And the Rockets Red Glad…

About 2 weeks ago my daughter asked me to teach her The America Song, (aka The Star-Spangled Banner.)
When your kid wants to learn The America Song, you freaking teach them The America Song.
So, for 2 weeks straight, I have been singing it to her. Every morning. Every evening. Every car ride to school. Every car ride from school.
She finally started to get the hang out of and asked me to “please not sing it with her anymore!” because “SHE KNOWS IT NOW SO STOP SINGING IT, MOM.”
And while I am very proud that my 5 year old (sort of. Almost. Kind of) knows The Star-Spangled Banner, I am maybe going to lose my mind if she doesn’t stop singing it EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY THAT SHE IS AWAKE.
She’s supposed to be taking a nap right now, but guess what’s she’s doing?
SERIOUSLY! GUESS!
As annoying as it can be after hearing it for the 800th time in a single day, it really is the most precious thing in my life right now and I am very proud of her.
Here she is, singing it 5 minutes after she woke up this morning. Enjoy.

Bokeh Wednesday- Love edition

.love bokeh wednesday.
“I love you, mama.” she said as we walked hand in hand.
“I love you too, baby girl.”
“And I love daddy. And my brothers. And I love myself.”
I love myself, she said.
There was no conceit behind that statement. No ego involved.
Simply her truth.
She loves others as she loves her self.
As a woman who grew up feeling shame about most every part of who I am, it was comforting to hear my daughter say those words. Those words were music to my ears, my heart, my soul.
Because it is my hope that by loving who she is, caring for herself and living to her full potential, she will always be able to fully love others in that same wonderful way.

Hair- A Love Story

I love to braid hair.
I can’t tell you how many other peoples children whose hair I’ve braided for dance recitals or school photos.
“You need to have a girl of your own!” The moms would say.
When I thought that I was finished having children after my sons were born, I would wonder what it would be like to have a daughter, if only to braid her beautiful, long hair.
As The Rhythm Method would have it, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant 7 years after having what I deemed “My Last Child!”
A girl.
A daughter.
And as nervous as I was about mothering a daughter (due to the complicated relationship I have with my own mother) I was THRILLED that I would be able to braid hair EVERY SINGLE DAY if I wanted to.
Of COURSE, MY daughter didn’t like for me to braid her hair.
“I WANT TO WEAR IT STRAIGHT DOWN!” she has said in dramatic fashion on more than one hair brushing session.
I thought about cutting her hair into a cute little bob because what’s the fun of having a daughter with long hair if I can’t braid it? My husband had to talk me out of chopping it all off on more than one occasion.
Eventually, she grew out of the “NO BRAIDS!” phase. Almost every morning, I put her hair into a braid of some kind. Sometimes a fancy braid. Sometimes a regular ol’ french braid.
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It’s time consuming, for sure. Even if she wears it down, it takes what feels like FOREVER to blow dry. And every night I have to put it in a braid so it doesn’t wrap around her neck or get tangled while she sleeps.
Not to mention the fights we’ve had over her hair. Remember The Great Bangs Drama of 2008? OH DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN, I DO.
I’ve thought about cutting it. She would look adorable with a bob!
But here’s the thing.
I have become attached to her long hair. It’s beautiful, with it’s soft, shiny, golden, highlights. I love the way that it smells after I dry it in the evenings. I love running my fingers through it when she’s reading her kindergarten books to me at night. I love watching her “style it” when she’s playing dress up.
I know the day will come when she’ll tell me she wants short hair. And I will agree and we’ll cut it off. Because “It’s only hair!” right? But I’ve come to realize why it means so much to me. That long, beautiful hair of hers reminds me every day of something that I never thought I’d have in my life.
A daughter.
beautiful light. beautiful girl.

Upper East Side(walk)

There is a Flickr group I belong to that I love more than any other.
It’s called “Bokeh Wednesday.”
Starting today, I’m going to be posting my Wednesday submissions here. Hoping that posting here will inspire me to be more creative.
.upper east side(walk).
If you’re not a part of the group (I believe they closed it to new members) you’re more than welcome to play along here and post links to your bokeh photos in the comments.

Imagine my fists pumped high in the air when you’re reading this.

One of the symptoms that led me to believe I had a thyroid problem was the fact that I had no endurance during workouts.
I’ve never been a Super Athlete, but workouts have always been a part of my life. When I was a teenager, I would workout for hours in my bedroom (with layers of clothing to “sweat out” the fat.) When I got married, I joined a women only gym. I would work out every morning before work. I left that gym when I got pregnant with my first child, I quit that gym, but joined another gym 2 months after my son was born.
And I went every single day.
Exercise has always been a part of my life.
Sure, I went through periods where I would be “too busy” to work out, but those periods never lasted long.
After I had my daughter, I got back into the gym right away. It took me longer to lose the weight than it had in the past, but I pushed myself hard at the gym and it paid off.
But after I had reached the 70 pounds lost mark, something began to happen.
Workouts became harder. I couldn’t push myself as hard. I’d get winded easily.
I started skipping days at the gym because I was physically unable to work out. “I’ll take a week off.” I told myself.
A week came and went. The thought of working out made me want to cry. I was exhausted, unmotivated.
I remember one time in particular. I had forced myself to get up off the couch and go to the gym. I was tired. This wasn’t a normal tired. This particular tired literally made my body ache.
I made it to the gym and stepped on the treadmill. I turned the treadmill on and begin to walk.
In less than 5 minutes, I was exhausted. I had a hard time catching my breath. My muscles ached.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I thought to myself. “Why am I being SO LAZY?”
Then, right there on the treadmill, I started to cry.
That workout was the last one I had for a long time.
Turns out, it wasn’t laziness.
It was hypothyroidism. (Hashimotos.)
Anyone who’s read her for a while knows that I went undiagnosed for over a year. When I was finally diagnosed and put on medication, I knew that I’d have to get back into the gym. I was naive in thinking that I’d feel back to myself after I started taking the medication.
It took months.
Getting back into the gym was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. My body was so out of shape, so unhealthy. Each workout felt like TORTURE. I cried more times than I care to admit. But I kept going, believing that one day it would be better. I would tell myself that one day my knees would stop buckling while I did the elliptical. I told myself that one day I’d be able to run on the treadmill for more than 30 seconds at a time. Even when I didn’t really believe it, I TOLD MYSELF it would happen. That was enough to get me through many workouts.
I started on a level 4 on the elliptical and a 3.0 on the treadmill. For free weights, I used 3 pound free weights.
Last night I ran (not walked) on the treadmill alternating between 5.1-5.5 and ran a mile (without stopping) in 11:52. Then, after I did 8 lb free weights, I did 30 minutes at a level 9 on the elliptical.
My knees didn’t buckle once.
Nor did I shed a single tear.
The speed at which the weight is coming off is frustrating at the moment. Still not under 200 pounds, although, AM CLOSER. 203.5 pounds as of this morning. (OMG!) I still have such a long way to go. However today I choose to focus on the progress I’ve made physically.
I am stronger.
I have more endurance.
And that’s pretty fucking awesome.

The One That Should Be Flagged For Excessive Use of the Word “Tagline.”

“How do you come up with the taglines for your blog?” A curious reader asked.
“Mostly from comments left here.” I replied.
I can’t express how much I love the comments that are left here. Some of my favorite things to say in my real life have been things people have said to me here.
And as much as I hate to say it, my favorite are almost always from Random Assholes (aka: TROLLS.)
(Or, like all the cool kids on the internet say “The Haters Who Are Just Jealous.”)
Don’t get me wrong– I don’t dwell on the mean, nasty, negative comments. As another blogger once told me “Ignore those people. Don’t feed into their negativity.” (Weird. That person now has an entire site dedicated to The Hate, but, I’M NOT JUDGING.)
(I’m just jealous.)
Err, what was I saying again? Oh, yes! While I don’t dwell on the negative comments, I most certainly do find humor in them. And some of them have been, as my husband’s Psycho-Ex once wrote in his yearbook, “permanently inscribed on my heart and soul.”
Like these:
“You deserve everything you have… AND LESS!!!!!!!!!”
“I’d slap that cookie out of your hand!!”
“There goes those damn RENTERS!”
“check your ass to see how many pounds you gain watching that Tv.”
“You are all addicted to those lakers and to that Kolbe”
Those are the few that I remember and that I will occasionally use in Real Life Conversations.
I’m not saying every troll comment is “hilarious.” Some have been cruel. Some have been hateful. Some have made me physically shake from anger. (Because, say what you want about me, I can take it. LEAVE MY KIDS OUT OF IT.)
But, for the most part, those types of comments are so absurd, you can’t help but laugh.
Here is The One that inspired my current tagline:

Losers cry and eat/waste money on bean dip/gameshowtryouts etc. , If you love your kids so much, go do something about it. Winners do the math , suck it up and think about what matters and take care of business. If you polled the people that have replied to your post, probably 60% own thier home, they didnt do anything special (like win the lottery or win on some gameshow), they just put thier home/kids above the me, me. $8a day on starbucks/beandip is $2920 a year x (times) how ever many years you have been wasting money on rent/beandip. Not to mention that it had to cost something out of pocket to travel around to meet people from the internet, and interview Elaine from Sienfield. Egocentricity should be thy middle name , if you only got paid $10.00 an hourfor every hour you have spent BLOGGING or reading BLOGS or met other renters who BLOG, I am willing to wager you would have quite the down payment.

The fact that someone actually took the time to write that, to DO THE BEAN DIP MATH, still blows my mind. And it still makes me laugh.
Which is why it’s my tagline, two years later.
I don’t think that turning those type of comments into taglines equals “feeding into the negativity.” I think it’s “turning a negative into a positive” or “making lemonade out of blog comment lemons” if you will.
Is there a point to this post? Because “trolls give good tagline?”
Yes. There is.
I did the math.
2 years+ same tagline= time for a new one.