Blogging About Blogging on My Blog

In 2001, I started this blog.

By 2004, there were a lot of people reading this blog. At some point, it became what some may call “popular.” (You can punch me in the teeth for using that stupid word.) There were thousands of people stopping by to read what I was writing every single day. My posts would get a ton of comments (Super funny, smart, thoughtful comments.) I was actually proud of this blog and there aren’t many things in my life that I am proud of, believe me.

Then, something happened. Something I’ve never written about. I emailed privately with friends about it, but never addressed it here, publicly. This something that happened shook me up. It freaked me out. It made me question putting all of my business out here for all of the internet to read. I wasn’t mad about what happened, but I was sad about it. I learned that not everyone appreciated what I was writing and that people who didn’t even know me could hate me enough to be cruel to me publicly.

That Thing that happened definitely changed me, changed the way I approached blogging. I didn’t shut my blog down, or quit blogging, but I definitely was more guarded with what I put out there. The fear of people twisting my words into cruelly crafted posts or other type of assholery affected my ability to write my truth and put it out there for all to read.

Posting has been sporadic over the past couple of years and I’ve lost a lot of readers (justifiably so.) But, I’ve never been willing to fully let my blog go because of what it means to me. I’ve written my life in words for the past 11 years. I can go back and read what I wrote to my children on their birthday’s, there are things that my children said when they were little that are documented here forever. When my son graduated from high school, I printed out posts that I had written about him, put them in a book and gave them to him as a gift. He loved it and was grateful I had kept an account of his life as a kid. That alone is worth keeping this blog.

I recently agreed to do a series of sponsored posts in the hopes that it would inspire me to write more regularly. The topics would be something I have experienced through parenthood and it seemed like the perfect thing to get me through the funk and back into the habit of writing (while at the same time earning me much needed dolla bills to help cover some Child Related Expenses. Can you say Travel Ball/ Gymnastics?) It didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped. I found myself unable to get over the mental challenges that have pestered me over the past few years. However

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, over the past few days I’ve felt more inspired to write again and I like the way that it feels. I feel the urges that I used to feel to “write this down and hit publish.” I’m hoping this renewed desire to write will continue and that I will be able to put The Thing behind me once and for all and make this blog enjoyable/readable for an audience again.

Gabby and the Pink Princess Glasses.

At the beginning of this school year, Gabby’s teacher mentioned to us that she had to move Gabby to the front of the classroom because she was having trouble seeing the board. This was news to me as my daughter had never complained about having trouble seeing things. I asked Gabby about it and she told me that yes, she wasn’t able to see the board if she was sitting in the back of the classroom. We immediately made her an appointment to have her eyes examined.

Her appointment was on the day before Halloween. When she sat down in the chair, the doctor asked her to read the chart. The letters were large to start and she was able to correctly identify each one. But as the letter got smaller, it became painfully obvious that my daughter was kind of blind.

The letters on the chart:

x p l t z o

What my daughter would say:

k h t n p

I had no idea her eyesight was that bad! How did I miss that? What kind of a mother am I?

I leaned over to my husband and said “I think I’m going to cry. How did we not know she couldn’t see properly?”

She was diagnosed as near sighted, with 20/100 vision in both eyes. I have never felt like a bigger jerk of a parent in my entire life.

The idea of having to wear glasses during class to see the board was not something Gabby was happy about. “Glasses are ugly and they will make me look weird!” But once she saw that there were such things as pink princess glasses, she warmed up to the idea of having to wear them. “Fine. I’ll get these.” She said as she looked at herself in the mirror with the pink princess glasses.

We picked the glasses up last Friday and you guys? Seeing my daughter sitting on the sofa wearing her pink glasses is THE CUTEST, MOST PRECIOUS THING IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW. I still feel like a jerk for not realizing my daughter couldn’t see correctly, but I feel somewhat better knowing we finally were able to help correct the problem.

This was her reaction when she watched TV with her glasses for the first time. “Everything looks so clear!” She said in amazement. Yes

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, I cried.

The! Cutest! Thing! In! My! Life!

That’s What Makes You Beautiful.

Today I was having a discussion with my daughter about people who say hurtful things. We discussed how to handle situations in which people say things that aren’t so kind.

I was amazed by my daughter’s ability to understand that people who say unkind and hurtful things usually do so because they are not happy with themselves.

After a long conversation

, she came to the following conclusion.

“Sometimes people say mean things to other people so that they can feel better inside. I should’t get sad or mad if someone calls me ugly because I know it’s not true. If someone calls me ugly at school, I’m just going to tell them that I know I’m not ugly and that they aren’t ugly either and they should be proud of who they are.”

We talked a bit more. At the end of our conversation, I told her that it makes me happy to know that she thinks she’s beautiful and that she wouldn’t believe someone who told her she was ugly. And then, I asked her the following question.

“What makes a person beautiful, Gabriella?”

Without hesitation, she said “Passion. Passion and love and kindness.”

I smiled. My daughter is only eight years old and she gets it. I hope that she carries that belief with her always.

Happy (Wake Up at 5:45 am and Run a 5K) Thanksgiving!

Today is a Thanksgiving like no other.

I woke up at 5:45, put my running shoes on and left for what I thought was going to be a 5K run. I imagined we’d stretch, do a warm up, do our run and then laugh and eat our breakfast together. But that’s not quite what happened. Instead, we stretched and then did a mini “Max Out” workout. (And if you knew what that was, you’d be all “ohhhh, damnnn!) and THEN we ran what was supposed to be a 5K, but turned into 3.5 miles because some of us got a little lost on the run and went farther than we were supposed to.

Awesome, right?

I read through all of your comments last night and I can’t thank those of you who took the time to leave me advice enough. Your tips and advice and encouragement were SO helpful while I was out there running. And guess what? I did it! And I didn’t die or lay down on the ground and cry!

I poured myself a giant mimosa when I was finished to celebrate. (We were asked to bring something to eat for a Thanksgiving breakfast after our run. Of course, I brought the alcohol. I know what’s up.)

On the drive home I was feeling pretty pumped about what I had just done. I was feeling so grateful to have found a group of men and women to workout with who inspire me, encourage me and push me to do my best. But then, it hit me.

People who mean the most to me in life won’t be here to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. My son is away completing his MOS training. Both of my beautiful, loving grandparents are dead. Giant chunks of my heart missing from my life today. It hurts, but I will try to focus on all of the blessings in my life. I’ve raised a son who is willing to give up the comforts of this life to serve his country. I had my grandparents in my life for most of my adult life. I have my children here at home, a loving husband who just went to the store to buy all of the ingredients to make a pumpkin dump cake, my parents, my sister and brothers, nieces and nephews, friends and a neighbor who is saving a bottle of wine so we can sit on the porch tonight and drink it all up.

I am blessed.

I am grateful.

And oh my GOD

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, I am sore.

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

Dear Everyone Who Does Not Suck at Running or Hate Running Like I do. I Need Your Help.

I do not like running. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I hate running. These are all things that I’ve said about running just before running or just after running.

“The thing that I hate about running is EVERY thing.”

“The best part about running is when I stop running.”

“Running is the worst.”

“I don’t trust people who (quote fingers) look forward (/quote fingers) to running.”

That’s how I feel every time I run. My lungs burn, my calves hurt, my boobs feel awkward and everything in me is screaming STOP RUNNING RIGHT THIS SECOND. There’s nothing about running that I like. But I know that running is good for me, and so during this session of boot camp, I’ve been trying to find a way to not hate it. In fact, these are my goals for this session of boot camp:

learn to not hate running.
strengthen my abs.
not feel angry when I run.
lose more than 5 pounds.
not suck at running.
lose more than 3 inches.
not want to punch everyone when I run.
not miss a single workout.
not cry when I run uphill.
push to my maximum every single workout.
To learn to like running maybe just a little bit.

Tomorrow

, on Thanksgiving morning, I will be getting up at 6 in the morning to join my fellow boot campers for a 5K run. I’ve only done a 5K once before and it was on the treadmill. NOT THE SAME THING AT ALL. The farthest I’ve run is 2.75 miles. I have no doubts that I can do it, but I have doubts about how good I’ll be at it.

There will be uphill running and uphill running is what KILLS ME. I have both mental and physical issues with uphill running. (I have issues in general, with running, but ESPECIALLY the uphill running.)

Here is where I ask for your help.

Do you have any advice you can give me about running? Do you have any tips that will help me get through the mental aspect of running. Do you have any songs that I can download that will help keep me motivated? Do you have any words of encouragement you can give me that I can say to myself when I want to just stop and lay down on the ground and cry instead of finishing the run?

I look forward to reading what you have to say.

The Most Unromantic Anniversary Post You Will Ever Read, I’m Sure.

November 17th was our 22nd anniversary of our wedding anniversary.

My (very) Big fat (really ugly) Germican Wedding. (which, you're totally allowed to make fun of because, HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A VEIL THAT BIG? OR GLASSES THAT BIG?)

This is what I posted that day on Facebook:

22 years of arguing about driving, emptying your pockets before you put your jeans in the hamper, how to properly load the dishwasher. 22 years of falling asleep in the same bed except for the nights when we’re mad at each other and one of us sleeps on the couch, or IN THEIR CAR. We’ve been madly in love. We’ve been on the verge of breaking up. We’ve been through so much together– Having babies, losing people we love, sending our first born son off to become a U.S. Marine. We are not a perfect couple, we do not have a fairy tale love story, but 22 years later, we still have each other, our health and our 3 close to perfect children. That’s good enough for me.

And then, later that night, I got dressed up and went out to a country bar to celebrate my friend’s 40th birthday party while my husband stayed at home so he could go to bed early.

We are the most unromantic couple and yet, somehow it works for us.

We argue about the dumbest things all day long, but at the end of the day, we kiss each other, say I love you and hold each other’s hands until we fall asleep. Or until one of us rips one and the other either laughs or gets angry and says something like “GET OUT OF BED TO DO THAT, YOU INCONSIDERATE JERK!”

Our marriage is far from perfect, but it works for us.

I’m grateful for the last 22 years and I hope we’re blessed with another 22.

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Fitness Boot Camp, Week Eight

This week will be my last week of a 9 week fitness boot camp session. Friday we will test out. (Test out means we’ll get measured

, weighed, and tested on our push-ups, sit-ups and timed mile.)

Have I lost weight? I have no idea. After week four, I decided to stop weighing myself. I absolutely refuse to let the numbers on a scale mess with my head. I am putting in the work, five days a week. I am giving it all I have. If the scale doesn’t budge, and with my thyroid condition, that’s a huge possibility– I don’t want it to discourage me.

Have I lost inches? I can’t be sure, but I think so. I can feel my body changing. Clothes definitely fit me a little bit differently. People have started making comments like “your waist looks smaller” and “you have more definition in your legs” or “Damn, girl, you’re ass is looking REAL GOOD. Come over here and let me feel it!” (One guess who said that. He gives the BEST compliments.) But I have not done any measuring of any kind, so I can’t be sure.

Do I feel better? Absolutely! I remember the very first class I attended 8 weeks ago after not having worked out for MONTHS. When it was time to do a run, my instructor sent me with the advanced runner group. (The advance runners always go longer distance than the beginners.) I was stunned– surely I belonged with the beginners! I hadn’t run for months! I was out of shape and huge and no possible way could I run 2 miles, uphill, NO POSSIBLE WAY. “Are you sure I belong with that group?” I asked, while trying not to cry. “Oh, I’m sure.” She said. “You’re stronger than you think. You can do it.” As I was running uphill, I felt like I was going to die. My lungs were burning, my legs were aching, I couldn’t catch my breath. I started to walk. “Come on, you’ve got this!” My instructor said. “No! I don’t. I feel like I’m going to die!” I replied. “You’re not going to die. Just push yourself. You’ve got it.” He was right. I did have it. It hurt and it sucked, but I did finished it, and NOT in last place, and best of all? I DIDN’T DIE. Since then, I’ve improved tremendously. I am running 2.5 miles at a time without an issue. I mean, it still sucks because IT’S RUNNING AND RUNNING IS THE WORST. But I’m doing it. I’m not the best, I’m not the fastest, but I am better than I was 2 months ago.

Do I feel stronger? Last week, I pushed a truck, uphill, across a parking lot, THREE TIMES. Hell yes, I feel stronger.

I’ve chosen to make this journey all about improving myself, learning lessons, about not being afraid to fail. I want to be healthy, I want to be strong, I want to be fit. Mostly, I want to strive to be better than I was yesterday.

Getting leaner, weighing less than I do now, will just be a bonus.

A Simple Request

Andrew recently graduated from Military Combat Training at Camp Pendleton. We were going to drive out for his graduation ceremony and would get to spend a couple of hours with him before he was shipped out to MO to continue his training.

“Would you like for me to bring anything for you

, son?” I asked.

I was thinking maybe he’d ask for me to bring food, or his favorite candy.

“Please just bring my guitar so I can play for a little bit before shipping out.” he replied.

I was so moved by his simple request.

I brought his guitar as he requested. After the ceremony was finished and photos with the family had been taken, my son was able to play for a few minutes before shipping out to MO.

I can’t wait until I can hear him play again. Hopefully in time for Christmas.