Not bad, especially considering I ate breakfast before I took this pic. Hope is alive again. 
Yesterday I walked just over 3 miles and ate well. Today I plan to try WiiFit and bike. DH won’t be home until late tonight, so that kills my plans to start running again until tomorrow.
Add comment July 22nd, 2008
This is just ridiculous. I swear. On Friday I was 209.7. OUT. OF. HAND.
That’s what I get for slacking off.
Add comment July 21st, 2008
After two months of promises, daily posting and weight arse-kicking will begin again on Monday. Today I am cleaning the heck out of our house, tomorrow we have a concert, and Sunday I will rest. Monday is going to be a doozy.
I will resume running, and I will also be adding a minimum of two miles per day on my bike. I’m also going to try WiiFit. I’ve had it since the day it came out, but I keep finding excuses to ignore it, mainly that I am chicken.
Weight was 209 when I last checked Monday, and that will not do. I should have been below 200 months ago. The mojo is back people, and it ain’t takin’ no for an answer anymore.
Add comment July 18th, 2008
In a previous post, I mentioned how I have a bit of the crazy going on this year. I know this is going to sound silly, maybe even bizarre, but it is what it is for me, and I’ve not yet figured out how to stop being afraid of things are, frankly, borderline ridiculous.
When I was 5 years old, my Dad died after a long battle with lung cancer. It was the first day of Kindergarten. I’ll keep a long story short by saying the rest of my school experience (yes, all the way through HS graduation) thoroughly sucked.
Somewhere along the line I decided that I’d never get married or have kids, because I saw what it was for my Mom to lose a husband, and I never wanted my children to go through the pain of losing a parent. But I also worried about an uglier twist of fate, and that would be losing a child. Then, of course, I grew into adulthood and that whole “falling in love” business shattered my plans. Go figure.
I battled cancer myself as a young adult, and I cursed God for his cruelty and wondered what I had done to deserve it. I was afraid of going to sleep, afraid of not waking up. Although my cancer was caught early and I knew I was going to make it, chemo will easily make you feel as though you are definitely going to die, and I could not shake the fear. I was told by numerous doctors that I’d never have children, and I found that I was actually glad. I thought if I ever desired kids, I’d simply adopt. End of story.
I met my now husband. He married me knowing I couldn’t have children. He said he didn’t care, and he meant it. We conceived our son on our honeymoon. He is an amazing kid, healthy, full of joy. He loves life. I am a better person for having him.
However. He just turned 5 years old. He will begin kindergarten in August. I am terrified that something will happen to DH. No matter what I do I can not shake the fear of losing my husband, and my son losing his father. I understand that my fear is irrational, unfounded, even pointless. The knowledge does nothing to ease the fear and panic. It makes me angry with myself for disallowing my common sense to take over. It frustrates me that I’m so… superstitious? Would that be it?
So there it is. I even feel weird typing it out, but it’s true, and I don’t run from truth anymore. I just need to figure out how to better deal with it, I guess.
Add comment July 10th, 2008
In yet another week of disarray, and I’m not yet back on schedule. This morning the scale showed 209, which is badbadbad. The house is a disaster as we struggle to find time to get everything repaired and assembled so that we can have something resembling organization.
DH has been horribly sick the past week and a half, which is a rarity for him, and I need his help with so much of what needs to be done. Not to mention I’ve been in a foul mood from the lack of time alone with him. I’ve had an interesting week with DS which warrants an entire post of its own.
The one bright spot this week was finding out that our check engine light was due to a bad catalytic converter, which, amazingly, was actually covered under the crap Hyundai warranty (and thanks to the federal government). Had we been a few thousand miles further along, it would have cost us in the neighborhood of $1500 to repair.
I have a pile of laundry as tall as I am to fold, so at least it will be ready for placement in our soon to be assembled wardrobe. I’ll try to find time to post something of substance tomorrow.
Add comment July 2nd, 2008
I know, I know. I keep promising to get back on the stick, get this ball rolling again. Big wheel keep on turning and all that jazz. I am going through a ridiculous funk right now and I’m actually really trying to find my way out of it. Unfortunately, it seems I’m floundering helplessly like I usually tend to do.
I miss my Mother. A lot. Like, I seriously want to hug her so bad right now that I am going into the ugly cry just thinking about it. I am nearly thirty, and nothing in the world could make me as happy as a hug from my Mom right now. I think being an adult means you can admit to things like that and feel no shame. I have fantastic parents. I miss them a lot.
This is the first time I’ve lived more than 7 miles from my parents. Ever. I’ve always had a relationship with my family that most people cannot understand. It’s not too close in a creepy sort of way, it’s more like happy la-la storybook lands kind of family love with just enough witty dysfunctional banter that I think most people long for. I am blessed to have it. I have alweays realized this, and have made almost all of my life plans based on the proximity to my parent’s home.
Until now. Now I live in California. My parents remain in Texas. I call them everday, and sometimes it is enough. More often it is not. And each day that passes where I don’t get to hear my Dad say, “Have I told you how wonderful you are today?” or re-tells me the same story about what he read in the paper eighteen times until my brain is ready to explode from boredom, or each time my Mom doesn’t bug me with 99 phone calls a day wondering if I can help her figure out online bill pay, or just wondering what I was doing, or to complain about her job, I miss them even more.
The perfect thing about my parents is their complete ability to embrace their imperfection without apology. They are who they are, take it or leave it. They’ve never once claimed or tried to be perfect, yet they are so perfectly loveable in ther imperfection. That’s why we’re so close. Everyone is honest, in words, in actions, in character as a whole. I miss sharing the bond I have with them in a physical way. It’s still very much there, but a phone call just isn’t a hug.
Moments like this I wish I wasn’t anonymous, so I could link my Mom to this entry, so she would know that I am crying right now, too. I am missing you as much as you miss me. But as hard as this is and will continue to be, I need to thank you for giving me the wings to follow, embrace, and live my own dreams.
You raised me in such a way that I am unafraid to live my life to its fullest potential, and you should be proud. You are everything that I want to be in a parent, and I can only hope I will fill the very large shoes you’ve left for me. I’d never have done this without you, and although you may regret giving me the mere notion to fly so far away, it has been the best gift you’ve ever given me; the one that truly let me know I am more loved than I could ever have imagined possible.
I know you always thought I loved Dad more, but the truth is, I loved you just as much, always. I just never knew how to show you. By going against the easy way, and taking this path, I am showing you by keeping my promise to never have the regrets that you did. I always listened. I always learned from you. I was just waiting for the right time to show you how much you’ve taught me, what I could do because of you.
I love you, Mom.
2 comments June 24th, 2008
It must still be Monday, because today is just full of SUCK.
I went to bed last night with a strange pain in my hip. It hurts like crazy when I bend down, like someone is pinching me internally, and they want to hear mercy before they let up. It was annoying when I went to bed, but by the middle of the night it was pretty bad and I actually woke up a few times from the pain. This morning I am a little limpy, and the nagging pinch is still there. I can’t figure out if I pulled a muscle or what, but I really don’t want to have to find a doctor for this.
I awake at 6:38 a.m. to the phone ringing. No one calls that early. I assume it is DH and that something is wrong (or at the very least, irritating, and he needs to vent). I can’t find the phone amidst the covers, and I miss the call. I dial DH’s cell phone. No answer. I am still groggy from sleep, and manage to fall into a restless slumber for another half hour. I jolt awake, and dial DH again. No answer. I text. No response. I wait for fifteen minutes, because since the move our cell reception has been spotty at best. Nothing.
I enter a minor state of panic that quickly evolved into on-my-knees prayer in the middle of the kitchen floor, complete with waterworks. I have this thing I’ve dubbed the “5 year phobia” that went into full effect within minutes - but more on that in another post. I pace the house and cry and worry, trying not to wake our son. He finally calls a bit after 8. He is fine, at work. His cell is working as well as mine, which is close to not at all. I feel a little foolish, but the relief outweighs it.
I get the baby off to school without incident, but get a little lost on the way to pick him up. Supposedly, the A/C compressor in our car is going out, but thanks to the $700 cost for replacement, we will forgo that repair for awhile. It has been pretty darn hot the past few days, and when I drive with the windows down it’s hard to hear the GPS. I missed at least 6 turns and was 5 minutes late picking him up. I arrive and they are getting ready to load him onto the bus. Nevermind that they haven’t called me to finalize his bus service and probably had no idea where he lives.
Ah yes, while we’re on that subject, it is Wednesday and the bus company has not called me to work out his bus service. DH needs the car for a meeting 50 miles away on Friday. If the bus service hasn’t started by then, we have a mess on our hands.
On the way home from school, the check engine light comes on. In Texas, our engine was covered by a 10 year/10,000 mile warranty for engine issues. In California, apparently they’re only required to cover it up to 7 years/70,000 miles. We have 71,000 miles on the car. *Insert a vicious stream of profanity here.* It costs $105 for them to plug their stupid code reader into my car. I bought my own reader off the internet for less than $20, and I can Google the codes it comes back with, and probably fix it my damn self. We’ll try that route first. I just finished spending $800 for new tires and a complete brake job. I am loathe to sink any more money into a car we barely use.
I bought $500 worth of organization heaven from Ikea while DS was at school. A bunch of men stand around and watch me load several 100 pound boxes by myself. Not one of them offers a hand, and they are all employees. I lock eyes with one man and he says, “Sorry, no speak English.” As if speaking the same language has anything at all to do with common decency/manners/helping me load this crap onto this runaway cart. I give them a healthy dose of stink eye and manage to get it all done myself. In the loading area, the men are very nice, but also do not speak English. They lift everything for me, but shove it into our car in such a way that I can only hope no corners are damaged. I realize when I arrive home that getting this stuff into the house alone is going to be hell. The cart I cursed before I now long for. I manage, and break quite a sweat getting everything inside. Now I have to put it all together. It was much more fun picking it all out. *sigh*
We sleep on a Beddinge futon from Ikea that has actually been pretty comfortable (if you’re lucky enough to sleep on the right side, because the left side for some reason won’t lay flat so you’re sleeping on a slight incline that makes you feel like you’re clinging to the bed for dear life), but today I somehow broke it. I clicked it up twice and prepared to push down so it would convert into a couch, and I hear a weird springy snap. Now it won’t fold up. Ikea will take it back for an exchange, if I can figure out how to get it into the car without taking it apart. Apparently that’s one of the rules.
My first bad day in Cali, and it was a doozy.
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Edited at 5:30pm to add: Attempted to do some laundry, but the change machine at the laundromat was out of service. We have no more clean towels.
I somehow failed to buy an integral piece at Ikea for the armoire, now they are out of stock. One week until it’s in.
I forgot to turn off the stove burner and completely ruined a pan and a ladle that was filled with (once) delicious nacho cheese dip.
I had our brand new boogie board in the trunk and I somehow managed to rip one of the corners loading and/or unloading crap. We haven’t even had a chance to use it yet.
I pulled into our driveway and was ready to give in to tears again. Every single aspect of today has been a struggle in some way, and I have had enough. My son asked me something about playing video games tonight, and I snapped at him about having more important things on my mind than his video game allowance. His response? “Aw, Mommy. You are my sweet girl. Thank you for trying so hard.” Then I got a big, undeserved hug. One that I really needed.
3 comments June 18th, 2008
I’m having a heckuva time getting back into the swing of things. I’m so accustomed to working day and night on the computer, and now that I don’t have to our routine has drastically changed. I forgot my scale picture this morning, although I did not forget to weigh. I was 206.5 - OUCH.
We had FHE last night, for the very first time. We have been married almost 6 years and have a 5 year old son, and have never had an actual FHE. So we rented the first Indiana Jones from ‘81, and sat down with a huge bowl of popcorn and loads of “movie” candy we bought on sale at Ralph’s. Big mistake, for a few reasons: Indiana Jones somehow obtained a PG rating. Interesting, considering in the first 5 minutes a man is gruesomely impaled on spikes from head to groin. Oh yes, let’s not forget the ghosts that melt your face off and make your head explode at the end. Oh! And of course we also have thousands of snakes suitable for your little one’s greatest nightmares to date. PG my ass.
I hadn’t seen the movie since I was a small child and couldn’t remember anything about it. DH did remember but for some reason thought our little guy could handle it. Just because our parents allowed us to be terrorized when we were small doesn’t mean we need to return the favor. Looking back on some of the things I was allowed to watch (and my Mother was an ultra-conservative evangelical Christan), I think I’d rather my son hear “damn” in a PG movie these days than see so much violence. We’re going to stick to the Lego version of Indy on PS3 from this point.
Actually going to the movies out here costs twice as much as Texas (but I still think Kung Fu Panda was worth it), so we’re loving Netflix even more now. Not to mention that we know absolutely no one yet, so there are no date nights in our near future, which would have been for movies like The Happening and Wanted. *sigh*
So the candy was not nice to me, but I deserved it. I have a weakness for Hot Tamales. Given what they do to the scale, I can see myself becoming a lot stronger and resisting their evil goodness from this point on.
I biked my pitiful 5 blocks with the boy in tow, and now I’m sitting here huffing and puffing, cursing Hot Tamales and my general fatness. I can only hope that that 5 blocks will give me a little loving on the scale tomorrow morning. That and my trusty carrot sticks.
Hey - a girl can dream.
2 comments June 17th, 2008
I managed to fool myself into thinking that I was getting in shape and heading in the right direction. I still agree that I’m heading in the right direction, but I’m definitely nowhere near in shape.
I bought a decent bike and a trailer for it, with the hopes of ceasing to use our car and take the bike everywhere for my errands. I am woefully out of shape. I had convinced myself that all of the running I had grown accustomed to would be just as easy here, and I’d pick back up where I started. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There are mountains here. Everywhere. And hills and inclines and general torture everywhere I look. I can currently manage to bike with our 50 lb. 5 year old son in the trailer for 5 blocks up the very minor hill where we live. After 5 blocks I become convinced that my thighs are quite literally on fire and I have to turn around so the wind wil blow them out. So I coast us back that same 5 blocks, thanking God that what goes up may coast down.
I am terrified of running now. There is a super fitness park a few blocks from us that I was deseperate to try. Now I’m just afraid. There are a few overweight people here, but this is definitely not Texas. Thankfully, 95% of the skinny people are nice. When I encounter the 5%, I just tell myself that their obvious plastic surgery looks just as bad as my cellulite-ridden thighs. It helps.
1 comment June 16th, 2008
I’m in the final stages of settling in, and I’m sorry for the lack of updates. I have been loathe to get near a computer. My entire life revolved around computers when we lived in Texas, and now that I am free of that, it’s been hard to go back even a little.
Monday I’ll resume regular daily updates. I’m working on some posts with more meat behind them, but honestly it’s just not a priority. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance in so many ways. I don’t want to waste it.
Add comment June 14th, 2008
