Archive for the The Journey Category

So happy Mother’s Day to all of you who have born children. You know who you are. For some this is a day of intense pampering. It’s just one big love fest from your family. Enjoy, my friends! For the rest of us I am writing this blog.

My day began with “Mom! I want MILK!” 5 seconds later my diabetic son was rifling through the fridge while I hollered “Wait until I check your blood sugar!” My eyes were grainy with sleep because I was up for several hours in the night with a headache. You know what’s the only great about television at 1:30am? Channing Tatum! So beautiful… So I stumbled through the house, barely able to see, washed some little hands, pricked a little finger and then got into an argument about which milk jug we should use. I won(we always use the opened milk first) and then I went about preparing for my morning workout.

I have been looking forward to a leisurely bike ride for several days. Weekends are the only time I have to ride in the morning sunshine and I eagerly anticipate these days of freedom. The streets are empty on Sunday mornings so I don’t have to fight so much traffic which is what makes it utterly perfect. I pulled my hair back into my cyclist bun and….

“Mom! I’m hungry!”

I only had about 60 minutes before I needed to shower for church. I could either hop on my bike, leave my four year old diabetic son to pilfer the fridge, and “enjoy” my ride or….. start making breakfast. Well, it is Mother’s Day. So I skipped my ride.

I made whole wheat banana chocolate chip muffins, much to the joy of my boys who gobbled them down like starved monkeys. They hadn’t licked up the last crumbs before they were trying to gouge each other’s eyes out. Queue me, “Boys, please don’t fight. It’s Mother’s Day!” To which they snorted and then resumed gouging.

“Mom, my throat hurts!”

Son #2 began moaning two minutes before we walked out the door. So I gave him some drugs and rolled us into the car. I was determined to get to church on time. It was a glorious(but cold) morning and I slurped my smoothie while cruising. No muffins for me(too many carbs!).

Church was fabulous. My pastor preached on some of my favorite verses and I just wholeheartedly embraced the service. Then we stopped by Trader Joe’s for my favorite snack, dried apricots, and began to drive home.

“My throat hurts!” He was more insistent this time and my shoulders began to droop as I drove. The petty arguments broke out again and I sighed. I’m accustomed to driving while the WWF wrestling team wrassles in the back seat. I have earned that badge of honor. So of course we made it home with no crashing. But I will admit that my hair has a lot more silver in it lately.

I will digress here a bit. When boy #3 arrived at Sunday school he told the teacher there were goblins at home under his bed. And yesterday he made a point to announce to everyone, everywhere that there were monsters with us. Every time he talks about monsters I think, “Yes, there are monsters everywhere I go. And yes, they are born of my loins.

Which brings me to the second best part of my day, Massage Envy. I don’t get massages because they’re fun. I’ll be honest. They are a medical necessity. I deal with chronic pain and they are just about the only thing that relieves it. Within 5 minutes I was in tears(of relief). I am SO thankful for my massage therapist.

I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up yogurt. Okay. That’s not entirely truthful. I was hiding. I didn’t want to go home. And since I love food the grocery store is a happy place for me. I stopped by the deli counter and picked up some salami. I told the man behind the counter that I needed it because when I got home, if my children started pestering me I could distract them by throwing salami at them. (My kids LOVE salami) He said, “Good idea. Throw it to them and run!” You see, he’s met my kids. Last time I was there he asked me why I don’t get a babysitter to go to the grocery store.” :/

The rest of the afternoon has been a blur. I only had to pause my movie(that I taped 2 months ago and finally found time to watch) about 30 times. But butts have been wiped, bread for lunches has been baked, laundry has been folded and hot tea with honey has been consumed. All in all, it has been a good Mother’s Day. And I would be willing to write some really wonderful, inspirational stuff about how much I love my children and how grateful I am to be their mom, but child #3 is screeching like a banshee and if I don’t get him chocolate ice cream in a cone RIGHT NOW the world will end. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?

I can’t believe how busy I have been the past few weeks. I have had a variety of topics on my mind but no time to put pen to paper. So tonight I emerge from the cesspool of a particularly icky day to expunge my cluttered brain. Here goes…

I have frequently written about my journey to better health. I have discussed the many things I do to stay on track and how I get back on track when I fall off the rails. But a recent conversation with a co-worker recently reminded me just how far I’ve come. Shelly explained to me that she is planning a trip to the ocean in a month. She told me how embarrassed she is of her body and how she has gained weight over the past few years. She said she is thinking about trying to lose a few pounds before the trip because she would be too embarrassed to show her swimsuit clad body on the beach in its current state. She told me all these things with a casual flip of her wrist, as if it was more a wish than a plan. She ended with a slight chuckle and a shrug of her shoulders. As if she needed to make light of her body image to somehow come to grips with it.

I thought a lot about her comments after I went back to my desk. I don’t consider Shelly overweight. She is a sparkly, bubbly, beautiful woman with a heart as bright and shiny as a new copper penny. And yet it is obvious she can’t see that. For some reason she has convinced herself that she is not worth looking at. She even has it set in her mind that if the right numbers don’t pop up on the contraption on her bathroom floor she is somehow less than a person. But I would venture to guess that she is the only person who thinks that about herself.

Oh the lies we believe about ourselves. That is what I thought when she was talking. Because much of what she said was achingly familiar.

Why do we think that we are less valuable as human beings because we don’t look a certain way? Does the shape of our nose determine our character? Does the number of holes in our belt define our personality? Why do we put so much emphasis on our bodies when the true nature of who we are is invisible to the naked eye?

And yet when I was heavy I felt very poorly about myself. I bought into the lie that I was less than a person because I was obese. I lost years of my life feeling ugly to what purpose? I was so worried about what people thought about me that I lost myself. What a waste of time and energy that was!

I wanted to tell Shelly a lot of things in that moment. I wanted to tell her she is beautiful and lovely and important. I wanted to tell her that as long as she is happy it doesn’t matter what she looks like in a swimming suit. She has a successful career and is well respected at work. Does the fact that she is a few pounds overweight really matter in the grand scheme of things? Heck, no! 🙂

Instead I said, “The last time I was at a beach in Florida there were a lot of old people. And they don’t care what you look like.”

Oy.

There is something to be said about good health. When I eat right and exercise I feel really good. My mind is clear and I am able to more fully understand my place in this world. Losing weight was revolutionary for me. It made me respect myself. I find peace of mind while walking up a flight of stairs that would hitherto have been impossible for me. I took control of my “out of control” life. And I won’t lie, it feels great. I am certain there are people in this world who still consider me overweight. I’m lumpy in places I wish were flat and flat in places I wish were more plump. But I can honestly say I am content with my body and with my life. I am certain that taking good care of my body improves my overall sense of self but just because I am smaller doesn’t mean I am a fundamentally different person. I still get sad. And I have the capacity for wickedness. My size has nothing to do with it.

Yesterday I made a pretty big mistake at work. I had to tell my boss this morning and it was utterly humiliating. When the realization of what I had done sank in, I took refuge in the cube of a friend. She took great care to soothe my worried spirit and breathe life back into my soul. This friend is one of the most giving, gentle and loving people I know. She makes an effort to show kindness to everyone she meets and has had a great impact on my life. She too struggles with body image but I don’t see her body. All I see is her beautiful heart.

Eleanor Roosevelt famously said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

It’s my favorite time of year, mushroom season! My brain dances with hope as every warm and sunny moment I obsess over finding the mother lode. This year has been especially rainy and cool and filled with promise. I rub my hands together in anticipation but the real work of mushroom hunting is filled with endless moments of fruitless searching.

Most years I spend hours hiking through the woods only to find a handful of little gray mushrooms. But there is something about searching that fills my heart with joy, until it doesn’t, and I give up for the year.

Because hiking for hours and days through the woods can be somewhat frustrating I try to focus on the wonderful things I do find. That way I don’t feel like I’ve lost hours of my life crunching through dead leaves. This year is no different. The first thing I found was a $20 bill. I didn’t even squander it. I used it to buy chicken to feed my family. What a blessing! We also found a box turtle. I usually see lots of these in the spring. They are one of my favorite things to find in the woods, all covered with mud and hungry from hibernation.

I took Friday off work to spend my hours hiking with my favorite son(I’m joking, I don’t really have a favorite-and if I did it wouldn’t be him, but if I pretend he’s my favorite then he will feel special and maybe won’t have mommy issues later in life). That trip netted 2 morels. 2. If that wasn’t depressing enough we found a deer skeleton. My favorite son insisted on handling the head and waving the spine around. I figured it was important to let him do this. You see, my favorite son loves dead things and Halloween and skeletons. It just didn’t seem right NOT to let him handle it. So, in case you were keeping track, he won’t have mommy issues, he’ll just be a serial killer.

Today was warm and sunny so I made another impromptu trip to the park to hunt. We found a very snappy garter snake who promptly pooped on me. Everyone got a good laugh out of that. We also found a tree frog.

What joy! But my very favoritest thing about mushroom hunting is all the beautiful green things that sprout from the forest floor. If winter is death, Spring is new life. Jack-in-the-pulpit, Dutchman’s breeches, Larkspur, Dogtooth Lilies and purple Phlox are everywhere. Sleepy bees drip from these flowers. Their soft fuzzy bodies buzz with energy as they sip nectar from each stem. It seems that they are just as hungry for warm days as I am. Everything glistens with health. The sky is deep blue and I want to roll in the new, soft green grass like my favorite son, who knows nothing of chiggers, ticks and itchy grass. He sees only a carpet ready for tired bodies who are worn out from hiking through the woods taking in all of the spring goodness.

So even though we didn’t find any mushrooms today, I am content. I got to spend time with my 3 favorite kids as we explored the great outdoors. I am so full of fresh air and sunshine my sides are splitting.

I’m glad I never grew up. I’m glad hiking through the woods still fills me with wonder. I’m glad I’m healthy and no longer carrying an extra 140 pounds around so that I can actually climb up muddy hills without gasping. I’m glad I can have a discussion with my number 2 child around rabid beavers and why we don’t stick our hands in big holes. After all, beavers eat trees. Imagine the damage they could inflict on soft, chubby flesh.

Life is good. I am blessed. And maybe I’ll find the mother lode…..tomorrow. Today, I found a holy tree! And really, what could be better than that?