Tuesday, September 30, 2014

In My Defense...

I posted something on Facebook earlier today that might've ruffled some feathers. Heck, if I read it I would've gotten a little irritated. Generally speaking when people post about how they lost weight or went to the gym or went on a run or whatever, I'm like, dude get over yourself, I don't care. We all know you're amazing and wonderful. So here's the reasoning behind my post, so no one thinks I'm an A-hole.

This is what I posted earlier today:

My doctor just told my not to lose anymore weight. My life is complete. I can die happy now.

In my defense... 

1. My nickname growing up was Bubba. Other names I remember being called were Lard Ass, Fatty, & Brutus, even though I can now look back at pictures and I don't see a fat girl in a single one of them. 
2. I am most definitely NOT that girl who doesn't have to do anything, can still eat cheeseburgers and cake and look like I do. I hate those girls too.
3. When I was 16 I was told by my basketball coach, "I think you're going to have a growth spirt soon. When girls chunk up like you, they tend to grow soon after." This was AFTER my orthodontist had x-rayed my wrists when I was 14 to see that all of my growth plates had already fused together and I was indeed DONE growing.
4. I went through a phase in college where I would work out 3 hours a day only to see the number on the scale increase.
5. I also went through a phase in college called bulimia. 
6. I lost all of my baby weight by 4 months postpartum not because I starved myself or because I breast fed, but because I got up and I ran and I lifted weights and ran some more. And when I hurt, and I was tired from being up all night with the baby the night before, I did it again the next day because my post baby body reminded me of how those words cut deeper than anyone knew.

So... I really hope that when you read my post, that you consider all of this. I am not trying to brag or make anyone feel bad about themselves. I am not trying to insinuate that attaining a number on a scale is going to complete a persons life. I am merely stating that my life has been rough one when it comes to body image. And it's fascinating how a simple sentence from a physician can make not just my day, but make up for a lot of heartache in my life. And I know the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off, I shake it off.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Lulu Bean is FOUR?

I remember when we left Oregon only a year and a half ago and so many of our friends were like, "my goal in life is to get that Lucy to talk to me." 

Most of them wouldn't believe this Lucy we have now. This 4 year old girl we have now, she's like a completely different person. Tony likes to describe her as a walking sitcom. She drops one-liners all the time. She throws out "I am going to give you infinity hugs" like it's going out of style. She's the sweetest thing full of random sayings. When you offer her water, most kids would say gross, but she proclaims, "yes! that's my favorite drink in the whole world!" She is kind and sweet and above all she is grateful. Her only downfall, she has a hard time trying. Sometimes if it's too hard, she will barely try at ALL and just say.... "uhhhhh... it's tooooo hard." Even if you ask her to "please pick up that piece of lint and put it in the trash." It's hilarious. But I suppose it's part of the sitcom charm. 

Just yesterday we were at the splash pad and a friend of mine leans over and says, "you better watch her, she's gonna grow up and be a supermodel." It's funny, I've never even thought of her that way before now. When Tatum was born, everyone always said how pretty she was. I didn't think of Lucy that way. Her crazy Lyle Lovett hair always got in the way. But as she's really starting to grow into herself, she really is a striking little girl. And with such an awesome personality on top of it, that girl is going to move mountains, I just know it. 

Brand new

Tatum turned 6... I know, I'm behind.

So there's this kid that follows rules. Those even exist? I don't even know what to do with her. She keeps me on my toes, that's for sure. I have to say, having a child that is kind of a little bit opposite of who you are, but in a totally good way, it's sort of good for you. When I want to break the rules, and Tatum is around, I can't. Or she will totally call me out on it. And what are you gonna do? Ummm.. sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to do that. I promise I won't do it again? It's almost like she's the adult sometimes and I'm the child. It's been good for me. I've grown up a lot. At least I know that when the kids are older and I send her with Spencer or Lucy that the truth will ALWAYS reveal itself. I just have to find a way to make sure her siblings don't hate her for it.

I swear, everytime I look at her she seems to have grown 2 more inches. She's helpful and sweet and smart. SO smart. And KIND. When she was 4 we had a talk about what it meant to be beautiful because it was about that time that everyone, people she knew and people she didn't, were telling her how beautiful she was. We were driving home from somewhere, we pulled into the garage, I turned around to talk to her and she looked like she was about to cry. I asked what was wrong and she blurted out, "Mama, I don't think I'm beautiful." Well that just about broke my heart. We went into this huge conversation about what it meant to be beautiful. We talked about exterior beauty and being pretty, which she totally obviously already was, but that being beautiful had more to do with what was inside your heart and how you treated people. Since then, she has blossomed into the sweetest kid. Her last day of Kindergarten, her teacher awarded her with the "Kindness" award and she spent her entire recess yesterday trying to help a friend rekindle a friendship with another friend when she had no reason to and would gain nothing from it.

I'm so proud of Tatum. I think she knew that beautiful girl was inside her. She just had to figure out how to bring her out.

3 weeks

Monday, August 18, 2014


Little known fact, when Tony & I got married ten years ago, we were broke. Tony was in grad school and I did what any other person with a degree in Art Studio did, I worked at Starbucks. Over the years I took solace in the fact that we would have anniversaries. I knew that we wouldn't always not have money and that one day we could go on a vacation. Well... as the years went by and as the amount of children went up, I started to worry. I wasn't getting any younger and there was a price that baby making was taking on my body. As I hit 30 and my 4th baby came out at 10 pounds, I felt ruined. I spent my 20's pregnant and my youth was gone.

So my sweet sweet husband decided on a whim to whisk me away to Cancun on a weekend for our 10th anniversary the weekend before our kids school started back up. I love that man, but he's not a detail man. We spent a real quick day and a half on the beach in gorgeous Cancun at an all inclusive resort with 9 bars and a million pools... But let's be real, any longer and I would've missed my babies so much I would've been begging him to take me home. But he didn't really take into consideration that a 6am flight home meant a 2:30am wake up time and a 3am checkout of the hotel time... which dominoed into a horrible, horrible day of events that meant we spent 19 hours traveling to get home to our babies. But I'll spare you the awful details of me crying at the airport and the jack & cokes I consumed and just show you the beautiful pictures of our amazing honeymooniversary and tell you that now that I've finally stamped my passport for the very first time, I've decided that we are going to spend the month of June in Mexico every year...

I'm totally in the ocean.
 Fully stocked all inclusive bar.
 Totally chilaxin.
 Best food ever.
 Awesome entertainment.
 I'm in the ocean.
 Check out the dude on the freakin' futuristic overboard thing.
 Tony had to find shade day 2 cuz he totally burninated...
 ...while I still swam.
 Love this pic of us.
 I'm a dork. I really was just trying to get a picture of my feet in the sand but was somewhat intoxicated and couldn't figure out the angle to do it.
 That's totally Brett Favre.
 I want a pool hammock.

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Absent Minded Much?

So, for those of you that don't know… I suffer from migraines. For those of you that think that those are just really bad headaches… Wrong. Let me walk you through a typical migraine.

For some migraine sufferers it just means pain. But for me it means an aura as well. I start feeling like my body is not my body. I lose my peripheral vision and one side of my body starts to go numb. I become nauseous and I end up vomiting. After about 45 minutes of this, the searing pain will hit on the opposite side of my head. And now I am in full migraine mode. For the next 8 to 10 hours, parts of my body will continually go in and out of numbness. I will lose feeling in one or both sides of my arms, face, legs. My hands and fingers will curl in and I will lose the ability to control them from time to time. My ability to understand what you are saying or the ability to talk comes and goes. And ALL of this happens while feeling like I am being stabbed in the eye by a burning hot fire poker. And then the next day I pretty much feel like I've been hit by a truck. 

The first time this happened was when I was pregnant with Spencer. It didn't happen again until I was pregnant with Tatum. And again when I was pregnant with Lucy. I thought I had found a pattern. And I was somewhat okay with it because I was making people. I could endure the pain because it would all be worth it. But since having Declan I have had about 10 more of these horrible episodes. 

I recently relented and saw a neurologist and I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow. I am on a new preventative migraine medication. But my body has to learn to become accustomed to it. 

These are the side effects:

Tiredness, drowsiness, dizziness, loss of coordination, tingling of the hands and feet, loss of appetite, bad taste in your mouth, diarrhea, weight loss, mental problems, confusion, slowed thinking, trouble concentrating, trouble paying attention, nervousness, memory problems, speech and language problems.

They say it takes about eight weeks for the medication to level off, for your body to become accustomed to what's happening. I am on week two. I find myself forgetting words. Forgetting what I'm doing. Losing focus. I am not used to taking the kids to ONE store and being so completely mentally and physically drained that I cannot go anywhere else, let alone remember why I'm there or find my way home. I am not used to asking for help. I am a multitasker and I find myself only capable of doing one thing at a time, if that. 

So you may be wondering to yourself, why is she telling me all this? I'm asking for help. Actually… Just for a little bit of leniency. If I seem out of focus or if you ask me for something and I forget, or I don't seem up to the task, please cut me some slack. I promise I'm trying, but it may be more than this medicated self can handle at the moment. 

Friday, June 27, 2014


Today I am feeling broken and hurt and defeated.

The phone rang at 7:30 am. Who on earth calls that early in the morning? You know it can't possibly be a good phone call. It was my Aunt Patti calling on behalf of my Dad's other sister, Terri, for my dad. There was a freak accident at my uncle's work and he was crushed between the trailer that carried the logs he was to transport and the truck he drove. 

My dad goes to tell my mom and I sneak back into the bedroom I'm sharing with my boys during our vacation in Oregon. I sit in the quiet. What just happened? I can't even start to register what's happened until my kids start waking up. I don't know what to do. My brain is mush. Just go through the motions. Breakfast. Waffles. Waffles are easy. I start making breakfast and when the first waffles burn and stick to the waffle iron, I want to give up, but the kids have to eat. We all make it through the burnt waffles without saying much when I hear a loud thud and a scream from my oldest but still quite young 6 year old daughter.

I run to her side and scoop her up into my lap when moments later her foot starts gushing blood. I cry out for a paper towel and the 8 year old returns with an entire roll and a terrified look on his face. After everyone calms down, my mother tries to convince me that she can just superglue the wound together and it'll be fine. My gut says go to the doctor. Fortunately for us, our old pediatrician fits us in.

We spend the rest of the morning at the doctors while my brave little Tatum endures five stitches to her pinky toe. The very first stitches of any of my babies... The first of what I'm sure will be plenty more to come.

And now... Now is when I finally start to breath. The reality of what happened this morning at 7:30am is just starting to set in and I'm drowning. It's getting harder to breath and all of the memories have started to flood in.

When he let me, and only me, drive his brand new Convertible when I was 17.
When he went completely out of his way to get me a job as a landscaper at his company.
When he still loved me when I quit because I hated it.
Super Bowl Sunday at his house.
When he let me bring my friends to swim at his pool whenever I wanted.
When I went off to college and he drove all the way up to see me and take me out to dinner.
When he gave me the email addresses of everyone he knew in LA so I would have connections when I decided I wanted to be a movie star.

And the pain that's eating me alive because I hadn't seen him in 9 years.
He's never met my children.
He never will.