Musings

Fat

Fat is a nasty word.
The only time it should be used is in regards to the stuff on the backside of a butchered pig.
Fatback is the only time when fat is a good thing.
And what a good thing it is.
Just ask the green beans.

I’ve been called fat. A lot. It sucks.
After watching this video on facebook yesterday, I was perplexed.


I offered the following on my page as a passive aggressive response to a few people I know who judge “fat people.”

“I hate it when physically in-shape people look down upon those who aren’t. I hate to tell you this, but you’re not superior, especially in regards to the things that matter most: kindness and appreciation for others wherever they are in life is a learned art and maybe you should get off the treadmill long enough to take some lessons. I don’t experience as much prejudice in this department as I used to, but it sure makes my blood boil whenever I encounter it.”

The funniest thing about my above rant is that I got all kinds of people, my friends mind you, apologizing to me for the way that I had been treated. Why did they apologize? Because they think I am fat and that I have reason to be apologized to. Kind of ironic, huh? I never mentioned that I had been treated badly, did I? In fact, I hadn’t had any teasing at all, I only posted the comment in defense of others and in opposition to the people out there looking down on this lady. I’ve actually been feeling pretty good about the way I am looking until yesterday. HA.

Well as you, who read my blog, know I’m on a journey of self-discovery. I’ve learned to love myself and I am still learning to take care of myself. I all too well know the life of this anchor. I know what it is like to be raising 3 young daughters (and she has a full-time job to boot) and to feel the stress and eat too much and exercise too little. I also know what it’s like to get off my butt and count calories. I also know what it’s like to have a propensity to being larger as a child and as an adult.

I also know what it’s like to lose a nephew and to know that in his last week on this earth he was called fat by some mean little girls and that the word F A T may have been racing through his mind in his last breathe. It breaks my heart. Absolutely makes me shed tears. Right now in fact.

Yes, people are fat, but trust me, they know it. You pointing it out to them, or looking down on them, or even apologizing for others’ fat name callers to someone who has recently lost 35 pounds doesn’t really help the situation and it doesn’t really motivate people to be better.

Do you know what motivates people to be better? Loving them wherever they are. Loving them right where they are. Even if it’s at 700 pounds. Anyone who has watched Richard Simmons should know this fact.


Do you know why loving them helps? Because the reason they are fat is that they don’t love themselves enough. Period. Or maybe they have a health condition? Or maybe they are just a husky kid that could eventually be a college football star if they live long enough to pursue that goal? The point being: You don’t know what they are capable of, if all you see is F A T. And you will also never know the beauty of loving people in their weakness if you can’t see past it. You don’t even know what scars are under the fat.

If you can love F A T people then maybe they can learn to love themselves. And if you can love them F A T, maybe they will love you in your weakness.

See how that works? Well, yeah, you do kind of have to admit your own weakness first. Maybe you could start with judging,  lack of charity, or complete and total PRIDE?

Embracing mom-hood
I’m learning to embrace my mom-hood.
It’s kind of like man-hood, but with boobs.
And a whole lot of other stuff.
I have recently learned something about myself.
Something that has never dawned on me before.
I’m insecure in my parenting.
I don’t know why,
I really am a pretty darn good mom.
I can only remember one time with my kids got in trouble in school.
Abigail was in kindergarten and she got written up for writing on her desk. In pencil.
What can I say? She was my first.
My kids are well-rounded.
They are kind for the most part.
Why should I be insecure?
I am now going to resist listing their good traits.
Because I am trying to learn to NOT need to do that.
It’s not healthy.
My kids are MY KIDS.
What else do they need to prove to me?
Nothing.
They don’t need to be a certain way for me to love them.
And they certainly shouldn’t need to be a certain way for me to love me.
So in honor of embracing my impeerfections as a parent,
and in honor of the vulnerability 
that I’ve been learning about in Brene Brown’s book.
Here is the kind of mom I am NOT.
1- I am not an overly anal car-seat parent.
I don’t believe in making my kids ride in a car while suffocating.
(After posting this photo on facebook it was brought to my attention
that the straps should be tighter and the harness higher.)
Whatever.
I also usually don’t remember to remind my kids 
to put on their seat-belts til we are at least 
out of the driveway and usually we are down the street a ways.
2- I hope to have one more baby to test this next mom item out,
but I don’t believe I will ever be one of those wrapper moms.
Kind of like rapper mom, 
but with a big long blanket that goes around your whole body.
And inside the blanket is a baby,
wrapped to your body.
Clinging to you for their very life,
like a car-seat will kill their brain cells.
Hmm, maybe I am a car-seat mom after all.
I am a total believer in the baby carrier.
Always have been, and I believe I always will be.
I also secretly hope that my hubby would never
be a wrapper-dad.
I just don’t find it sexy at all.
Unless we are in the African jungle,
and it would be the only way to keep the baby safe.
You know straddling his chest,
while he takes his machete to fight off the warthog,
that might be sexy.
3-My three year old goes to bed with a 
sippy cup of chocolate milk every night.
It is just a little bit of chocolate
and we only added the chocolate because my mom
ruined the perfectly good white milk on her last visit.
I have no intention of changing this tooth decaying habit
until  my dentist tells me I have to.
It’s hard enough to get the kid to bed,
and at least we can bribe her with the cup.
And let’s face it,
I’m soooo over it by 10 pm
when we finally get her to bed.
4-I put my three year old to bed at 10 pm.
If any of you would like to come over and wrestle her to sleep earlier
or keep her from her 4:00 nap every day,
more power to you.
5- In the summer my kids and I stay up til midnight
and we all usually sleep in until at least 10 am.
I always laugh at the parents who say they would love
for their kids to sleep in,
but, “THEY JUST WON’T,
I’ve tried keeping them up.”
Yeah, well, you have to keep them up for longer than one night.
Keep them up late for a week,
and I promise they will sleep in.
I think some parents take pride in their
early to bed, early to rise schedule.
I might be one of them if I could ever do it.
6- I really really love Little Ceasar’s Pizza
and Taco Tuesdays at Del Taco.
I wish my hubby would let us eat out every night.
I don’t really enjoy cooking
unless I am in the mood to bake.
I’m a good cook,
it’s jut not my thing.
7-I only change my kids sheets as needed.
Sometimes we can go a couple of months,
especially when they sleep on top of their comforters.
A few dead skin cells
obviously doesn’t kill them.
8- I only scrub my showers on a bi-monthly basis.
Get over it.
9-I make my kids fold their own clothes
and let their drawers be messy
if that’s how they roll.
10- I yell at my kids,
but try to minimize that to
only once a day,
and even then I save the
really angry tone
for the big time
(like when they run in the street
and almost get hit by a car)
and then I hug them real tight
because I am so relieved that they didn’t get themselves killed.
All while secretly knowing
it wouldn’t have been themselves
to get themselves killed,
but my crappy parenting.
And there you have my worst fear.
I am totally anxious about my kids
growing up.
I don’t want them to be living proof
that I was the crappiest mom in the world.
Oh but Alice,
the only thing a parent needs
to be a good parent is love.
Well, if I could just convince myself of that
then I might be ready for what awaits me.
Please God, don’t let them go to jail
or get in a car accident
while not wearing their seat-belt.
The six cavities I can handle,

and the emotional immaturity,
and the inability to organize,
and the one who calls home from school once a week
because she needs more love,
and the whole nail polish kit
left outside for a week
with most of the caps off,
(they were outside because
they’ve been banned from inside)
the couches with marker stains,
the occasional B on a report card,
the one who is just like her dad,
and the other one who is just like her mom,
and the one who just never shuts up,
ever.
I can handle all of that,
and probably a lot more than I realize,
but my prayer
is that you don’t let any physical harm
come to them because of my
inabilities and weaknesses
and the fact that I didn’t want them
strapped to my chest
because I was just happy
for them to do their own thing.
So that I could do mine.
Please make sure your 
guardian angels make up the difference.
Because really,
that’s all a mom can do.
Admit it.
Get over it.
And leave it in the hands of God.
Now, the way this works is you tell me something
about your parenting that makes you vulnerable
and then we leave our kids at home
with their dad while bonding over Olive Garden breadsticks.
You can tell me that you are really good at all of the above,
only if you are willing to dish out a list of 10 of your own
where you suck.
Because perfectionism is a myth,
and the sooner we all embrace that,
the happier we will be.

How to run.

I’ve had several friends ask me to clue them in on the “how” of my transformation from couch potato to runner. This post is for them and anyone else who can use it.

How to run.

1. Put on a good bra. (This may be important for some of you men out there too.)
2. Put on appropriate attire.
(I prefer to be as covered as possible while still being comfortable and appreciate that in other runners, but if you are the kind of person who needs to flaunt it for some type of external motivation, more power to you, but you probably need therapy. How about you therapy folks just do what I did, start running in November in Utah, then we can all be happy.)
3. Wear good socks.
4. Lace up your shoes.
5. Go outside.
6. Walk for a little while. (Like a couple blocks or a couple of weeks or a couple of months.)
7. Realize your body can do more than walk.
8. Start walking faster.
9. Get sick of the burn in your butt and thighs from speed walking, and pick up the pace just a bit more.
10. Appreciate the fact that you are now jogging.
11. Jog until you get tired, which in the beginning may be a block or a half-block or a half of a half-block.
12. Slow to a walk, and take some time to rest your heart. Then make yourself jog some more.Do this until your allotted exercise time is up. Make sure it is at least for a half an hour, but an hour makes it more fun. Quit for the day. Walk back home. (If you are smart you would have turned back toward home halfway into your allotted time)
13. Memorize the spots where you started to jog and the spots that you just had to stop.
14. Two days later, walk to the same spot in #11, and when you get there, see if you can jog a little farther this time. (Yes, when you are a runner, you get a day in between runs to rest!)
15. Repeat #8-14, for as long as it takes.
16. Sign up for a 5k.
17. One day decide that you aren’t going to stop jogging until you hit the 3.2 mile mark.
18. Congratulate yourself because you are now more than a jogger. You are a real runner.
19. Repeat #16-18, as you will want need a faster time and there’s no better motivator than a race.
20. Somewhere along the way, you will find that 3.2 is just not long enough, and you will keep running past the 3.2 mark, you will change your running routes to work in hills, you will have used up 3 pairs of shoes, you will run at different times of the day, you will be working your running into your schedule like it’s your 5th child, you will love every second of solace, you will enjoy every time you feel winded and just have to spit or get a drink, you will love the hills, you will love the down-hills, you will watch your shadow day after day, you will be cranky if you haven’t had a run in over 2 days, you will run with friends (maybe only at races), you will stay after the races just to hang out with other runners even though you never win a prize, you will find yourself to be one of those obnoxious ladies at the baby shower who is suddenly surrounded by other runners comparing speed work techniques and running times and injury management, you will exceed your race goal and wonder if you are ready for the half yet, you will wonder why in the world you didn’t start sooner, and most of all you will be hooked for life.

To this I solemnly swear.
Amen.

Just do it.
Running is cheap and takes little coordination.
All that is required is mind over matter.
I wouldn’t call it easy, but if it was easy then it wouldn’t be so awesome.
It does get easier the more you do it.
I’m not going to lie, it also gets harder, but that is the miracle of it, the harder it becomes, the better equipped you are to handle it, which means you are STRONGER!

Watching My Shadow

When the sun is just right and I happen to be running in the right direction, I get some really good self reflection time. You see, when I run, I am often looking at the ground. I do this because I am still getting in optimum shape and I have a running form that is too tired and downtrodden. I also do this because I am watching for safety hazards like raodkill, left-behind tires, or just the occasional pothole or change in ground level. (The trauma of staring a deer smack in the face while quickly jumping over her is one that will not be ever forgotten. That day that my typical “downward watch” was off and my “watch out for cars that are trying to run you over” position was on left my pulse racing.) I also look down because every time I see a coin I feel lucky, and once while running I found a mangled wedding band that I turned in for money to buy new running shoes. I don’t always look down as there is so much to take in in all directions but looking at the ground is a necessary part of running.

O.k. I’ve got the looking down part covered. Didn’t want to leave you with any questions.Well, when I am looking down and the sun and my direction are optimal I get the best runners’ treat of all: my shadow. For the past 10 months, I’ve been watching my shadow. I watch it run. It has shrunk by 40 pounds, which in shadow world isn’t much, but to me is ginormous. I watch my knees lifting and dropping and my arms swing front and back.  I watch the hairs of my head fly in the wind and the sleeves of my shirt flap.I watch the shapes in all their glory. Often I grieve over the backside, but more often I revel in all my glory. I shake my head in disbelief and then quickly remind my shadow with a nod that I am a runner. Backside and all.
It does something to you, to tell yourself that you are a runner.When you watch your shadow month after month and mile after mile, it changes you. It changes your very nature. When I wasn’t a runner I was much less likely to look for rigorous outdoor activities, now, I seek them out. “C’mon guys, let’s go on a hike!, how ’bout a bikeride?, we could walk down to the library just for fun, it’s just a mile.” As a runner, I can be more honest with myself. I can be in a place of serenity knowing that I have improved, no matter how much farther I have to go. Most of all, as a runner, I feel strong. I feel worthy. I feel reflective. I feel loved by the person who matters most: me. I feel like I can handle any obstacle, no matter how senseless, even if it’s an unexpected dead deer. “What? A dead deer! Oh, no problem, I’ll just hop right over”, all in a second’s thought process. It’s like I’m a female Bourne and it feels omnipotent.
I am sure there are other ways to feel this good, but running is my way. Running and writing. Watching my monitor with my fingers flying over the keyboard underneath is a similar sensation. I think I like my running shadow the most, it speaks to me, and tells me I am a living miracle for the sole purpose that I have a body and I use it to move. And when I am moving, I love myself. When I am moving, I strengthen my body, and utilize my mind at its fullest to conquer all life’s challenges, even if as simple as how am I going to afford my next pair of shoes. Once in a blue moon it all comes together, my physical, mental, and spiritual world collide and God puts a banged up wedding band in my path and my shadow says, “Awesome!”
Coming soon – how I started running – just for Dorry.

Book Review: The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns

I did receive compensation for the review of this book, but have only expressed my honest opinion.
Go here to join me for the BlogHer Book Club discussion.

The Care and Handling of Roses with ThornsThe Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns by Margaret Dilloway
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I consider myself a rose with thorns. In fact, because I consider everyone in this world a rose with thorns (some have more than others), I was very intrigued from the first time I read the title of this book. Come to find out I was right when I knew from the very title that I would love this book. I knew the author would be addressing my favorite topic in any piece of fiction or fact: the relationships of man to man (or in this case woman to girl, woman to multiple men, and woman to herself.) I know what it is like to live a daily struggle of trying to create deep meaningful relationships while addressing and dealing with my own personal thorns. It’s what we call life and this book was full of it.

This book follows the story of two main characters: a teacher with two non-working kidneys who also loves to raise roses, and her teenage niece who has lived a long life of neglect and sorrow. I don’t want to tell you what happens in the story because honestly I couldn’t bare depriving you of the pleasure of following the story-line for yourself. It takes twists and turns through many other just as thorny but delightful characters. It’s a feel-good story and it makes you ponder your own character and your own priorities.

The author writes from teacher Gal’s point of view. Gal calls herself difficult and obstinate and explains that so are roses. “That’s why I like the roses so much.” I found this statement beautifully profound. If all of us can just learn to love each other past our thorns this world would be such a better place. A brighter place. And sometimes when we are lucky even a world full of sweet fragrance. (Read the book to understand that last metaphor – it explains in interesting detail how rose-breeders hope that good luck will smile in their direction with a sweet smelling hybrid) It’s always another plus for a book when you read it for the story-line, but find yourself learning about a subject that you would never research otherwise. I will think of this book every time I smell the sweet roses planted out front of my house.

This is a four star book. If it was longer I may have given it 5. I highly recommend this book to all my friends. It was truly a joy to read. I plan to add Dilloway’s debut novel How to Be An American Housewife to my list of must-reads.

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Funnies

Abigail woke me up this morning by climbing in my bed with a newspaper. She then proceeded to tell me about everything she read of any interest.

For a moment I had a deep sense of parental pride telling myself I’ve done a great job of teaching my oldest to love to read. She is reading the newspaper!! How many 13 year old kids out there read the newspaper regularly?

I then looked up from my game of i-scrabble to shoot a photo, only to catch her reading the funnies.

As she caught me snapping her photo I said,”You need to read something besides the funnies so you can look smart.”

Her reply,”Well, I was just reading my horoscope.”

I then congratulated myself fur raising kids who are not only smart, but also have totally awesome senses of humor (even though I am not too certain she was attempting humor.)

That’s just how I like to roll as a parent. Patting myself in the back occasionally really helps during those dark moments when I, like every parent out there, realize that I’ve screwed them up in some way.

Abigail then proceeded to pose for a better photo. What a gem. She’s pretty much perfect at this given moment. Now let’s go check out the cleanliness of her room.

40 pounds
Our landlord came over today.
We’ve never met in person before.
The only place she has ever seen me
is on my blog.
Coincidentally, my blog is how she
decided to rent to us last April.
She walked in the house
and said,
“Wow, you look so different than I expected.
You look so different than your blog.”
I said,
“I’ve lost forty pounds since that blog photo.”
Then she said she could really tell
and that I should update my photo.
I decided to do a little experiment and take a photo to compare.
I do believe there is a difference.
A toddler size difference.
The side by side was validation
for all that running
and calorie counting.
I so wish I could have a baby without gaining
that forty pounds back.
But, I am grateful for the knowledge 
that my parents raised me to have.
Family is what matters most.
And guess what?
I have a family that loves me
no matter what size I am.
And I have four wonderful children
who are extremely grateful to me
for not placing my appearance
at such a high priority that
they were completely erased
from this world.
I know of many women
who determine their self-worth
by size.
I want you all to know
that I was just as important 
to my God, my husband, and my children
in that before picture.
And I will keep that picture on my blog,
even though I can now change it out for a skinnier version
because I love me
and I love that those old pounds represent
the time I spent with my children
and the months I gave to growing them inside of me
instead of obsessing at the gym
to please people in a world that
have screwed up priorities.
Yes, I feel a million times better
now that I exercise regularly
and eat healthier.
And yes there are women
out there who look great
and can have babies and go back to 
pre-baby size the day after birth.
Yes, there are women who
are healthy and not unhealthily obsessed with their weight.
Yes, yes, yes.
But me, I am probably going to gain my
forty pounds back
and I will probably gain more back after
the next baby is born
because having a newborn is stressful to me
and I get so tired
and choose to take care of my kids
over myself.
I may do better this time
as I have made great progress in 
the taking care of me category.
Or I may not.
But in the end,
I will have made the choice that matters most.
And that makes me happy
with the before and after pictures.

Book Review: Carnival Girl
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my review, 
and both the free book and the read were awesome!
I am busy enjoying the holiday (Happy 4th) with my family, but I received a really exciting e-mail from Sonja that she is willing to guest post or let me interview her for my blog! I hope to take advantage of that in the very near future.

Carnival Girl: Searching for God in the Aftermath of WarCarnival Girl: Searching for God in the Aftermath of War by Sonja Herbert
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Carnival Girl was a fantastic read. The touching and intriguing memoir chronicles the life of author Sonja Herbert as she is raised in post-World War II Germany with her nomadic large family who works the carnival circuit. Can you imagine living in a camper with five siblings forever? You move on a weekly basis and long for a permanent home like those of the children that you usually only get to know for a week. This was Sonja’s upbringing. Sonja vividly portrays throughout her beautiful memoir how much she just longed for a normal life, but I am so glad that God had something else in mind for her because it made for an intriguing and enlightening read.

I don’t want to give spoilers but I will tell you that at some point late in the book Sonja is introduced to two American Mormon missionaries. However Sonja’s interest in the Mormon church is a side-story and I do believe that this book can be enjoyed by any person, religious or not. In fact, if you aren’t religious, you will probably relate well to Sonja’s parents: one a bitter atheist and the other an a-typical Catholic.

Something that I enjoyed the most from this book was Sonja’s great faith from a very early age and how God strengthened her to endure and taught her to be comforted in some really hard circumstances. I also related to some of Sonja’s confusion to when her prayers weren’t answered.

I imagine that Sonja’s mother is dead by now, and so it won’t be too disrespectful to say it, but as a mother of 4, I truly marveled at how much of a burden her children were to her. Of course, I have never raised 6 kids in a caravan while also running a carnival, but part of me was so sad that Mutti (Sonja’s mom) never seemed to enjoy her children. However I also related to Mutti. I recently found I out that I am pregnant at 38 with number 5 and I swear this snippet from the book could transcend through time to my bedroom just a few nights ago:

“From our caraven, Mutti’s loud voice rang out with a harsh edge. ‘I can’t believe this happened again,’ she said. ‘I’m almost forty!’
‘Maybe you should see someone,’ Vati ventured.
‘That’s dangerous.’ Mutti’s voice wavered. ‘Besides, it’s the end of the winder, and we don’t have that kind of money. Later it will be too late.’
A pause.
‘Don’t cry,’ Vati said. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’
‘What do you know?’ She sobbed. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that to me again.'”

Not just in this small chapter that I related with so well, but throughout the book, I was drawn to Sonja, her family, her circumstances. They were most peculiar, sometimes heartbreaking, but always extremely fascinating and educational.

I highly recommend this book to all my readers. I don’t think anyone would be disappointed in learning all about the carnival girl of all carnival girls.

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The Hungry Games

Today I am busy working. I wrote this paid for in food post.

I just had to take a moment to share the video with you all.

My three worlds have collided today. My life as a mother with the daunting task of feeding my kids all summer, my previous life as a funny blogger, and my as of late life of food blogging for food.

I know you will all enjoy. While you are at it, please feel free to give me any and all summertime feeding frenzy tips. I would love to use them in a future blogpost. C’mon, help a girl out.

Coming up minutes from now: my paid for book review.
Man, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I should feel pretty dang proud of myself. I’m like a real blogger now.