Stories

I love doing special things, impromptu dates and staycations with the kids, and although I want to document every beautiful thing that happens, I'm learning to hide our memories away from social media and away from them so that they aren't learning that unless someone is photographing and posting about our activities, then it might not have happened.

I don't remember there being a camera at every event when I was growing up, and some of my most amazing memories have no concrete evidence, except that I can catch a faint scent and be instantly transported back there.  I don't want to share everything and I don't want to be always searching for my phone telling them to smile.  I know for a lot of people, capturing every moment is important, and I respect that, but for our family, we choose not to share everything and we sometimes don't bring cameras at all.

I started writing this blog when there was only one kidlet, and we've grown by two more of them, and in the evolution of this running commentary of our life, I came to realize that this blog will be a kind of autobiography of our life, and of all the crazy things they've done over the years.

I attempted a baby book for the first one, and that got summarized into a different book so that I could pitch the ugly "baby book".  I bought each of them an erin condren notebook (beautiful stuff, BTW, if you're looking for a new personalized journal!) so that I can someday start to hand write each of their stories.I continue to sit down and jot notes about the early years, because the sleep deprivation tends to steal those memories the fastest, but I know that when they get a little older, they will want to read about what they were like when they were babies.  How I felt when they were growing in my belly.  In my years spent growing up, I've discovered that I'm not much of a photographer, but I do like words.  There are loads of pictures of them, but I am taking it upon myself to be the storyteller for this family.

"I lawyu Mom", he says, then wraps those chubby arms tightly around my neck and screams right into my face, "RAWWWWWWWWWWW!!".  This little boy.  My last baby.  He has simultaneously made our family feel complete, and tested me like none of the other two ever has.  He has started finding words, which makes life a whole lot easier, as I am trusting wholly that he's leaving the screaming phase behind in favor of words and sentences.  "Leemeloooooooone!".  (Leave me alone.)  This is one of his most beloved sayings right now.  We started off as two humans in this family, then added a little girl, and another, so that when he finally came along, there was already quite a lot going on.  He is feisty and loud, and yet I think he may be introverted like his Mom, as I sometimes find him in his room with the door closed, playing quietly with his "rae-cars" and "monserTRUCKS".

Ellie.  She is quickly rising to the top.  My performer.  Superstar.  Singer extraordinaire.  She lives for dressing up, finger nails (of which she has none because she has inherited the Kellington nailbiting!), having her hair done (also which is lacking as this childs' whispy hair grows not), and everything that glitters.  This girl who is exceptionally caring, but also flighty and forgetful.  I think she is the most like me and although most people see my children and immediately note how much they look like their Dad, I am told most often that Ellie looks like me.  She belts out lyrics to songs I swear she's never heard before, but the passion and feeling she gives is breathtaking.  She is all things princess, although we like to avoid that word in our house.  There isn't much denying it!

The oldest.  The first.  The one who changed everything.  Audrey.  It literally makes me have to swallow emotion when I think of her because she is such a spectacular person.  She is so, so clever.  She is thoughtful and kind, reserved and quiet.  There hasn't been an easier child to raise, than her.  She is a frustratingly picky eater, and is so much like her Dad that I sometimes think that he was exactly like her as a child.  Stubborn, but generally right.  She and I are reading the first Harry Potter book and she will quickly correct me if I miss a word or use the wrong one.  Not very snuggly, like her brother, but she will stealthily sneak up and be under your arm before you have a chance to notice.

Life goes by fast, like real, real fast, and I can only hope that these stories I've been writing will be something for them to read when they're older,and to know what it was like at our house when they were small.  This blog is often about my own personal health and fitness journey, but I want for it also to be about them, and for them.  It really is all for them, isn't it?

Self Support

Just because your goals don't align with mine, doesn't mean you can't still support mine, and I, yours.

The road to success has pitfalls,  Traps.
Many I can see coming.
Many I have encountered before.
Sometimes though, I'm blindsided by something that I not only didn't expect, but that should have been an encouragement, a support in my corner of the ring.

Not everyone will support your journey.
Be OK with this.
It is yours, after all, and you must own it.

My oldest daughter asked me the other day, "Mom, why are you trying to lose weight?"
It's a question I've been expecting, in some capacity, and I think I have pretty stellar body image, so it's something of a victory that it's taken 7 years for her to broach the subject!

I answered her.
I'm not exactly trying to lose weight.  Do you think I'm trying to lose weight?
"Well, you're dieting, and diets are for losing weight."
True.  Check mate.

Well, Audrey, the lifestyle I'm adopting is simply called flexible dieting.
It's not a diet though.
"Then why aren't you eating with us?"  (They're having hotcakes at McDonald's.)
Because I ate already, I'm satisfied, and I don't really want to eat pancakes.
This appeased her and she continued eating her pancake.
I felt compelled to snack on her pancake, simply to prove that I could eat what I want, but I didn't.
I preach that I must be self-inspired and contented with myself, and this is an action that would imply otherwise.

Do you think I need to lose weight, Audrey?
"No.  I never have."
She says this in a matter-of-fact kind of way, mid-bite and carries on.  Like it's never crossed her mind that I've ever needed to change my body.
I want her to keep that.  Not only for me, and for all the women in her life, but for herself one day when she's comparing herself to, well, whoever.

She's one of the good ones.
Clever, gentle and kind.
We've begun at a young age to show our kids that talking about our bodies is only OK if we're being positive, or talking scientifically.  It's a bit of a tricky thing to teach, and one that gives me some anxiety.  How do we protect them from the tricky people?  How do we show them how to love their bodies?  How do we instill in them the grace to notice, but not judge, when that is what, especially as women, we are always expected to do?

The girls are in swimming lessons, and last week I couldn't help but overhear a Mom commenting on her tween daughters' body.
"You're such a skinny mini.  You should eat a sandwich or something!"

Most certainly it was meant in jest, but I caught Audrey's eye after she heard this.
This is something I don't think she has never heard, and yet, most of you reading have heard something like this before, either directed at yourself or someone you know, I'm sure!
Body shaming comes from a hurt place, an ugly place, a place where we are not comfortable with our own bodies.  I understand that we won't always be happy with ourselves.  That's OK.  I wake up some days and just feel lousy, fat.  I just want to hide in the covers and eat donuts and watch Netflix.  I'm allowed to have these feelings, and I might just have a donut that day, but it is not OK for me to project my crappy feelings onto someone else.

Support can't be expected.  It can't.  We have to learn to dig deep, on our own, and know that this process is hard for everyone.  Know that although it may seem easier for some people, it really isn't. The easier days for you might be the grinding ones for someone else.

I self-implemented a challenge for the summer.
It was to be the summer of the bikini.
I was going to wear nothing but bikinis all summer, no matter where we went swimming.

It took all of a few days for me to realize that I don't give a crap about wearing a bikini all summer.  I do not need to do this challenge to feel damn good about my body and to wear a friggin' bikini.  I already do.  I do not have a six pack, or even a flat belly but you better believe that my bikinis were damn lucky I was wearing them!

I did wear a bikini for 10 days straight.  I can tell you that I most certainly did the comparison.  Y'know, the one you do in your head, as brief as it might be, to the other gals in bikinis.  Only the ones in similar life situations, though.  Under 20?  You're not in this judgment.  Under 30?  I'm not counting you either.  But if you've got a bunch'a little kids and you're not able to relax and read a book either, well then, you and me lady, are fair game, and don't think I didn't see that extra second of a glance you gave me.  I fought the urge to judge, compare.  I fought it hard.  I fought it with the knowledge that my girls are noticing things like this and I've told them these things are not OK, but I always the lose the battle, virtually place myself side by side with these women, and the only person who feels the repercussions of this, are me.

Self-support, to me, means being able to kick my own arse through my workouts, but it also means being kinder to myself in the mirror.  This battle is tough.  It isn't for the weak.  It takes guts, and ambition and a tenacity you've never had, I'VE never had.  Would I be here if I'd had the tenacity before?

Dad.

You were only 20 when I was born.
Garth was already here, but was not even two, and so at 20, you and she were veteran parents.
Two kids.
You worked.  Hard.  Damn hard.  No time for an education, and so you relied on hard work and tremendous work ethic.
We moved.  To Fort McMurray.  At the time, it was to be temporary.  A place to gather bearings, find footings and eventually move back to Saskatchewan.
Instead, it became home.

We moved a few times before finding that little gem on Beaverglen.  It was here that you and she did, what I would think to be, the bulk of your growing up, and into adulthood.  Only 25 when we moved into that house, yet there were two kids who were starting grade school.  Seems unthinkable to me, that at 25, you did what I'm doing at 36.  Unthinkable.

There were struggles, fighting, usually between Garth and I, and loads and loads of smile-so-big-your-face-hurts good times.  We were together.

Everyone thinks that their Dad is the best Dad.  I smile, agree and without ever having to say one word, simply know that the truth is, that my Dad is the greatest.

Dads come to be in a way that Moms, and women can never understand.  We, as the growers of the babes, have different instincts, nurturing instincts.  It's, in some capacity, built into our genetic code. But Dads, now, they have to find their way, muddle through a new title with new expectations, without ever having had that physical connection to their baby.

I think for a lot of guys out there, being a Dad wasn't really on the radar.  Not a dream they've had since they were a child.  I'm not sure about my Dad, but at 18, he likely hadn't even had the chance to think much about it, before it was happening.

I know from chats with my Mom, that he needed some guidance in the beginning, and I don't think that's uncommon.  I know this to be true, as my own life partner needed, and still needs some gentle prods himself!

My Dad is gentle, and kind and soft in an unprecedented way that for much of his life, I'm sure, may have been viewed as a shortcoming.  He has taught be, without a doubt, some of the most powerful lessons and continues to exemplify how vulnerability and contentment are so much greater than being right.

I've read the book Don't Sweat the Small Stuff several times in my life, and I like to read it periodically to remind myself what's important.  I still remember the first time I read it, and thinking to myself how my Dad embodied every recommendation.

"If it won't matter in five years, it doesn't matter now."

It's a good one.
Basically, let that sh*t go.  It's not good for you.

When my first baby came along, and I didn't have a good goddamn clue what I was doing, I had this quiet confidence that my Dad, and Mom, had my back.  No matter what I did, I knew they would be there, anytime to lend a hand, or an ear, and that their tireless efforts in raising me, were going to make me a good Mom, in spite of my self doubts.

My Dad has supported me through some of the ugliest experiences anyone should ever have to go through.  He's been there through my ever challenging teenage years, and I might even venture to say, the more challenging young adult years.  He has been my running partner since the very beginning, more than 20 years ago, and through the crazy goals and ventures that fitness has brought to my life, he has never, not once, had anything negative to say.  He gets it.  He understands the importance of health and fitness and has not only been my #1 cheerleader, but often sets out on his own to achieve his best self.

He fills my gas tank, with a stealthy, "just running to grab a coffee, but my truck is loaded, so can I take yours?", he simply loads my children up and takes them to run errands on one of the million weekend trips to Devon, even though he has just worked a 60 hour work week, and then driven 5 hours.  He will come to get me, and a herd of drunk gals, no questions asked, in the middle of the damn night.

My Dad has taught me my value, and that it has exactly zilch to do with how my body looks and everything to do with my actions.  He has taught me to be a "do-er".  He has shown me the benefit of building things with my own two hands.  He has been the greatest example of what I deserved in a partner, and I think I did a pretty great job choosing one!

Everyone thinks they have the best Dad, and I will agree with you when you say yours is the best, because he is!  To you.  How fantastic to have so many phenomenal dudes stepping up and taking their title as the greatest?!  This is NOT a bad thing!  Me though, I truly think I do have the best Dad, and way more than that, my kids have known and will gather their own teachings from the greatest Papa alive, and also right next to their own Dad.  Happy Father's Day, guys!

What If??

I've been adding some runs back into my routine.
Just running.
However far I want to, whatever speed feels good, just running.
It feels so good.
Like putting on an old, worn pair of boots that just, fit.

I started out walking whenever I felt tired, or discouraged.
Being kind to ourselves sometimes comes in the form of a walk break.
Then, get back at 'er when a good, uplifting tune fires up, or I just want to get home faster!

When I'm easing back into running, I tend to walk the hills, inclines and generally any kind of slope that puts demand on my body.
Then, as the weeks go by, and I get stronger and faster, I start running those sections.
Slow, at first, then at a regular pace, and after a month or so, I might even be in the midst of a sprint interval on that same hill.

And it always begins, with "What if?"
What if I just run it this time?
So, rather than falling into a walk, I just slow my pace and run the damn hill.
Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?!

How many times do we succeed at something, simply because we had the courage to think, "What if?", rather than, "Oh, I can't do that!"

What if I can get this barbell up to my shoulders?  What if I can push through this next set of moves and not rest?  What if I can ride up this hill without stopping?

You can.

When I started running, at 15, I ran around Beacon Hill.
Still love to run around Beacon Hill!  All 4.8km of it, right boys?
Shortly after I picked up running, my Dad and brother would join me.
We would run out of our block, always turn right, then head down the hill, for a short straight stretch, then walk up the shorter, but steeper hill.

One day, after my Uncle Matthew asked why we walk only up the hill, we realized, it was just always what we'd done.
The next run, we ran the entire thing.
And all the runs after that.
And just because we were now wild and crazy, we sometimes ran left out of the block instead of right, which meant that we finished our run with a long, steady uphill climb!

We all get complacent.  It's a pretty strong individual who doesn't ever sit back on their loins at some point, and take a rest once in awhile.  We relax, lace our hands behind our heads, and relish in the work we've done.  It's just natural for us to get comfortable.  Doing something new is scary.  It's unknown, so then it's probably hard, right?  But how do you know?

I'm not a motivated individual, so obviously I'm not a motivating individual, but I would challenge anyone who's reading this sentence to try something new.  Now.  Not tomorrow, when you're feeling better, not in six months when you've lost some weight or gained some strength.  Now.  Maybe it's going outside for a 10 minute walk!  Actually, even a 5 minute one would be something new, no?!  I've hit quite a few PRs in the last year, I've smashed some goals, and I've been patting myself on the back for awhile over these accomplishments and it's time now to step away from that safe, cozy spot.  I'm going to try, and I'm going to fail.  And then I'm going to try again.

I have grown into a person who would rather make an attempt than feel regret.  Still not considering myself self-motivated, but I am goal-oriented!  I have definitely looked back on some of my earlier years and wondered what the deuce I was doing with my life, but as age will do, I've matured and I've learned that I want for this moment to be great, because I don't have control over anything else.  I want all of my today's to pave the way for the tomorrow's.  It starts with small change, but change, nonetheless. How many times have you thought to yourself, did I give that my best effort?  Did I put my best self out there?  Could I have done more?  Why did I wait?  Lots, I bet.  Me too.  I want to live my best life.  I want for my family to see that anything is possible, but, as the old saying goes, you just have to try.

Because, what if?

This is My Mother's Day

12:39AM
Today.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just need a little help."

It's just barely Mother's Day, and also happens to be my sons' 3rd birthday, but my husband feels he needs to apologize for waking me.
Why?  Because barf-pocalypse had just occurred in my middle daughters' room.

The Mother's Day expectation is absurd, in my opinion.
I've read a few articles this week, many of which outlined "What Mom's Really Want This Mother's Day". 
I disagreed with one in particular, which began, with a bullying tone - I want to sleep in until my eyes open, I want my family to take me to brunch, I want my kids to get along, I want to be waited on hand and foot, IwantIwantIwant...and on, and on...

Has anyone ever enjoyed such a fictitious day?  Let me re-phrase, has anyone enjoyed such a fictitious day, and not had to clean up make up for it the following day?

We honor Mother's on this day.  All of them.  Inclusive.
Some Mom's are entirely alone on this day.  Who's going to take them to brunch?  On a limited budget, probably.  Get real.  There are Mother's-in-waiting, to celebrate.  There are Moms who never birthed a baby, who are raising kids.  There are Moms who have lost.  There are Moms in heaven. There are loads of Moms who are, *gasp, working today!  One friend of mine is working today on a maternity ward!  Can you imagine how glorious that will be for a handful of women!  Yet, she is not being pampered today.  She is at work.

I realize that the celebrations can come in all different ways, and that I cannot judge another family.  I'm not.  I just hate this unrealistic expectation that it's a day off for Mom's.  Should it be?  Hell.  Yes.  Can it be?  Not for a lot of Mom's.

Chores need to get done.  There is a week to prepare for, as loads of Moms will be heading to work bright and early tomorrow.  Children still need raising.  Bathtubs still need to be cleaned after midnight use.

Ellie's room had vomit nearly everywhere.  I took her straight to the tub and stripped her and drew a warm bubble bath and washed her from head to toe.  She laid there for a long time, as I'm sure the water felt good on her icky-feeling tummy.  I waited.  I cried a little bit, because I despise when my kids are sick without me.  It makes my heart ache to think about them being alone when they're throwing up.

This, is my Mother's Day.
I wouldn't want it any other way.

All the things that we're expected to be exempt from, are the things that, in fact, make this day possible.
These three people, my kids, are the reason I get to participate in this day.  My youngest child, the bonus boy, is three today.  It's his birthday.  Mother's Day cannot overshadow this.  My school-aged daughters made heart-felt, lovely gifts for me at school.  This, is my Mother's Day.

My Mom looks prettiest when she is with Dad.
Audrey filled in the blank with this.
She is a clever and observant girl, and to say that we have struggled this year?  Well, we have.
And yet, she thinks that I look pretty when her Dad and I are together.
This, is my Mother's Day.

It bothered me, too, that my husband, my partner in all of this, who will have his day in about a month, felt the need to apologize for asking for help.  The hell?  Of course!  This day had been happening for 40 minutes, and he already felt like he shouldn't disturb me.  Again, get real.

I don't wish for a day off.  I feel that it's unrealistic.  At least right now.  I actually have no wishes.  The greatest things to ever happen to me live at my house, and that is just, enough.

Maybe the sleeping thing.  I could have used a sleep in...

Flexible Dieting, Ya'll!

This post is a bit of a "wake-up-and-smell-the-fact-that-there's-a-better-way!" post, than a motivational one!

Do you know what a personal trainer is?  Group fitness?  Gym membership?
OF COURSE YOU DO!
I'm sure you're familiar with at least one of these things.
What do they have in common?
One hour.

You could even go so far as to give that time a range.  Thirty minutes, 90 minutes, hell, even two hours.
This is a relatively small amount of time in your day, right?

What are you doing with the other 23?

Exercising is easy.
If I'm being perfectly honest, though?
You don't even really have to work out, to get results.
Really!

We're all familiar with exercise and getting fit and lifting weights, and doing Zumba and blah, blah, blah...
But have you heard of a nutrition coach?

Maybe, but maybe not.
You can easily get an hour of exercise in, using any number of means, but some people, likely loads of people, could use help with the rest of the day.  The eating part of the day.  The 3-6 times you are choosing food throughout the day.
A coach?  She can help you, and mine has done nothing less than overhaul my entire way of thinking about food.
No more fear, no more "working off those calories", no more guilt.
None.

If you're interested in a new way, but not a quick way. If you're tired of being afraid of food, or your clothes not fitting, or what you're going to eat at that birthday next Saturday, then you might consider a nutrition coach.  In my opinion, you should consider a nutrition coach over a personal trainer.

My coach teaches flexible dieting.  I realize the word dieting implies that we're giving something up, but I assure you, I have given up nothing.  Not one thing.  The only thing "diet" about the whole thing is that you will be in a calorie deficit - so, you will be consuming slightly fewer calories than you are burning.  This process is slow.  It's meant to be.  It's also pretty easy, as in, like I mentioned, I have given up nothing!  Still going to parties, still going on dates, still working treats into my week.

Where did I come from?  Why did I need a nutrition coach?
I have been heavy my entire life.  I didn't just gain weight when I was pregnant.  I haven't yo-yo'd 40 or 50lbs, I have had, and used a gym membership since I was in high school, and I have been overweight always.  I am also a runner.  I have the experience of 13 half marathons and two marathons under my feet, and on the very weekend I ran a back-to-back half marathon and marathon, I weighed 5lbs more than I do today, and had very little muscle to show for a heckuva'  lot of work.

You cannot out train a bad diet.
A lifetime of terrible eating never caught up to me.  I had always been large.  I had always had terrible, closet eating habits.
Brandy has given me every tool, every opportunity to contact her, and more encouragement than I've ever had.  If you'd like to have a crazy fan in your stands as you trek along on your body transformation, then Brandy is your girl!  You can have all the faith in the world in yourself, but there will be days of doubt.  A coach can be the pillar for you and can guide you, lift you when you feel like you're failing.

I still have work to do.  I am patient, and kind to myself in a way I never have been but I am also armed with the tools and the freedom to choose and I feel assured of myself, with the help of my coach.  I feel so good and I have no fear when I am making my food choices all day, every day.  This Sh*t works!

Slow & Consistent

Do you want to change your body?
Are you ready to live in a body you've always dreamed?
I can tell you what you need to HAVE IT ALL!

Time.

That's it.
Have you got time?
Good.  Then stick to your plan, keep your eye on the prize and try to be patient.
I know it can be hard.
I know, baby!  Hang in there, keep plugging away!

I thought I'd lose more every week, or be smaller by now.
Hasn't everyone on course for weight loss thought this at some point?
By now...by now has been 90 days, give or take, and according to my progress pics, my body is doing nothing less than morphing into one I don't hardly recognize.
Only 90 days, and I feel as though I'm about half way to a crazy, never-achieved-before goal.

"I thought I'd be done by now."
Where are you going in such a big damn hurry, though?
We're always trying to get the BBD - bigger better deal.
Even when it comes to significant physical change.

But what do you think is waiting for you at the finish line, the end?
This is where one of my biggest hangups is.
I just want to get to my goal.  See the number on the scale that I'm aiming for.  Buy smaller clothes and look cute AF in them.
But then what?  What happens next? 
That's it.  Then I'm there.  That is it.

Wherever you go, there you are.
Funny how that can apply to life.  Just, life.

My scale moves, but Im'ma be honest - some weeks it's just squeaking a tiny bit lower, but loss is loss, and sometimes there's even gains, but even when I gain, I'm frighteningly OK with it, because the noticeable changes in the way my body looks are astounding.

I'm at the stage of my journey where I'm hearing the comments.
People I haven't seen in awhile are noticing the changes.
My clothes are fitting hella good.
I have shoulder definition, ya'll!
If there's one part of my body I have always wanted to change, it's my rounded shoulders.
Them babies got some nice angles and curves now!  Mmmmmmm hmmmm!  Tank top season is upon us!

I'm not "there" yet.
I'm a lot closer, and I most certainly expect there to be some slips, some mistakes, a day or two here and there where nasty old habits creep.
That's OK, because I've got the time.
I'm committed and I've got nothing but time.