Sunday, December 16, 2012

Fuel.

these are not actually my feet.

I got on the scale the other day and did a double take. It was the first time I'd seen that number since I got married. It was a good number.

Sure, I don't look how I looked when I got married. Back then my tummy didn't bear such a strong resemblance to the top of a Costco muffin (mmm Costco muffins. the chocolate kind. mmmm). But my wrinkly little tummy has given me three bouncing baby boys and that's a miracle I simply can't regret or take for granted. And I've been doing some exercising so hopefully there's a light at the end of the tunnel. (I wish I knew where all the pounds were melting off of. Maybe the boys cut my hair while I was asleep?)

I have kept up with this diet for the last four months and it has been helping me change my attitude about eating (I say as I sit here sucking on a piece of candy). Most of the time I don't think I overeat for emotional reasons. I think it's more psychological. More habitual. More just loving the taste of food, and wanting to taste it longer. Wanting to taste it for as long as my husband, a 6'1" male, can. The reality is that I am a 4' 11 3/4" woman, thirty years old, and post partum for the third time, so let's be honest: I can't eat as much as other people and expect to be thin.

But that's okay. Why should I need to? If I like it that much, I can have more later, when I'm hungry again. How ironic it is that my tongue, just one of my five senses, can have so much effect on the rest of my life? Do I let my sense of smell rule over me with an iron fist and make me do things?

I found myself in a mother's lounge one Sunday with two other young mothers. One was gorgeous. Very tall, very thin, with long, thick red hair and freckles. She was glamorous. I was a little in awe just being in there with her. The other girl seemed to be about as opposite the first gal as she could be, and as she talked and talked about her life, her vulgar, "share-it-all" conversation style really turned me off. So I was amazed by Gorgeous Redhead Lady's attitude toward her. She sat there listening intently, offering comments and suggestions, and appearing to really enjoy the conversation. I felt humbled. When Opposite Lady left the room, Gorgeous Redhead Lady turned toward me and we started talking.

this picture came up when I googled "gorgeous redheaded lady." 
this is not actually what the girl looked like at all.

I'm not sure how it came up, but she told me that in high school she was 40 pounds overweight. I gawked. I couldn't imagine it. She told me that one day she just decided she didn't want to look like that anymore. She wanted to go shopping before a dance and actually find a dress that fit her. So she prayed for help and began to lose the weight. She said it took her a long time to change her attitude about food, but that now she doesn't struggle with it anymore. At all. She thinks of food as fuel for her body, and nothing more.

I'd really like to be more like that beautiful readhead. I wonder if her time being awkward and overweight filled her with compassion for other people, no matter what they look like or how they talk. And I was so inspired by her attitude toward food.

Nothing more than fuel for the body. 

I don't need to look like a supermodel, but could it be a reality for me not to struggle with food anymore? I have wondered since that conversation if there is a possibility of me living like that for the rest of my life. Is there a way for me to make permanent good habits without looking back?

I'm not yet to the point where food is "just fuel" for my body because I enjoy it so much (how fun would life really be if I didn't have dessert?) but these days I'm moderate in how much of it I enjoy. That means I save up calories for stuff I know I'm going to love. I don't actually count the calories, but I eat a little less of the things I don't care about or skip them altogether. Why eat the mashed potatoes when I can take a little more stuffing instead? Why eat the oatmeal raisin cookies at the church activity if I know I've got Josh's homemade chocolate ice cream at home? Know what I mean?

So I hope I can keep this up. I love feeling the way I do right now. I'm trying not to enjoy losing weight too much, and trying not to base my self-worth on my weight, especially since the next time I have a baby I'll have to start at square one again. But it's a process and I think I might finally be getting it.

(Unless, of course, the holidays decide to get me instead.)



Saturday, December 15, 2012

hi dad

Joshy loves to g-chat with any relatives he recognizes through my gmail account. I especially love his conversations with his dad during the work day. Here are some of my favorites from the past few months.


josh: dad
         dad it s. me josh
Dad: hi josh
         i love you
josh: i love you too
Dad: :)
josh: ?
         dad
Dad: yes jsoh
josh: hi
         dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         we off
Dad: see ya


josh: hi dad
Dad: hi son
josh: josh
Dad: yes josh?
josh: me
Dad: How are you doing Josh?
josh: dad
         dad
Dad: Yes Josh?
josh: love you
Dad: I love you too!
         So much!
         I love all my sons with all my heart.
josh: we love you dad :)


josh: hi i.m josh
         dad? dad!
         dad, dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :(
         dad you love too play?
         dad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dad: i love to play with my boys
         with you bennett and lincoln
josh: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
         you do
Dad: :)
         i do
josh: :)
Dad: love you too


josh: too you
Dad: to me?
josh: no
Dad: ah man
josh: :D


 Dad: how was preschool
          ?
josh: good


josh: Hi
Dad: hi
josh: M.i. Josh
Dad: hi josh
         i'm dad
josh: i. No
Dad: :)
josh: Dad
Dad: Yeah Josh?
josh: i. Love. You
Dad: I love you too Josh


 [I'm hysterically crying after seeing a bunch of cockroaches scatter in the garage]
josh: mom is sad :'(
Dad: i know
         josh can you make her happy



I also recently found these emails from joshy to an email address I hardly ever check:


subject: Love you mom Love josh
 mommmy     Love    you         do    you?     Love       me



subject: Love you
Love     you       Love      josh



subject: love

lve   josh 
                                                               GO      NO!      I     LOVE      YOU      G          GNO   
bennett         love     you        too

 

(no subject)
loveyou



So, sorry if you get a random email or chat from me that isn't really from me. But if it says "I love you," that part is true, so there.



(These are Christmas ornaments, if you couldn't tell. Merry Christmas!)


Sunday, December 9, 2012

The Santa Question.


you know guys,
sometimes i wonder if Santa's real.
you've got to be joking, joshy.
of course he's real.

so... you've seen him.
yeah. i have. 

 please, joshy.
i'll handle this.

look bennett, 
when you saw Santa, 
was he wearing red sweats?

why, yes, as a matter of fact he was.

did he look jolly?
of course he did. 
he's Santa.

was his belly like a bowl full of jelly?
yep.


did he have the magical ability to fly?
well, how else would he get the toys 
to all the girls and all the boys?


how do i put this... 


 
that was me.
not Santa.


 
oh.


bummer.


wait a minute.
it couldn't have been you.
you were both sitting on his lap when i saw him!


don't you remember?

oh yeah!
that's right!
see? Santa is real!

just don't tell Mom and Dad.
they think they're the ones who plan it all out and spend all the 
money and wrap all the gifts into the wee hours of Christmas morning.


let's let them enjoy their blissful ignorance.