happy birthday baby

Dear Thing One:

Seven years ago this morning, my whole world changed. You and I lay in that hospital bed blinking at each other, you looking at the person whose voice you’d been hearing all those months, me trying to get to know that baby that made my body all insane. You were this tiny little peanut all swaddled up tight, which you pretty much hated from the start. I was nervous and weepy and totally high on painkillers. Together we were quite a pair.

We made it through that first day in the hospital pretty much on adrenaline and euphoria alone, receiving our visitors and smelling all of the pretty flowers and handling the onslaught of pushy nurses telling me how to hold you and diaper you and feed you, like I was without instincts or even common sense. And finally it got dark and quiet and it was nighttime, and the nurses went on to other new moms and your daddy went to sleep and I finally got to be alone with you. I was in quite a bit of pain and couldn’t really lift you in and out of the little crib, and I wasn’t sure if I was really supposed to send you to the nursery to sleep or keep you with me, so that night once you were in my arms for a feeding, I just let you stay there. We laid that way for hours, you sleeping and me staring. It was the first of many nights we’d spend like that. It was the first of many sleeps you would have in my arms because I just couldn’t put you down.

I never really wanted to let you out of my sight. I just didn’t want to miss a second of your life. You never really know how many of those seconds you have, and I certainly didn’t want to miss one where you would undoubtedly do something cute or funny or wonderful. You and I, we went everywhere together. Besides just our weekly trips to the grocery store or the farmers market or the library, you and I hopped on an airplane together to go to Florida, spent a week up north at the lake riding on a boat, and we have taken many trips to see YaYa and Papoo together while Daddy was working hard at his new job.

I even took you to your first political rally, because I had a feeling you were going to be a bit opinionated, just like your mommy.

I always wished for you to have your daddy’s best traits; his quiet calm and his athleticism and his relaxed personality that everyone likes to be around. And also his good teeth. While you have some of that, it seems I have also riddled you with my intensity and anxiety and constant questioning and curiosity and need for reassurance. Sorry about that. But the upside to being like me is that I get you. I know what it means when you ask me for the gazillionth time what we would do if there was a tornado because we don’t have a basement in our new house, or do I think we have ghosts living in our attic. I understand you like nobody else. From our earliest days as Mommy and Boy I’ve understood you – everything you’d say and most of what you didn’t – and that bond was so close, your daddy insisted we had our own secret language that only the two of us understood.

He was right. We do.

You’re my son and I love you. You are strong willed and stubborn and you want so bad to be a grown up and I totally get that because I was just like you, and I wish I could make you understand that once you are a grown up, you’ll long for those days as a child and the security and safety and love you feel by just being able to crawl into somebody’s lap and snuggle in those arms. But I know there’s no way to change your mind, and I know this because there’s no way to change my mind once I’ve made a decision about something I want. We have unbendable wills, you and I; even though we can be quiet about it and often fly just under the radar, we both ultimately do whatever it is we’ve decided is right.

You are bright and smart and have common sense, too. You worry too much, and find it hard to relax, and we see that happen most around your baby sister because there is nobody on the planet you love more than that girl. I am so glad you got what you wanted when you asked for a baby sister, and am so awestruck by the bond you two share. She idolizes you, and it alternately pumps you up and drives you crazy. If there is one thing that I truly hope and pray for, it’s that you two keep that bond between you and stay like that forever.

Over the last year you have accomplished a lot. You are a competitive student and prefer to be at the top of your class, though you don’t really have to work at it to be there. You are just naturally good at things without really having to try too hard. You have a little crush on your teacher, which makes me laugh because so does your dad. You amazed us during football season with your golden arm and understanding of the game. I think your daddy is especially excited about that – or maybe your Papoo, since he has somebody new to bet on football with. And you talk less and less about our old house and your old friends, and seem more and more happy to be exactly where you are.

I wonder sometimes what you’d be like if you had a mom who wasn’t just like you. I wonder what you’d be like if you had a mom who was good at everything, always calm, who didn’t worry and who never yelled. I wonder what kind of lessons you’re learning about life and love and family with me and your daddy as the example. I wonder how much of you nature and how much is nurture. But even though I usually feel I am only getting this job half right on a good day, I also know that most moms feel this way because we only want the very best for our kids. And that’s all I want for you. I want you to be successful and happy and loved.

Happy Birthday, Thing One.
Love,
Mama

test day

I’m back in school, and getting back in the swing of homework and studying and sitting for exams. The last exam I took was a law school exam – and if you went to law school or love someone who did, then you understand the madness involved in preparing for such a beast. When I took my first BIOLOGY exam a couple of weeks ago, I prepared with that same eye of the tiger, and I crushed it. I obviously overprepared, but it was kind of worth it. I got the highest grade in the class.

Today I’m studying for another one. Complete with coffee, brain food, flash cards, and way more hours of effort than it will take to pass. And it kind of got me to thinking. About urgency and fire and preparation. About why, for this silly little exam that I could be ready for in a couple of hours, I spend days getting ready for, but for other things . . . like WEIGHT LOSS . . . I’m content to do the minimum to get a barely passing grade.

I mean, I am making changes. I am becoming more aware. I am doing some things pretty well. And while I may not be posting huge losses every week, I haven’t posted a gain in months. All those things are worth a little credit.

But that fire that could lift my results from a B-/C+ to the highest A in the class? Well, I’m still looking for that. Wondering why it is any less important than my BIOLOGY grade.

Anyway. Short and sweet today, because I’ve got an exam’s ass to kick. What about you? What do you need to gear up to crush these days?

baby steps

So, last week I wrote about how those of us participating in the Pete Cohen class were asked to begin to define clearly what it is we want to achieve this month. This week we began working toward that by considering a list of ‘tools’ and choosing a couple of them to focus on to help retrain some behaviors.

I did a few things – for one, I worked hard to make sure I drank water. Now Pete wants to take my coffee away from me (there is a Take a Break from Sugar and Stimulants option, and I’ll give him my cocktails but NOT my COFFEE for duck’s sake), but I can at least make sure my pee is clear. Maybe it will throw him off the scent of my AM cuppa joe.

I also got the whole shoe issue handled for the tool that asks us to incorporate 30 minutes of activity a day (I’m getting pretty good at the 45 minutes of walking). So there’s that.

But the tool I took on as a major focus for both me and my family was about eating more slowly. We are a family of eaters on the run. While most of our meals are actually taken together, my two year old doesn’t sit for long and eats most of her food walking around. My son sits well with us, but inhales his food and talks the whole time. My husband and I both eat fast, usually while taking a work call or driving a kid somewhere or cutting a kid’s food into pieces or studying BIOLOGY flashcards. And while I am clearing away the dishes and shuffling everyone off to activities or homework or bathtime I take mindless bites of food left on plates, because I very rarely feel full or satisfied after a meal.

Yes. I said it. I very rarely feel either full or satisfied. I sometimes feel stuffed, because I’ve eaten so fast or so mindlessly that the only thing that cues me to stop is that feeling that there’s just no more room. And satisfied? Nevah. I can’t remember the last time I actually savored a meal, considered the flavors, appreciated the textures, taken in the atmosphere. And I’m a foodie! Seems like EVERY meal should be a real experience for me.

Truth is, I’m rarely hungry, because I’m popping a little of this and a little of that in my mouth all day long when I’m feeding little people, stressed about a test, missing my friends, or just about any other reason I eat besides hunger. And I’m rarely satisfied because I don’t create the environment for myself to sit down and experience my meal. And I am just so trained to eat on the run that I even when I have a chance to relax and slow down, I just don’t remember to do it. Even going out to eat is a rushy rushy experience - not long ago Trophy Husband and I had date night; I was all primped and made up and wearing sexy underthings, and we vowed we were going to go someplace where there were no chicken strips on the menu. So we found ourselves in a dimly lit sushi restaurant sipping Sapporo together, and I’m batting my eyes and trying to remember what we talk about when we say we’re not going to talk about the kids, and we still rushed through dinner, and not just because he was dying to get me back home. WINK.

So. This week as a family we practiced eating slowly. Well, Thing Two still pretty much ran around like a banshee, but the rest of us tried putting our fork down between bites, chewing more thoroughly, and didn’t take another until the previous one was totally swallowed and gone. And because visualization is such a big part of all this (as are the things I’m learning about the body in my BIOLOGY class) I thought about the fact that digestion actually starts in the mouth, and I was doing my body a solid by taking that responsibility seriously.

I don’t know if I feel like I made this great step forward on my whole getting back to fabulous journey. I guess maybe it’s a baby step. I mean, I understand that in theory it does help me feel satisfied from my meals, and I am able to stick to the reasonable portions on my plate. But there were still numerous instances of the mindless popping of food into my piehole as I walk through the kitchen, make a meal for somebody else, or about a zillion other reasons. Anyhow, Pete says that we need to give ourselves some credit for what we do accomplish, and modify our inner conversation. So I’m telling my inner Chatty Cathy to remember that while I tend to think the positive self-talk is cheesy, food is actually an affirmation, and I have the power to make it a positive one.

This week I continue to focus on slowing down, think about the difference between a wobble and a collapse, concentrate on working up a sweat once a day (WINK), and on kicking the ASS of the BIOLOGY exam I am sitting for on Tuesday.

What about you? Are you an on-the-run eater, even on date night? Are you able to take the time to experience your meals and make your intake meaningful? Did me talking about sushi and chicken strips make you hungry? What baby step are you going to make this week?

friday favorite

I do spend quite a bit of time around here spreading the love for my fellow bloggers, don’t I? Well, let today be no different. Today the Fatass Friday Favorite is going to be one post from one awesome hotass. MizFit is spunky and creative and inside-out beautiful and she’s really just about my favorite person I’ve never met. And if I do happen to make it to Fitbloggin? Well, then she’ll just be one of my favorite people.

And I really hope to make it to Fitbloggin, because I have the perfect gift on which to bestow to this fine ass woman. She’s taken me under her wing – and by that, I mean she’s locked me in her basement – keeps an eye on me, supports me, and makes me laugh like 50 times a day.

So if there are any of you who didn’t stop by her place this week to read the MizFit and the Ellen Show post, you must. Because this plan is just crazygenius enough to work. Go over there, read, and COMMENT. And if you do (or if you already have) leave a comment here letting me know – and on Tuesday I’ll do a drawing for a cute little prize from Words to Sweat By. Sound like fun?

Okay. Get to it. And then have a great weekend.

i just called to say i love you

I’ve gotten a few emails lately asking me what is up with all this Twitter business. So, I’ll answer you all at once and let you know why I have embraced it so wholeheartedly.

When I joined Twitter last fall I just didn’t get it. I mean, I signed up to follow one guy, who in return asked his followers to follow me, and then once I had followers I felt this enormous pressure to be funny and have to perform in 140 characters or less, and when I couldn’t I just felt terribly inadequate.

Because, you see, words mean everything to me. Having somebody take the time to give me theirs can totally affect the course of my day. Having somebody keep them from me, or take them away? Crushing. I am just a total word girl.

Don’t get me wrong. I love action, too. I love it when my son fills my water cup up for me all on his own, just because he loves me. I adore it when my BFF sends me pictures of her smile just because she misses me, too. I feel very loved when my husband sprinkles cinnamon in the coffee grounds before he brews it because he knows I that’s how I like to drink it. But if you really want to communicate something to me? Write it down.

I am an email addict. I often carry on multiple Gchats at the same time, and all throughout the day. I will admit to occasionally losing an hour at a time on Facebook. So, in theory, I should have loved Twitter right from the get go. But like I said, I just didn’t get it. I felt like there were all these private jokes going on around me, and I was on the outside looking in.

Then I started following this guy - @unmarketing – and from his tweets I learned a thing or two about The Twitter, most importantly that the most effective users don’t just churn out update after update. Rather, they use Twitter to make conversation. Connections. Friends.

I never thought of it that way. I was SUPPOSED to get involved in these other conversations. I wasn't interrupting, I was partipating. That, my friends, changed everything.

Now I love Twitter more than, well, more than something I used to love a whole lot but now I love Twitter more. I have other early birds that I touch base with first thing in the morning. We go over our day, drink some coffee, shoot the breeze. I have some Tweeps that I swap jokes with throughout the afternoon while the babies nap and I’m studying. Then there is the evening crew, where we decompress together. We just connect. Touch base. Check in.

And when I’m absent for a few hours or a day? It is noticed. My Tweeple check in on me. How cool is that?

It’s another way for me to get to communicate in the language that means the most to me, because as busy or crazy or jumbled or fucked up as your life can become, there is always somebody out there who gives a crap. And in return, you can always find a second to check in on somebody you like if you choose to do so. You can lift your head up from your busy life and just participate in the conversation for a sec. And then you can get on about your day.

I love it.

Me: I am cold and not feeling motivated to go do my miles.
Tweeps: Don’t make me come over there and kick you out the door!

Me: I am on campus early and fighting hard to ignore the Sonic across the street. Darn Sonic. Darn emotions.
Tweeps: Stay away! Want me to send you the report they just did on undetected bug parts in fast food?

Me: For anyone keeping score, Me: 1, Emotional Fast Food Craving, 0.
Tweeps: You rule, Sonic drools!

Me: I am so very tired.
Tweeps: What you meant to say is that you’re so very hot.

So, see what I mean? Twitter very often makes my day.

And so do you guys. I know I’ve gotten a bit behind on comments and emails this week – due to a little equipment malfunction, my computer time is not what it usually is – but I try. I do try to take at least a second to let you know I appreciate you and really like having you around.

What about you? How do you reach out and stay connected to the people you care about? Are you successful? If not, what stops you? Is there somebody you should try to reach out to today?

a fatass by any other name

Time for another conversation about my name. With the new influx of followers lately, I am getting more and more comments about using the word Fatass. It’s okay – I like getting people talking – and since I don’t have any plans to change it, I’m happy to have this discussion every once in a while.

I said something in my post yesterday about how different things work for different people. Some are very tunnel-vision in their approach to healthy living, some more instinctual, some do it this way and some do it that. I’m okay with all of it because really? I’m not the boss of you. And even on those rare occasions where I might offer advice or opinions, I generally preface it with what the hell do I know? I barely know what works for me much less what I should be recommending to somebody else. I only know that the most important thing for me here at the fatass blog is honesty. Humor is a close second, but days when I’m tapdancing or spinning or throwing out smoke and mirrors, I feel like a fraud. And you can bet some kind of VLOG will follow, possibly with tears.

Honesty is important to me. It’s that brand of crazy that I’m so protective of. It’s the thread that I use to connect with other bloggers and friends. Sometimes I put something out there that makes me want to run and hide after, but it seems to be exactly those things that brings out all of you. And we move forward together. It’s a good thing.

And honestly? I am a bit of a Fatass. For those of you who didn’t catch this discussion the first time, you can read this post to catch up. Go ahead, we’ll wait. Now, I realize this might be something I need to revisit from time to time because as the popularity of this little rag grows, there will be newbies who look at my name and think I’m Captain Negative Affirmation or something because I call myself a fatass. But I am. I have been fat and I have been fit and at every stage and every place I have wrestled with self confidence, body image, libido, ambition, LAZINESS, complacency, and my feelings about the size of my ass. My handle tells you something about me.

There are a lot of interesting handles out there. @MizFitOnline is a nice play on words. I mean, the word misfit doesn’t initially conjure up all of the supportive, amazing, funny, informational stuff that happens over at her blog, but swapping that ‘S’ for a ‘Z’ seems to be okay with everyone. @ExHotGirl is definitely hot, and none of us are fooled into thinking otherwise just because she says Ex. Fat Daddy, after dropping an absolute shit-ton of weight, is being referred to by his neighbors as Melting Man, but he is SO the Fat Daddy, and it has nothing to do with the size of his pants. It’s his vibe. And it’s a good one. Do Big Bottom Blogger or Big Butt Mama take heat for their names, which (and I don’t want to put words in your mouths because I totally HEART YOU) I think actually might be in reference to their (albeit shrinking) posteriors? @Bitchilla is not a bitch, at least not in a bad way, and I know this for a fact because she used to be my boss. @JackSht actually does know shit, but even though much of that knowledge includes having 47 different ways to say having sex, should his name be something more reflective of his awesomeness? @BiggerBoater is actually referring to himself as . . . bigger. Should he not? Is that trapping him in a future of never seeing himself trim and fit? In Weigh Over My Head seems to state the notion that she can't conquer her food addiction and health issues. Should she change the name of her blog? And don’t get me started on @NoMoreBacon, because to me that’s just a life not worth living.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down here?

I love words. Words and humor and puns and double entendre. I call my friends my bitches, I exclaim Shut UP! when I want you to say more, and I occasionally like being called a slut. WINK. I just don’t know why we have to take everything so seriously all the time. Even the serious stuff. And really, no matter what is said, there will be as many reactions to it as there are people experiencing it. Take, for example, my post yesterday. In my head, that piece was all about embracing my inner hotass. It was a step forward. It was about being realistic about how I see myself, and having the balls to say out loud I WANT TO TOUCH PEOPLE. Doesn’t matter how many times other people say it – though, hey, who am I to stop you – but the victory was in ME saying it. It was a happy post. Yet there were still people who heard the nerves and the fear first, who responded with words trying to uplift me. And that was great and appreciated, but I was already pretty jazzed. I was already loving myself. Imperfections and all.

What I like best about what goes on here is watching people take my words and experiences and relating it to their own journey and experiences. I fucking love that. There, I said it. And even if things aren’t received exactly as I intend them to be, just the fact that they are received at all is pretty cool.

I sometimes wish that more people were as down with honesty as I am. There are folks in my life rightthissecond that I wish wouldn’t be so afraid of confrontation or reaction or their own thoughts and feelings or whatever to just come out and talk openly with words. But hey, I’m not the boss of them. I’m only the boss of me. And the truth is, I could call myself MrsKickass, or MrsHotass, or MrsFabulass right now and it wouldn’t change a thing about me. What I write here would be no different. My voice would be as raw and in the moment as when I called myself MrsFatass. I’d still have days when I rock it, still have days when I don’t, days when I am comfortable and loving of my quirks and imperfections and days when the negative inner voice wins and I’m back at the kitchen sink, and I’d still have to talk to myself OUTLOUD to get up off the couch and go do cardio because I would still hate it that much. So I ask you, what would be different? Me? No.

Would the connections I make with people be different if I had a different name? Don’t think so. I mean, there are enough people on the interwebs with very different handles than mine who don’t connect with people the way I do. And ask my husband about the time I spend returning emails or personally responding to comments, partipating in Twitter conversations, or coming to bed with thoughts in my head or feelings in my heart for a follower who is going through something. Would any of that be different if I was @HealthyFitFox? My guess is no. Except that I might not have as many followers, because @HealthyFitFox? Come ON. Who would guess that chick would tell shart stories? Not me.

I am who I am, and I happen to think that honesty is the biggest positive affirmation there is. So, join me on one’s girls journey – MY journey – MrsFatass.

having a go

Happy Monday, sports fans.

So, part of the whole process of applying to be a Mamavation mom is having the opportunity to work with this hotass, Pete Cohen, to go through his 28 day weightloss program, which, for us, is partially online, and partially 1 on 11 coaching on Sunday nights. My psych background had me recognize some of the theory behind his behavioral change methods, and to be honest my commitment to getting started on this with the other ladies was tenuous. I mean, different things work for different people. Some count points, some Bodybugg, some get into the science of it, some are more instinctual, but it’s really all different ways of interpreting the same information: Eat Less, Move More, and you will Lose Weight.

And, I’m also pretty protective of the vibe over here. I mean, I get as many ‘offers’ to ‘promote’ different supplements or programs or whatever as the next guy, (umm, but hello? Where are the SHOE PEOPLE??), but you don’t really see them appear here as I’m just not always comfortable being a mouthpiece for a product or a brand other than my own brand of crazy. Certainly this fact could drive my Mamavation sisters batty, because while I love the companies that sponsor them, I’m careful not to alienate all the people that come here or who Tweet with me who ARENT moms, of which there are many and I love them.

All this said, I did my homework and did the videoconference with Pete Cohen and the Sistas last night, and I actually had a blast. Pete is charismatic and charming and we all of course love his accent, and though I’m not sure his sense of humor is as wicked as mine (I have yet to hear him say my Twitter handle out loud, nor did he respond to my joke about all the women tweeting him “thanks for last night” messages which I thought was just so funny) I did find myself taking a page or two of notes from our conversation last night.

One of the main themes I came away with about what his program seeks to accomplish is helping us boil all of our “issues” back down to the simplest of solutions. When we eat for any reason other than hunger, all that is happening is that our brain is trying to solve a problem, and is telling us to go where we’ve been before. His techniques will help forge different paths for our brain to take, so that when faced with one of our triggers, food is not the automatic answer. And with practice, new habits will be formed, that ideally will not include falling face first into a pint of Chubby Hubby when we're tired or stressed or bored or lonely.

Sounds simple enough. Well, in theory anyway. The practice will unfold over the next 28 days, and Pete seems to have created a safe environment for trial and error, success and failure.

Okay, now to the juicy stuff. We have different Tools and Steps to look at over the next week, but what has really stayed with me overnight was the discussion about thinking about how we see ourselves. And how we WANT to see ourselves. And while long time readers will know that I have been working on this one since last April, newer folks may not, but a lot of what I’m trying to accomplish right now is trying to make those two things meet – who I am right now, and who I want to be in the very near future.

Lots of us last night wanted to see ourselves as thin, or fit, or healthy. Me too. And sometimes I do see myself that way. More and more all the time I feel good on the inside, more and more I feel the reappearance of that elusive mojo. More and more I feel like I’m moving forward and accomplishing things and evolving. More and more I feel my inner hotass being the loudest voice in my head.

Until I don’t.

I see a picture of myself and the outside doesn’t match up with the inside. I hear a criticism that rings just a little bit too true. I have an awesome, active, healthy weekend but the scale says something different. I try to talk about something and nobody hears me. I want something I can’t have, or need something I don’t get. I disappoint somebody. I disappoint myself.

And then the kitchen sink moments and crying vlogs come pouring out.

I know I’m going through changes right now. I know I’m trying to figure out what it is I am supposed to be accomplishing – and I don’t mean as a wife or mom. I mean for me. I am at that place that a lot of us come to eventually – where, after a long period of defining ourselves by our relationships to other people, we are faced with that need to figure out what our individual mark on the world is going to be.

And I also get that for a long time now I have placed more value on what other people think of what I’m doing, or should be doing, or should not be doing, than on what I think about all these things.

Heavy, huh?

Anyway. Somebody said something to me recently that I just can’t get out of my head, because it echoes exactly what I want to be. The thing I want so badly but would never say out loud because it just feels too much like a pipe dream, too far out of reach. And if I say it out loud, I run the risk of sounding silly because seriously? No way can I do THAT.

This person said See? You touch people.

Woooow.

That’s how I’m going to start seeing myself. I am going to start seeing myself as somebody capable of touching somebody. Of having an effect. I’m going to see myself as somebody who exists outside of this shell of worry and anxiety and doubt, and I’m going to remember my confidence and ambition. And I am going to stop talking all this self love and acceptance, and just do it. And whether it's by writing something or cooking something or healing someone or making somebody laugh - those are all details to be determined as the journey moves on -but I'm going to be that person. I am going to be a success, imperfections and all.

I’m gonna figure this shit out.

And as far as the Pete Cohen program, I'm gonna do what he suggests, and just have a go. At the program, at making some more positive changes, and at acting like the person I want to be. I'm gonna have a go.

Anywho. I did pretty well with my goals for last week, and am most proud of my wine and take-out food free weekend. Woot! And this week is much the same, spending time on activity, planning food, and trying really really hard to keep the eating mindful and away from the sink.

What about you? How do you see yourself? How do you WANT to see yourself? Are you acting like the person you want to be?