Monthly Archives: January 2014

Aside

What I Would Tell Myself 7 Years Ago.

31 Friday Jan 2014

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So, I started this blog telling you that I had no specific theme in mind. It’s not a fitness blog, or a mommy blog, or maybe even an insightful blog! It is simply a way for me to practice my writing skills. I am writing only about the things that pop in my mind. So, enjoy the ride!

Yesterday, my oldest son turned 7. This is a weird age for me. Up to this point, he still had some “baby” characteristics. While turning six made me realize he was a boy now instead of a baby, he was still in Kindergarten, which, in my mind, is still in the “preschool genre.” No more. He is now 7, in the first grade, and huge.

Like any parent, I am immensely proud of him. He is amazing. He’s funny, smart, silly, handsome, kind. He also is emotional, passionate, high maintenance, and ornery. This little boy can push my buttons like no one else on this earth. The problem is he is JUST like me. We have the exact same personality. I see so much of myself when I was his age. I know why he acts the way he does. I know what he’s feeling. I, unfortunately, don’t respond to him the way I should.

Every day I drop him off a school, help him put on his backpack, give him a kiss, tell him I love him, and watch him run his little heart out all they way to front door. Every time I watch this, I smile the biggest smile possible, and feel my heart swell. I love him so much. He makes me so happy. Then, I pick him up. He runs through the same doors, makes eye contact with me, and we both light up! Then… he talks. A lot of times it is happy, explain the day type conversation. Other times, it’s the instant whining, I want this now type conversation. Unfortunately, with him I don’t always have the best patience where he is concerned. I try to remind myself that we all have bad days. He’s entitled to be in a bad mood. He’s allowed to be cranky after a long day sometimes. But I forget that. A lot.

 

I thought a lot yesterday about the day he was born. I always do that on the kid’s birthdays. His labor and delivery was awful. I honestly still haven’t gotten over it. I’m not sure I ever will. Seriously. It was awful. However, I had a beautiful product of that horridness. I remember that first night well. It was after everyone left and it was really quiet. It was just the husband and I in the room and I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept for 48 hours. I laid my new baby on my chest and tickled this little bit of fur (for lack of a better term) on his back. We cuddled and I sang to him; I fed him and loved on him. I was in love. All of those clichéd ideas are true. You cannot fathom the depths of love until you have a child. However, as we have grown in our lives as a family I realized that I had no idea what I was talking about. I’m not just talking about in terms on being a new mother. No new mothers know what they are doing. None. I’m talking about how much that love would be tested. Not just by lack of sleep or crying babies. I would take that everyday and twice on Sunday compared to the toddler years of no and the growing years of asserting themselves.
I am certain everyday that I am screwing him up in his own special way. I picture him thirty years from now in some therapist’s office rattling off the list of things I did to screw him up. As a matter of fact there are moments I will say something and think “I should write that down as a reference for him later of where it all went wrong.” Seriously. I know that the teenage years are coming, and I am currently finding a place in the house to physically hunker myself down and pray my way through them.
I don’t know how I am going to get through all of that, but I do know I spent months of his life worrying about things that did not matter where he was concerned. I want to sit down with new moms and tell them to stop worrying about things like breastfeeding, and solids feeding, and sleep training (ugh I had that phrase), and pacifiers. It doesn’t matter if he has the cutest stroller, carseat, or clothes. What I have learned along the way is that none of that will affect the person my son will become. He was breastfed, had solids at the “recommended” time, we did not sleep train, but he always slept in his own bed, and he had a pacifier until he was two, and he now sucks on his arm (we are working on it); but NONE of that has any impact on him today. It didn’t make him calmer, or happier, or a better friend. What has affected those things is how I talked to him, or reacted to him. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Let it all go. What does matter is how you talk to him, how you interact with him, how you play with him, and that you play with him. While I want my child to be healthy, I want him to be a good person, know he’s loved, and feel secure. That comes from his family. All he needs is love.

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So You Want to be Toned…

27 Monday Jan 2014

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Let’s take a minute to discuss something I have been hearing a lot lately. Muscles. To bulk or tone?That is the question.

I have heard from a lot of women, “I just want to tone up. I don’t want to get bulky.” Heck, I’ve even used that phrase several times in the 34 years of my life. If these women ask me for strength training advice I quickly offer up CrossFit. Immediately I get a laugh, a lot of “Oh, I could never do THAT,” and even more of “I don’t want to get bulky.” Let’s get something straight. LIFTING WEIGHTS DOESN’T MAKE YOU BULKY. As the ol’ saying goes, cinnamon rolls do that. Anytime women hear the words weights, barbells, clean and jerk, lifting we immediately think this:

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She’s a handsome woman. I’m certainly not making fun of her. 1. She could crush me. 2. This is what she wants, so good for her.

Guess what? Weights don’t do that. Steroids do, or some other hormone supplement. Women do not bulk without supplemental testosterone. We physiologically do not produce enough to render these results. It is not in our DNA. Guess what lifting weights will do: help you lose body fat.

So when we say we want to tone, what does that mean? I believe it means we don’t want the jiggle in our butts, arms, and legs. We don’t want to have to tuck in our “mommy tummies” when we sit down. We want to lose inches and body fat. So, now we are back to lifting weights. Many women go right to cardio. Cardio, cardio cardio. That is the key to looking like you want. You know what? You are right! You will slim down tremendously with a lot of cardio and a huge reduction in your calories. The problem lies in the fact that when your three year old child wants you to carry him through the zoo, you won’t make it past the monkeys. Sure, you could run through the whole zoo, several times depending on how much cardio you do, but you will not have the strength to carry your child, or really even your purse through the zoo. You see, when you do cardio and no strength training you lose fat, but you ALSO lose muscle. Lots of muscle. Is this bulky?

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Yes, she’s got come big muscles, but I’d be happy looking like that in a bathing suit. Wouldn’t you? This is one of the top women competitors in CrossFit, Camille Leblanc-Bazinet. She can lift ridiculous amounts of weight, and looks amazing in a sports bra and shorts. Yes, I have a woman-crush on her, if you can’t tell. It’s ok. It’s mostly jealousy.

There are countless articles on the Internet about bulking, toning, lifting, and CrossFit. I don’t know everything. I really don’t even know a lot. Just a bit. Do your research. Before you cut your calories down to a low functioning amount (sidebar: the less you eat, the more fat your body stores as it thinks you are in a starvation situation) and spend 2 hours a day on a treadmill (BORING) know what you are doing to your body. If you want to be healthy, be healthy! Pick up a barbell. I dare you. You will feel so empowered you will never go back to three-pound hand weights. I promise.

Photo credits:
1st one: Martin Schoeller http://www.getaddictedto.com
2nd one: http://www.girlswithmuscle.com

Inside The Average

21 Tuesday Jan 2014

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I didn’t have much to do today but lay around and rest, so I thought I would explain the title of this blog. I have had a few questions, so explain I must!

I have always thought of myself as average. I’m average height, average weight, average hair, average appearance. Average. I don’t think of this as necessarily a bad thing, but nothing about me was ever really extraordinary. I’m not too big, not too small; not too short, not too tall; not too rich (is there such a thing), not too poor. I’m just right. I can really identify with Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

My name is even average (sorry Mom). First name and last name. There was even someone in my average sized high school with the same name. There were six at the doctor’s office, which was fun when the doctor called the wrong one with test results. I was always friends with the popular kids. I was in the inner circle, just one step on the outside of it. People knew my name, and were friendly to me, but I was not the main attraction, if you follow me. Anyway, as I said, nothing about me has ever really stood out. I’m sure my parents and my husband would come in saying something to the contrary, but they are supposed to, right? Honestly though, this isn’t a self-loathing, poor me kind of thing. It’s just the way it has been.

Well, somewhere in the self-discovery phase of my life I like to call my thirties, I realized, it doesn’t have to be this way, and it certainly isn’t supposed to be this way. Why do I have to be comfortable? Some may even call it complacent. I desire more out of life, and frankly, I was called by God to be more in life. Now, I’m not talking climb Mount Everest, buy a Porsche, go skydiving, mid-life crisis type of stuff. I enjoy risk, more so recently than ever in my life, but I’m not out to conquer the world. I simply want more for myself and my family.

The most extreme thing I have done in my life has been joining CrossFit. Sure, it’s a crazy fitness regime, but not really that adventurous! Since the start of that fitness endeavor, now two and a half years into the journey, I have started taking more risks, or stabs at awesomeness. I took surfing lessons. Again, not jumping off the side of a crane exciting, but something I never would have done before. I quit my job. More for my sanity and the sanity of my family, but adventurous nonetheless. I wanted more than it was providing me, and I took steps to doing what I have always wanted to do, which is teach at the college level and write. So, here I am.

Life can be a grind. Get up, do work, eat dinner, spend a few quick minutes with our loved ones, go to sleep, repeat. We all have things that have to be done. I’m certainly not saying I am abandoning my responsibility or my daily life. What I am saying is that average is not a destination. I don’t have to be average. I can be extraordinary, awesome, amazing. Even if it’s in my own eyes and no one else’s. I am tired of looking at other people’s lives and saying, “Wow. That would be cool.” I am capable of everything anyone else is. So, I’m jumping off the proverbial cliff. I’m diving into a chance to be awesome, so my tombstone doesn’t read, “Everything was perfectly average.” Screw average. Let’s set the world on fire. You in?

Let The Sun Shine

20 Monday Jan 2014

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What is it about the sun and warm weather that makes you want to turn up the music, roll down your windows, and drive around town singing at the top of your lungs? The sun has always had this power over me. The weather gets warm, the windows go down.

You can actually see this power on my transcript from college. My fall GPA was always higher than my spring GPA. I physically could not get my body to class when the weather was 65 degrees or higher. I’m not really sure what it is about. I think I need to be tested. Surely it’s not me, right?

A day like today is even better. I mean, it’s January and it’s gorgeous outside. I’m sure there is some kind of physiological explanation. Or maybe it’s psychological. Who knows. You’ve seen the movies. We are supposed to go eat a picnic under a tree, or maybe read a book, while the popular boys play football within staring distance. It’s what is supposed to happen on unseasonably warm days. What makes it even better is that it is a holiday for some people. No school, warm weather…. sounds like perfection to me!

My oldest son is having a heart attack right now as we wait for the youngest to sleep. I made him read books (awful, I know) to wait out the nap, but it didn’t work. We are having countless negotiations, most of them ending in the phrase “we cannot leave your brother home by himself.” But in just a few short minutes we will be outside, playing baseball or soccer or simply running in circles. That’s what little boys do in this weather. I, on the other hand, am counting down the minutes until I can get in my car, roll down the windows, crank up the old school rap, and drive to the gym. If you see me, wave out of your own window… You know you want to.

First Things First

17 Friday Jan 2014

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So, here I sit. Fresh screen. Fresh ideas. Fresh fear.

I have always loved writing. I would write stories all of the time when I was a child. Generally rainbows and princesses and rescuing, but stories nonetheless. My favorite class in college, and one that I actually obtained an A in (trust me I can count my undergrad A’s on one hand), was Fiction Writing. I LOVED it. I wrote a couple of short stories, shared ideas with other students, and really became immersed in the idea of writing. But then reality, and the inner voice of fear, came screaming at me. Did I really think I could be a best-selling author? Nope. So, I became an English teacher. I’ve decided most English teachers are people who want to be authors, but don’t know how. (If  you are not, I apologize for that generalization). 

Throughout the last few years I have heard the whisper in the back of my head, “Write a book. You can do it.” I would always sketch a few notes, jot some things down, and then forget about it. I mean, did I really think I could be a best-selling author? Enter New Year’s Day 2014. The dreaded New Year’s resolution time came, and I was certain I didn’t have any. I workout at least 4 times a week doing CrossFit, which you will hear about if you continue to read this blog; I eat well about 80% of the time; I don’t smoke, so there’s that; so I was sure I didn’t need to set resolutions. I’m good. Then a friend asked me, “What are your New Year’s resolutions?” I looked at her and answered as matter-of-factly as if I had planned it the entire time, “To write.” Huh? Did I just say that? Ok, so I guess that’s my resolution. To write. So here I am.

Still thinking it’s kind of silly, I was standing in my Pastor’s office yesterday asking him a question. He is also my cousin, so it’s not a big, serious kind of question. Just a friendly visit. I see a book on his desk and part of the title is Punch Fear in the Face…. I remark how I could use a book like that, not even thinking of my writing, just life in general. I mean, can’t we all? So, Mark, being Mark, rips his bookmark out of the book and hands it to me. As I protest, I realize he’s not going to give in. I tuck the book under my arm, thank him profusely, and finish our conversation. I had some time today, so I read the first chapter. Let me just say this, God is funny. The book is about embracing our dreams, and busting out of the average life. The entire first chapter was about how this author, Jon Acuff, met his fear head on, and began writing. It could have taken place in my head. If he hadn’t made remarks about his family, I would have believed it was my thought. I think the conversation in my head with God went something like this, “Fine. FINE. I get it.” He didn’t need to tap me on the shoulder any more. Do I still think I’m capable of being a best-selling author? No. But, let’s see where this takes us, right?

So, this is me practicing. I’m not going to write a novel if I haven’t written so much as a note to a friend in 12 years. The Fiction Writing class was 14 years ago for crying out loud (ugh, I’m old). I decided I should start blogging, like the rest of the world, to hone my skills, my quick wit, and other dazzling abilities. We will see how this goes. There is not theme or set of ideas I am wishing to communicate, just my general musings. So, if you continue on with me, bless you. And, go easy on me.