Snapping out of it

Whoa!

First - thank you for all the comments and feedback. You guys are just the best!

Totally didn't mean for any of it to come across as a pity party, though. Just needed to unload. Note to self - suck it up, cupcake. Your life isn't so bad. And it really, really isn't. Not at all.

I woke up this morning to find both Tucker and Sara hogging my bed. It made me happy. There they were, all snuggled up and peacefully sleeping - looking like little angels.



These are the moments that make the all the frustrating and stressful times worth it. When you see those sweet, beautiful faces so grown up but with a trace of the babies they used to be. It warms my heart. Which is a good thing, cause there was no more room for me on the bed. And they had taken all the covers and pillows which meant the rest of me was cold.

First words out of Tucker's mouth this morning, "Mom! I feel better!"

Sa-weet!

First words out of Sara's mouth this morning, "Tucker! Mooooooooooove oooooooooooooooverrrrr!"

Sigh.

First words out of my mouth this morning, "You guys are sooooooo cuuuuuuuuuutttttteeeeeeeee!!!"

That made them scatter, all rolling eyes and sounds of disgust. Well, before they each snuck back in and gave me a huge hug.

There was a lot of satisfaction for me in that, I'm not going to lie. But man, we are ALL going to have to do something about the morning breath thing. PHEW!

If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, then Sara is from Planet Me! and Tucker is from Planet Whatever

Please do not read any further if you are weak stomached or don't want to read about poop or vomit.

Seriously. Don't do it.

Monday Sara had a stomach bug. As these things go, it was pretty mild.  While she threw up, it wasn't excessive and it was over after a few hours. I really thought it was an acid reflux issue since it seemed like it was mostly acid.  When the diahrrea hit, it wasn't as bad as I've seen it either. I was feeling pretty grateful that this was a mild go round of tummy troubles and had my fingers crossed that for the Dahl house, this would be the end of it.

On Tuesday, she seemed to be feeling just fine. Back to her normal self, as divalicious as ever, and raring to go to school because (and I quote) "You're MEAN Mommy and I don't like you right now!"

Oh freakin' well. You are not going to have Cheetos for breakfast. Or cookies. Or leftover Easter candy. Not happening. At least until you 1) buy your own and/or 2) live under a roof that is not mine.

Not even an hour after she got to school, the school calls and tells me there has been an 'incident' that was 'bm related'. Gotta love the discreetness with which that phone call was handled and no, that's not sarcasm. Sara was hysterical that she had an accident in class and was complaining that her tummy hurt. Can't say that I blame her and in her situation, I'd want to come home too.

I was watching the son of a friend of mine (shout out to the Chi!) so we got in the car and went got her. Ten minutes after we're home and she's fine. I'm glad she was fine, but still. If she felt sick enough that she wanted to come home, then she's going to have to understand it's not free reign of the house and pantry. After about an hour of wanting to jump on the trampoline (no way!), ride her bike, go outside, watch  cartoons and eat me out of house and home, I was over it.

I used a line I swore as a kid I wouldn't repeat.

"If you are too sick to go to school, you are too sick to (fill in the blank)!"

We had to be practically on our death bed to be able to stay home from school. Mom was a teacher and we were going to school. Even if we were on our deathbeds (which obviously, we never really were). I can remember her telling me to just 'go to school for a little while and get your mind off it'.

Of course, now that I'm a parent, I have an ENTIRELY different perspective on that.

Of course.

Sara and I somehow survived her stomach troubles and life pretty much returned to normal here.

And then Tucker woke up this morning sick, sick, sick.

But oh! The difference in Tucker being sick and Sara being sick is mind boggling. Tucker calmly walked to the bathroom this morning and said "Mom, I feel ill-ish..." and then puked for about five minutes. Sara screams and cries about how she doesn't want to throw up for about 10 minutes, and then pukes for 15 seconds.

Sara in a nutshell

The many faces of Tucker

It almost always works out that way. But man, poor Tucker. This round of stomach virus hit him hard and he ended up with some wicked diarrhea. And more than once he couldn't make it to the bathroom. In Germany, we had wood or tile floors so we ended up with a bunch of different area carpets when we moved here. We ended up putting the blue carpet from Tucker's room in Germany into his room here. And thank goodness, because that blue carpet got a lot of abuse today.

I should also mention that blue carpet is no longer in his room, or even in the house. Nor will it return. So now, I've got the floor in Tucker's room lined with towels in case he gets sick again tonight. His comment when I was putting him to bed?  Jeez, Mom. Got enough towels on the floor?

Well..yes, actually.

Or do I?

Burnout

I've had a serious case of the 'I don't cares'.

This is dangerous for me on so many levels.

When I don't care how well I eat, I usually don't eat well. When I don't care if I work out or not, I usually don't workout. And that, my friends, is a very slippery slope for me to approach.

If I could do anything I wanted - right now - I would crawl in bed, take the phone off the hook, put a stack of books by my bed and disappear for a week or two.

But life doesn't work that way. And even though I have stopped making new commitments of my seemingly non existent free time, I feel overwhelmed and heavily burdened and pulled in too many directions at once.

Oversensitive much? Why, yes. Yes I am. And completely overwhelmed and stressed out.

::Deep breaths::

I miss my husband. Deployments suck. Having sick kids crying for their dad really, really sucks. So does cleaning up vomit. And changing batteries in stupid, chirping smoke detectors.

I'm freaking about my upcoming visit with Chris - terrified that he will get on the plane and be completely disappointed in the reality versus whatever his expectations are and I'm terrified he won't even get on the plane and give us a chance to get to know each other. And I'm supposed to be the adult. ::Snort!::

I worry that I'm going to fail at this whole Beachbody Coaching business. Right now, I am a good example to no one.

Sigh.

But here's the thing that's the most frustrating. I KNOW I can do all of the stuff above. Logically, I know it. I've proven it. But fear is a powerful thing. And I hate that I'm doubting myself. And especially that I'm not treating my body right at the moment. I know that's only going to come back and kick me in the butt.

So I guess I owe myself a big, swift kick in the butt and very loud, "SNAP OUT OF IT!" Where is Cher (a la Moonstruck) when you need her with a well timed, sound-effected movie slap? Huh? Where?!?

Oh - THERE she is. 

This is one of those phases of my life when I don't have the time or luxury to be introverted, and that just makes me want to be that much more so.

Sometimes I think I'm my own worst enemy. Scratch that. Sometimes I am completely my own worst enemy.

Wicked Wednesday

Oh, but I had an excellent plan for today. And nothing worked out like I expected it to. Nothing went horribly wrong but nothing went horribly right either.

My topper on the "I wish this weren't the case' list today? Freaking Chick Fil A. Last year for teacher appreciation week, I was able to get Chick Fil A to donate some chicken salad sandwiches and give us a discount on the nugget trays we bought. Everyone I dealt with was extremely professional and courteous, which I've come to expect from Chick Fil A. They even offered to deliver the food to us, but I felt more comfortable going to pick it up since we needed it so early.

I was fairly confident that they'd help us out this year too. So I was really surprised when they finally called me back today and told me that they wouldn't offer me any sort of deal - no comped chicken salad trays and not even a discount on the trays we wanted to purchase. Man. That bites. Especially since last year, that was the hit of the week and the teachers are kind of expecting it this year.

And let me just tell you, those teachers have had a difficult year. The current principal is retiring/resigning at the end of the school year...and not exactly on a voluntarily basis. She has all but shut out the PTO from helping at all with anything, which means that the teachers are having to pick up all the volunteer hours we used to cover for them.

Like they don't have enough to do.

I do understand what the lady I was talking to was explaining - Chick Fil A is cutting way back on these types of charitable things, but to not even offer any sort of discount?

Bummer.

And I think my disappointment over this just colored the rest of my day a dour, gray-like color. Kinda like the color of a McDonalds 'chicken' nugget.

Sorry. That was a low blow. But for the first time in ages, I no longer have the desire to 'eat mor chikin'.

Bah humbug.

Size matters

Since I obtained my Zumba license, I've been getting the occasional email from them - usually to tell me about something specific. Last week, it was a Flash sale on Zumba wear. Since I'm now wearing somewhere between a large and extra large in workout gear, I figured what the heck - it's worth taking a look.

Turns out that the discounts were pretty discount-y so I ordered a pair of Zumba cargo pants. I've heard that the Zumba clothes run sort of small, so I ordered an XXL just to be safe. Put in all my info, clicked purchase, and then got a serious case of buyers uncertainty. What if they were too big?

So I pulled up the size chart and almost choked.

Measurement	XS	S	M	L	XL	XXL
Waist Relaxed	21"	22 1/2"	24"	25 1/2"	27"	28 1/2"
Front Rise	9"	9 1/4"	9 1/2"	9 3/4"	10 1/4"	10 3/4"
Back Rise	12 3/4"	13"	13 1/4"	13 1/2"	14"	14 1/2"
Inseam	29"	29 1/4"	29 1/2"	29 3/4"	30"	30 1/4

Umm...an XXL pant is for a 28 1/2 inch waist?

One moment please...

BAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Ahem.

This should be very interesting. Very interesting indeed. On the bright side, on the day that these actually fit, I'll be buying a small to medium in regular clothes...so there's that....

But seriously, Zumba people? The difference between an XS and an XXL is seven and a half inches? In supermodel land, I guess that would be about right but since I don't reside in supermodel land, I guess I'm just out of luck.

I cannot imagine what woman with a 28 1/2 inch waist would be any sort of psyched about having to order an XXL size pants - amIright?

The World According to Sara

We were off to such a good start this morning. The kids woke up in a good mood, got ready for school with no problems, ate breakfast without complaining. For about 30 minutes, I wasn't sure if I was in the right house.

After Tucker left for school, Sara and I hung out until it was time to leave to take her to school.

Everything was hunky dory.

Then we got in the car.

I guess she sat on some sort of personality switch because all of a sudden, my adorable sunshine and light child turned into a screeching banshee.

To the best of my ability, this is a list of her complaints from the 15 minute car ride this morning.

Brace yourselves. And be glad this isn't a video blog because I totally would have taped and posted her today.

I didn't play the right version of a song on my iPod.

When I corrected it - scratch that - attempted to correct it, it was TOO LATE to FIX it! WAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

So, I switched it to a song I had the audacity to want to hear.

Bad move on my part.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I turned off the stereo completely and really, really made her angry.

SCREECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

So I pulled the car over and waited as patiently as I could for her to calm down. I did better than I expected, even managing to calmly explain why the radio was off, I had pulled over, and why her behavior was so not okay.

After she tearfully and only slightly insincerely apologized, we got back on the road and kept going.

And then it started to rain, which simply must have reminded her of crying or something, because she burst into tears and when I asked her what was wrong....

Sara: "Tucker's window has more rain on it than my side and THATSNOTFAIR!!!!"

Sigh. Are you kidding me?!?

Me: Seriously?!? You are SERIOUSLY complaining that there's more water on Tucker's side of the car?

Sara: Ye-eeee-sssssss (sobbing hysterically)

I grabbed my bottle of water, rolled down the window, and twisted my arm back, and poured about half of it down Sara's window.



Me: There. Is that better?

Sara: uh *snuffle* huh.

When I came home after that, I totally went back to bed.

Next time, I'm stopping the car again and doing the most embarrassing rain dance I can think of.

Yeah, I'm lazy about this blog post but read it anyway.

Good morning. I haven't posted since Monday. Oops. I've been in a fog of exhaustion and a small case of the blues. Well, if you can call bursting into tears over barely sentimental commercials and actually sobbing over the ending of Marley and Me (and yes, I'd already seen the movie) a small case of the blues. It could also be PMS, but that's treading into TMI territory.

Anyway, last night after Zumba I came home and made myself a Shakeology, so I woke up way, way early this morning and felt wide awake. Then I noticed that Sara was in the bed with me. Well, okay, not so much noticed as heard because she was snoring like a 60 year old man with clogged sinuses.

I ended up coming downstairs and being all kinds of productive and then emailing Robert to tell him about it and I thought....hmmmm. This would make a good blog post and also I wouldn't actually have to write another one. So below is the copied email for your enjoyment. It's like voyeurism, only I'm boring. Whatevs.

Hey!

I woke up this morning and found Sara snoring in our bed and after I went to the bathroom I couldn't go back to sleep, so I came downstairs to start sorting clothes for the yard sale - at least the ones that were still in the house versus the garage. Heh. Anyway, I noticed that light wood box thing that was under the counter in the laundry room and I thought - hmmm...might as well sell that too. So before I would touch it I had to get the vacuum out and vacuum up the dust bunnies and spider webs that somehow I had failed to notice before this morning at 4:45 am. Cause, you know, it's only been there a couple years or so. 

Since I was vacuuming up the area around the counter, I might as well vacuum the laundry room in general - at least what I could reach without moving the washer or dryer. With the hanging clothes rack moved out, I had enough room to walk between the washer and the counter and I could see behind the washer and dryer. Not. Pretty. And something caught my eye behind the dryer...it was blue. 

Oooooooooooohh. 

Remember those navy running shorts you were looking for a few months ago? Well, I found them. And a pair of your Air Force PT shorts, two pairs of black dress socks, a washcloth, and about six single socks. But how did I get them out from behind the washer, you may be wondering? I sucked 'em out with the vacuum hose. Clever, right? Yay me. 

I think my project for today besides my workout, the commissary, and Best Buy is going to be figuring out some sort of contraption to hang clothes up in the laundry room because now that the portable clothes rack isn't beside the washer, I really don't want to put it back. And it's also on it's last, sad, portable leg. I also fixed the dryer hose because it wasn't hooked up correctly to the outside vent which explains the draft in the winter, some of the dust in the house, and why there are odd bugs in the laundry room sometimes. 

I've been officially productive and it's not even 6 am. I could make an Army commercial. HA!

Motivation Monday

Nothing motivational about this post. My restart fizzled out by Wednesday and it seems like I spent the rest of the week eating everything I could get my hands on.

It's so frustrating that this is still such a struggle for me! Reality has set in that this will ALWAYS be a struggle for me. Granted, I did really, really well for three months so in some ways I suppose I should give myself a bit of a break, but I also know how easy it is to get off track and how difficult it is to jump back on.

Drat.

On Sunday, I semi got my act together and threw away all the leftover cupcakes and junk food (except for the kids Easter candy) I could find. I started a detox today and did excellent until about 8:30 tonight when I started picking at some leftovers. But even with that, it's probably about half what I've been eating a day, so I'm going to chalk that up to progress and try even harder tomorrow.

With the weight training workouts I did complete last week (I only worked out four of seven days), I was pleased to find that I was pretty much where I left off. So maybe there's hope after all.

Current location: Tantrumville. Apparently the sister city to Hotel California where you can check in any time you like, but you can never leave.

**This was a draft from about a year and a half ago that I never posted. Dunno why. I was going through my draft folder and discarding anything not finished with abandonment when I found this finished but not posted entry. So I posted it, not even thinking about the fact that it would post with a current date. Sorry 'bout that guys!**

Well! (Imagine that said all huffily)

I would greatly appreciate it if the person or persons that smacked me in the back of the head with the bitchy stick would take that stick and stuff it up their nose. And? I hope you get splinters.

Let me give you the background. Last night, right before bed, T was rolling around in the living room. I have no idea why. All of a sudden, he looks up at me and says, "Mom? Are you having another baby next week?"

What!?!

About a hundred things race through my mind. After I said no, I asked T why he asked me that. More rolling around and smirking and avoiding the question followed, but he finally said something in bits and pieces that amounted to this - because my belly is 'big and round', that should mean I'm having a baby.

Fair enough.

But with the look on his face, I was wondering where that question came from. My concern was that T was being made fun of for having an overweight Mom...which really, would just kill me. I mean, life is hard enough without having to carry someone else's burdens, no matter what that burden might be.

Before we got a chance to talk about it, R ushers him up to bed quickly, mistaking the look on my face for being hurt and upset at T for asking that question rather than being worried that my issues were already causing trouble for someone in my family. I hid for months in Germany from others because R was a PT leader and a pretty relentless one, and back then when you saw R and I side by side? To borrow a phrase from my friend MaryBeth - we made a perfect 10. He was the 1 and I? I was the 0. I didn't want to be the zero. And I didn't want people making fun of my husband because his wife was fat.

So this morning, S was dragging her feet about everything, and when it was time for us to leave to go to T's bus stop, S was sitting completely naked on the potty singing what I think was Jesus Loves Me. For my own mental preservation, sometimes I tune S out so that all that registers with my ears is just sound in general instead of specific, separate sounds.

I walk outside with T to watch him walk to the bus stop, but try to stay as close to the house as possible because I did not want S walking outside naked (she was having a fit over not wanting to dress herself), I didn't want to walk T all the way to the bus stop in case he was being made fun about my weight.

I end up standing on the sidewalk at the edge of our yard, a little less than halfway between the house and bus stop. T is now at the bus stop and is behaving. Then I hear a sound. S is now standing outside the front door in only her underwear. I mean, at least she's wearing underwear, but for the love of pete! Can't anyone in this house just freakin' listen to me and do what I ask every now and then without debate, tantrums, or eye rolling? I should also mention that S refuses to learn how to open the screen door. She can push the button on the handle and she can pull the door open, but she refuses -- refuses -- to push the button while pulling on the handle. I don't know. This has been an issue since we moved into this house. Whateva!

So now I've got one kid at the bus stop, one kid in skivvies at my front door making a LOT of noise, so I edge towards the front door. It's chilly outside this morning, and S is quite unhappy that she's outside and she's cold and she can't open the door herself. Which, honestly? I think she most certainly can open the door, she just wants someone to do it for her.

Oh good, here comes the bus. I start backing up towards S and the door so that by the time T is on the bus, I'm almost to S. And hopefully my babyless belly is blocking the neighbors view of her. Have I mentioned yet that it's only 7:30? In the morning?

I usher S back inside and get us ready to go. We get back home around noon, and everything is fine. Then S decides she's not going to take a nap even though she is tired and needs one. I knew the napping habit from a few weeks ago was a fluke, especially when she ended up getting sick, but a mom can hope, right?

T gets home from school, we leave to do some errands, and the kids both have a huge meltdown at the commissary. Over nothing. By the time we get home, I'm frustrated and tired of silly fights, no time to myself, and honestly? I'm tired of toddlers. This does not bode well for me for the teen age years.

R gets home and mows the yard. The kids are in and out, in and out, in and out. And they are yelling to R over the noise of the mower and trimmer. This frustrates R and he snaps at them. More kiddo tears. I, still wrapped in my bitchy attitude, am not sympathetic to either side. Yes, it's frustrating that S seems to be stuck in perma meltdown, wailing, crying mode. Yes, it's frustrating that T is so used to it that he just tries to talk over her adding to the noise and chaos. Yes, it's frustrating that our frustration and attempts at reasonable resolution conflict are more often than not ineffective so we are mostly just adding to the situation rather than improving it. And yes, it's frustrating that parenting is this hard, this often. Where is our easy button?!?

As we try to decide on dinner, more melting down happens. And I've just had enough. I need a break, so I tell R that I'm going to go for a drive. He, seeing the look on my face, says no problem. "See you when you get back."

So I get in the car and drive. Just drive. Within 10 minutes of total alone time, I totally relax. This helps me to see the situation objectively. And what I see? Is that I'm making a huge deal out of things that really aren't. Which is all well and good and sunshine and rainbows until I get back home and it starts all over and all those good feelings are buried at the bottom of tantrumville, population me.

Sometimes I really wonder if there shouldn't be a program where kids who think they've got SUCH a hard life could spend a weekend with kids who ACTUALLY have a hard life to get some perspective. Because on days like today? I'd totally sign mine up for it. 

Watching it happen

A couple of Mondays ago when I was sick, I ended up having to drive Tucker to school. I was sick enough that I can't remember exactly why I had to drive him to school, but I'm pretty sure it's because I couldn't drag myself out of bed and get myself ready in time to get him up and ready in time. Pretty sad since I'm the Mom and the 'person in charge'. Or so I tell myself. 'Cause we alllllll know that really, Sara is the Queen of the World.

At any rate, as I turned from the road that leads to base to the road that leads to the road that leads to his school (say THAT three times fast), the car in front of me swerved, barely missed tipping over into the very deep ditch, spun around, came to a stop facing the wrong direction about 200 feet in front of us.

Even though I wasn't the one who lost control, my heart was in my throat.

The driver was an older gentleman, and he looked (understandably) really freaked out. The truck that was in front of the older gentleman stopped too, and the driver and I both ran up to the older gentleman's car.

The kids, as we saw this poor man swerving and fighting to regain control, were full of questions: what's happening? Is he having a wreck? Is he going to hit us? Is he okay? Mom, are you going to help him?

I told the kids to stay in our car no matter what as I got out to run over to the other car. The other guy that stopped helped the older gentleman to get his car started and turned around the right way and  we stayed with him for a few minutes until he calmed down. I hated to leave before he was calm enough to drive away, but I had to get the kids to school.

On my way back home, I kept thinking about how close that older gentleman had been to being involved in a serious accident and how a matter of seconds can completely change your life. I mean, I know that you never know what's going to happen but seeing it unfold in front of you is sobering.

The kids still mention it when we pass by that spot every now and then so I know it made a huge impression on them too.

So what's the point of this post? Just a reminder to myself to not sit back and watch life happen anymore and to always try and do the right thing. Apparently, I needed a little reminding. Just glad no one got hurt during the process.

Motivation Monday

Only seven posts in March by me. For shame.

Since I've started a second blog for weight loss/nutrition/fitness, I'm not sure if Motivation Mondays will continue to be the huge extravaganza that it currently is. ::snort!::

That said and until I actually decide, this morning I dove right back into P90X.

Umm......ow. Like seriously....ooooowwwwwwwwwwww.

Sigh. I'm going to tell myself that the pain just means it's working, but I'm also going to tell myself to take some Tylenol and go to bed. Immediately.

And just in case I need a little motivation tomorrow for Plyo? I will tell myself this: when I stand with my feet shoulder's width apart, I can now see daylight instead of thighs.

As any woman can tell you, that's freaking motivating.

Home visiting

I say home visiting because Robert was only here for the weekend. Not. Long. Enough.  But way, way better than nothing.

He and I have been talking about this since before he left for deployment. We got lucky enough that it worked out and he came home on Friday night and I'll be leaving to take him to the airport right after Zumba today. Before you get all "WHAT! You're going to Zumba when your husband is only in town for a couple of days?!!?" let me just tell you that 1) he likes to watch me Zumba (heh heh heh) and 2) we are both changing our lifestyles to be more healthy overall, so yes. Workouts were included this weekend.

So my plan was to get to the airport early and tell the kids we were getting a package. We'd wait by baggage claim for his flight and I could get a great position with my camera to capture the reunion. Robert would come in, tears and joy, and we'd be one big happy family for the weekend.

Well that's not exactly what happened.

We left on time. Just past Fairview Heights, traffic was backing up on 64. I had seen signs that 64 was going to be under construction starting April 2 and to expect long delays, but Friday was March 30 so we should have been good.

Except that the department of transportation decided at some point to close down 64 in both directions at 9 pm on Friday and I had no idea. What time was it that we were trying to get to the airport? We left the house at 8:10.

Oooops.

It took us almost an hour to go two miles. Did I mention I was really low on gas because it's so much cheaper in St. Louis? Yep.

That's what you call asking for trouble.

And the kids, because they had no idea what was really going on, were tired and cranky and over it.

So the vehicular environment was slightly less than hospitable.

Sigh.

Luckily Robert had his phone with him and while I was sitting at a dead stop on the highway, I was able to text him that I was stuck in traffic and was going to be late. His reply? Ok, battery dying.

Awesome!

We found a detour, stopped just outside of Crackville to get some gas, managed not to get car jacked, and finally got to the airport.

By this point Robert found an outlet and had plugged his cell phone in to charge so at least he and I could communicate (no, not while I was driving) without giving away the surprise to the kids.

We walked into the airport, went to baggage claim, I get my camera ready (luckily I'm always taking pictures so the kids don't even give it a second thought any more), and I hear Robert call our names.

So I only got pictures from the back, but you know what? I could care less. The emotions are all over the photos. As you can see here: