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DietBet: The end is near

August 27, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … drop enough weight to win that DietBet.

As you might recall, a few weeks back, drunk on optimism and grasping at baby weight straws, I signed up for a Chris Powell DietBet. Thirty dollars in, drop 4 percent of my body weight … bing! bang! boom! I get my $30 back and split the rest of the pot with all the other lucky suckers.

Except, losing 6 pounds is kind of hard. I have been on an emotional roller coaster with dips and peaks and plummets. I’m up, I’m down, I’m bloated, I’m starving. I’ve been within 2 pounds of declaring victory, and within 6 pounds of blowing the whole thing.

I have to track calories and I have to work my ass off; that’s the long and the short of it. But if I’m being real with myself, I’m feeling seriously cheated. Do you know I ran 9 miles the other day? I, who have only run 4 miles max in my prior life, ran that 4 miles, then did it again, then tacked on 1 more mile just to show off. (It was actually part of the training plan and I thought I was going to suffocate mid stride.) Now, in my mind, that equals at least a 10-pound weight loss … no? What’s a girl gotta do to drop some LBs, man?

The clock is dwindling down and I have less than a week. So, if you have any drop-a-handful-of-pounds-without-hurting-your-body pointers, I’m all ears. Please and thank you.

Help me, before next time …

Kids, Tune in Today

Kindergarten kickoff and my nervous breakdown

August 14, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … be that together mom on the first day of kindergarten.

The thing about children that nobody tells you, is that more often than anyone would like, we discover that these little people are petite vessels sent to open, detonate and unintentionally impose utter and complete emotional devastation upon those who love them most. One look, and they can level you. The right phrase, and you’re shattered into 8 trillion tiny pieces. Almost every happy occasion comes gift wrapped in nostalgia and topped with a bittersweet bow. It’s incredibly humbling and unnerving all at the same time.

JoJo started kindergarten on Wednesday and, as she lifted that construction paper sign announcing her foray into elementary school for the world (or just Instagram and Facebook) to see, something terrible happened. I started sobbing. Big, dreadful, embarrassing, ugly tears. It was like they were all holding hands. Once they started falling, there was no reprieve from the infinity pool of self pity.

But when we got to the sitter’s to drop off the younger two, I said I was fine. I was fine with her looking like a 12 year old who picked out the most mature outfit in her closet. I was fine with her telling her sissies goodbye. “Wait until she goes to college,” the sitter said. And again, I cried.

But when I got back into the car to drive her to school, I said I was fine. I was fine with her sitting, crossed-legged, mouthing all the words to an Ed Sheeran song while looking longingly out the window. You know … like teenagers do. “Are you coming in with me?” JoJo asked. And again, I cried.

But as we walked hand in hand, side by side, into the school, I said I was fine. I was fine with how, as I looked down at the pavement, I noticed her shadow was catching up to mine. I was fine with how her tiny hand felt not-as-tiny nestled in mine, and how I could feel her anxious excitement on the other end. “Here we go,” I said. And I tried so hard not to cry.

As I watched her sit up so straight in her little chair, only looking back to meet eyes with me a few times, when she thought no one was looking. As I watched her walk to her cubby. As I watched her line up and march with a tentative confidence down a hallway alongside the big kids. As I watched her eyes light up at talk of reading and adventures and friends, I told myself I was fine. Everything was fine.

But as we set her on the little round seat in the lunchroom, situated with her compartmentalized tray and carton of apple juice, I didn’t feel fine. “Are you guys leaving now?” JoJo asked. I leaned down, kissed her little baby-skinned cheek, pulled down my sunglasses and didn’t try not to cry. In fact, I let it rain. I let those tears fall for the milestone and for my mourning of the past and the fact that it will always be the past, and in the past, she was tiny and snuggly and so close to me always.

“Find joy in the journey.” my friend Lindsay posted.

“This is what we do. We raise them to give them wings and let them go.” Kel offered.

“It’s a testament to you as a mom that she felt OK to go in there with confidence. It’s OK to be upset. Part of being a mom is loving them so much and worrying and crying.” a sweet coworker said (as I snotted and sobbed over her desk).

But when I got home from work, and I listened to her describe their bear hunt, and the playground, and her new friends … I knew, deep down, everything was just fine. But I still cried today, just a little.

Until next time …

Tune in Today

Crafting my mission statement

July 25, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … Write a personal mission statement.

I recently sat through an intriguing presentation in which a third party researcher shared data, gathered from employee surveys, for the purpose of revitalizing the company’s mission statement. I never realized the weight a mission statement holds. The adjectives have to be on point. There can be no room for misinterpretation. Are we forward-thinking or reliable? Are we compassionate or determined? Bold or safe? Familiar or daring? It has to be a testament to a brand’s hard-earned reputation and accomplishments, but also a promise of progression and prosperity. Listening to how passionate people were about pinpointing the ideal word to explain an establishment inspired me to do a little market research of my own.

I am writing a personal mission statement.

Now, in order to compose an accurate depiction of who I am, as well as who I aspire to be, I first turned to those who know me best. I grouped the participants into categories: Husband, Kids, Immediate Family, High School Friends, College Friends and Work Friends. I then sent them all the same text (Except my husband and kids, of course. They take forever to get back to me.) that read: “Hey guys! Doing research. If you had to describe me in one word, what would it be? BE HONEST!”

The responses.

Husband:
Organized
(Editor’s note – I have always wanted a man to call me, “Organized”. After reading this draft over my shoulder and seeing the intent, he changed his word to “Boundless”.)

Kids:
Love

Immediate Family:
Planner
Willful
Determined
Obsessive
Structured
Detailed

High School Friends:
Loyal
Silly
Thoughtful
Honest
Trustworthy
Disciplined
Caring

College Friends:
Witty
Real
Genuine
(She clarified, “Not to be confused with Genuwine, who wants you to ride it, his pony.”)

Work Friends:
Passionate
Focused
Down to earth
Personable
Fun as hell
Friendly
Hilarious
Humble
Dedicated
Outgoing
Funny
Motivated
Awesome
Amazeballs

I know this seems like a big ego stroke, but hang with me here for a bit. It’s not about fueling your self esteem so much as it is an exploration of what you’re putting out into the universe. Just like the researcher’s data tells a story for a corporation, these descriptions tell the story of how I am perceived, for whatever reason, by those who’ve known me in all the different points of my life. My immediate family has the entire 32 years to draw from, my high school friends have nearly as much history, and so on. What did my coworkers really see in me and what am I in my daughters’ eyes? I think of myself as one thing, but that doesn’t necessarily match the consensus. Some of the words truly surprised me, and I think that alone was worth the time it took to pound out a mass text. (It also triggered some pretty sweet text threads with my all-time favorite folks.)

This is where it starts to get interesting, and kind of geeky, but really more interesting than geeky. For reasons I can’t explain, I love a good word cloud. No? Not so much? OK, well, the cheese stands alone … Anyway, I took all the words people sent me and I plugged them into a word cloud generator, and it looked like this:

Then – hold onto your hats – I wrote a free-flowing, unfiltered paragraph about how I view myself using the same tool. I was going for the stream of consciousness thing, and included what I struggle with, what I think I’m good at and where I’m trying to go. It looks a little different:

I find it all fascinating. The way we view ourselves vs. how others view us. It must be mentioned that we tend to be both harder on and more honest with ourselves than our peers are. So, while my work friends might have had glimpses at my “obsessive” tendencies, they would be more likely to reach for the word “determined” for the sake of goodwill and friendship. While, conversely, I am more than willing to toss negative adjectives into my word cloud because I am constantly evaluating my weaknesses in an ill-fated effort to improve. It makes me wonder what a compromise word cloud would look like; one where I’m kinder to myself and my social circles are brutally honest.

In the end, this is where I landed, for now. The beauty in something like this is how well it plays with amendments and revisions.

Now, it’s your turn. It takes a phone (what the kids are using to send text messages these days), an honest group to survey and your choice of word cloud generators. Go write your mission statement and then live it in the boldest fashion possible.

Until next time …

Tune in Today

Three stops on my training journey (thus far)

July 22, 2015

UPDATE: Tune in today to see if she can … run a half marathon.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Basically, to bring you up to speed, I have none. (See what I did there?) But there have been a few exciting developments in regard to my running game.

No. 1, I found my stride soulmate. Much like you, I had my doubts. The crop of athletes out there who choose to bounce up and down rather than out and forward is slim, but somehow I unearthed a gal who treads as turtle-ish as I do. She sweats like a long-lost sister and does the dance between self-deprecating pessimism and desperate optimism with the mastery of Misty Copeland. When the piggies meet the pavement, we are a match made in heaven. Not to mention, she’s just a pretty stellar individual and fascinating creature. (She only eats smooth peanut butter on hamburger or hotdog buns, Kraft macaroni and cheese, plantain chips, and romaine lettuce with cheddar cheese and French dressing. That’s her diet. Always. Every day. She carries French dressing in her purse, you guys. I can’t make this stuff up.)

No. 2, I have confirmed the universal hypothesis that the farther you go, the harder it is. Let me repeat: It is very true that running far is brutal, self-inflicted punishment for a false sense of confidence that you embraced somewhere in your past. Sure, the goal seemed super sexy when it was you, a bunch of quotes on Pinterest and a pair of tight trousers. But now, 2 1/2 weeks in, it feels more like the definition of insanity. You keep lacing up and checking off the boxes of your training plan, because Hal said so, only to feel like you got jumped in a back alley by a bunch of no-good goons with billy clubs. And then you go back to the friggin alley three times a week! What kind of person does that? An insane one. And the whole “runner’s high” phenomenon … I can only assume I’m still stuck in the “jogger’s low” but the good stuff is coming.

No. 3, Running is a serious mind f*@k. (Excuse my language, but the symbols softened the blow, Mom.) Yesterday, I ran 5 miles. Seems like nothing when I think of the folks out there logging 100-mile mudders threw jungles and mountain tops, but still, it was the farthest I have ever run. I had my afternoon snacks all planned out, then meetings ran over. I had my clothes situated, but I lost my lightweight sunglasses. And then, the worst thing happened. Technology failed me. [gasp!] My Runkeeper app announced we were at 4.56 miles just 14 minutes into the run. Either our asses were on fire, or the tool was jacked up. The realization that we wouldn’t be getting those mile-by-mile updates from our prerecorded female companion was a devastating blow to morale. By mile 3 (we guessed), the sun was relentless and urging us to lay down on someone’s lawn for a nice long vomit and snotty sob. I had to walk for a minute. Even though it was just 12 minutes more, just 3.4 more songs from the playlist, just 1 extra loop, it was enough to psych me out. There’s no arguing with the physical demands of running, but it’s the mental part that just absolutely levels me. The popsicles after are great though.

Until next time …

Tune in Today

A great perhaps

June 18, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … quit a really great job.

This Friday will be my last at the place I’ve worked for the past five years. Correction: precisely one day shy of exactly five years. I already shared an exhausting post about the dilemma this decision presented and, in the end, the cards fell in favor of the fresh start. [Gulp]

I have loved this job. Particularly the part where I got paid to write and hang out with a group of folks who humor my analogies and get rowdy at the Christmas party. This is the job that brought us back to our hometown. It’s the job I had when we welcomed both Spike and Sloppy Joan and found our house. I have shed tears of both grief and laughter in those offices, on more occasions than I can count. It feels like a corporate urban legend, but it happened to me: Somewhere between my first Halloween (where we dressed up for and performed a white trash wedding) and my last 3pm ice cream surprise, these people from work became a second family. Maybe it’s the sheer amount of time we’ve spent together, or maybe it’s just really good recruiting. I don’t know. But I know I got super lucky.

So, if I’m so damn happy, why leave? I have been so comfortable, and to me, that comfort is a blessing as much as it is a crutch. It’s a settlement in some ways. I imagine when that comfort is napping on the couch, and sees a challenge standing expectantly over it, it stretches its arms way above its head, rolls over and falls back asleep. It makes monotony seem so sexy and whispers that the unknown is simply “an inconvenient mess.” Truth be told, I just came to a point where I felt like getting off the couch. Starting over is practically paralyzing for a girl like me, but it’s better than lying down and spooning with a life unexplored. I am a creature of routine, 100 percent, but the routine can be numbing. And when you’re numb, everything starts shutting down. Am I scared? Hell yes. But the fear makes this whole thing really kind of great. But the people … that part tears my heart out.

While making myself and everyone around me insane with the excessive weighing of pros and cons, I was simultaneously listening to and loving “Looking for Alaska” by John Green. In the book, Pudge, an adolescent young man, goes to boarding school “to seek a Great Perhaps.” It was one of those art-imitating-life moments where I decided to take it as a sign (I needed a sign) rather than just a result of my number being pulled at the local library. This was my crossroads: Stay where I was for years and be perfectly content, or entertain the notion of a “Great Perhaps.” I chose the notion.

So, with a pocketful of treasured friendships, I’m turning in these keys I’ve used to write so many words and moving on to a brand-new adventure. And even though the air is thick and heavy, with familiar feelings of finality – like college graduation or that time a dear friend moved to Florida – people, throughout the whole process, have encouraged and empowered me to move boldly in the direction of my dreams. I always hated when folks said a career change was “bittersweet.” Seems so cliché and canned. But oh, how perfect the word is. The call for celebration is muffled by the exchange of melancholy goodbyes and promises to stay close; promises from the faces I’ve looked at in conference rooms and girls’ lunches, some for the past 4 years and 364 days.

This team has tenacity. It has amazing human beings, with talent and wit and heart. They are the people you want holding the scooper when shit goes down and the kind of people who pop up in the stories you tell for a lifetime. And the crux of this change is, and always has been, it’s tough as hell to leave a team like that. It’s so sad to walk away, but their astounding support has moved me along. And that, my friends, is the definition of “bittersweet.” It’s so freaking bittersweet it makes me want to throw up every time I think of that last walk out the door.

Hank and I are taking Emma and the kids and going off the grid for a week before my first day at the new gig. I wouldn’t want the fifty of you who follow me here to worry about where I went. Thank you, sweet friends and family, for humoring my insane introspection over the past few months, and Hank, for buying boxes of wine and building Excel spreadsheets with bars full of boring benefits crap. Stay tuned for this Great Perhaps, or perhaps, just something kind of great.

Until next time …

Tune in Today, Wellness

Before and after

June 5, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … complete Kayla Itsines’ 12-Week Bikini Body Guide

Who isn’t a sucker for a solid before and after shot? When a close friend told me to check out Kayla Itsines Instagram feed and let her know if I wanted to do the Aussie’s 12-week Bikini Body Guide, she must have known I was a complete fool for the side-by-side comparisons. The transformations are messed up they’re so amazing. And now I know why.

The friend who got me on the hook for Kayla, was also the gal who talked me into my first Whole30 and Insanity, both of which were torture at the time and extremely rewarding after. So I had high hopes.

The idea is fairly simple. The guide has you do the assigned Kayla workout 3 days a week, cardio of your choice for 30-40 minutes 2 days a week, stretching 1 day a week and 1 rest day. A Kayla day’s workout consists of 2 circuits, each containing 4 moves with designated repetitions. You set a timer for 7 minutes and do Circuit 1, as many times through as you can. Then, a 2-minute rest. Set the timer for 7 minutes again and do Circuit 2 as many times through as you can. Take a 2-minute rest. Then repeat the process. You complete each circuit twice.

This mama is still packin’ some extra LBs around the midsection and, perhaps because I had an umbilical hernia fixed 6 weeks after having Sloppy Joan, or perhaps because I am a tubby cake-lover, I had absolutely zero core strength. A fact that reached up and slapped me in the cheek as I reluctantly hovered in my first Kayla plank.

But, much like when we did Insanity, this program, over time, ignited a modest evolution in my meager muscles. Take the burpee, for instance. Kayla loves her some burpees. She changes up the form, but they’re there, in almost every workout. They might be first in the circuit, or fourth, but they’re coming for ya. During the first week, I felt like the motion was disjointed and sloppy and kind of pathetic. But by week 12, I could feel my body automatically snapping my limbs in and out like a push-button umbrella. After three kids, I’m thankful for every single small victory.

The pros of this program are many. The workouts only take about 40 minutes and, with a little bit of equipment, can be done at home. (You can certainly use your gym’s equipment and bust it out, too.) It does get a little tricky toward the end when she has you jumping over benches and such, but I just substituted a small child. It’s easy to get creative as long as you have some hand weights, a kettlebell or medicine ball, and some stairs. The movements are super effective and engage several different muscle groups at a time. And because you repeat a lot of the motions throughout the 12 weeks, just with some added difficulty, it’s easy to gauge your progress. I noticed the biggest differences in my core (Is that a muscle sprouting under that stretch mark?!) and upper arms.

I don’t really have any cons related specifically to the program as it was designed, although it is pretty pricey if you buy it from her. The cons in my case were tied to my tattered body’s inability to keep up. I never could do a jack knife; only one end of my body goes up at a time. My push ups are still of the girl variety. And once I passed Week 8, I’m pretty sure I never made it through a circuit more than 1.12 times, but you just keep getting back up, right?

Will you find my before and after in this post? Not likely. But I will throw you a bone with my measurements. Something to keep in mind is that I certainly did not follow the suggested protocol. I completed the guide in 20 weeks rather than 12, with some other classes and jogging peppered throughout.

If you want your Instagram feed flooded with unattainable body selfies, be sure to follow Kayla. It’s fun to browse and kill some time while your Oreos are soaking.

Until next time …

Mindfulness, Tune in Today

Better in my 30s: Meditating

April 29, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … Meditate for 30 days.

A few months back, I was on a Gabrielle Bernstein high. I listened to her audio book for Miracles Now and became a full-on spirit junkie, taking hit after hit of Gabby’s good stuff. While like most of my infatuations, it only lasted a hot minute, I would say I was addicted. I took introspection to a DEFCON level 5, dissecting every passing thought and action, trying these wild meditations with mantras that I chanted, having absolutely zero clue what they meant. But before you judge, listen to the girl speak. You might not drink the Kool-Aid, but you’ll at least smell it to see what flavor’s in the pitcher.

She said things like …

And these memorable nuggets …

I finished the last disc and swore to find my peace, damn it!

A quick confession and choppy transition: I have over 100 blogs in my Feedly roll. Whether you find yourself appalled or impressed is neither here nor there, but what I can tell you is certain trends are undeniable in the blogosphere. Repeating themes, if you will. And right now I could create a brutal drinking game for content addicts based on the mention of any of the following: juicing, HIIT, festival, flower crown or meditation. The latter being the only one that also coincides with my resolutions for self improvement in 2015. The universe just keeps throwing it at me. So, I’m going to stop throwing it back. At least for a month.

Starting Monday, this mama is going to hide in my basement, closet (c’mon, I have no pride anymore) or bedroom for 10 minutes every day, for 30 consecutive days, and meditate. Nothing fancy. No mantras. Likely just a timer and some instrumentals. I don’t know … I don’t know if I’ll have enough time … I want to see if being mindful truly impacts decision making, parenting and sleep. I want to breathe and reboot. So, we’ll see. I’ll journal and overthink it all and report back in June. I know you’ll be on the edge of your seats (wink, wink).

Until next time …

Tune in Today

Much love for Mother Nature

April 22, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … lighten her carbon footprint and trigger change.

Let’s give it up for Earth Day, everyone, whatda ya say, huh? It seems like such a lackluster effort on our parts. I mean, the planet gives us electric sunsets, piercing blue waters and, oh yeah, air, and we set aside one cotton-pickin day to consider what we’re doing to impede on her efforts. I feel like, I don’t know, we could really up our game as a species.

I would say, on an Earth-conscious scale from 1-10, our household falls at about a 5. Aside from filling our recycling bin to the brim, composting, repurposing, planting trees, avoiding material waste and educating our girls about all of the above, I know we’re just scratching the suffocating surface.

If every person resolved to make one change to one habit every April, big things could happen. I’ll go first … This Earth Day, I am going to switch to cloth napkins. After I made this declaration to Hank on the drive to Spin tonight, he countered, as he so often does, with, “I’m curious if it really does make that much of a difference, or if, because you have to wash them, it’s just as bad.” Enough to make me wonder and doubt my Earth Day ’15 choice.

According to treehugger.com, who tested both paper and cloth scenarios, “Over the course of a year you might wash your napkins 50 times and during the same time you might go through 350 (50 x 7) paper napkins. This scenario is much more favorable towards the reusable napkins, with 5 grams of greenhouse gas emissions for the cotton versus 10 grams for the single-use paper napkins. The linen napkin was even lower at 2.5 grams.” Sounds legit to me.

On to the contenders …

1. My front runner. Simple. Practical. Organic. And Mama loves a multipack.

2. Who doesn’t love a side of zigzag with their dinner?

3. These floral favorites are pretty, but perhaps a little fancy for a typical night at our table. (Spike can belch at will. Does this motif scream a message that mimics that ambiance to you?)

4. Another fave. I’m digging these colorways so hard.

So, go green, my brothers and sisters. Make a pact to pursue a simple, sustainable change this year, and every year, and happy Earth Day!

Until next time …

Tune in Today, Wanderlust

With boots on her feet

February 26, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … find hiking boots.

Like a million other women, I pulled back the cover of Wild and awakened a sleeping bear in the form of extreme wanderlust. As I read the autobiographical recount of days on the Pacific Crest Trail, I realized that I, too, want to walk until I exfoliate my suburban, mundane surface and expose feelings that typically hibernate under a warm blanket of daily to-dos and small little humans. I want to turn off my cell phone (I mean still take it, of course, just power it down.) and get lost in tall trees and winding trails. Honestly, the more I try to keep everyone on schedule, the more I really just want to get lost for a few days.I waxed poetic to my husband about the pages and pages, and steps and steps, that heroine (who did heroin) Cheryl Strayed took and how I felt like we should totally do that. We should be showing our girls that they should do that. I must have really sold it, because every birthday, Christmas and Valentine’s Day gift since has been an accessory to backpacking, including an actual backpack.

With my arsenal building, I have just a few essentials left before I go full-blown granola. At the top of my list is a pair of hiking boots. I have very few requirements. They must: 1) Have traction and ankle support because I,
like my Mother, am in a constant cage match against gravity. And, 2) Take me to places that change me.One more thing. I’m not a shopper. I hate driving from place to place and price comparisons and sales people and back orders and all that business. I buy – usually online – based on star ratings and alt shots and I am, basically, an E-Commerce director’s wet dream.

So, now we’re all caught up. I’ve been randomly dropping by REI’s site for months and have the field narrowed a bit, with options from the straight-up Cheryl Strayed style to total forest-chic.

I welcome trail testimonials, tales of fallen soles and tried-and-true recommendations. Help me lace up and chase my Wild side.

Until next time …

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