Numbers

Numbers are hard to talk about because numbers don’t lie.  It’s easy to talk about ideas and dreams and goals because those things don’t *have* to be real; if they never come to fruition, there are means to justify why.  But numbers… they are concrete.

When it comes to losing weight, numbers mean a lot.  And it’s not simply the number of pounds – calories eaten, weights lifted, miles ran, sizes worn, inches lost, and so on.  Simply relying on one doesn’t tell the whole story.  Together they are a collection of where you were and where you are going; what you achieved.  Yes, you can have a goal to run 13.1 miles, but there are so many more miles run in between.  Yes, you can lost 10 pounds, but you might have gained muscle and lost a certain number of inches or dress sizes.

It’s a nice idea to say that numbers don’t matter, but at times when your goal is to take one more step, lose one more pound, or anything concrete to feel accomplished and to feel like what you’re doing is actually worth it, it is important to have something that reflects the challenges and that feels like a reward.

And I am a numbers person.  I am judged by my numbers in my job – making cost, meeting schedule, analyses resulting in impactful ways, etc.  So is it any wonder that numbers flow over into my non-work / everyday life?

So this is where / when I need to be honest to myself.  Unfortunately I haven’t tracked a lot of the numbers listed above over the years, but I have tracked my weight and while weight isn’t reflective of the whole, it is something tangible at this point in my process.

Today I weigh:
- 21 pounds more than I did the day I was married.
- 2 pounds more than I did the day I gave birth to Anna.
- 40 pounds more than I did the day I went back to work after giving birth to Anna.
- 12 pounds less than my heaviest weight ever, which was when I was pregnant with Raven.
- 80 pounds more than the day I graduated from high school.
- 53 pounds more than the day I graduated from college.
- 33 pounds more than what my driver’s license says.

I don’t have to tell you what that number is.  When I reach my goals, perhaps you’ll be able to back figure it out if that is your desire.  By then I won’t care.  Today I care, today it hurts, and today it speaks to me as to what it is I need to do.

There is the truth.  The black and gray and white of this situation.

Other thoughts:
- In preparing for this blog post, I read some fascinating articles on “vanity sizing” and how sizes have changed over the years.  It was interesting and a bit bothersome to see that today’s size 00 is a size 8 from 1950.  I truly hope that size 00 girls don’t see that and try to figure out how to make themselves even smaller.
- Even though we as women are still very mean to ourselves, we’re a whole lot nicer than we were “back then”.  Shaming isn’t healthy, no matter what.

I’m pretty sure that calling girls “chubbies” didn’t help them and could have easily been onset for eating disorders or other issues.
- I have to be careful around my girls because I don’t want them to see a mom who is sad about herself/her appearance, I don’t want them to see a mom who shames herself.  I really don’t know how or where my girls learned the word “fat” already, and I sure as heck hope it wasn’t from me, but my daughter already knows that I am “fat” – and she is six. 
- There’s a fine balance between becoming healthy and fit and being obsessed with being healthy and fit.  Keeping that in mind on this journey is all important.
- I’m really glad women don’t really wear corsets anymore.  Though Spanx and the like are fairly popular, so maybe we do and we just call them something different.  Yep, I think that’s it.  (They CAN make clothes look nicer on a body – “can”, being the operative word.)
- It is okay and necessary to feel good about yourself as a person along the way.  Shaming oneself into submission, so to speak, doesn’t work very well.  It never has for me in the past and won’t now.

So.  For now.  And a few thoughts with respect that.  A very hard post to write; a harder one to publish.  Hopefully one someday I can look back on and be proud of.

Erin

A Tale of Two Tattoos

On June 14, 2013, I found out that I had leukemia.  This was also the day of my first bone marrow biopsy.  I held it all together fairly well while I was in the office, listening to the information, learning as much as I could, learning about a drug trial, reading my numbers and being taught what they understood, and enduring a biopsy.

I wasn’t so calm and collected while driving from Aurora to Arvada.

It was on that drive that I decided I would get the tattoo I always wanted to get when I knew I was done having children, and on that day, I knew.  I knew I was done having children.  So I drove to see Adam at Colorado Plus, and then I drove to a tattoo parlor.  And I got this:

This tattoo – the idea of this tattoo – spoke to me.  It grounded me.  It reminded me from where I came, who I had been determined to be, and who I was in my life – a physics-geeky engineer, a wife, a mother.  Cancer had nothing on me.  Cancer has nothing on me.  I didn’t let it that day.  And as I sat in the tattoo parlor chair enduring some slightly stinging bites into my wrist, I willed away the pain in my pelvic bone and relished my life.

That was almost a year ago.

A couple of weeks ago my friend Chrissy came to visit; she has been one of my dearest friends for over a decade, and we have lived apart longer than we ever lived in the same town.  We had a lot of good discussion about her life; about my life.  About our passions.  And one of the things we talked about was getting a tattoo together; something we had considered many years before but there never was one we had settled on.

Chrissy had introduced me to this Jim Carrey commencement address, during which he said, “So many of us chose our path out of fear disguised as practicality…… I learned many great lessons from my father, not the least of which was that you can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.”

Love over fear.  Choose love over fear.  Love expands your world; fear contracts it.  Even the Bible preaches this and it was ironic that just the week before we had listened to a sermon series about movies during which they discussed the Love and Fear in the movie Frozen. 

1 John 4:18 “There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

Discussing this; it felt as though the very tattoo we were expected to get together was born.

And of course we had to add a bit of geek to it.  Love.  Over.  Fear.  Get it?

And this is where things got a little Twilight Zone on me.

We went to get our tattoos at the same tattoo parlor (Old World Tattoo) that I had gone to last year.  And, crazy enough, we had the same tattoo artist that I had last year.  And then it hit me.  It was exactly a year to the day that I had gotten my left wrist tattoo of the atom; here I was getting one for my right.  A year to the day.  June 14, 2014.

This is where you say, “hey, cool, but whatever, you are all crazy stoked over something dumb,” but people, it’s been a long year.  While my life might not nearly the hardships that others have had, it had been a wild year.  There were ups and downs and so much so that I felt like I was coming to the end of the right of a very intense roller coaster.  Adrenaline.  A little bit of let down.  Fatigue.  Anxiety.  Excitement.  I have been a bundle of nerves and a bundle of emotions and a bundle, period, for the last year.  The intensity doesn’t have words.  I have struggled with my faith, I have struggled with my role at work, I have struggled with my place in life.  And yet that one weekend was so uplifting and the acceptance of love over fear so freeing… there is so much to do and so much to say and so much to learn and yet, I feel like I have turned a corner that I didn’t believe existed.

So now I’ll get a little more nerdy on you.

I’ve been thinking about this blog post for a few days.  Love over fear.  Love over fear.  Love expands; fear contracts.  Love is infinite.  Fear becomes nothing in the face of love.  Infinity over zero is infinity.  Fear cannot win when overcome with love.

The end.

Step 5: Tell Everyone You Know

I find it comical that when I first considered writing this post, this clip from “The Wedding Singer” popped into my head:

You Spin Me Right Round (Unfortunately I cannot insert the video!)

So why did this clip pop into my head?  Because I’ve been here before.  I’m back at the beginning of my never-ending circle. 

But, before I even started reading The Nonrunner’s Marathon Guide for Women by Dawn Dais, I had signed up for a half marathon in South Carolina.  It’s in December; five and a half months away.  It’s on Kiawah Island; a place that has quickly become one of my favorite places to sleep overnight thanks to a dear friend and her condo.

To be able to successfully complete a half marathon (which, believe it or not, I have done before in Des Moines), one needs to train.  To train, one needs to want to do it.  One needs to make the decision to do it.

Back to that record.  Did you read that I’ve already run a half marathon?  That’s because I did.  In fact, I very slowly jogged the last few miles simply because I knew if I stopped jogging/running, I wouldn’t be able to start again.  But I did it.  And then I stopped.  I stopped running.  I stopped. 

There are questions that I can’t answer like, “Why now?”  I don’t know.  I guess today is as good as any.  “Why at all?”  Well, I guess, why not?  Regardless, having already signed up for the half, I knew I needed to start training again (that’s a different story for a different day).  As I was preparing to leave for Jury Duty yesterday, Adam told me to bring a book.  The one mentioned above was sitting on my desk.  Why not?  I started to read it, and it’s a great book for me to read because it is as sarcastic as it is not, it is straight and real.

Now remember, I’ve already made the decision, so chapter one was a little “late” to be reading, but it had some really good thoughts/advice, and Step 5 is, “Tell Everyone You Know.”  The reasons why make me crack up like, “Frankly, when you start to feel weak and sad and sore and broken, it’s easier to just keep going than to try to explain why you quit.”  So here I am, telling everyone I know.

My real goal?  To break the record.  To stop spinning around.  At one point when I thought to write this blog post tonight, I was going to get super personal and down right emptying of myself, but I no longer feel the need.  Telling you is enough.  I will, perhaps, save the rest for another day.

Erin

ps.  I’m running a half marathon in December.

Kids & Words

Here’s another quick little snapshot of the words our kids hear or make up…

“Betend” – It’s not PREtend – it’s BEtend.  As in, “I am betending to be a princess.”  (As said by Julia.  Of course, in her case, more often than not she simply says, “I am a princess.”  Touché, Julia, touché.)

“Elmo-U-S-E!” – That’s right – the Mickey Elmo-use Club!  Again, another one brought to you by Julia, as opposed to Sesame Street.  As she sings the Mickey Mouse Club song, she belts out, “M-I-C-K-E-Y Elmo-U-S-E!”

“Ticklish” – The funny thing about “ticklish” is that it’s actually a word… but not the way Raven uses it.  Raven thinks that “licorice” is actually called “ticklish”, and asks me for “ticklish” when she knows it’s in the house.  Daddy and the girls bought me a bag of Red Vines yesterday as a gift, and they are all the rage in our house.

“Almost Anything Anna says” – I’ll say this for Anna – she has a superb vocabulary.  She says a lot of words and she says a lot of them well.  However, I realized last night while going through a book with her that much of it is because of context that I understand what she is actually saying.  She drops a lot of consonants, so that makes things a little difficult at time, but we work it out, as most parents with two- and three-year-olds are wont to do.  Horse = Orsie; Tiger = Iger; Bird = Bird (Julia says, “MOM.  That’s a macaw.  Make her say ‘macaw’.”  Mom to Anna, “Bird.”  Anna replies, “Bird”.  Dang kids who can read and spell already………..)

Happy Monday!
Erin

Wonder Woman Does Not Live Here

From my vantage point, I see scraps of paper and doll clothes lying on the floor.  The blankets are in a heap on the couch, and the chalkboard is a drying rack (I wondered where that towel went; I never thought to look there).  The girls found blocks out on the porch; evidence from our weekend fun, which ended two days ago.  There’s the basket of clothes I still haven’t taken to the thrift store, I am pretty certain there is food on the floor under the kids’ table, and the pile of laundry that I vanquished last Thursday has returned.

We had pancakes for dinner because we really need groceries.

I am not Super Wife or Super Mom.

But.

My kids were pretty happy to spend time with Daddy tonight working on school workbooks while Mommy took a quick nap.  Julia was pleased as punch to show me a new ballet jumping move (how many times did I try that as a kid – she sure thought she was flying).  Anna used the word “yes” with me more than the word “no” tonight.  Raven asked me to make her bed pretty for the umpteenth time.  We had a fort with those blankets on the couch and the kids love pancakes.  Anna doesn’t mind snacking on random cereal bits from the floor, and thankfully we have more clothes than we can shake a stick at so who cares if the laundry gets done.

I have Amazing Kids.

And.

I received a promotion and a raise at work yesterday.  I was asked to fill a role almost three months ago that I wouldn’t have expected to achieve for a few years yet, and while it’s tiresome and robs me of time and the commute is long, they picked me to fill that role permanently, and that’s saying a lot.  I’m the first woman and the first person under the age of 40 to fill this role on this program.  I have a heart for my team and want to see them succeed.  I have a lot to learn but I have amazing mentors.  I’m learning to accept opportunities and not rest in pride cloaked with humility.

Yesterday I was reminded by my boss that I had told her about a year and a half ago that I wanted her job some day.  And I won’t get there by holding back. 

Still not Wonder Woman.

The proverbial Wonder Woman can Do It All and Have It All and Be Everything to Everyone.  I confess I don’t know much about the actual Wonder Woman other than that I had a Wonder Woman underoos set as a child and recall swallowing a nickel while wearing it and thankfully didn’t land in the hospital.  In my mind Wonder Woman doesn’t have to make choices because she can simply do it all.  But that’s not true for me; it’s not true for most people and most moms.

Every choice has a consequence.  Consequence has a negative connotation, but the definition isn’t negative; it simply means a result or outcome.  Each choice I make has a result – I choose to work and succeed at my job and the outcome is that described above.  There are days that I would change it all if I could – and most people try to tell me that I can and I should – but it’s not that easy.  And I don’t know that I want to.  And it wouldn’t make me anymore Wonder Woman.  There would simply be different outcomes.  The question is whether or not the current results would be outweighed by the potential results.  Greener grass and the like.  And I don’t know that and can’t know that unless I make a different choice.

I don’t have a reason for this blog post other than that I have a lot of rumblings in my head that make me question what I am doing and the choices that I’ve made and whether or not they are the right ones.  There are no changes on the horizon.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t consider the alternatives and what they might look like and whether there might be a better option.

So for tonight, I’ll accept the choices I’ve made and rest my weary brain as my girls flit around me, make forts, eat pancakes, and sneak in snuggles with me while I take a nap.

Anna

Catching two on camera is like trying to catch the wind.  But when you do catch it, it is breathtaking and simple and beautiful.

Bubbers

Anna is classically two… but she is still herself… Anna… she is hard to explain but what kid isn’t?  Today I attempted to take her two-year pictures… not the worst experience in the world, but the majority of the pictures included her running at me screaming, “no picture!” and trying to hit me… that was fun having people watch in downtown Arvada.  She is a little sweetie, though, and she let me get a few good ones.

These are taken a few weeks later than I wanted to take them… but I hope to get back into more picture taking and have more to share with you all over the next few months as we transition into more new experiences with two kids in “big school” and Anna at “little school”.

Where she really wanted to be the whole time… she loves looking at the water fountains but really doesn’t want to go in…

A partial smle… yes, she is in the middle of saying “no” to me.

Love those piggies!

Not real sure about the picture taking…

“Ooooh, rocks!”

What most of the pictures looked like; Anna saying “no” and putting her hands up in my face or hitting me.  Ha!

Profile.

“No picture!”

“Oooh, flowers!”  She totally knew I was trying to trick her into pictures with these.

Little blondie.

Looking on.

“No, mommy!  No picture!”

“Mommy!  No!”  Sassypants!  Even though it’s a little fuzzy, this has to be my favorite picture of the bunch.  It is so Anna!

AFF

Adam and I still think this is one of THE funniest scenes ever from a television show – Amy Farrah Fowler and The Tiara.  If this doesn’t make you laugh…

(If anyone wants to send me a tiara……. just sayin’.)

Happy 2nd Birthday, Bubbers!

I still call Anna “Bubbers” or “Bubby” and I don’t want to lose that.  Even her sisters call her Bubbers.

I made up an Anna Banana song for her in the van one day.  Julia and Raven know it by heart.

I haven’t made Anna’s two year appointment yet and feel strangely guilty and carefree about it simultaneously. 

I still carry around a pacifier in my coat pocket.  It’s not for her.  It’s for me.

Anna wasn’t even walking 9 months ago but she runs now.

She still loves to be held and snuggled.  She likes to take my hand and hold it by her face when we watch Sesame Street.

She speaks.  Full sentences.  Her name.  Everyone’s name.  I love how she says “Daddy” – “Dah-yee”.  Adam pointed it out to me one day.  “Jew-yah“.  “Ray-wen.”  “Anna!” with glee in her eyes.  She knows how to use words instead of tears though she still starts with tears. 

She throws the most amazing tantrums.  Better than the other two.  She KNOWS how to throw them awesomely.  I caught her with markers the other day; I said, ‘Anna, NO MARKERS.’  She stood up, looked me in the eye, SLAMMED the marker cap back on the marker, STOMPED over to the cubby, THREW that marker in there.  And THEN she threw herself on the floor and screamed in frustration. 

She wants to be a big girl.  But not.  She is still the baby.

She loves the slide.  She loves the swing.

She loves books.

When she doesn’t want something, it’s “yucky”.  “Yucky potty.  Yucky water.  Yucky book.”

When she is hungry, she gets a bowl and says, “Food!” or “Breakfast!”

Potty training will probably be a while; the will is strong in this one.

She hasn’t had a pacifier in two months or a crib.  And she is a champion.

She loves her babies.  All of her babies.  Her blankie.  And her owl.

She loves Sesame Street.  And Frozen. 

She loves to take a pillow and lay down on the Dora Couch and cover herself and her babies with a blanket and chill out while watching a show.

She doesn’t really seem to like bread very much.  Or pizza crust. 

But she LOVES cheese.  Our girl.

She puts on pants by herself.  She picks out her own clothes.  And for some reason she thinks two pair of pants is a perfectly acceptable outfit.  She likes to wear pants to bed.

She loves the suckers at Ms. Diane’s dance studio.

Anna turning two… there is a pile of bricks on my chest and I cannot even release the words to express how I feel today.    My heart is heavy with pain.  No more babies from this womb.  And then I see this picture and my heart rejoices to know that this one… this one picked me.  I love you, Bubs!

Fashionista

Julia was instrumental in picking out the girls’ Easter dresses this year – this was her pick for herself:

I had visions of more matching between the girls in my head, but moms know that really only happens when moms purchase the clothes without the kids involved.  Julia saw this dress and I thought she was going to pass out from excitement.  I was happy to indulge.  (A detail that is super cute but that isn’t in any of these photos is the heart cutout in the back.)