progress day 2

Yesterday ended pretty well. I got into some more treats and had a veggie burger for dinner. Boy I hope these posts evolve into meals that actually include vegetables. I did have some honey roasted peanuts late, but no alcohol. Ended up about 400 calories over, but still within the limit to maintain. I figure I need to wean off the sweets. They're almost gone anyway. Weight today is up 2 pounds, but I know that's not necessarily a reflection of what I did yesterday. Got up and did Wii fit this morning. Not a real calorie blaster, but I'm working on strength, balance and flexibility. Will walk again tomorrow and plan on really starting to run/walk next week. Still very sore in the chest area, almost like the expanders are coming out of place, but then I do a quick check and they haven't moved of course.

Status report

The good, the bad and the ugly so far for my attempt at weight loss today...

The good: Got up at 6:30 and took Fletcher for a power walk. Healthy breakfast of Go Lean cereal and veggie sausage. Took my vitamins. Weight is 2 pounds lighter. black bean burger, no bun for lunch. counting calories.

The bad: The stupid mint chocolate brownies my sister made were just looking at me. Had to eat one this morning. It fits into my calories, although of course not the smartest use of said calories.

The ugly: Saw a home baked cake and home made frosting in the freezer. Took it out to thaw this morning (I swear I was under some external power). Got home from taking Casey to a play date and stood there, jacket still on, scooping up first the frosting with a knife, then the cake. Got about half way through and then mustered up the strength to throw the rest away. See, told you I have a problem.

There it is. So far. It's only 1:40 in the afternoon, so there's still time to salvage or destroy the rest of my day. 158 calories allowed for the rest of the day. That's a tough one. Technically, I can have 658 and still maintain, but since I'm trying to lose, it's 500 less. Was hoping for a little beer tonight. We'll just have to see what I do with the rest of my day. Sometimes I'm ok with little or no dinner in order to make it under my calorie limit, but usually my binges are much closer to dinner time :)

For 2010, I resolve to make more of my calories healthy ones.

I've had it.

I've had it with this weight. I sit here now, unable to breathe because my belly is so tight. I can't see my feet. I'm frustrated. Without a doubt, I have an issue with sweets. I have no limit and can't stop when they're around. I could blame the surgery. I could blame Christmas. But it's me. Just me.

About a year ago, I started training for a marathon with my neighbor and running buddy. At the same time, I decided to start counting my calories. I didn't consider myself overweight, but knew I could do better. Within a few months, 8 pounds or so came off. I hadn't weighed this little since my wedding, and since High School. It wasn't just the marathon training, it really was about calories in, calories out. Simple enough. At times I was burning well over 1600 calories on a long run, and I managed to eat them all back. I kept the weight off, within a pound or two after the marathon all the way up to surgery.

Then it was all over. Sitting around, feeling sorry for myself and feeling entitled. I felt like there was no hope to not gain weight, so why not go all out? Well, I went all out, and it's all back. I'm frustrated because running is so hard and really shouldn't be done right now. I'm frustrated because in March, this will happen all over again. I'm trying not to think about what will happen in March, and just focus on getting it back.

It starts now. The exercise, the calorie counting. The kids gave me Wii fit plus and I'm excited to get back to using that again. I'll start running next week. But tomorrow begins working out in some form, 6 days a week. Like I used to before surgery. Three or four days running with a long run, walking with Fletcher and some strength training. Corey said he'd hang my heavy bag back up so we can kick box. I'm ready. I've done it before and I can do it again. I'll be posting my progress and am anxious to feel fit again.

hike with Fletcher

In the interest of getting my life back on track post surgery, and since I can't really run, I took my Fletcher for a 3 mile hike on Christmas Eve. It was about 20 degrees and snow to my knees at some points, but worth the trip. I had time to quiet my mind and reflect on everything that's been going on. Once we hit the trail, the sun was on us and it felt much warmer. The fact that I was really working hard to walk helped too. I am frustrated with the weight gain from surgery and Christmas goodies and really just from my own laziness and lack of restraint. This hike was my attempt at exercise.

When we reached the top, there were no people prints and what I can only guess was coyote prints. We made our own path and guessed at the direction but ended up where we needed to be. There's a stone bench at the top, facing out over the path we'd just traveled. I decided to sit for a moment and catch my breath and just take in the snow covered view. I was disappointed that my view was taken over by back to back and side to side rooftops with a brown glow hovering over. Ugh. I decided to walk up to the path at the top and look the other way. Much better. Nothing but snow, frost covered branches and an occasional fence post. I let Fletcher off his leash and watched him prance through the snow, barreling as fast as he could one way, then the other, and stopping every now and then to look at me and wonder why I hadn't brought a ball. At this point he now had a beard made of ice crystals that had clung to his doggie drool. He seemed so happy, giddy I think.

We headed back down and as much as I hated to, I put him back on his leash for fear of coyotes, or worse, the HOA. I suppose our hike took over an hour. It was refreshing and a perfect way to start the holiday weekend. Merry Christmas.

Christmas Letter

We have begun receiving Christmas cards and there are always a couple of people who include a Christmas letter. We have never sent one out, although there is a part of me that would like to let people know about our lives, our accomplishments, but it's just not my style. Some letters are too boasting. Not that they shouldn't be proud, but not everyone needs to know. One letter in particular my husband pointed out that while many hobbies were listed for the wife, the husband's description consisted of "husband is still at same job and travels". Started me thinking. How sad. How sad that so many people are defined and limited by work. Obviously he's a good dad and husband, but shouldn't there be more? I know it's got to be hard to find "your thing" and make time for it, but shouldn't you? I mean the same thing can be said for stay at home moms too. Wouldn't you want your Christmas letter to have more? If I write one in my head, I certainly want it to say more than Corey works and Beth continues to stay home. Bleh. I'd want mine to include all kinds of adventures, accomplishments, fun family times, and proud notables about my kids. I am already thinking about how to make the most of 2010 so that if we had a letter, it would include more...

Thank You... to everyone

for....

-taking care of my kids
-measuring out my medication
-cleaning my house and arranging for professional cleaning
-all the cards
-beautiful flowers
-well wishes and positive thoughts
-camisoles to borrow
-hugs at the bus stop
-meals delivered to my door
-chocolate
-tiny cupcakes
-doing all of the laundry
-lighting candles for my bath
-not complaining about one bit of this
-loving me, physically altered and all
-seeing me through the unbelieveably deep downs
-making me laugh

I feel so loved.

seroma

Well, it looks like I have a seroma, fluid build up from the drain removal. I'm uncomfortable. My arms kind of stick to my ribs up near the pits. Kind of sucks. Not painful, just not comfortable.

I noticed yesterday at my parent's cabin for Thanksgiving, that I just wasn't feeling well. Just bleh. Then I could feel the swelling and of course I started freaking out. I broke down and called my PS on his cell phone. I really hated to bother him, but I suppose it's his job.

So, looks like an uncomfortable weekend for me. I'm going in Monday to see how bad it is and maybe get some drained. I googled seroma and looks like in most cases, the fluid will be re-absorbed on its own. So, I guess not a big deal. Don't know how a fill will feel on top of this. I am so ready to be better.

I'm ready

I am so ready for my life to be about more than my surgery, my recovery, my scars and my emotional state.

I watch people running by outside and want to run too. Sort of. I miss my old routine and although I an EXTREMELY grateful things have gone so well, I'm over it.

I'm trying to work, although not really wanting to. Documents are not converting to my laptop as they should and I really don't feel like sitting in the office. Poor excuse.

I have, or had some great thoughts on my life and how things are going to change. I still do, but don't have the mental energy to carry it out yet. Still waiting to get past this.

food

My house smells like food. I'm not the kind of person who likes for the house to smell like food. Well, brownies or cookies are ok. My incredible mother in law has been staying here for the past week taking care of me, the house, the meals, the kids. She likes to cook. I mean she's one of those people who actually cooks for 3 meals a day. It's so sweet what she's doing, but I'm ready to get back to regular house smell without something always on the stove. Is that weird? I think a lot of people like that stuff. I think my husband is enjoying being fed. I just want clean and clean smelling. There's stuff down there now that needs to be put away, but I'm not allowed to do much. We cleaned the house yesterday, really really well. And now it's back to yuck. The worst is that I can't clean it. I sit up here, unable to do anything. I'm trapped in a food smelling house.

She leaves tomorrow. I don't think words exist to express my gratitude for her and all she's done. It will be nice to try and get back to our own routine though. I'll clean what I can and turn my head to the rest. December 1st, the house will be professionally cleaned. Whoo hoo! I'm hoping after that I'm well enough to keep it up.

That was a rather weird post. Just what's on my mind. Maybe I'll head downstairs to clean, just a little, and light a candle.

Trixie

I have this dog, named Trixie. She's an 8 pound chihuahua mix. We adopted her from the shelter 3 years ago. We always say she is the easiest dog, or maybe she's the easiest dog because she is so small that anything she does is unnoticeable. Anyway, I've been in bed almost non-stop since the surgery. Something sick like 22 hours a day. Ugh. She loves to go back to bed after she's been out in the morning, but now, she's in bed with me all the time. All the time. I love it. I feel like she cares for me. She curls up next to me and it soothes me to pet her as I fall asleep for the tenth time in a day. We joke that she's going to get bed sores and Corey will come in and "turn" her. She is making recovery more pleasant, just by being with me. I love her dearly. I will post a picture when I get connected to my hard drive but for now just imagine an 8 pound light brown furry angel with freckles.

Good stuff

In the midst of all this crap, I feel the need to point out the good, there is so much of it.

1- nurses. Angels if you ask me. It's like many "moms" taking care of you. Nothing phases them, nothing is too much to ask, and they call me honey all the time. Some people don't like being called honey, but in this situation, I do.

2- My husband. He has taken this whole thing head on. I can tell it's a lot for him but he's a trooper. The laundry, the kids, my medication chart, getting me water, etc. I love him. And after him having to take me to pee at the hospital, I promised I wouldn't always do that.

3- My sister for keeping my daughter and little dog during this whole thing.

4- My kids who want to be with me, in this bed, all the time. Even though I'd rather be alone a lot of the time, it means so much that they just want to be near. They're being so careful around me. When I first got home, my son sent me an email right then and there about how much he loves me and changed my wallpaper on my new laptop to a big heart that says I love you.

5- My parents, stepping in to help with the kids and to visit and love me.

6- All of the amazing support from friends and neighbors. I'm over whelmed and words will never express the gratitude I feel.

7- My dogs who won't leave my side.

8-homemade cookies from my sister

9-fruit bouquet and so many, so many incredible flower arrangements. I love flowers.

I could go on and on, but thought I'd start there before I fall asleep again.

It is all going to be ok.

Dogs

I can't believe I've left TRUST as my last post. As if it sets the mood. Was just a day so I decided to write another. We are currently fostering a lovely little lab mix. She is precious and wonderful and a big part of me wishes we could keep her. I am horrified by the thought of how many amazing creatures will not be given her same chance. A chance at a forever home with a loving family. When are people going to stop treating pets as possessions, which can be replaced, lost, given away, and worse. Pets are family. Through thick and thin, good times and bad, and I know for certain that bad times are better and good times are great when you have the love of a dog. There's just nothing like it. I can honestly say to a dog, just about any dog, within seconds of meeting it "I love you". Can't do that with people. I need no other information, no test of trust, no games, just love. Although it's tough to take in a foster, on so many levels, I finally feel like I'm doing something good, no matter how small. In this moment, my actions are in line with my thoughts.

Trust

I have trust issues. Always have I suppose. It would be impossible and unimportant to put my finger on why. I'm kind of a "so what" kind of gal when it comes to shit that has happened in your past. Move on. Everyone is dealing with something. Get help if you need it, but don't use it as an excuse.

Anyway, sometimes it's hard being me. I feel a bit insane as I talk myself into believing the best, rather than the worst, which is my knee jerk reaction. Self talk, non-stop, all day. Hoping that what I think is a breach of trust, is just me being crazy. Feeling crazy ain't so hot though.

I once heard, by accident, a preacher on TV. He put things in a way that I had never thought of before. He was talking about faith. Not necessarily religious faith, but belief in anything really. He said that we don't know what is going to happen. You can either doubt, and believe the worst, or trust and have faith, and believe the best. It's a 50/50 shot either way, so why automatically go with the doubt? I love it. Assume the best.

I think a long time ago, I told myself to expect the worst, so it won't hurt so bad when it is actually, the worst. But that way it seems to a double whammy. Sucks when you don't know and sucks when you do. I won't say ignorance is bliss, but trust is.

I will always be a little bit crazy, a little bit neurotic, it's who I am, but trying so hard to just have faith.

Runner Girl

My birthday is this week. My 40th. My husband and I have never been big on extravagant gifts and in fact go many holidays without exchanging. We never seem to have extra money to spend on each other and would rather put those funds elsewhere, but we also don't need materials to know the love is there. The sentiment is there, with or without the gift. For this year however, my husband gave me my gift. It couldn't have been more fitting for my life right now. I am a runner. I feel like an impostor saying that since I'm not fast or overly dedicated. But the fact that I've run a marathon, run 8 half marathons and fit running into my life, every week makes me one. I love the way it makes me feel. I feel strong and fit and like I can do anything. Lately though, running has taken a back seat and I've felt badly about it in lots of ways, but kept rationalizing it.

I am in the middle of planning for a double mastectomy and worrying about the recovery after. Part of me wanted to stop running altogether, at least until the surgery because I figured what's the point? I'm just going to lose anything I've worked to achieve when that day comes. I worry about how long it will be before I can run again and worry about how long it will take me to get it back. I worry I won't have the motivation or the drive.

Then my husband gives me my present. Two stickers for my car. One says 26.2. I wonder if having run only one marathon qualifies me to display this, but my husband assures me it does. The other says Runner Girl. I love it. I needed this to remind me how important this is in my life and not to give up on it. It will motivate me to stay with it. No matter what setbacks I face. Just finished a 6 mile run without a thought of giving up or slowing down.

I am a Runner Girl

My everything

My family is my everything. It sounds like such a cliche, but so universally true. I love my funny, handsome, compassionate husband, who just seems to get me. He gets me and still loves me and isn't afraid to call me out on my small insanities.

My son, my first born is amazing. He's 8 and pushes me away, I think more because he likes to tease me, than that he really doesn't want the love. He knows I will chase him down and tackle him. I am filled with pride at who he is turning out to be... kind, smart, silly, all of that.

Today however is about my daughter. My perfect angelic daughter. I've always said that I didn't know I wanted a girl until I had one. I love that she NEEDS me, and I mean NEEDS me. When she was little, she and I would sleep on the couch together almost every night. She on my chest, me looking out the window at the stars and sleeping. So soundly, so sweetly. I felt that she could hear my heartbeat and that somehow calmed her. It was magical. I have never seen someone so free with her love. So unafraid and uncensored with the "I love you's" So deliberate and honest with her hugs, hand holds, and kisses. As I was laying in bed with her tonight, as I always do, she grabbed my head, pulled it to her neck and said "this is my best friend... ever" She is 3. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I felt the love. Physically felt it. Sometimes I wonder why I was blessed with such an angel. She is making me a better person. Someone who isn't afraid to say I love you. Someone who isn't afraid to give. I had no idea it could be like this. I count my blessings every day and could not imagine a better family for me. My girl. One piece of perfection.

Seems like old times...

I am home today with Dylan. Just me and him and boy is it nice. It has been so long since there has been a day at home, just me and him. It was just us for almost 5 years before Casey came along. We were buddies. I was more diligent with my mom career then, playing lots of creative games with my boy. Balls in the hall, where we'd gather all the balls we had and roll them back and forth down the hall. He was 2. Or the same game with all the cars and trucks. I made sure there was time outside, reading time, learning, little or no television, lots of music, set nap times and healthy meals. Corey worked long hours, and we didn't really have any friends or playgroups, so we made the most of our time together. The days went on forever. In a good way. Lots of time to figure out the best use of our day. Park or pool? Walk or errands? Museum or visit with family? Now that there are 2 of them, and has been that way for over 3 years, we're a lot more fly by the seat of your pants. No rules about what to do when, no set schedules, no boundaries. Well, sometimes it feels that way, but of course there are boundaries. It is hectic, good, but hectic.

Today, Dylan is home sick, but well enough to get off of the couch. So far today, we watched Biggest Loser (something my former mom self would never have allowed), played dinosaurs, went to Wendy's for a frosty and had lunch outside. It's been great and reminds me of years ago, just me and him. I miss it, terribly. I hope he is enjoying it too. This is good stuff.

sick kid

So, last night as Dylan began coughing, I did my usual "Oh, you're ok", with a desperate attempt to make him not sick truthfully because I didn't want to deal with it. Didn't want to deal with a sick kid at home when the other has a playdate, and ballet. I was looking forward to a few hours to catch up while Casey was at her friend's house. As it became more and more apparent that Dylan was sick, for real, I started to remember my job in the first place. To be a mom. I am thankful he's not sick on a day I need to work, but even if he were, my job is to be with him. I get so caught up sometimes in doing all the other things that need to be done, that I forget about being a mom, you know, a good one. I check off lists mentally while fixing dinner or putting the kids to bed when I should just slow down and be with them. I will be there for him today. I will not worry about what needs to get done. I will take care of him the best I can. That is my number one priority, always, and will try not to forget it again.

Waiting

Waiting. for the biopsy results. I feel my life is on pause until the phone rings. Up until the procedure, and really up until today, I have been really positive. Well, not positive really, but I just didn't give it a second thought, didn't care. If you want to call that positive, then do, but maybe it's denial. Either way, couldn't make myself dress for work, so here I am, waiting. It's not even excruciating, that would mean I felt something. This is like a dull numb, like I said with life on pause. I know I will be extremely upset if I waste today. A day with no kids. I should either do something productive, or something fun, but here I sit. Doing nothing. ring-phone- ring. Sad thing is that it may even be tomorrow when I get the call. How am I going to make it through today? OK, off to be productive for a while, then maybe a walk. gotta get going.

Cooking

I don't cook. I can't cook. Is there a difference? Maybe I don't cook because I can't, or can't because I don't. In any case, it's a vicious little cycle. I try to cook, every now and then because, well, because my family is hungry and isn't that in the job description of mom? I made a real effort 2 nights ago. I made shrimp with a sauce and rice and lima beans (from the can, heated in the microwave). I grilled the shrimp, watched the rice carefully so it wouldn't burn and then of course had to throw some chicken nuggets in the oven and a grilled cheese on the stove for my picky eaters. I spent an hour running from the grill to the kitchen trying to pull it all together. I spent another hour washing, let's see 1,2,3,4 pots and pans, loading dishes and putting away used ingredients. It was good, but I just don't get it. Back to fish sticks last night. Much better :)

family music

When I was driving home last night, with just my son in the car, I decided that we, at that very moment needed to hear a little James Taylor, Whenever I See Your Smiling Face. This is a song my husband used to say reminded him of me. Since Dylan was born, the attention has passed to him, which I am happy and proud of. I can remember my husband singing that song to our chubby faced 2-year-old and the song would elicit an even bigger smile. I felt at that moment, we needed to feel that feeling again and I checked the rear view mirror to see if I could get a smile and a hint of remembrance. It's amazing how listening to certain music can instantly bring you back to a memory, can make you feel good from the inside out, make you smile involuntarily, or even cry. It's a good thing. I love to pin lyrics on whatever is happening in my life and make them mesh, like they're singing my tune and putting into words what I can't. So many songs remind me of my family and many times I consciously title them that way. When Dylan was born, Sade's song, I don't even know what it's called, but know all the words, "when you're cold, I'll be there, hold you tight, to me, to me" and so on, held the magic of the incredibly deep love I felt for my baby boy. When my daughter was a baby, we watched Curious George as a family and Jack Johnson's song about being broken down but I'd rather be broke down with you by my side (as you can see, I know lyrics, not titles) . For me, it personified my bond with my daughter and set the stage for our buddiness, if that is even a word. There is of course "our song", for me and Corey. He was away on work, and I watched Prelude to a Kiss. Van Morrison's Someone like You came on and I immediately knew, that was our song. I could go on and on. A few weeks ago, we were all in the backyard, playing ball, swinging on the swingset, BBQing dinner and listening to music. Family Time by Ziggy Marley came on and it so defined the moment. I think every family should have family songs. It bonds and defines and deepens our relationships. Music can produce such intense feelings and it's nice to tie those into family. Of course sitting in the car, in the garage, with all the windows down jamming to Boom Boom Pow and watching my son "get down" in the back seat is great too.

A career in child care

If someone had asked me if I wanted a career in childcare, I would have said they were crazy. But, here I am. 8 years in the business. So far, no horrific injuries, no life altering mistakes... yet. With a major in communications, and experience as a buyer and marketing manager, how did I end up here? I'm a mom. And at one point I decided my children were the most important things in my world. And so I am in childcare. Am I good at it? Well, if love has anything to do with it, then yes, I am phenomenal. I do my best. I love my children and I try, try, try to enrich their lives the best I can. To me, if we can get outside as much as possible, occasionally make a mess, burn cookies, read and color, then I'm doing a good job. I love my job, even if it makes me a little insane.