Rockin' the Bump

Well, that is what Shell calls it. I will refer to it as "Sara Further Humiliates Herself on a Public Forum"  and no, I am NOT pregnant! That ship has SAILED!

Here, pregnant with Asher, I was about 3 months. I should have stopped taking pictures here. (yes, I often go through a "dark hair" phase in the winter. Until I realize the dark hair makes the dark circles under my eyes worse, and the fact I am too lazy to bother with concealer becomes way too apparent, so I go back to blonde, in an effort to minimize dark circles and not have to apply concealer.)

 I can hardly look at these photos. 33 weeks pregnant. In Washington D.C and NYC. END OF JUNE. 90's, humid, hot, sticky, chaffing. To add insult to the fact no one would walk next to me because of the odd...gait...I had due to the chaffing MY BUTT STICKS OUT AS FAR AS MY BELLY! 
Side note: I went to the doctor when I arrived home. He measured me, looked at me with concern and asked if the baby had been active, how I was feeling and such. When I asked why, he told me I was measuring 3-4 weeks behind. I told him that was about right, considering the baby was pushing out my BEHIND instead of my front. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or run. 

Asher looked at this and says, "Wow mom, you were much more fatter here. Good thing I came out and you got to straighten out."

These were taken a week before I had Ash at Day Out with Thomas.


 

...And here I am 2 days before delivery. Dad took us out on the boat where I was hoping to hit some waves and get the show on the road. Didn't work...I had to be induced with both boys, as my body does apparently does not know how to go into labor, and they were worried they were getting too big.

 So, I may not have been graceful, I had something staining the front of my shirt more often than not which may/may not continue to be a problem for me but I had two awesome baby boys! 

This summer, as I whine about my chaffing thighs, I will think back and remember...they are only chaffing in one small spot, whereas they could be chaffing from thigh to knee. 

Check out Shell's blog for more fun!  

There are no words

A long,

and perhaps remarkable 

figure skating career
cut tragically short...

 
By only the fact

 
She was afraid to fall on the ice...

because it hurts. (Nothing to do with the outfits, none whatsoever, nor the fact she was the oldest in every group, so she was this big, lumbering giant compared to the rest of the cute little girls on the ice, and looked like a complete dorf out there with them.) 

I'm in the corner crying if you need me.

Here Goes...

Despite my reservations, I am going to do it. Vlog. Wait, is a vlog where you intentionally do it only for the blog? I am just posting this on my blog. It wasn't done for my blog, so is it really a vlog? Or just a video? Anyway, I am posting a video of my wimpy self going down a big tubing hill.

For those of you lucky enough who do not live in the snow states, it is where someone decided it would a great idea to take a tube, climb up a hill, and have it hurl you down going 100 mph. (Hello, brain injury? Death? To the men at the top of the hill, if it is NOT dangerous, why did I have to sign a waver? And? I really do think you should post current stats on how many injuries, deaths, ambulance calls there have been for the season. People like to have this information.Simply telling me no one has ever died is not sufficient.)

Has my rambling scared you off yet? if not, please let it In order to save you from trying to have to think of something to say if you watch this, I will provide you with some choices. You can simply say "Comment #1" instead of typing it out.

Comment Choices:

#1- Wow, Sara, you are so brave! (this is a nice one, because even if you DON'T watch the video, it pretty much looks like you did. Busy bloggers sometimes need a break, so I'll cut you some slack. Who has time to watch the whole thing and comment? Really? Could've read 3 other blogs in that time...not that I've ever done this)

#2- I'm super sorry! The video wouldn't load on my computer. I'll watch it later, promise! (fine, I have done this before and never came back because I forgot.)

#3- You are so much taller than I thought! (I really am, truly. I get a bit touchy this time of year, because every.single.day. one of my students comes up to me, compares our height, and comments how they are almost taller than me. I keep telling them they are simply victim of genetically altered food. It was bound to catch up with us sometime.)

Happy Beginning of the week!

Rant

I am off on a well, rant of sorts. I am not sure if it truly qualifies as a rant, or more as a few different ideas on my mind right now. I am going to spew them out here, and then see if I can make the points converge at some point. We'll see how I do. Feel free to leave at anytime, I will not be offended, as I'd rather have you read it all and respond (if you choose) honestly than anything else.

Tonight, I saw a picture on twitter that set me off. It basically talked about how you "Earn your body" as well as our desire to " make ourselves look better." Why did it set me off? I guess for several reasons.

First? It begins on a negative tone, and one that directly contrasts the messages we are sent in the media.

On one side, we are barraged from places like McDonalds, telling us about the "Simple Joy of Burgers", or to "Share the Comfort." Godiva tells us to "indulge" a little. There are millions more out there, and we are so used to them we are almost immune. We "know" the feeling they are trying to create in us, "I've been so good, why not indulge in a little chocolate (or fill in the blank.) Look at any women's magazine. The cover is filled with ways to:

• Save money (while making wonderful meals,) beat stress (there is NEVER an issue without bringing that bad boy up) lose 10 lbs this month, while making this delicious looking cake, (which I'd better not eat,) as it would cause that weight loss to drop, and that stress to go up?Sheesh, my blood pressure rises just reading the cover. No wonder these are placed next to the candy at the grocery store.

Or? Should I indulge, because, really? What does it hurt to "treat" yourself a little, right?

Then? We are slammed on the other side with our rising obesity, diabetes, and heart attack rates. We are touted the benefits of "green" living, being healthy, and staying balanced. The people who "do it right."

• • •

My heart hurts a little when I read blog posts all over blog land about people who are trying to lose weight and having a hard time. They slam on themselves, their "willpower", motivation, self worth...anything.

We are so hard on ourselves, aren't we? Whether it be about weight, looks, money, family, exercise, work...it is endless. (I find myself at the top of the heap of being hard on myself, obviously.)

I am one to be interested in the way our brains work. When I can dig in, and find the "nuts and bolts" of why our brains process information the way they do, what are the underlying causes behind different emotional patterns, I feel better. (fine, it is one thing to know and another to act on it) I "get" our emotional vs. rational parts of our brain.

The rational side of us makes the goals. I'll lose the weight. I'll exercise every day. I'll be more organized... (and it feels darn good to be in control.)

We start off with a vigor, excited at the new task ahead, with clear hopes of a big finish. Then the fatigue sets in. Change is hard. It requires a lot of us, in both our emotional and rational mindsets. When it gets hard? We often head back to our "emotional" side.

If you have ever emotionally eaten, this will resonate with you. You know how those feelings are so hard to deal with, shout so loudly, push so hard? Then? You deal with them by eating something. Immediate relief, followed by immediate guilt. For those 3-5 seconds, it felt so good. Until the guilt set in. "How could you eat that?" "Where is your self control?" "You failed!" "You will never lose the weight by eating like this." (And worse, of course, we all know they can get worse.)

Do we take the time to examine the emotions? I know I don't. I am learning, slowly, but it is a failure most of the time. I also know that when I see messages in media, on blogs, twitter, it reinforces my thought patterns. If I do not attend 110% to telling myself to ignore the messages being thrown my way, I am sucked back into it. (and yep, it happens to me on a daily, if not hourly basis)

I in no way believe that most of us mean to reinforce these, it is more of a sign of our society, and the values we place on looks, size and such, of which I am an active participant.

I'll read the the magazine at the checkout, and that voice in the back of my head will say, "Shouldn't have skipped that workout, huh? See that lady in line in front of you? Way thinner than you. She figured it out, why can't you?" (and you know this doesn't always have to do with weight. We each fight our own battle,this being the one most familiar to me.)

• • •

If you are a reader? If you've ever tried to change, gone on a diet, wondered why it is so hard to initiate change in some areas of your life, (i.e, eating) yet have no problem with a huge change (getting married, babies, moving) I ask plead challenge beg suggest that you take a look at a couple of books.

Switch: How to Change When Change is Hard

Switch gives real world, applicable, easy to read and comprehend reasons behind our thought patterns. It plays a part in taking that look at yourself, your goals, and why meeting them can be so difficult.

Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Program that Works

If you have ever been on a diet, tried to lose weight, tried to change your eating habits, whatever it may be, this will resonate with you. You will find a part of yourself in this book. I am often stunned when I page through it. And one day? I sorta hope to be able to apply the principles of the book. baby steps, sara, baby steps.

As I said in the beginning of this post. I don't pretend this will make a lot of sense to you, as it hardly does to myself. My hope is that I personally learn from this, writing it out, re reading it and reflecting on it. If I were able to touch one other person with it? Even better. Otherwise, I'll take the benefit of knowing I am working through my own sh*&. I just know that one picture set me off, and I needed to say this.

Please remember? Dammit, you are beautiful, awesome, perfectly imperfect. Right now, right this minute. Smooch.

Dream Fulfilled x2

I have wanted my nose pierced for 6777777779 (excuse me, my cat rudely walked right over the keyboard) I have wanted my nose pierced for around 5 years. The reasons I've not done it ranged from

•i am a teacher, teachers can't pierce their noses, right? •people might not like it • I am a chicken•my husband said it would make my nose look big• I was worried what people might think of it

On my way to an appointment on Thursday, I decided- as I drove- that I was going to do it. I was going to get it done that day. It was a "reward" of sorts. For believing in myself, for allowing myself to not worry about what others thought, to quell negative thinking and to just do something I've wanted to. (insert some jibberish about internal vs. external locus of control here) Arriving early!! at my appointment*, I called and made the appointment. In 4 hours? I would have it done .

...4 hours later...

I am sitting in the back room of a salon, watching the lady disinfect pretty much everything 4-78 times. I've never seen so much disinfecting done in my life.

I'll admit- the sight of the BIG needle gave me a bit of a shock. Not to mention when she handed me a tissue to, "Catch the tears that will come." perfect. awesome. She proceeded to stab the life out of me with a needle, do some twisting, turning, banging and such, and BOOM! I had my piercing.

I floated on cloud nine all afternoon. I put a pic on twitter, I text my friends the same pic (which btw, made me look mad, and one friend sent me a text back asking why I was mad at him. There goes my "cool into the sun" look.) I showed my boys, who were unimpressed. My husband thought it was adorable.

Then I woke up at 1:43 a.m.. I felt the funny post in my nose, much more uncomfortable than earlier. I reached up and touched my nose. Nothing. Nada. I scraped it a bit. Nothing. Ran into the bathroom and looked- it was gone, it had slid through the hole, and into my nose. I spent 15 minutes trying to figure out what to do with it. Finally, using a jewelers pliers, I was able to get it out. Then? I spent the next 30 minutes trying to get it back in. At 2:35 a.m, I woke up Corey and asked him to help me shove it in. He tried, and proceeded to almost pass out. He was gray and looked near death. It took him 10 minutes to avoid vomiting/passing out. awesome. I decided to leave it until morning and call the salon.

She couldn't get me in until 2 p.m., so I waited...waited...waited patiently. We decided that possibly the cartilage on my left nostril was more thick than on my right.(never one to be normal here) We would pierce my right nostril instead.

Oh. My. Pain. I thought the pain was bad on Thursday? Ha! A mere introduction to the pain I would feel on Friday. Oh, the pain. The pain. She used a smaller needle, I screamed, cried, twitched and tried to act like a lady. (ahem.) The twisting, torture...ouch! But, like childbirth, I forgot the pain soon after okay, that's a lie. I remember it, and at least with childbirth? you have the options of drugs.

I have it though! It is here, resting in my nose, getting used to its new home. I love it, adore it. I don't care if it makes my big nose look bigger. It's mine.

Rather than concentrate on the near death pain experience it was, I believe I will concentrate on the positive. How many people get to fulfill a dream- TWICE!- in two days? once in each nostril no less!

It Comes Naturally...

On Saturday, Core took the boys up to his hometown to visit and ride ATV's with the family. Leaving me HOME ALONE! After I cleaned and scrubbed the place from top to bottom slept in and ran into the bakery for donuts, I met up with my sis, friend Michelle and mom to go tubing.

Now, I've been tubing before, but on busy rivers, with houses, landings and people. I had also been warned, by the fact my mom, sis and Michelle had gone down a few weeks prior- with incident. (Picture dead cell phone, lost, no idea where you are, no houses or anything to help you out.)

This time? They assured me that they knew what they were doing, and were to go.

So, we loaded up. {Hello licorice, chips, oreos, chocolate, and tootsie rolls- good bye non processed food eating!}

As we are driving to the landing, we come upon a road with this:

Turns out the monsoon type downpour had washed the dirt road out, leaving nothing but a gushing river going across the road.

PLAN B: We decide to start where we were going to end.

After my dad gets us all loaded up and properly lectured. "Ladies, you are to wear your lifejackets at all times. The river is HIGH and the current is FAST. Be careful," (x1000, the man is a worrier)- we took off.

We relaxed.

Took lots of pictures...

We almost hit branches (50 times)

Suddenly, we were at our landing.

Problem?

It was too soon! (and was on the other side of the river, with NO way we'd make it over.)

We decided that the next landing, only 6.5 miles away, couldn't possibly take that long to reach, right?

Right.

2.5 hours later. We are tired. Crispy. In the middle of the river (which is quite wide at this point, but S-L-O-W.)

We call my dad, who was all, "Get on the Minnesota side, get on the Minnesota side!"

Yes dad.

Then? He asks, "Where are you?" To which my sister has to answer, "Well dad, actually it all pretty much looks the same to me. Lots of trees and stuff."

My dad, who's breathing has slightly increased at this point, "Well, I can't take my boat out there to rescue you! You can't have a big boat on that river."

"Fear not dad, we'll be fine! We'll call you in an hour or so, okay?"

(I don't think we reassured him. Something about the fact that he called every 15 minutes after that told me so.)

Finally, an hour later, we pass a canoe landing. Key word here being PASSED. Patty and I decide to kick it into gear and trudge through the weeds and gunk to get back to the landing.

FAIL.

We were almost in tears at this point. I mean, we were fine, we had Oreo's and stuff, we could make it. There was a large town coming up soon, so we couldn't be on the river forever. Still, we were tired, and ready to be done.

Suddenly, we hear a motor in the distance. We see a little boat approaching. Coming right at us!

They approach, and stop. "Hey ladies, do you know Bruce?" (insert a what!?!? here...how do they know dad!?)

Turns out my dad was waiting for us at a landing a 1/2 mile up. He had seen boaters and asked them to come find us. They did.

And pulled us back to shore. Like fish on a line, we clung on. Turned the corner, and there was my dad...waiting....

He'd paid the guys $50 to find his ladies. Not that we were lost.

And?

You didn't think I came upon this spazziness myself did you?

Random Rantings...

I'm pretty easygoing. When I am not being uptight.

I've had more than one million people tell me to get a backbone in certain situations.  

I'm totally planning on working on it. 

Follow? 

Great.

This last week was hard for me. I haven't felt like blogging, or doing much of anything because of things going on in my life. 

Not going in to huge detail on all them, I can say that they involve

• Possibly having to change daycares for my children, as our current provider is going through big changes in her life. We adore her and would hate to do this. 

• Finding out about the murder/suicide of the parents of one of my students. It hit me hard. 

Mostly? A family thing. 

I've always been "close" to my mom. She is...her and I am...me. She hasn't always treated me well. I have always taken it. 

I've always let it tear me down. 

Make me feel like shit. {sorry, it does}

Make me feel like a bad parent, person, wife, daughter...

Just taken it. 

Then? I just couldn't anymore. 

Didn't want to anymore. 

After 29 years, I grew a {teensy, flimsy} backbone. 

I don't feel like hearing my mother tell me that I am "stuck up, think I am better than everyone else, a liar, a fake." ON FACEBOOK and TWITTER. 

Hanging up on on me, swearing at me, telling me she is going to shove my phone up my ass. (and that is normal for her to treat me this way) 

Why? 

Oh, that's right. I picked up my kids an hour later than I thought because our dinner out with friends took longer than we thought it would. 

So, I told her that I refused to talk to her until she could act like a responsible, caring mother and apologize for her actions. 

She decided she'd rather not talk to me. She cut me off totally, turns her back on me and ignores me. 

Why am I talking about this? On a public blog no less? 

I don't know. I had to get it off my chest. I have vented to my husband, to friends, to my father and sister. Now? I guess I wanted to see it written out. To talk it over without interruption. 

I don't feel like pretending it doesn't bother me. 

Don't feel like you have to feel sorry for me, or feel sympathy for me...seriously! I have many loving, caring people in my life! My husband adores me, my boys are fabulous and I have great support. Hey, even God thinks I'm pretty cool. 

I guess I just wanted to get it out, and to say this:

If you suffer from depression, if you think you suffer from depression, get help. You may not think your attitude and actions hurt or even affect others, but they do. I can't imagine a worse thing than looking back on years of your life and seeing that you could have been more than the depression was letting you. You are worth more. 

Me? I'm going to go cuddle my boys. They are pretty sweet, and I want to let them know. 

k. can't believe I am going to hit publish on this

Miscellany Ranting

May I rant a little? Thanks!

I am currently living in my hometown, where I grew up and graduated high school. When we moved here 4 years ago, it seemed like a good choice at the time. Do we plan to live here permanently? No. It is where we needed to be at a point in our lives.

I knew moving back that I'd have to face some different things from my past that wouldn't be the greatest. You see, I wasn't perfect as a high schooler. It's true- shocking as it is.

One side of me:

I partied, I drank, I hung out with a risky crowd, I cut class- a lot. I mouthed off,

I had an attitude, I was not the "nice girl." People who got to know me {away from my group of friends} were surprised that I was actually nice.

The other side of me:

A lost, hurt teenage girl. A girl who had gone through terrible things in her life that affected what she thought of herself greatly. A girl who had things that she was hiding, trying to get away from, and using whatever means she could. A girl who's confidence in herself, her life, and her purpose had been shattered. A girl who needed love.

Was I so different than many other teenage girls? Probably not. I just chose different paths, and didn't know how to get off of them. I knew I didn't want to be that Sara, the mean, angry one, but I didn't know how to not be her.

One night, I asked God for a way out. A new beginning in my life. Did I expect anything? No, it was just a plea I had made many times before. I guess the time was right, because I met Corey that weekend. He was my answer. He loved me, held me, and moved me from the life I was in. With his love and support, I left it all behind. I went from a {insert super low} GPA to a 3.8 my senior year. I made new friends, and I had a new outlook on life.

Moving away to college and getting married where the best things that could have happened to me. I was able to be me. Free from all the things people in my hometown thought of me. As far as my college crowd was concerned, I was the most boring girl on the planet. And I loved it. I graduated Magna Cum Laude and began my life as a mother. Here I am, 7 years later and loving it.

My rant? The people in my hometown who still think of me as High School Sara. The lost, hurt girl from 11 years ago. They don't seem to realize- I GREW UP. I moved on. I am not that girl any longer. {I usually only see these people during this time of the year, at parades, fairs, ect.}

Are any of us who we were during those formative years of high school? Very few, I'd bet. We grow, we learn, we search and we mature. Yes, there are still some caught in that old way of life, but not me! Whenever I meet someone who was "like me" in high school; I immediately give them the benefit of the doubt, that like me, they've changed. Unless they show me otherwise, I'll assume they got on the Big Bus to Adulthood.

Finally, the lost, sad Sara of yesteryear? I don't love the life she lived, but I don't regret her either. You see, without her? I couldn't be me.

All sorts of wrong...warning! Bleeding retinas ahead!

Is it just me, or is this picture just all sorts of wrong? Yes, I know American Apparel likes to push the envelope but really? Then I got to thinking of the old school VHS pregnancy workout videos I used {7!!!} years ago when pregnant with Elijah. I stand corrected on American Apparel pushing the envelope. In fact, they are copy cats. 

{Yes, I rocked this video while pregnant. She rocked the keegs.} 

Let's take the "average" expectant mother. Does she look like that? I certainly did not. For your viewing pleasure, I have shown what I would have looked like, had I even attempted to squish all my bits into a leotard while pregnant. 

Please note the jiggly arms, cellulite addition and big butt. Yes. I carried my sons in my behind. 

I cannot believe I am doing this, I cannot believe I am doing this Note the pic below, when I was 33.5 weeks along with Asher. In NYC. In June. In Humidity. Notice how my butt sticks out further than my stomach? 

{Yes, the large thing on the left, with the stumpy ponytail is, in fact, me. HI!}

There. Don't say I've never done anything for you.  Now, if your retinas are done bleeding...enjoy your day.