"Endorphins Make You Happy"

Recently on Facebook and Instagram I posted a few pictures in the name of celebrating #transformationtuesday of what I looked like a few years ago and what I currently look like after having recently lost 17 pounds and having spent a few months religiously in the gym doing more than simply cardio.  Within minutes I started receiving private messages, about 8-10 total, from friends curious as to what I had done or what trick I had performed to lose weight.  Truth is, I did it the good old fashioned way.  I ate better, picked up heavier and moved more.  I was then asked by a dear friend who has helped inspire me daily to get into shape to share my pre/post picture with a health inspired Facebook group that she is associated with.   I laughed and said sure.

But then I decided to first blog before posting.  Here is why: losing weight is hard, yet it is also something to be proud of, but sometimes we look at people who have done what we so wish we could do, and instead of inspiring us, we let it depress us even further.  I have done this multiple times.  Sometimes, we say "well, she wasn't that big to begin with" or "if I lived close to the gym I could do it too" or "but she is obsessed, and I have kids and a life."  I have said these very phrases.  So I wanted to give a back story to my small, insignificant, yet important to me transformation.

I have never been what many would classify as "big" or "fat" or "overweight."  I have been what many would call "chubby" or "out of shape" or even "normal."  As a kid, I thought of myself as always slightly chunkier than the other girls.  I let this shape the way I thought about myself.  Instead of being more active, as a preteen, I let it hold me back.  I didn't make the effort to continue in cheerleading or to be physically active because, truthfully, I thought I wouldn't be that good at it so I didn't bother.

As a teenager, I had tons of friends, enjoyed school, but was not involved in extracurricular activities and certainly was not in shape.  I still saw myself as the frumpier friend in a group of some really beautiful girls.  The summer after graduation, I lost about 20 pounds and was thinner than I had ever been.  I met my future husband and stayed at an extremely low weight for pretty much the duration of college years.  Though I certainly felt happier in those years knowing I was thinner, I was still not what most would consider to be "in-shape."  I was simply thin.  I was certainly not healthy.  I maintained my thinness mostly through diet pills.  And in my book at the time, that was all that I wanted:  to be thin.    

Later I married the man I met at my thinnest weight, eventually had kids with him, two to be exact, and gradually started gaining weight.  I gained 30 pounds with my first son.  I should note that I am short, 5'2", and my legs and torso are the size of a large toddler's in length.  30 pounds was a significant weight gain on my small frame.  I then nursed my oldest and struggled to learn how to lose weight while nursing and while not being able to take diet pills (which by the way no longer worked in 2008 because ephedra was no longer in them, which I am now thankful for).  I joined Weight Watchers and by the summer of 2009, when my son was one, I had managed to get down to about 120 pounds.  I was so excited, yet somehow, I still wasn't satisfied.  I couldn't understand why, although I was smaller, I was still essentially the same shape.  But, I figured at least smaller and squishy was better than larger and squishy so I was happy (mostly).

In 2011, I became pregnant again.  When son number two was born, I was at my heaviest.  I again gained 30 pounds, but I was also 10 pounds heavier when I got pregnant with him than I had been when I got pregnant the first time.  With baby number two, I had a much harder time losing the weight.  I nursed for a lot longer (try 26 months) and struggled to battle being hungry and making good decisions.  Baby two came with the added complication of having to also take care of baby number one, who was three at the time, while also working and being a wife.  Eating right was so difficult.  Going to the gym? I told myself I just couldn't make the time.  I lived too far away from the best gyms.  I didn't want to pay the membership fees and then not use them.  I needed to lose a few pounds before joining.   I came up with multiple excuses.

Now, during my college years when I was at my thinnest, I did go regularly to a gym with some dedicated friends, even worked there for a short while.  At the gym I would spend 45+ minutes half heartedly trudging through cardio and would then maybe make my way through some weights before being ready to leave.  If I only had, say, 45 minutes to an hour to workout (because I believed I had to be in there hours for it to count) I could never get myself past thinking I was obligated to do the same cardio routine before getting to anything else.  So on those days, I only did cardio (usually at the same level for the same amount of time).  Sure, I did see some mild results because I was thin, but nothing spectacular.  I ended my membership once I got pregnant with Ryder since I had stopped going altogether.   I briefly joined again after Sawyer was born but really never went so nothing happened from that stint of membership.  I quickly cancelled my membership again.  

I spent two years after Sawyer was born trying to tell myself it was OK that I was again chubby.  I had ballooned from a 4/6 to a 12 in pants.  To some, that is laughable that I am complaining about wearing a 12, but if you have ever felt inadequate in your own clothing, uncomfortable looking at your own reflection, I think you could understand how I felt.  I felt, for the lack of a better word, yuck.  I gain mostly in my hips and that was where I was most disgusted by when looking at my reflection.  I would moan, groan, whine and complain, yet I did nothing else to change my physical appearance.  Every so often I would hopefully buy into some sort of weight loss system: pills, slim fast, Hydroxycut, ACE, Advocare, 17 Day diet, only to eventually find it too hard with not enough results.

The pressures of being a mom didn't help.  I was always dipping into my kids' meals for bites, relying on poor choices at fast food restaurants for dinner, skipping dinner altogether and eating an unhealthy snack/dessert WAY TOO LATE at night once my kids finally went to bed, and overeating at one meal because it was too much trouble to make time for small portioned meals and snacks throughout the day (these are problems I still struggle with honestly). My boys, who are in a league of their own when it comes to being messy, tiring, hard, and draining, would wear me out, often leaving me with not enough energy to even think of going to a gym (though I have now learned going to the gym will give me the energy I am missing, and if you don't believe me about the wild kiddos, backtrack throughout my blogposts; I am very honest about the stresses of parenthood).  Along with motherhood, I also was often overwhelmed with other life duties including work loads that kept me at school too late in the day, cooking dinners for my family including my dad and mother, who is visually impaired, keeping my house clean so my OCD self didn't meltdown further, and eventually, I would fall into bed too exhausted to think about how to actively be in better shape.  And I could never imagine forcing myself up for a gym class on days I could sleep in; that would be entirely absurd in my world!  Sleep in my house was (and still is) too few and far between to give up any extra hours I might have; half the time my kids wake up multiple times a night. It is seriously like fruit basket turnover at our house.  

Last summer I swore, SWORE, I was going to lose weight when I realized my babysitter/friend who was 19 and beautiful was going to the beach with me.  I lost a few pounds but basically changed nothing.  In January motivated by the lingering hopefulness of New Year's resolutions, I decided to rejoin the gym. And in February, my uncle and aunt, whom I love dearly and think of like second parents, extended an invitation to go to Cocoa Beach and Disney with them during the first week of June to celebrate my 10 year wedding anniversary with my husband.  My uncle, who has always been fit but who had put on a bit of weight, decided he would lose weight by the time we went.  My aunt joined in as well.  I said I was going to also.  And I did...in a half hearted way.  I lost like 3-5 pounds and stopped.  They lost multiple pounds.  They were not eating carbs and making very good eating choices.  I was sort of eating good...ish.  My uncle, who is blatantly honest, told me I wasn't eating good enough, and I would not lose until I did.  At that point I finally decided to stop complaining and actually do it.  I started by really cleaning up my eating, even though it was hard.  I drank more water, passed on bread, croutons, too much dressing, unhealthy carbs, and anything basically "bad" and ate much more of the good stuff, i.e. veggies, fish, salad, veggies, and veggies.  And I swore to stick with it more than a few weeks.  At the same time, I began daily talking to my friend (who recommended me to write this lovely blog) about my workout program I had recently started at the gym.  She finally convinced me to stop with the continual cardio and focus more on weights and interval training.  So, I did.  And it seriously worked.  Within weeks I started noticing a difference. In May, I tried on a pair of shorts I had not worn in years and about died when they actually fit, not only fit but were looser in the hips than they had been when I could wear them.   It was at that moment I really believed her.  She started sending me daily workout routines and added me to her fitness FB group she is a part of.  I started really pushing myself more in the gym and started actually enjoying going or at least enjoying that feeling I had when I left. (Those endorphins are real y'all.  I mean, after all, as Elle Woods says, "Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands.  They just don't." Good news for Shaun I guess.) I stuck with the routine for 4-5 weeks.  Because my friend teaches fitness classes at her gym (not the one I attend) that I hear are intense and varied (and I have no doubt), she inspired me to take a relatively big leap, at least in my mind, by joining Absolute Performance Training at the gym.   I decided to try one month of unlimited training, which included large group fitness classes that focus on interval training sessions, core and cardio, as well as four small group (1-4 people in a group) training sessions.  I was a bit intimidated at first, thinking I would not be able to hang at all.  But I quickly discovered the girls in the class were some of the sweetest girls, all with the same goal as me: to be better. Maybe to them better was thinner, stronger, healthier or all of the above, but the goal is simply to be better.  The classes are filled with all kinds of fitness types, varying from the ridiculously fit (y'all know who you are) to the just-getting-started-and-feeling-like-you-are-dying-by-the-end-I-might-throw-up kind of girls (probably me) and those somewhere in-between.

I have been in Performance Training for a very short time compared to many of the members,  but I already feel comfortable with the group and like it is OK to sweat, struggle, and be honest about when it is tough.  I have currently lost 17 pounds, dropping from 133 to 116, and I have lost numerous inches and I am really starting to tell the difference in the definition and tone of my body.   I finally feel better about myself in a way I haven't felt in YEARS!  I no longer think 30 times a day about how unhappy I am with my body.  Do I think I look perfect? Can y'all hear me laughing? Heck no.  I will probably never win a Barbarian sword, or be hired by the gym to train others, or run any ridiculously long races, or ride a bike for a bazillion miles on rough terrain, or be able to accomplish the peg board thingy on the wall at the gym, or climb the dang rope to the ceiling or even have an enviable set of abs or legs.  I still see my problem areas and just wish my body would magically turn into the bodies of the women who teach the classes (and quite a few who take it too), but what I do know is I am finally working in a very real way toward a goal I have been complaining about wanting to reach for a VERY LONG TIME and THAT makes me happy when I look in the mirror.

So, to all of you struggling to do it--to eat better, make it to the gym, pass on the rolls at dinner, drag yourself into the gym after work, I totally get it.  It is hard.  But it is also possible.  Truthfully, I am slightly nervous about the school year.  I worry about adding school, homework and sports to the mix.  But I think I will figure it out.  I will balance, and portion control, and work out, and feel good.      

So, here it goes, my #transformationtuesday photos!

Fall 2012 and July 2014

This Fourth of July and Last Summer Beach Trip

Fourth of July and June 2014 Beach Trip.  Bottom Pics 2012, 2013, 2011

I Believe in Being Tired

The other day I got home from work, tired and just wanted to eat a meal in peace.  I wanted the boys to happily sit down and enjoy dinner and to allow me twenty minutes to relax.  But it never happens that way.  I am always eating a meal while wrangling boys.  On this particular day, I sat down to eat and heard a commotion in the den of my mother and father’s house.  I heard the front door open and close.  Ryder then came running into the room wanting my mother’s grabber (you know, those mechanical arms meant to get stuff off shelves too high to reach).  It was followed by wild giggling from mom and dad’s room. When I went to check out what was happening, I saw two pairs of legs showing from under the bed.  I realized Sawyer had let in the neighbor’s cat and the boys were excitedly trying to fetch it from under the bed…with a mechanical grabber.  This was just a ten minute portion of a night of rambunctious boy behavior.  Needless to say, I did not get a relaxing meal.   

I never knew what tired felt like until I had children.  Sure, I had had plenty of tiring experiences in my life pre-kids, but none that couldn’t be fixed with a long nap and a good night of sound sleep.  I was 27 when Ryder, my oldest son, was born.  Literally, from the moment he was born, I was tired.  Labor was exhausting, but paled in comparison to how exhausting a newborn baby was.  I eventually got into the groove of motherhood, but the demands of caring for a growing baby who depended on me for everything certainly was draining at times.  As he grew, the demands of parenting grew.  He became mobile and active, constantly keeping me on my feet.  Eventually, my sweet baby grew into an even more active and tiring little boy.  That active little boy was joined by my second son, Sawyer, in 2011.  Sawyer started off as a quiet, easy going infant, but it didn’t taken him long to catch up with his brother and become a handful as well.

            Today, Ryder is 5 and a half and Sawyer is a month away from turning 3.  And me, I am as tired as ever. My boys are rambunctious, demanding; they are rough as cobs and stubborn as mules.  They never stop, ever. From the moment they get up to the moment they go to sleep, they are into something. They are famous for their shenanigans.  Just this week I found a pocket full of glass shards in Ryder’s jacket, to which he explained he had been playing glass factory in a ditch at school, and on Saturday, I walked into my kitchen to find him breaking every egg I had into a boiler pot and stirring it with a whisk.  Instead of looking guilty he asked for white powder stuff (flour) to add to his “cake.” The amount of messes I clean up with these two is endless.  

Ryder is my blonde haired Dennis the Menace.  He talks always.  He is inquisitive, independent, unfocused and when he truly sets his mind on something (like wanting a new character on a video game or a new Lego to play with), he will wear me down to a nub until the end result is one he is satisfied with. He is loud and forceful.  He can talk my ear off about practically anything.  And, as crazy as it sounds, I do not know how I would function without him being just the way he is. Don’t get me wrong, there are times (like, everyday) when I want him to stop, hush, sit down, and be still.  But the infinite moments of laughter, joy and hilarity he has brought into my life cannot be counted.   I can go from upset and frustrated to giggling and smiling with just one funny comment from my never ending provider of laughs. 

Sawyer, on the other hand, is physical.  If it is there, he can climb it. He is bossy and picky and can give looks that kill.  He is a ninja and a sword slinger and always has a handheld action figure with him. Despite being almost 3, he still requires me to rock him to sleep every night, and no matter how tired I am and how much I just want him to go to sleep, I still enjoy those nightly cuddles from my baby who is almost no longer a baby.  And at night, often, I do just want to go to sleep, and honestly, neither boy sleeps well; I joke I haven’t had REM sleep since the summer of 2008.  They keep me on the move all day, and half the time, they keep me up part of the night too.  With them, I am worn out, but without them, I can’t imagine how I would survive. 

My boys are my life, and my life is sometimes hectic and overwhelming and tiring. But I have decided that the tired I feel at the end of every day is worth it. I believe in being tired.  I believe in the moments when I think I am going to give up, but instead realize I have learned something about myself, about parenthood, about a love that knows no limits, no matter how exhausted that love is. I believe that the amount of work and effort I pour out of me and into my children will pay off in the long run when they grow into men who will realize just how much I loved them and how hard I fought to raise them.  It will be what they remember.  They may not know how hard it was at times or how frustrated I may have felt, or even how happy they made me or how funny they were, but they will know that I worked non-stop, tirelessly to be the best mother to them that I could possibly be.  And sure, I am not perfect.  I get mad and yell; I get annoyed and irritated too at times, but even in my most exhausting moments, I know I wouldn’t trade that feeling in for the world.  When I look at my sweet boys’ faces at night, as they sleep looking like chubby cherubs, I know that all of the hard work and all of the moments where I feel worn out are worth it to know that literally every ounce of my being is invested in being their mother, their caretaker, their playmate, their nurse and their friend.   Being tired has taught me more about love than any other feeling in the world.

Put Me In Coach, I'm Ready to Play...Or Maybe Not...

T-Ball. The very word makes me anxious lately.  Why? Because we are gearing up for another season of "fun" on the field. The entire idea makes me feel like one heavy sigh....

Let me backtrack: Ryder started playing t-ball exactly one year ago.  I will never forget how excited I was last March when we signed him up for 4 year old t-ball in our local Coosa Valley baseball league.  I made sure he looked the part on his first day of practice.  Shaun and I had gone to Academy, and with giddy, we purchased all of the necessities for the season (plus some): balls, bats, pants, glove, socks, hat, helmet, bases, tee,  etc. On the day of his first practice, I had to work late. After I finished, I hurried to the field expecting to find a rambunctious and happy four year old adorably chasing baseballs.

Nope.

Instead, he spent the majority of the practice crying, throwing his head back and wailing "WHAHHH" and making dirt angels on the ground.  In the moments he didn't cry, he certainly wasn't paying attention.  Now, we had certainly faced some exhausting moments before this one with Ryder, but for some reason, this totally shocked and embarrassed me.  I immediately felt like crying myself, but instead, I opted to just bail and leave.  (you may have read a portion of this story in my blog It's a Hard Knock Life, For Us...Parent's That Is)

That moment is when the initial worry and fear set in concerning who Ryder was, what his talents were and how he acted with others.  Irrational fear, for sure, but still, I was faced with something I hadn't expected: he was the odd man out and the kid who looked the most out of place on the field, in my mind anyways, and I couldn't help but start visualizing him as becoming the kid who somehow didn't fit in off the field too.

All season, I felt a knot in my stomach when it was practice or game day.  Sure, I would smile and laugh on the outside, but on the inside, I was expecting him to fall apart. Keep in mind he was four years old, probably an immature four year old at that, but I couldn't help feeling almost embarrassed if he had an unsuccessful practice or game.  I knew that was silly beyond words, yet I still worried that his inability to focus and his almost spastic behavior at times was going to follow him into adulthood. (Don't pretend like you have never judged a kid on his behavior: a kid has a meltdown or even just acts goofy in Walmart, a restaurant or anywhere else and you make assumptions on the kid and/or the parenting choices of the kid's mom and dad. We've all done it.) My worry was one that I think all parents (or at least those willing to admit it) have: worry that our kid will somehow not fit in with the other kids.

We live in the South  and in the South, sports are a given.  Shaun was athletic and played multiple sports growing up, including running track and playing football.  Now, as for me, I wasn't the most athletic person ever growing up, but somehow that seemed OK because I was a girl. I tried telling myself that Ryder was just a baby and that he would eventually develop an interest in sports. During particularly rough games, I would joke about his athletic prowess. If I am being honest, I did it out of my own insecurity.  Later when I would look into his blue eyes and chubby cheeks, I would feel guilty for joking about his performance, as harmless as I thought it was at the time. It's like the girl who makes a fat joke at her own suspense before anyone else can.  I do not want to tear Ryder down; I want to build him up in a healthy way.  I also don't want to become the parent who obsesses about a sport and ruins the fun of it for my kids.   And honestly, I wasn't even that obsessed about winning, I just didn't want Ryder to be the reason we were losing and cause other team parents to see him as the team distraction. 

 I love Ryder more than anything in the entire universe, and all I want is his happiness.  And I think in my weird way, I thought his awkwardness on the field or the possibility of him maybe never excelling in sports would make him unhappy, cause him to be made fun of or bullied (which is another irrational fear I have; I say irrational since I never dealt with bullying firsthand, yet for some reason, I fear it for my kids) and all any parent really wants is for his or her child to be happy and fit in. 

Back to t-ball.  Somehow we pushed through our ten games and Ryder did show much improvement on the field, meaning he didn't fall out crying during the games, but I still ended the season being very much aware of his place on the team as occupier of the outfield, where his unfocused little blonde self could spin circles happily without interfering with the more skilled or serious players.

September rolled around and with it came fall ball (because once a year is not enough).  We decided to play again in the hopes that if we made him play again, he would continually improve. Thankfully, we were able to get on pretty much the same team with the same coaches who knew Ryder and also knew how to deal with his lack of attention and athletic prowess.  One thing that did make my outlook more hopeful for fall was the fact that Ryder, who had been formally diagnosed with ADHD over the summer, had started medicine to help with his focus (that is an entirely different blog).  In all honesty, the fall t-ball experience was admittedly more enjoyable than the spring before it.  The medicine surely made a difference in Ryder's over all behavior, and we were seeing that in every aspect of his life, on and off the field. Shaun began working more with Ryder one-on-one, and we really started to see improvement, but the one thing I started to notice was that Ryder really had (and still has) no great interest in outside play, period. He would practice in the same way he did homework.  He would do it, he just didn't want to. Ever.  And although he liked the games, he would come off of the field not with total excitement over the game he had just played, but instead asking if I had the iPad with me.  And even at home when we would go outside to simply play, no baseball involved, he wasn't very interested for very long.  In general, he gives out and gives up quickly when it comes to outside activities. It just isn't his "thing" so to speak.    

Ryder is a tech kid.  He can operate an iPad, iPhone or gaming system like an adult.  This caused me to develop even more concern.  I worried about him spending too much time on electronics, not being able to play face-to-face with others, and I decided the effects of making him play a sport would be beneficial.  I believed (and still do) that he needed t-ball to help give him a reason to get outside, interact with others and to give him a break from the Wii. I hoped it would be a skill and hobby that he would grow to like and one that would push him to do more than just build Legos and beg for Minecraft and Harry Potter Wii games. I want him to be active and healthy.  But Ryder's desires are often elsewhere.  When I pick him up from extended day, he is usually in the corner building Legos, sometimes with others and sometimes alone if no one elsewants to build Legos.  The workers have even jokingly informed me that he will frequently ask if he can go back inside when they go to the playground at extended day because he had rather be indoors playing with blocks and Legos than outside running around.  It isn't that I don't see the fun in Legos or even games, but I just don't want his only extracurricular activity in school to be president of the Dungeons and Dragons club, know what I mean?  

Overall though, fall ball was more enjoyable than spring ball, but it did introduce a challenge I had not faced during 4t: practicing and playing baseball games during the week while also going to real school.  Long days in school, followed by afternoon practices and homework were definitely an adjustment for me and Ryder.  Overall, he enjoyed the games and the other kids, but late night games after a day of school and homework were sometimes (and still are) a recipe for disaster.   Managing homework (oh yes, nightly homework in kindergarten) and t-ball and a toddler and a job stressed me out, but we managed.  
     
Back to the present: So here we are again, back to spring t-ball. Tonight is the first game, and I am a bit anxious (especially since over half the games don't even start until 7pm, a bit late for any five year old, especially one who is easily distracted and may not wholeheartedly want to be there.)  He is, however, excited over the hoopla that has gone into getting ready for a new season (i.e. new outfit and cleats.  It is like dress up to him.)  So tonight we go to the field, and continue to do so twice a week for two months, and I hope for no meltdown, will try not to obsess over the ridiculous and promise to let him just have fun.  Because that's the one thing that sometimes I forget, especially after an especially bad practice or game, that this is meant to be fun.

I am also realizing he may not be who I thought he was. And that is OK.  He is great. Period.  I recently read an article about parents being happy with their children even if they turn out to not be what they thought they were going to be (Jack doesn't become a doctor but instead is a mechanic, Susie makes Cs in school, Becky isn't the prom queen) and it really made me think.  Jason Sanders poses the question in his blog Would That Be Okay?, "What if your kid never really does all that great in sports? While all of his friends are making diving catches and hitting home runs, the only action he sees is during practice. In right field. Where he likes to pick flowers and see how long he can stare at the sun before blinking. Oh, and that’s when he’s in the 11th grade. Would that be okay?"

Wow. Hit home for me, that's for sure.  I realized that A.) I am not the only worrier wanting my child to be a success, and B.) I would probably be worried about who he is and who he is becoming no matter what, even if he was the Cal Ripken of Coosa Valley t-ball.  I think what I have worried about isn't even really about sports; sports just happen to be the catalyst to cause me worry since he is not as skilled at it as he is at everything else.  I'm sure if he were struggling severely in school, I would be worrying irrationally over intelligence and future careers.  I have to just step back, let him be the best inquisitive, rambunctious and unfocused five year old that he is and be happy because that little boy is exactly the little boy God wanted me to have.       

So as I gear up for a season of t-ball fun with a little boy who may or may not want to go to games, who may or may not get into trouble for not paying attention, who may or may not be more concerned over whether or not his mom will buy him a new Wii Disney Infinity character than focusing on the field, I just have to remember to let him be him.  And when I see those other parents who act like the world is ending when their kids mess up or the team doesn't do good, I will just smile and know that no matter how Ryder acts, I will always be happy with him and for him, even if instead of saying "put me in coach" he says "I don't want to play, coach."

It's a Hard Knock Life, For Us...Parents That Is...

Parenthood is hard. I know, the occasional few who spout things (typically on Facebook , where they make their lives appear near perfect) like "my kids are so easy!" or "I don't know why everyone said parenthood would be hard? It is a breeze."  I think those parents fall into one of three categories: they have abnormally well mannered children; they have only one child that is very young and hasn't gotten old enough to create true havoc; or three, they are flat out lying. But for the typical mom and dad, parenthood is tough, messy and, well, not for the faint of heart.

If you have ever read this blog, or my FB statuses, or well, just met me, you know I take the more honest approach to parenthood. I am pretty vocal about the goods, bads, highs, lows, challenges and meltdowns that are all common in parenthood.  When I hit a low, I usually wallow in my thoughts or take to my blog to get out my feelings.  I feel like I say most of what people experience or think but don't always vocalize, and probably certainly not in writing (much to my mom's dismay).  But it is the truth.

When I was pregnant with Ryder, I visualized a wonderful life as a mom, and I definitely have that, but what I didn't picture was meltdowns in restaurants, at parties, and most recently, ball fields. I didn't imagine fights over picking up toys, how exhausted I would feel when a day was through and how much damage my kids could do to my personal belongings.  I didn't picture how angry I would get at times or how frustrated I would occasionally feel. But what I have come to realize is that this is all normal. Sometimes I feel horrible for feeling overwhelmed or for being discouraged at times; I think about those who have lost children or who have children who are not healthy, and realize how truly blessed I am, but I am only human and sometimes feel like I am treading water to stay afloat.  But feeling less than thrilled about parenthood at times does not mean that I am not grateful for my amazingly beautiful, intelligent, healthy and happy family. It just means that I am real, a person and that sometimes, I need re-energized and need to vent.

My first lesson in how hard and scary parenting can be came, well, about 2 days after Ryder was born. I will never forget the panic I felt at taking care of newborn Ryder, panic which I was completely unprepared to experience. In those early days, I worried, fretted and felt like I had been hit hard by a MAC truck. It was far from the visual I had of myself sitting beautifully in a bed with a gorgeous baby and looking picturesque.  Instead, I was chunky, disheveled and prone to crying.  Motherhood involved being up all night, wearing maxi pads in my bra, and doing 888,000 loads of laundry.  My house, which I had always kept super tidy, became a baby toy breeding ground, and my once carefree life of being able to hop into a car and go as I pleased was replaced by having to spend four hours trying to get myself and baby ready, bathed, fed, and packed only to realize about the time that I was FINALLY ready to leave, it was baby's nap time and, if I wanted him to not be cranky, I had to wait for him to wake up, only to then need to be fed, changed and so on until it became either too hard or too late to go anywhere that wasn't utterly necessary.  Factor in my crazy hormones and breastfeeding, and I was crying before the day ended, partly because I hadn't expected it to be so hard and partly because I felt guilty that I even thought it was hard.  

As Ryder has gotten older, his needs have changed, my expectations have changed, but parenthood still remains challenging. Although the perks of parenthood are numerous and wonderful, the difficulties are also quite real. Also, because Ryder is an extremely hyperactive little boy who has a rather short attention span, I am faced with challenges that not all parents, especially those with children who are more even keel and calm,  do not always deal with, or at least not to the same degree. (And I know, many of you do deal with the same issues.)  Sometimes I win, a lot of times he wins and many times, I am left feeling, well, drained.

Add to this baby number two, Sawyer.  He was a dream baby who never caused any problems. (I felt this way probably because the second time around I wasn't so in the dark with what I would be facing as a new mom and prepared myself for the worst)   Then he hit toddlerhood.  Now he is following in the footsteps of so many two year olds before him with meltdowns, screams, and a general desire to do exactly the opposite of what I want him to do.  And he has become a partner in crime to his older brother.  This where I get back to the original point: parenthood is difficult, challenging and even worrisome.

As moms and dads, we worry about our kids, their behavior, the way we are raising them, the way they interact with others, the way they will turn out and even the way others perceive us and our parenting styles. The tiredness of parenthood isn't just from the crayons on the walls, the paint in the clothes, the play-doh in the carpet, the toy that is broken, the plea for just ten more minutes at bedtime, the poop on the floor or the battle over eating carrots.  No, it is much more than that.  Now, I also worry with how others view me when I deal with these situations.  This is madness, but it is such an honest fact.  Seriously, have you ever judged someone for his or parenting style or lack there of? I have.  Have you ever thought "What they need to do is discipline little Susie and she wouldn't act that way?" I have. I have also felt like I was on the receiving end of those harsh judgements.  I feel sometimes that I am judged if I yell, spank, don't yell, don't spank, take them out, leave them in, you name it. 

Many times I have been in public with my kids when a meltdown ensued, and I immediately felt like everyone was forming a negative opinion of how I was handling it.  The thing is, parenting is hard. Kids do not always act the way we want them to.  Sometimes, I am just trying to make it without crying or losing it. I don't need other parents making me feel more crappy about whatever it is I am facing.  And sure, sometimes I am positive I am overly sensitive to these situations.  Ryder had t-ball practice yesterday. It was a disaster. He cried over everything, laid in the dirt, threw his head back and wailed "WAHHHHH!" I was surrounded by moms I didn't know and 8 other kids, none of which were crying. I already felt tense.  And though not directed at me, one mom instructed her kid who was playing in the dirt with Ry to get out of it or they were going home. Though not stated specifically (and probably just a result of my own insecurity), I couldn't help feeling like there was probably judgment attached to how I was handling (or lack there of) Ryder who was also playing in the dirt.  Truth be told, I was just trying to make it through practice with an aggravated husband, a whiney and uniterested four year old, and a two year old who was coming apart because he couldn't get on the field. I have been in restaurants when my kids cried, yelled, got loud and I could feel the stares from people around.  There are always the blessed few who lean in and say "Mine were just like that; don't worry, they aren't bothering anybody," but there are just as many who give me and other parents the evil eye.  Heck, nowadays I even get the evil eye for pulling out the iPad so I can ensure peace in a restaurant, and often, it comes from other parents.  Don't believe me? Just read the comments under this article: "Gadgets at Restaurants Quiet Kids, But Not Critics."

As a mom, I worry if my kids don't fall in line with other kids, not because I want them to be followers or to simply be popular, but because I want them to be happy, feel a part of the group, be healthy and active and know they are loved.  Even in my most frustrated moments, I try to take deep breaths, remember I know I am trying with the best of my abilities to be the best parent I can be for them and try to encourage and praise them for all of the positives in their lives, to never tell them I am disappointed in them as a person, maybe in choices or actions, but not them, you know?  I also try to be honest about the way I feel because, if I am being honest, it is a defense mechanism for the sometimes slight embarrassment I feel about a meltdown they are having in public. But I also am honest so that other parents will know that it isn't just them feeling frustrated, flustered or worn out.  Sometimes, motherhood is like warfare and you have to get dirty and get in the trenches and know that those battles you face may indeed make you tired or feel like you are losing.  It won't always be fun or easy, but with great effort and strategy and the confidence in knowing you are not alone in the uncertainties of parenthood, you can come out on top.

I guess the point of this is that I think it is easy to look around when your kid seems to be doing well and minding and make a judgment about how other moms are handling or disciplining their kids, but just remember, parenthood isn't easy for anyone.  We all have those days when we give in, yell, or lose our cool.  Days when we don't respond the way we wished we would have or when we stoop to the level of bribery just for a little peace.  We also all experience times when our kid is being good, and we find it easy to pass judgment on others.  Just remember, that momma is probably doing the best she can, so simmer down and cut her a break and let's all try to have a little kid compassion.                 

Weapons of Mass Destruction

It has been a few months since I have posted. At my house, things are good, but busy as always.  We are fresh off of the heels of the holidays and done trying to stick it out for another New Year's resolution (which is the subject of another blog yet to be written).  My family (which includes the Markers) are all finally finished with the year of the great move. If you didn't know, we have all been in the process of house jumping since February of 2012.  Now that we are all mostly settled, life is simply trudging along at a normal pace.

My kids, which are usually front and center as the topic of these posts, are also moving at a face pace. Literally, the boys are growing so quickly and are clearly about as "All Boy" as they could possibly be.  I think in the new year, I will continue to watch them really develop their unique personalities.  Since Sawyer is close to turning two, I have been forced to start thinking about the possibility of having another child: this includes thinking about if I really DO want to try again for that elusive girl baby I have always wanted so desperately.  As my intelligent brother put it, "Mica, you have to think about what you will be more disappointed about: not having another baby and never knowing if you would have had a girl OR having the third baby and getting another boy, 'cause let's face it, that is probably what will happen." True. I know it is true, and I am starting to be OK with the idea that I honestly may never have that daughter to share all things girly with.  Honestly, I am not sure my nerves and or house can take another Mecham, at least not at this moment! Why? Because my kids are rambunctious, wild, loud, rough, and destructive little boys (I mean that lovingly. They are the very definition of what little boys are made of.) 

It's funny, as a kid, I pictured myself as mom to a sweet and perfect little girl. Instead, I am mom to two of the most adorable, but also most mischievous and spirited kids on the block (seriously, I have even been gifted the copy of the text Raising Your Spirited Child for Pete's sake!). They keep me laughing, or crying, or yelling, or sighing pretty much all of the time.  At the end of most days I am worn totally out, but when I stop to think about it, I so enjoy every laugh they provide, even if the laugh is due to them breaking something or saying something a little girl would probably never say.

When people say "How are your kids?" I almost instinctively reply, "Great, they tear everything I own up, but they are wonderful!" And it's true; they somehow manage to get into more messes and tear more stuff up than the average kid.  They are literally like atomic bombs running around my house (why do you think the bomb dropped on Hiroshima in 1945 was nicknamed "Little Boy?"  Probably whoever named it had all boys who also destroyed everything in that person's house.)  They are like adorable weapons of mass destruction sent to make sure every effort I put into keeping my house clean is futile. My mom used to say Ryder reminded her of Brad when he was a kid with his talkative and rambunctious personality, but now the general consensus is that Ryder has passed him by leaps and bounds. The other day my aunt Scarlett invited the entire family over for dinner and I, in all seriousness, asked if we were really invited. This is because I am aware that we are loud and destructive and know that we have become that family that others sometimes dread to see coming.

It must be genetic, when my mom was a kid, her family from Texas would visit.  Her uncle and aunt would bring their four rowdy sons to Alabama. For my mom as a young girl with only a sister, these visits were hugely anticipated.  She would get to experience the fun and roughness that I think only a boy can provide.  She has memories of things like trying to wring the neck of a chicken, only to have it half decapitated and running through my grandmother's freshly washed linens hanging on the line, spurting blood wildly everywhere.  My mom has confessed that she and Scarlett would hide away all of their most precious baby dolls when the Lankford boys came to ensure that nothing unfortunate happened to them.  When I was a kid, we would go to Texas to visit those same four boys, all grown up and fathers to their own sons.  One of my most vivid memories of visiting them was when one of my Texan cousins, who was all destructive boy, accidentally drove a go-cart into a pond.  That sounds like something I could see Ryder doing one day, though I sure hope he never does. Well, fast forward 18 years, and I am the mom of those "Lankford boys" and everyone we know is hiding their dolls when they think we are coming to visit.  Scarlett even posted on my FB page recently the following status: "Mica, You know You and Ryder and Sawyer and Shaun are always invited to our house... U know we love you all... Just Warn me first...lol, might need to put up the breakables.....hehehehe"  So, what type of chaos do they (and I am mostly focusing on Ryder because he is older and has had almost three years of a head start on Sawyer) cause around my house? Let me give you some examples:

1. BROKEN DRAWER: Sawyer is really coming along as quite the climber. He tends to fly under the radar, though, because he is so quiet.  But do not underestimate him. This is the second drawer he has broken in the new house.

 2. BLOODY NOSE: Quickly a day of fun can go south when the play is rough and tough like my boys.  This is the kind of play boys do best, even if someone does end up getting hurt. Don't worry, no major damage was done.

 3. BROKEN KEY: OK, this one was a mind stumper.  Ryder was holding my key; I turned around for a few minutes gathering my stuff as we were heading out the door to work and school. I turned back around and a stunned Ryder said something along the lines of "Uh oh, it broke."  This took all of 3 minutes.  Sigh...

4. BROKEN SALT SHAKER: Eating at Logan's Roadhouse a few weeks ago, it took Ryder all of two solid minutes before dropping and breaking the salt shaker.  Not only is he destructive, but he can do it in record time.

 5. CRAYON IN SHEETS: I was cleaning house and intending on changing the sheets. Good thing too because I discovered my mini Picasso had been hard at work creating a "masterpiece" for me. This is why I always buy washable crayons.

 6: DISASTER IN THE KITCHEN: This can be contributed to both boys.  I was trying to clean out my pantries when Ryder came barreling through and spilled pasta and my stacked throw-away boxes all over the floor, and at the same time, an excited Sawyer chucked his milk to the floor, where it opened and leaked everywhere. Huge mess. Obviously. What to do? Take a picture of course. 

 7. EXPO MARKER IN THE FLOOR: Well, I guess he needs zero access to writing tools, but he loves to draw.  In this case he found an Expo marker in my school bag and decided to tag my floor with a little graffiti work.

8: TORNADO TO THE ROOM: This is what happens when he is at home playing. Why he cannot just play and then put up whatever it is he has and then get something else out is a mystery to me.
    

 9: CEREAL MELTDOWN: This one happened on Chris's watch.  He was eating cereal, and I have know idea how, but somehow spilled the entire bowl on his head and everywhere else too.  The rug did not fare as well as Ryder. Sorry Nikki
*CORRECTION: (Chris wanted me to add that it was TWO bowls of cereal Ryder spilled, ON TOP OF HIS HEAD, and then, when Chris had to give him a bath, he (Ryder, not Chris) pooped in the tub. And Chris had to then clean that lovely mess up too.)

 10. WOODY MASSACRE: Poor Woody. He has lived a hard life at our house.  This is what was left of him after Ryder, Greyson and Jake all got together and played one night.  On a side note, I feel obligated to report that Buzz Lightyear is also missing his jet pack, both wings, his helmet and his right hand.  Gone, but never forgotten.

 11: INK PAD INCIDENT: One night, Ryder casually walked into the den and said "Mica, I have something on me." (He calls me Mica often). I looked up and saw, well, this.  He also had left bluish purple hand prints all over my white cabinets in my bathroom. I have no idea where he found the ink pad. 

 12. MARKER INCIDENT: I found Sawyer in Ryder's bathroom in the dark. This is what was revealed when the lights came on. He had eaten a Magic Marker. The tip was never found (though I am sure some poking around in a poop diaper hours later would have led to an answer, but I wasn't willing to look!)

 13: LIPSTICK INCIDENT: (I am seeing the trend with writing tools).  Ryder made some art on his belly. I was more unhappy that he ruined my expensive Lancome lipstick by bearing down so hard as he wrote.

 14: CURTAINS OFF THE WALL: I knew something was amiss when Ryder came flying out of his room grinning in a half guilty, half funny way and casually proclaimed that nothing was broken in his room.  This is what we found.  If you can't tell in the picture, Ryder is bawling and Shaun is completely pissed off.  Those curtains will never hang correctly again.














15: FISH IN THE WATER: I had to make this picture big or you couldn't see the fish.  Swimming at lake Guntersville last year with the Minton family was a day to remember.  Ryder spent his first day on the water and rode a boat for the first time.  Saying he loved it was an understatement. What was the best moment? When he reached in the water and grabbed a fish (I'll admit; it was gimpy and maybe even bleeding). We laughed so hard that day. Only a true little boy will grab a fish and stare it down, nose to gill. I also can recall Ryder doing some button pushing that I am pretty sure Cory could have lived without.


















16: BROKEN LAP TRAY:  This one was funny because Ryder actually broke this tray the night I wrote this blog but before I published it. Dad had picked the boys up from school, and mom said Ryder walked into her house, went straight to the tray, stood on it and it went SPLAT! She said Mike had not even made it in the house yet from parking the car. When Mike walked in, she said "LOOK! Ryder just broke this." And Ryder, in a get-off-my-back tone, quickly replied, "I SAID (emphasis on said) I am sorry," as he shrugged his shoulders.

17: CATCHING A CHIPMUNK:  Unfortunately, I have no picture of this.  One day after school, Ryder was in the yard.  He saw something move and, being all boy, lunged to grab it. Guess what? He caught it. Want to know what the "it" was? You guessed it. A chipmunk. Seriously. He started yelling "I caught a squirrel! I caught a squirrel!" And when we realized what he had, we started yelling "PUT IT DOWN! PUT IT DOWN!" There was no time to find a camera. That is unfortunate.

18:  BABY IN THE DRYER: If you know Sawyer, you know that recently he has become the Edmund Hillary of climbing in our house. You must beware. This one will climb onto or into anything.  I catch him on top of tables, pushing chairs to get on counters, climbing furniture, sitting on the top of the back of the couch, and recently, I caught him in the bathroom sink bowl with the lights out brushing his teeth. This is the last place I found him. Before you call Child Safety Services, know that I am aware this is dangerous; I do not intend to let him fluff and dry in the dryer, and I am being vigilant to keep the dryer door closed (it normally is but someone left it open this day.) But, I just couldn't help taking a picture before jerking him out and getting on to him.

19: FROG AT THE PARTY: What all American little boy doesn't love a frog?  Ryder loves gross animals and he was ecstatic to catch a frog at my sister in law's birthday party. He happily carried it around all night, only whining when he couldn't make it balance on a balloon.  The funniest party was after he came back into the party area after being outside with the bigger kids sans froggy. I asked him where it went, and he honestly and casually replied, "Oh, down the doggy's froat (throat)." Rest in Peace little frog.

Do I need to go on? I thought so. (But believe me, I could. There may be a part deux).

Moral of the story--I think boys are on the whole more rambunctious than girls.  I am aware that some girls fit into the rowdy and destructive category and that some boys are easy going and don't mess up anything. But in the grand comparison, most of the people I know with girls never have experienced all of the mess and broken stuff that my kids cause. If there is a drink out, they will spill it.  If there is a valuable around, they will break it.  Dad had a vase he really liked and Ryder promptly tried to sit in it and broke it into pieces.  I arrived to find an irritated Cathy shoving Ryder out the door, telling him to go home.  It's what they do, and everyone knows it.  The boys and I all ate dinner the other night at Scarlett and Gary's house (yes, we got invited back again), and Ryder was in the den making a ton of noise while Scarlett, mom, and Gary all stood around the bar.  Scarlett looked up and said "Gary, go check on them; I hear something rattling "  Without so much as skipping a breath, Gary dryly replied "Shit's been rattling since they got here!" And well, that pretty much sums us up.

I look at Ryder like he is Dennis the Menace.  As much as Dennis did to get into a mess, the outcome was almost so comical that Mr. Wilson simply couldn't stay mad at him.  As for Sawyer, he is a bit more ninja like in his mess making, doing it while sucking a pacifier and not making a sound.

I still would love to have a girl one day, but I am so very glad I was able to experience the fun of a boy.  God knew what he was doing when he gave me my perfect boys. It has done me a lot of good. I can roll with the punches better and as a bonus, worms don't seem nearly as gross as they used to before a boy.  All in all, as unlikely as it may have seemed, I love being a momma to a couple of rowdy boys.  Even if people dread to see us coming, I know that when we get there, we will probably have them laughing in no time flat (and we promise to buy anything we break.)

So, do you have a rambunctious boy (or girl for that matter)?

Christmas at the Mechams

This is late in coming, I know, but Christmas 2012 was a whirlwind of fun and family at our house this year.  Shaun was off for 17 days, and I was off for roughly a month.  Because I was scared the boys would get the Flu that was spreading like wildfire in the Bluff, I decided to keep them home as much as possible while I was off. This meant I lost some "Mica alone shopping and wrapping" time but gained tons of "fun kid loving and playing time"! All in all, Christmas was fabulous; it was however, very different from Christmas last year!

In 2011, Sawyer was a baby, 7 months old, and could not even crawl that well. 2012 was an ENTIRELY different story. He was literally like a monkey and was everywhere! I cannot keep that baby contained. He is 23 lbs of exploring, curious, smiling, pacifier-sucking mischievous toddler.  My big problem is keeping him from climbing on my dining room table, which is taller than most, and keeping him from dragging a stool or chair to the stove to climb up and mess with the oven knobs. I cannot take my eyes off of him. He will be on something, in something or behind something before I know it. One night I couldn't find him and looked everywhere before I discovered he had been locked in my kitchen pantry. He was smiling from ear to ear when I did find him, like it had been one fun game of hide and seek. He removed Christmas decorations from my tree on a daily basis and broke quite a few.  Basically, he was as much of a hassle as one would expect a 19 month old baby to be; add to this the rambunctious four year old who is often the subject of my posts and that makes for a lot of chasing during the month of December for this momma!

Ryder had an exceptionally great Christmas.  Because of his over the top gasps and "That's Awesome!" responses, buying presents for him is so much fun.  He can get a book, a toy or a shirt and he will always act like it is the most fabulous item he has ever seen.  Shaun says his audible gasps are inherited from Cathy Marker, and I think it is one of his most adorable behaviors.  He saw Santa at the Polar Express in Calera at the Railroad Museum and, though it was a hassle to tote him and Saw and all of the unnecessary crap we took with us, it was such an amazing experience. If you have never heard of this, Google it. We rode a real train and went to "the North Pole" and met, you guessed it, Santa and Mrs. Claus.  Ryder ate it up.  We were packed into our seats, but Ryder was buying every second of it. He sang and giggled and thought he had been to THE North Pole.  Sawyer was a wiggle worm and hard to hang on to but enjoyed it.  Ryder  also got to go on two field trips at school (days I actually sent them to school in December) to the Let It Snow exhibit at the Cultural Arts Center and to the Polar Express event held at HBES.  Ryder thought, again, he had visited the North Pole and possibly was confused by the very different locations of each of them; however, the 4 year old imagination prevailed and he totally bought it again. 

We had fun family get-togethers this year, and one huge difference this year from last was that this year, we celebrated in our new house in Southside. It was fabulous! We decorated and Shaun decked the house out in wreaths and Gwen Christmasfied (sp?) my mailbox (a bit overkill, but a lovely and sweet gesture).  And we hosted the Kelley/Mecham Christmas party and the Mecham/Minton/Marker Christmas party before Christmas.  We had a blast, the boys ran around like crazy and we all enjoyed the added space of our Buckhaven home! (Though I would be a liar if I didn't admit it felt weird not being in mom and dad's Tawannah house after 30 consecutive Christmases there.)

Christmas Eve and Day came quickly and we celebrated with Christine in the am and with Chris and Nikki that evening, who this year are now proud owners of the Tawannah Mountain Home, as I so affectionately call it! It was great to get to still go into my childhood home for a holiday party and feel so comfortable. I am so glad it stayed in our family.

Christmas Eve was chaotic, pulling out gifts and arranging them ever so tediously.  Now, if you saw my FB pics, you probably know I let myself get slightly (*cough, clear throat*) out of hand with our gifts. I totally admit it. But truthfully, I had no idea until we pulled it all out that I had done that. Clearly I underestimated the size of space to fill up in my new den. I had been buying since summer and really sort of forgot what I had.  That being said, I don't regret it.  I have no greater memories than walking into my den Christmas morning growing up and seeing the mountain of gifts brought by Santa. My parents were overkill Christmas buyers too (I learned from the best), and though the individual toys were fantastic, it was more of that feeling of walking into such an amazing, magical room filled with every child's desires that stands out to me. I wanted my boys to have those same associations with Christmas morning.  I guess I didn't think about how my four year old brain probably thought these Christmases were bigger than they really were, but I still, the memories are priceless.  So, that being said, it was over the top, but we had a fantastic day.  Ryder was thrilled when he entered the den and our family just relaxed and enjoyed each other and what wonderful blessings we had been given.  Randy and Gwen and mom and dad came and hung out and the day was picture perfect.

Of course, I cannot mention Christmas without saying how thankful my family is for all of our blessings.  We love the Christmas traditions we have, but recognize that the true reason for the season is the birth of the Christ child.  Without him, we would be eternally lost with no hope.  We talked to Ryder about the basic concept of Jesus and he was so funny when we asked him why we celebrated; he would respond accordingly, and then would want to know when Jesus' party was and were we going.

Despite the fact that Christmas ended officially on December 25, we didn't wrap it up until the 28th.  This is when we had our big family Christmas with the Markers/Markers/Mechams.  Brad and Allison came home and celebrated with our family on the 28th.  The presents were ridiculous and our family had such an amazing time.  The star of our Christmas party was the newest Marker, who had not been introduced to the family in person until then, Thatcher Bradley Marker.  I cannot even describe how cuddly, sweet and great it felt to hold that pudgy ball of baby.  He was precious, and I cannot wait until I see him again!  The bigger boys had a blast chasing and sword fighting and Sawyer thought he was just as big Ry, Grey and Jake! All the boys were excellent and had such a good time.  One big memorable moment came when Anna opened her special Christmas gift, along with Savannah, who also got the same thing: tickets to see Justin Bieber. I have never seen two more excited teenagers in my life. I am not going to lie: I am totally jealous and wanted to go. There. I said it.

And finally, my sweet hubby came through with the yearly tradition of making me find my Christmas gift via treasure hunt, but the surprise was that this year, I made him go on his own treasure hunt! In the end, he bought me some beautiful personalized jewelry, and I bought him a grill, both which we will get lots of use out of (well, okay, maybe he won't use my necklaces or bracelet, but I sure will enjoy the food he cooks on the grill!)

All in all, our first Christmas on Buckhaven Drive was so fabulous, and I can only hope our upcoming Christmases are just as amazing.

So, how was your Christmas?