always Starbucks.

- Kids: hoofing it through Centerra, sweating & swearing under my breath that I will never ever take these monsters angels out in public by myself again.

And the comments.
"Oh my! You have your hands full."
"You aren't having more, are you?"
"Bless your heart. You must be exhausted."
"Are they twins?" "No, I stole one."

- Working: jumping around, making fart sounds to make other people's kids laugh. 

5:30pm: In the door. Pants off, bra off, hair up. Dinner.

6:00pm: Bath.

6:30pm: Nap. 'Toons for Maddie. Emails, editing, cleaning.

7:00pm: Bath for Mama. Really, this is just me laying in the bath, Instagramming.

8:00pm: Editing, emailing, rewashing the laundry I put in that morning.

9:00pm: Maddie is down for the night. Friends marathon for Mama.

10:30pm: Bottles for the boys. Adult time. And by adult time, I mean, we both lay next to each other on our phones while Parks & Rec plays on the TV. 

11:00pm: Pillow over my face, drooling.

6:00am: Wake up, repeat.

Most days I think, "What the hell was I thinking?" But then, this:

And I'm like, "You guys are so lucky you're cute."

Happy Thursday, moms. We're all having the same day. Go hide in your pantry & spoon some Nutella into your mouth. We've all done it. No judgment. Just solidarity. 

The Fine Line Between Success & Failure

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt

The day I have busted my butt for has finally arrived. 1-3-2. My ultimo, supremo weight loss goal. No gimmicks, no fads; just good ol' nose-to-the-grindstone, hard work.

When I last posted about my weight loss, I never expected to lose more weight. I don't know that I believed I would even actually hit that original goal. It was a number to strive for, to work for, but I don't know that I could tell you I believed I could do it.

Josh & I hooked up our ancient computers last night & walked down memory lane through old photos. I knew what I weighed, knew that I needed to lose weight, so I knew what to expect as we scrolled through the photos. What I didn't expect was the sadness that washed over me as I looked at the girl I used to be. I grieved for her. I could look at the photos & feel the sadness & humiliation she had felt in those shorts that she squeezed into. I knew the pain that she felt on vacations with family & the shame she felt being so overweight, & yet too hurt to do anything about it.

Anywhere from around 180 to 220lb (no scale to prove that), & sizes 14-18, L-XL. 

I wish that I could ramble on & on right now, & tell you that the girl in those pictures has figured it all out. I wish I could tell you that with dropping a total of 88 pounds, I dropped the mentality of feeling less than, the comparing or the constant striving for a lower number because maybe that magic number will be the one that makes me feel better about myself. I can't. I'm embarrassed to say that. I have friends & family members looking to me for advice & motivation & tips. Do you know that I wanted to change my goal because I thought 132 was too much? That if I just replaced that 3 with a 2, then maybe I would feel better. Maybe some of the naysayers would be impressed. Three pounds. That's it. Three stupid pounds.

Being heavy is hard, losing weight is hard, & now maintaining is hard. Each step is a battle in your head. What I have learned, & what I have to remind myself of everyday at this step is that it's enough. It was always enough. I was always enough. Maybe you can make improvements to your body or your character or your attitude, but it's enough. Had I known that back in 2004, my approach to life, my body, & how I felt about myself would have been vastly improved. Had I known that regardless of who I compared myself to, I was who I was created to be. Did I need to lose weight? Yes. Did I need to feel inferior because of it? Hell no.

No matter where you're at in your journey to get fit, you are perfect just as you are. You are who you are supposed to be. There is always room for improvement for all of us, but comparing ourselves to someone who we are NOT SUPPOSED to be is destructive to our hearts & minds. When I set out to lose weight, my original goal was to be fit & healthy so that my kids would never see their mom struggle. I didn't want them to pick up on bad habits & struggle through high school & college to get it under control like I did. It was about losing weight. I had no idea that it was so much less about losing weight & so much more about finding happiness, strength & confidence underneath that layer of chub. It was about finding the girl inside that is confident in any room she's in. An added bonus is that it has become a platform to help my friends & family in their struggle to find balance & health.

I'm blessed. I have my family, friends & some killer arms. And the confidence is coming. I came across a girl today on Instagram who writes #confident under every photo she posts. I dig it. I may not do it, but I'm going to think it in my head. On repeat. Everyday.

And to counter the chubby gallery, I'm PROUD & CONFIDENT to show you that I've busted my J.Lo booty from a size 18 to a size 6. #confident

132-135lbs, & size 6, SM-MED

Thank you to those of you who offered wisdom, encouragement, or a shoulder to cry on. Thank you for being my cheerleaders. I love you to the moon & back.

The big FAT post

I hate writing about controversial topics. I'm not good at it. I don't want to debate about it. Not that weight loss is controversial, but you usually get some eye rolls with a post about it. I get it - it irritates me to see it too much, but I guess, as it is part of my story, I will blog about it. So, roll your eyes, punks. I don't care. I ain't mad at ya. Because sugar, you can't deny this change:

58 pound difference

I was never good at eating healthy. I was a bean pole as a kid, so I never thought about it. The only thing that I remember is my sweet, gentle, loving Grandma saying "You know, kid, you won't be able to eat 2 Big Mac's & stay skinny forever." I'd pause mid-bite & roll my eyes, only to continue onto the second Big Mac & large fries.

Bean pole status

 Unfortunately, Grandma was right. I started gaining in high school. I was overweight, had to put my large butt in a sexy school uniform with pleated khaki pants, & it was not pretty. So, I did what every teenage girl does...I starved myself. I ate 1,000 calories a day & ran every single day. It worked. I lost 15lbs in a couple of months. I had no idea that this would set a course for the next 10 years of my life. And it wasn't a course that I would wish on anyone.

Post-starvation

I graduated, started college & gained it back. I didn't care. I was dealing with extreme anxiety, & food was the only comfort I found. My parents were separated, I hated school & I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life. They implore you, at 18, to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life. Seems a little stupid to me, teachers. I started teaching preschool, & continued to bounce around on the scale. I did the Atkins diet & lost 30 pounds, only to gain it back shortly after.

Atkins

I was overweight when we got married, but I was ok. I wasn't a beast, but I wasn't teeny. I look back on the photos & wish that I had tried. I didn't. I was working at a horrible salon, with a horrible boss, I was in a new state & feeling out of my element. Food was always there for me. After we got married, I gained 30 pounds (probably more, but I didn't have a scale at that point because who would want to know beyond that). I was spinning out of control. I was teetering on the edge of letting go completely & no longer caring, but being scared to death that this was the path I was headed down. I wanted babies, & I didn't want to be unhealthy. But I really like donuts. Those stupid things get me every time.

Wedding. Duh.

By the time my birthday hit in 2009, I was down 15 pounds & we were ready to try for a baby. By June, I had lost 2 pregnancies & I was devastated. My anxiety had skyrocketed & I was depressed. We were told to wait 3 months before trying again, so I took this time to lose weight. I lost 15 more pounds, got pregnant in November & only gained 16 pounds with Maddie - don't hate.

When Maddie was 3 months old, I was fed up. I was tired of being a mess. I didn't want to be anxious all the time, worrying about my health, & I did not ever want my children to struggle the way I did. So, I started eating right & exercising.

December 2010

Within 6 months from the day Maddie was born, I had lost 45 pounds. I was feeling good. I stayed there for a while, happy, but wanted to lose more. I continued to lose over the next year, but it was only 7 or 8 pounds. I was still trying to lose my last 6 pounds when I got pregnant in June. Not very hard, but nonetheless. A week after the surgery, I was down 6 pounds that my body had apparently been holding onto.

Today, I hit my original goal. I have lost 58 pounds. 58!! And in honor of that, I am showing you my fabulous new dress my mama bought me.

While I am so elated & proud of myself for finally reaching this, my goal of being healthy was the one that was most important. I never had a good relationship with food. I didn't know there was such a thing. It sounds silly to even type it, but I now know that it's true. I never want my children to feel the same way I did about food or about myself. I hated myself. I thought I was worthless because I couldn't get this under control. I want my kids to know that eating good food is fine & healthy. I don't want them to think they aren't allowed to have things, & then hide them from me. That's what I did - I wasn't supposed to have it, so I hid it in my car & ate it when no one was watching. I want them to feel like having treats are perfectly acceptable. It's something that I finally learned. It's not an everyday occurrence, but we will be eating good food around here. I didn't pin all those fall pumpkin recipes for nothin'. We'll be eating them. But we will do it in moderation. Now that I have my weight under control, & I know how to eat & maintain a healthy lifestyle, my kids will know this. This is what their future will hold. Not a mom struggling to get by & unable to help her children learn. I can show them because I am doing it.

~Insert cheesy, triumphant outro song~

It's a good day, people.

a.