Stand UP.

Stop standing like that!

I heard that one day from my very favorite physiotherapist during our warm up at the gym.

I slouch.
All the time.

It's a terrible habit and I started to say, "I can't help it...", before she cut me off with, "Yes.  You can."
And she's right.

A lifetime of being a chubby girl has trained my body to have a permanent hunch.
I am trying to concentrate on proper posture and standing tall, but I have to think about it all the time because I've been slouching for 30+ years.

Why have I always rounded my shoulders?  I don't think I would be the first fat person who wanted to fold themselves in, trying to be smaller by bringing my sides closer together.
Stick my chest out?!  WTF?!?!  Do you see how big these things are while I'm slouching?!?!  If I pop them out, they're going to take out a swath of people!!
If I stand tall, I will take up more space.
And I do did not want to do that when I was a larger person.
I'm still learning to live in this body.
I don't recognize myself in pictures and I'm quite sure the vision I have in my head of myself is different from how I actually look.

I should have stood tall and proud then, but now that there are three little peoples' eyes watching me, I feel I need to be especially careful to have good posture - which exudes self confidence through body language.
(Fake it 'til 'ya make it, right?!)
How can I tell them to be proud of themselves, while my body seems to be curling in on itself, in an unnatural looking way?
I'm careful not to criticize my body, which strangely, I never did as a larger person, but now I have to stifle it.
When you gain 5 or 10 pounds, and you weigh 210, it's not really a huge deal and most certainly will go unnoticed.
Gain 5 on a 150lb body?  Your clothes will remind you that it's too much!  Ta-RUST me!

It's important, though.
It's important that I lead by example, and although my kids will only ever remember this version of me, this, size, of me, I lived in a very different meat suit for a much longer period of time than this current one, and it's important, that they know to be confident, at any size.

More importantly, I think they need to know that their body is nowhere near as important as their heart, and that the person they are on the inside is what people remember.  What counts.
So be kind, and hopefully I can teach them that their body is just something they live in.
In a world that tells us to be always conscious of our body, our beauty, I think it's so important to try and show them that without it ever being something they have to think about, they can be confident.

I myself struggle with trying not to think so much about my physical self.
I've been focused, laser-beam focused on changing my body, but I need to now just be, so that I can raise two girls, and a little boy, who are not body conscious, but just, conscious.

So, stand tall, just be confident, and you may have to do what I'm going to do.
Fake it 'til I make it.

On the Daily

So, sometimes when I'm cleaning up my children's dishes, I take the last swig of their drink.

Done it lots of times.
Only this time, my adventurous son had put several bits of his lunch into his milk.
Mmmmmmmm.  I'll just let you imagine that for a sec...
I won't be doing that again.  Lesson learned.

I was wrangling that sweet little cherub into a restless nap today, when I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can order a pumpkin spice latte when Blake and I go on our date tonight?  I need to know what all the hype is about pumpkin spice."

The crazy, hectic, stressful chaos that is daily life, has become so normal, that in the midst of my sons screaming, kicking fight to get to slumber, I can still be daydreaming about this evenings kid-free festivities.

Now, I'm not a type A Mom and I'm certainly not one to stress over the little stuff, but I do recall in the days that Audrey may have been portraying similar behavior in spite of her extreme exhaustion, that I may have just given in, and subsequently suffered the consequences for several more hours before she surrendered to sleep, in a closet.

I'm quite sure it's more the aging process than it is raising little people, but I seem to give fewer and fewer effs about the stresses of life in general.

I know what's important and I wholly engage in what I have prioritized, but I'm finding that I'm happier than I've ever been because I try not to invest energy into sh*t that doesn't matter to me.

Raising good kids.
That's pretty important to me.

Creating and putting the effort into my relationship with my husband.
That's really important to me.

"You treat me like garbage."
She spat at me, through clenched teeth.

We had just spent an hour and a half at the park.
We had brought a friend of hers, even.
And when we walked in the door, and she asked if her friend could stay for dinner, and I said no, and she said this to me.
"You treat me like garbage."

How do I emphasize the depth and pain of her words?
As I remember that I myself have used the word garbage to describe someone else's behavior at one time or another, and now it's being spewed back at me.

I asked her to repeat it.
She wouldn't.

I told her that was the indicator of how hurtful her words had been.
If it hurts to repeat the statement, then it was too mean to have been said in the first place.
I try very, very hard not to say things I will eventually have to apologize for.
I expect the same restraint from my loved ones.

Sometimes the plan is to go something like this:

Take kids to do something fun.
Come home.
Cook and eat dinner together (Eat.  As in, the one beautiful, healthy meal I've made).
Bath/brush teeth/book.
Bed.

Sometimes most times the plan is derailed because, well, life.

Some days are bad.
They start poorly, with a giant cup of coffee through the drive thru, when I'd asked politely for tea, and then they continue to spiral into a self-pity party and end triumphantly in someone vomiting on the floor.
There are no words to emphasize the difficulty that is raising little people into grown ups who are not as*holes.
There are no words to emphasize the struggle that can sometimes be marriage and family.

I've heard that nothing worth doing is easy, and I can only cling to the hope that because it is often so damn hard to be a wife and parent and also try to maintain the original me, that maybe, just maybe we're doing something right.

Note to self:  Must try harder to appreciate the days that are easy, and effortlessly enjoyable.

Not Invisible

How many years have you hated your body?
I have hated mine for most of my life.
Hated it.
Resented it.

I hated how it looked.  How it made me feel.  How it made me feel about myself.  Hated how powerless I felt to change it.  Hated how it made my clothes look, and how it made me a target for second glances and judgemental eyes.  Hated it for betraying me.

I have hated my body for so, so long.
In this process?  Unexpectedly?  I am falling in total love with my body.

A few months ago I asked a friend to do a crossfit competition with me.  This is outside my comfort zone.  I don't consider myself a competitive person.  I like running because you are blended into a crowd.  Most people aren't "focusing" on you.  At this competition I could feel eyes, watching me.  Watching us.  And I was bursting with so damn much pride that I could feel myself well up several times during the day.  My partner, Sam, and I were focused and prepared and when I felt weak, I could hear her cheer, and I knew I could find something deep down inside me, to push through.  My friends from Crossfit Leduc were there too!  Participating, volunteering, supporting.  Amazing.

I stepped into this gym just shy of a year ago.  It was meant to be a short term stay.  I didn't want to drive into the city over the winter.  I am in love with this place.  With the people who call this place home.  I am proud as hell to be a member of this phenomenal facility.  There are a couple of events at this gym, and this past year I volunteered at one, and I chose to be a competitor at this past one.  Both experiences were humbling.  Inspiring.  I have seen some unassuming individuals do some mind-blowing things.  I have seen people bust out a PR.  I did unassisted dips yesterday.  For the first time.  I started to celebrate this win, but had to reel it back in...

"Holy sh*t!  I JUST DID THAT!  Jericho, I can't believe I just did that!"
*clock still running
"Not the time, right?  OK.  I'll just keep doing these..."

It was just one of a few memories I will take away from this competition because there were so, so many.  My friends were so strong and pushed so hard through some seriously tough workouts.  We shouted and cheered for our friends, for athletes we'd never met.  We were in awe of some of the shredded bods and their abilities.  To say that I am grateful to Annie and Brad for putting on another fantastic event doesn't begin to describe my gratitude.

To Sam:  You are f*cking strong! You are so positive and tenacious, and I knew you'd be a great partner!  You kept me afloat and encouraged me to fight when I felt depleted.  You were uncomfortable.  So was I!  But in spite of that, we crushed the day yesterday and though I didn't have many expectations for yesterdays competition, I sure wasn't expecting to make it to the finals!  Thank you for being my gym partner and for pushing me, and for pushing yourself!  You are one bad a*s Mama!  So glad I found you and all the other devoted folks at Crossfit Leduc.

From years of hate and being uncomfortable in my skin, to seeing the pics posted yesterday and not hating even one of them.  Look like a goofball?  Sure.  But I didn't look at one photo and think to myself, "ugh, I look so friggin' fat."  It's a lousy way to feel about yourself all the damn time, and I can tell you that the size of my body hasn't had much influence on how I feel about it.  What has changed how I feel about my body?  My capacity to lift heavy things and persevere through some serious conditioning.  The things this body can do are incredible, if I do say so myself, and I have a funny feeling that had I just, simply changed sizes, that the self-love thing might not have followed in quite the same way.

It's a bit of a strange transition, really.  When I was heavier, I wanted so badly, to just be small enough to be invisible.  Small enough to blend in.  To look "regular".  To be "regular" sized.  I wanted it SO badly.  The funny thing is, the change happens, slowly, and it has momentum.  Slow, but it's there.  Momentum comes in lots of forms, too.  You pull your jeans on and there's no muffin top today.  Someone who hasn't seen you for awhile mentions that you're looking good.  You're not winded when you climb some stairs.  Momentum.  Victories.  And, then, one day you're invisible.  But shortly after, you're visible again.  Because you're starting to love yourself in a new way.  Your confidence starts to burst out like sun rays.  It's an incredible, empowering feeling, to actually enjoy living in your skin.

It makes me want to shake the people who have just started their journeys - "JUST BE PATIENT!  I PROMISE YOU THAT GOOD THINGS ARE COMING!"

You, friend, are about to gain confidence you never knew existed.  You are about to start shedding those feelings of hate, and you are about to reveal to yourself a body that can do amazing things, and that you just might start falling in love with.

I catch a glimpse of the new veins that are emerging on my arms, and I break into a smile.  I can see, and feel new muscles and small crevices where fat is melting away and it makes me almost tear up.  I never thought I was capable of something so incredible, and it's all my doing.  Mine.

I can see the bottom of my ribcage.  Never.  Ever.  I have never been able to see this.  I have always had a layer of soft, comfortable belly to cover it.  I have the beginnings of abs, friends.  F'real.

This body.  This body that I have regarded as my enemy for so long.  But also, this body that has helped create and house three freakin' amazing children.  That has run countless miles.  Completed 2 full marathons and 13 half marathons and one crossfit competition. This body that can squat more than it weighs. This body that can easily keep up with those three kiddos, and that does not harbour bugs to make me sick with illness.  This body.  Mine.  That I have wasted too many years hating.
Now, I am so, so proud of it.
So proud.

How About You?

I've had 16 hours of sleep in the past 72 hours.

It's OK though.  The kids get it, and I'm sure they'll be on best behaviour...
(They won't, by the way, if you were actually thinking they would try to go easy on me...)

I've worked two evening shifts, with middle of the night call backs,  followed directly by two 12 hour shifts at a casino, an hour away, as a big preschool fundraiser.  I do everything I can to help, where I can...
But I'm spent.  Wiped.  And unfortunately, the rest of my "have to" list is still there waiting for me.

Here's how a very small portion of a typical day goes...I will point out that we do not do very many activities, so if we did, you could throw chauffeuring kids around to hockey/skating/soccer/dance/piano etc. into the mix there...

Here goes...

Up at 7.  Get kids breakfast, dressed, brushed and on bus.  Clean up breakfast.  Dress Sterling...wait!  Make sure ipad is charged and snacks are packed.  Head to gym.  Take one, glorious, hour, to escape, keep my body healthy and try to set a positive tone for the day.  Pick up groceries to prep for our girl guide Halloween treat for this evening.  OH!  And maybe grab a few groceries for my own family too.  Pick up Ellie from school.  Head home to make lunch.  Unpack backpack and lunch kit.  Start laundry...wait, put kids clothes away so you have a basket to use...wait, no,  tidy kids rooms so there is somewhere for you to sit to put clothes away and so the clutter of the house isn't just another thing cluttering your mind...make your own bed.  Clean up lunch. Finally get laundry into washing machine.  Jump in for quick rinse off and then get kids outside to play.  Have to list is running in background of brain...Must remember to print and fill out Sparks forms and money for Ellie's sleepover.  Also, remember to switch dayshift so you can go to Remembrance Day celebration with Brownies and newly re-elected husband,.  Find forms for own Brownie group for our upcoming sleepover.  Finally submit receipts for all the things you've bought for Brownies.  Think, I had no idea volunteering would cost so much money...hang on!...check schedule.  Doesn't Ellie have an immunization appointment coming up?  Right!  There it is.  Oct 30.  I'm a bad Mom.  That's the day before Halloween.  OH!  RIGHT!  Must do licencing for work before Oct 31 or you'll be paying an additional $50...crap...what are my continuing ed goals going to be for this year?  Have I completed last years?  Noooo....so, I'll just slip that onto the calendar...and I should see if Blake can format my preschool lists to make sign out sheets for the football pull tickets...is that Friday?  Yes.  Must remember to go sign out tickets Friday.  I should call and follow up on the printing of those tickets, too.  I think I'm working this weekend.  Ugh.  Pick up shifts, because, y'know, bills and stuff...and I need to meet my competition partner Thursday to go through the workouts...Have you tracked your macros today?  How much water have you had?  What time is it anyways?

This is absolutely a complaining post.  No two ways about it.  I'm complaining about the fact that I am an idiot, and I can't say no, and I am just trying my damnedest to be a good Mom, a good wife, look after myself, and contribute to my community as a volunteer.  I know I need to learn to say no.  But who else will step up?  Balance is a lifelong struggle, and some days are much harder.  Like today...


And then, I think, why am I feeling so overwhelmed?

So hard to understand.

So hard...

So You Wanna be a Councilor...

I try to stay away from politics.  I have my views, they're not something I like to share.  Politics are a volatile subject and there is a LOT of passion surrounding peoples' views.  I am not spouting my political views.  I am simply giving a little bit of insight from a family who has recently been involved in municipal politics.

In one weeks' time our quaint little town, and all other cities, towns, hamlets and villages in Alberta will vote in their municipal elections.  One week from today determines how your community is run for the next four years.

My husband has been fortunate to be involved as a town councilor for the Town of Devon for the past four years, and we as a family, decided he would run for another term.

This decision did not come lightly.  The past four years have been very, very challenging.  Not only for my husband to be a part of the team that makes many of Devons' decisions, but also for our family.  He is away for this job.  He is away at times that are inopportune and inconvenient and frustrating.  It is disheartening for people to be seeking this position, with no knowledge as to how much this will affect their families' lives.

I was not much in favor of the decision to run again.  In my, obviously biased opinion, he and this group of individuals has done an outstanding job in their term.  They were all relatively new to their positions and they grew and worked well, together.  One persons weakness was anothers' strength.  My husband worked tirelessly in this position.  He received the meeting agenda and would spend hours preparing, researching, balancing numbers.  He took this job very seriously and was always able to put his own personal interests aside, to make the best decisions for our town.

The hours he would spend preparing for a meeting, would end on a Monday evening, twice a month, sometimes as early as 5:30.  So, I've mentioned that he's already spent many hours, even before the meetings, preparing?  Hours.  Not spend with his family.  Hours.  Where his mind was not with us, but was concerned with an e-mail he received from a resident about a pertinent issue.  Hours.  Time that he took, himself, to be the best councilor he could be.  For our town.

My husband has a thick skin.  He's able to hear criticism, and immediately be looking for a solution.  A rational way to appease everyone.  He knows that not everyone likes him.  He knows there are some who are exceptionally critical.  He has respect for these opinions, even.  As his wife, the one who has seen the countless hours put into the job, who has been the sole caregiver during all those hours away, this hurts my heart.  To be a municipal representative in these modern times is more difficult than ever before.  Anyone, anywhere can reach out, from behind the brightness of their screen, and type whatever disgusting thing they want.  Sometimes, the social media remarks are positive.  Far, far too often, they are nothing more than bullying.

I support those who are stepping up and throwing their hats into the ring.  It's fairly difficult to be a top critic of a current council, and not have your stakes put in.  It shows passion, and a willingness to  try to make things better.  What I worry about, however, is that there are individuals who have not done their research.  They have never attended a council meeting in chamber.  They may never even have been a volunteer.  Perhaps they know what toll this will take on their family, but perhaps not.  Maybe they know they are mentally tough and can handle the constant criticism.  But maybe not. There will be times when you will carry the stress of your own life, as well as the stress of a towns future.  This is big.  This means a lot, to us, the voters, that you are able to carry, and manage all of these stresses, with grace and poise.  You will no longer have social media as an outlet, as you are a representative of this town.  I worry that there are people who are simply unaware of the weight of the positions they're running for.

I'm writing this as a bystander.  A close one, but a bystander, nonetheless.  I am not mentally tough.  I'm soft, and susceptible to criticism.  I like my alone time.  I do not like to dress up. (Another requirement - suits are a must.  Have you considered that in your families' budget?)  Running for council isn't even on my radar.  My hope is that my husband holds a seat on the next term of council.  It is what he wants, and I think he was damn good at it.  Truth be told, though?  If he doesn't get in?  Every second Monday night, I will be glad he's home, and not stressing over the decisions for the town, only to be social media fodder the following day.

It's OK to really, really, really Like Eating. Really.

I'm dieting right now.

I've still got 16 weeks left to get to my goal, but I am currently eating deficit calories.

How am I going to maintain self control?  Motivation?  Compliance?

First of all, I'm not going to rely on willpower, but I am going to rely on the habits and routines I've been creating, but in order to successfully diet for 16 more weeks, I'm going to have something to look forward to everyday.

Every.  Damn.  Day.

If I pack my meals for the day, and I already know I've packed a bunch of crap I hate, I'm going to be a miserable b*tch while I'm dieting, and more than likely, I'm going to fail.

Food is a 'uuuuuuuuuge part of my life.  Like, I love food.  So much.

If I can't know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there's at least one thing delicious waiting for me to eat, everyday, then I am sad, and grouchy AF, and likely plotting my next donut binge...

So, what I've learned counting macros, is that I can work loads of yummy things into my day, and I must plan something chocolate-y.  It's a necessity.

I am currently sitting at a weight that I have been a handful of times in my life, but never, ever lower.  As in, the last time my scale was lower than this, my age was likely a single digit.  I'm one month in, a little under 7lbs down, and so freakin' excited to see what my bod looks like underneath the 15-20lbs I'm going to lose!  (I do plan to put back on some weight, in case you were concerned!  Lol!)

I have booked a photographer.  A great one.  She is mainly a family photographer, however I've seen what she can do, and I'm so confident in her abilities, as well as in the insight of my coach, that I have complete faith that this goal will become a reality that I will treasure forever!

So back to the food part, because, really, food is important.  Paramount, even.  I track my food every evening.  In my most successful times, I wake up, and already know what I'm making myself for breakfast.  There are no surprises.  I simply pack, and eat what I've decided upon the night before.  It has been one of the most empowering tools I've acquired, and considering I'm on my damn phone a lot anyways, it takes no more than 5 minutes to open up my app, plug in my choices, and then tweak them to fit my macros.  The first thing I track?  My non-negotiable.  Currently?  Protein pudding topped with crushed cookies.  It's so stinkin' good, and packs a protein punch!  I've learned that a small amount of yogurt can absorb a huge scoop of protein powder, and also that just three chips a'hoy thins can turn it into a dessert.  Tracked.  First.  Every evening.

If you're trying to shred down a few or a whole lotta' lbs, then please know that you should not eat food you don't want to eat.  Life is too short for that.  Figure out what you like and either find healthier options or make your portions smaller - I typically use a combination of these two tactics!  Bump up your meals with some veggies, maybe, or don't, if you hate them!  Bottom line, don't suffer.  You can absolutely lose weight while eating things you're looking forward to.  If you're feeling lost?  Looking for a better plan, where you can eat things you enjoy?  I'm not your gal...but this gal is! ↓↓↓

http://www.motivateandbfit.com/

18 For the Second Time

I celebrated 18 for the second time around in June.

I was 18, 18 years ago.

It felt like a minute between the first and second, even though the first seemed to take for-EV-er.  I couldn't wait to turn 18, so I could buy my own stuff, do whatever I wanted, get my own apartment...what a friggin' scam that was, amiright?!?!

I remember being around 16 or 17 and, before the world wide web was a thing, I'd written and mailed letters to the University of Calgary and Alberta, asking for information on their medicine programs.  I wanted to be a doctor, and I was so excited about the prospects of my future, that I was asking for pamphlets and letters about the schooling I thought I would embark upon.  When my packages came in the mail, I read and re-read them, cover to cover.  The idea that I could be, do, any damn thing I wanted was so scary and so thrilling, all at once!

I reflected on my birthday about what I've accomplished since I first turned 18.
I did not end up at medical school.  Could I have?  Maybe, maybe not.  Instead, I found Medical Laboratory Science, and four years after I graduated from high school, I had a University of Alberta undergrad degree, a career, in Abbotsford, BC and drove a brand new, black Toyota Corolla, and my Dad drove from Fort McMurray to the Fraser Valley approximately 26 times in a span of only 10 months...thanks again Dad (and Mom!).  Since those first 10 months post-University, when I was truly on my own, though I needed many bail-outs while living out by the coast, I've maintained my career.  I've landed a really good guy, and we've made three awe-inspiring, sometimes smack-yourself-up-the-head frustrating little people.  We've been through some sh*t, we're still here, and at 18, I never, never could have known that my marriage would be one of my greatest accomplishments.

While in grade school, I was more academic than athletic.  I didn't have to try very hard to achieve my grades.  I did have to try hard to make sports teams, and I did have to try hard to stay around 150lbs.  At 18, I felt like my whole life was waiting, ready for me to just make all the right choices and then live happily ever after.  I remember considering, deeply, applying for a pharmacy degree.  That meant five years of school, instead of four.  No damn way, I thought!  Four is enough!  Lol!  How foolish was I, that one more year seemed like an infinity more!  I did make the right choice, though, and 14 years later, I still love what I do.  I now know that my career accounts for very little, though at the time I thought it would be what defined me.  Choosing what to do in University felt daunting and urgent, like a wrong choice at this fork in the road could spiral me into eternal failure.  It didn't, and wouldn't, but we don't know these things as youth, and it's probably for good reason.

I think about the fact that a lot people turned 36 this year, and about how many of them might still be waiting for the good stuff to get going, or maybe they've found themselves somewhere they never thought they'd be, or perhaps they're sad that they haven't done what they thought they would.  The ones who aren't too impressed with 36.

I know I'm not the only one who is looking back on these years proudly, with a big a*s smile and a serious sense of accomplishment.  I could never have known that I'd be here.  That I would've done what I've done, and been so crazy proud of myself, yet still dreaming and digging deep for more, for better things for myself.  I certainly didn't wake up the day after my 18th birthday and slap my hands together with a, "LET'S DO THIS!".  I can't say I didn't make mistakes, but I can say that I did my damnedest to learn and grow from the setbacks I encountered.  I'm still making mistakes, and gaining confidence that I can be better, stronger.

Health and longevity has become such a huge part of my life, and although creating tiny humans wasn't a dream of mine when I was but a young 18 year old, it has been such a pleasure being a Mom, and teaching my kids how to care for their bodies so that they themselves get to 36 and feel a whole lotta' hell yea, I'm killing this life thing!

I don't ever want my limiting factor to be my age, or my own body.  I see patients everyday who are imprisoned in their bodies.  They are just waiting.  To see the doctor, for their ailments to, maybe, clear up, for things to be better.  People, who almost joyfully, talk about their conditions, and diseases.  Or how they take a mitt-full of medicine four times a day.  This is not how I want the next 18, or even the 18 after that, to be like.  I've worked hard to have this life, and my intention is to continue to work hard so I can always feel good about where my life has gone.  Life is short, and it feels like as soon as we realize just how short, we're already living on the back half.

I'm doing 18 for the second time, and I'm confident that these next years might even have greater things in store for me.  Not by luck, or by chance, but because I will make the choices and put in the work, so I can reap the benefits.  I'll also be 54 in 18 more years, soooooooooo...