Mama said there'd be days like this...

Nothing to brag about in the Grant athletic department today. My eating has still been on track, at least. I even have enough points left to have a slice of my blackberry pie that just came out of the oven. The four of us had a great time picking the berries in our woods the other night. In the rain, of course, but that kind of made it more fun. Brynn made tidal waves in the ponds--I mean puddles. I know the blackberries are healthy and 0 points by themselves, but I make ONE fresh blackberry pie a year, so I'm not missing it! I even make the crust from scratch. I use my wedding edition Betty Crocker cook book my favorite aunt got me as a wedding gift. The whole tradition just makes the summer feel more complete.
Max had a rough night last night, hence I had a rough night last night. He's generally a good sleeper now except when he's getting teeth in. They give him fits. Anyway, after church, I fell asleep on the couch waiting for nap time for the kids to start.  I had a yucky headache and was just exhausted. I got them in bed, got myself in bed...for about 10 minutes.
Now I love my son dearly, but the only sound he seems to make when he is upset is, "mmmm, mmmm, mmmmm, mmmmmmm..." In the absolute most annoying tone in the universe. It makes me want to gouge my ears out. If that's possible. I plan to use this against him when he's a teenager somehow.
So needless to say, I was not a happy mommy. After many failed attempts to get him back to sleep, I gave up and let him play. Then he pooped. Ah. That was the problem. Then Brynn woke up early from her nap because she had to poop. Yes, when you're a mother, poop controls your happiness.
I was still trying to be positive, saying I would exercise in some capacity today. Then I was getting hot. I thought it was because I was grumpy, but the mismatched temperatures on the thermostat told me otherwise. No air running. Forget it. I cannot make myself exercise when I'm already hot and short of sticking my head in the fridge there is no hope of cooling down afterward.
So I made my pie. I knew the oven would potentially make it hotter, but I needed something positive to end my day. Blackberry pie it is.

Encouragement

The first time I started running today, I felt like I had just dragged myself out of a swimming pool. My legs weighed approximately 100 lbs. each. The next run rotation I made it farther and longer than I have yet. It was the distance of an obscure Michael Jackson song, is all I know. Ooh in the middle of this run though it got ugly! Grunting, spitting, you name it. But I did it. I'm hurting like the devil tonight but I did it!
I appreciate all of your encouragement, as I am unabashedly looking for it! I was going to apologize for that, but you know what? That's what we need! I teach my kids at school to congratulate the winner so that when they win, the same people will congratulate them. So you bet I'm going to work on improving my level of encouragement giving (or bucket-filling for my elementary friends). Because we all deserve it! So go, you, for the awesome thing you did today.

Why I'm running...

So proud of my run last night. I broke through my fear of running near civilization and passed two people out of vehicles. I tried to smile, but I'm not sure if it ended up looking like a smile or not. A lady taking a stroll with her beautiful cocker spaniel gave me what I interpreted as a "Are you alright?" smile back so I began doubting that I looked as friendly as I was trying to.
I amused myself afterward reflecting on the things that were going through my mind that helped me keep going as I ran more at one time than I ever have. (Attention: The 4th one is a little personal.)

• I'm going to die. No you're not, Lacy. But I could. But you're not.
• I can't breathe. Yes you can, slow down. No I can't. Yes you can. Focus.
• I'm going to pass out and no one is going to know who I am or where I came from. No you're not. Breathe.
• I'm going to pee on myself. So what else is new? You do every time you sneeze. Get over it.
• My house is a billion miles away. That's ridiculous. You couldn't see it if it were a billion miles away. 
• I can't believe I'm doing this. Am I crazy? I'm not an athlete and never claimed to be. Well, it's about time. 

I'm really proud of myself for purple voice winning. When I got back almost immediately Brynn started calling me. I had Erick go to her room since I couldn't speak at the time, but after her potty trip I came to her. 
Are you sweaty? She asked.
Yes, very. I was exercising.
Were you running, Mommy?
Yes I was.
Why?
So I can be healthy and play with you and Max and take good care of you.

The look she gave me when I said was priceless.  That's what I'll think of next time I run. Forget trying to get my pre-baby body back (which wasn't that great anyway, except for the missing tiger stripes and tighter stomach skin). What I told Brynn is true, and I hope she'll remember that for a long while, especially when the inevitable day comes when she realizes the importance of being thin in this society. 
Don't get me wrong, I'm not being high and mighty. Lord knows I want to be thin. I want my clothes to look and feel better. But the bottom line is taking care of my babies is my life's work. And I need a body that will let me carry that out without popping buttons and huffing and puffing. 
So, I'm running. 

 

Still truckin'

Last night I got to see my very good friend who just happens to be my cousin-in-law, Heather. So good for me, I worked out with my other good friend Leslie Sansone earlier since my usual workout time was going to be replaced with girl time. Same deal today, we're taking the Princess to see Despicable Me 2 (though we would totally be going even if we didn't have a kid to take.) So Leslie and I took a really dorky sweaty walkish type thing together.

I kid, but I really love her workouts. They are very doable and she's so encouraging. Plus she has at least 4 kids of her own, so I'm like, man....surely there's hope for me! When I lost weight the first time around (scarily like 10 years ago) I worked with Leslie until I was fit enough to graduate to Billy Blanks. I loved him too. I was so excited when I could get through the instructional Tae Bo video without having to quit (it wasn't even supposed to be a workout!). 

I sure hope I'm encouraging someone with my rambling. I'm happy I have this motivation right now. If only I could bottle it up and save it for the day when it goes away. Because we all know it will! My goal is just when that day comes to fake it til I make it. 

Side note: there is a fly that got stuck under my stove right when I started writing this, and has not quit buzzing trying to get out. That's endurance! I can't see him or lift the stove, otherwise I'd have mercy on the thing. Okay. Blogging about flies. Cue exit.

Two days! Yahoo!

Walk 2 minutes
Run 1 minute
Walk 2 minutes
Run 1 minute
Walk 2 minutes
Run 1 minute 35 seconds
Walk 2 minutes/stretch







This may not sound like a lot to you, but that's more than I've run since....ever.
I don't know why I want to run. (By the way when I used the word "run" up there, it was more like a turtle waddling through mud, but it was more movement than the walking!) But I always have wanted to, in spite of numerous failed attempts at trying to do so without my vision blurring from lack of oxygen.

Part of me was worried about if someone saw me running, and they might think, "Look at that fat girl trying to run, how precious." Instead of what they should be saying, "Good for her!" But I read someone else's blog last night and she made a good point that if people are going to be cruel, they're just going to be cruel whether you're eating a Twinkie or a rice cake. So whatev.

I tracked all my points today. Even the chicken salad croissant and sweet tea I decided was totally worth the points at Delightful Dishes for lunch today. (Thanks, Ginger!) I almost blew it when I was fixing Brynn baby corn dogs tonight for supper and I was STARVING.


I stopped at two though and had a turkey spinach wrap instead. A little less 4-year-oldish supper, if I say so.
So yay for me, I moved my hiney today more than I have and wrote this blog instead of eating the Pringles that were calling my name. 
 

Starting over...for like the millionth time.

On my kitchen table with me right now:

•  a sweet, not very bright cat who I probably shouldn't let sit on the table, but oh well
• Max's high chair tray that has veggie lasagna residue and banana puffs strewn about
• An empty Capri Sun
• 2 lb weights
• a glass of water I've been trying to finish since about 4:00 (it's 7:30)
• two cans of cream of mushroom soup I've been meaning to put in the pantry since...(I guess we ate supper with them on the table, but I didn't even notice.)

Here I am with gobs to do, but I really really wanted to blog tonight. Writing has always been very cathartic to me since I can remember. I used to write stories about Barbie and Ken.
 *intermission to put Brynn to bed*


"Today I did good eating." I can say that today. What does that mean? To me it means I tracked my food and points on my Weight Watcher app. I made good choices, I didn't get too hungry, and I didn't binge.
Yet.

This is the hardest part of the day. Night. Kiddos are in bed *sigh* and no one is looking at me or following me around. I reward myself by not putting my ice cream in a bowl and just diving in. Fewer things make me happier.
And at the same time, really, really sad.
Why is food, meant by God to fuel and sustain us, my favorite pastime and my worst enemy.
This is what food is to me:

I feel the best about myself when I eat right and exercise (as I did today, hence the weights on my table).
I feel the worst about myself when I eat a sleeve of Oreos followed by whatever else I find.
So why do I do it? Why don't I just stop?

The same reason people smoke. Do drugs. Look at porn. Cut themselves. It feels better right then than whatever the abstract negative outcome is.
Somewhere someone said being overweight is like having your deepest, darkest secret out for everyone to see. (If you said it, let me know, I can't find/remember the source.) You can look at me and know I have an eating problem and probably don't make exercise a priority.
This is my thorn. My biggest one anyway. And today I started over. Again. After a sabbatical of stressful IEP season that ran into stressful end of school year that ran into yay! vacation....I'm starting over again.
You know what? I'm going to decide that's ok. Because today was good. That's all I can do right now.

Perfection

Matthew 5:48 ESV 

You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV 

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

 I already posted a disclaimer last month that I may be way off sometimes in my scripture interpretations according to scholars, but I believe God uses His Word in whatever way we need it. Also noted that anything I suggest be done is something on myself. I'm no hypocrite, I'll never claim to be getting it all right.
I've always been confused by this scripture and the idea that God expects us to be perfect. Really, God? You know we aren't perfect. So then in Ephesians, we see one of many verses explaining that God saves us. Because of Jesus's sacrifice, we are made perfect.
 Well, sort of.  Except that we mess up every stinkin day. We have the gift of forgiveness, then we're pure again, for at least a few hours moments.
A while back though, I started thinking about this and may have gotten a glimpse of clarity.
I love my husband dearly. Way more than I love myself. I really want him to be perfect. Everything I do for him is in some way related to keeping him perfect. If he's sad, I try to cheer him up. I try to keep him healthy (except in the case that this interferes with the first statement, which sometimes requires Reese's Cups). If he messes up (GASP! I know you didn't expect that.) what do I do? I forgive him. Period. Then it's over. We learn from the ways we hurt each other so we can figure out how not to do them again and work again toward that "perfect" marriage. Whatever that looks like.
I love my children. They're not perfect because they're learning. Because they're human. Because they're really weird. (They get it honest.) But I love them as if they're perfect. As if they are CAPABLE of perfection. I hold them to that standard, never saying, "Oh well, they'll never get any better." What kind of parent would I be?
I'm not comparing myself to God, but I am seeing a connection of the love God gives us and the love I give to Erick and my babies. God is love. God is perfect. God makes my love perfect when I am doing it right.
So if I apply this to me...God expects me to be perfect. When I'm not, it disappoints him maybe, but it gives him something to teach me. Regardless what I do that, he's going to love me AS IF I'm perfect. That's always the standard he holds me to, since he equipped us with that gift of forgiveness so long ago.
Love people with God's perfect love. Love as if everyone has the capacity to be perfect. No matter how much they mess up, act out, or how weird they may be. They're good enough for the creator of the universe to die for. The least we can do is love them on earth.