Monthly Archive

And let’s all thank the baby Jesus for that.

No more posts that begin with Day ____. No more posts that are just there because I have to post.

On one hand, I’ve liked NaBloPoMo. I liked posting every day. I just… I’m not all that great at it. After a while, I have not a whole lot to say. Here.

I’m not sure how to end. Do I want to talk about all I got out of NaBloPoMo? New blogs to read. Increased discipline (hhhhhhhaaaaaaa). The chance to write some really dumb posts. But I liked it. Liked connecting to the blogging world every day.

Or do I update you on my mood? Still fairly blah. Up and down somewhat, I guess, but the undertone is: ick.

Do I talk about how much I want some Lime Tostitos?? ALOT, that’s how much.

Or how about I talk about weight? I’m completely non-motivated, but hating it. I’m planning to take the weekend ‘off’ and then start exercising again on Monday. And also I’m going to get the eating at least somewhat under control. I am scared to death of gaining any of the weight back. That will be the straw that sends me spiraling. So I don’t want to do it.

Oh, I remember the other thing I was going to post about. Yes. How some days, I feel like God is up in the sky laughing. at me. Like how the weekend I get my period and want to cry, both waitresses we get are very pregnant. Or how in the past three weeks some ridiculous amount of women in my life have announced they’re pregnant (if you did, and you’re reading this, I’m very excited and happy for you! I promise! But also feeling sorry for myself and my friends who are struggling.) There are times I think God just thinks it’s all one big funny joke. Hysterical. No, really.

59 is the number my insulin was at about six months ago.

17 is what your insulin should be under.

17 is what my insulin was three months ago.

9 is what my insulin was today.

8 is the number of pounds I have lost.

3 is the number of months I have lost those 8 pounds in.

100 is the percent I feel better today.

Talk about a cruel joke. I’ve been trying to get out of the 180s forever. Daydreaming about seeing even 179.9. Anything that doesn’t start with a 1-8.

 I haven’t exercised in almost a week. I’ve been eating crap. Yesterday? I subsisted primarily on donut holes, chocolate-caramel popcorn, and pizza.

This morning, I decide to weigh myself. I want to be “prepared” for what the tech at the sugar doc will tell me when he weighs me.

What a cruel joke. I weigh 179. How to motivate myself to do better? HOW??

Update on sugar doc tonight. I strongly imagine that appointment will give me all the motivation I need and then some.

At some point over the last weekend I read something, somewhere about the ‘holiday blahs’. And I distinctly remember thinking, “I’m glad I don’t have them.”

Ha. That’s just very funny. Hysterical, really.

I didn’t have them. I was feeling good. But the last few days, man. The last few days I have been CRABBY. I have wanted to throw things for no good reason. Cry at the drop of a hat. (Seriously, I cried at a commercial the other day. Khalil looked at me like I had 20 heads, all a different species.) I’m not sure what’s going on.

In the meantime though, things are not looking pretty. I’m eating whatever I want, whenever I want. I’m not exercising. I’m having a hard time mustering up the energy to care. Even if I do care, I definitely do not have the energy to do anything about it because GOD I just don’t want to. I like sleep, don’t want to exercise. Am sick of thinking about every bite of food I put in my mouth.

But this is a vicious cycle and I know it. Because the more out of control I am, the more depressed I am. And the more depressed I am, the harder time I have regaining control. And the more out of control I am… etc. It’s sad and pathetic and a little bit excuse-y, I know. But it is what it is.

I think it’s alot of things. I think it’s that people everywhere are pregnant, it would seem, and I am not. And if I am brutally honest with myself, I really thought that by now I certainly would be. But I am not. And it’s that I even have to struggle with my weight. It’s the very self-pitying feeling of “why do I have to deal with this? Why was I born with this issue?” Yeah. Very attractive, I know. I think it’s also being very scared for both my father and my grandmother. It’s being overwhelmed at work and very frustrated by a couple of things.

It’s all of those things. I need to do something to make it better, but… that takes some level of energy that I just don’t have right now.

I will tell you, though. I saw my niece and nephew tonight and almost cried when they left. I have not seen them often enough lately, feel like a bad aunt, and it was just so damn good to see them. Never mind seeing their mother and remembering just how fun it is to be around her- sometimes it’s just like we think and laugh on the exact same level and it’s so easy to be with her. And fun. And I love it. I miss them all very, very much. We joked about moving closer- she should move closer, no I should move closer… It was very jokey, but I really do wish someone would move closer. Me or her, I don’t care. Never mind that my mom is here from Kentucky, and while I tease her somewhat mercilessly about her being out of the state, that’s a big front for the anger I feel at her for being out of state. It’s certainly selfish and unreasonable, but it’s angry nonetheless. I want her to be home. She’s not. There’s nothing I can do.

There you have it. A big case of holiday blahs. Call me the Grinch. I’ll snap out of it soon enough.

To look forward to tomorrow: I see the Sugar Doc. Will have update.

I’m thankful for TiVo. Not only does it allow me to pause, rewind, and fast forward through commercials, but it saves me. When I miss a show, and it plays later, TiVo automatically plans to record it. This saves me the trouble of having to search for when shows are on. Did I mention pause? And rewind? And no commercials? And season passes?

I’m also thankful for Edy’s Slow Churned Ice cream. When I’m doing well with eating, I eat 1/2 cup of ice cream. Every night. Every. Night. When I’m doing well (obviously I’m not now) that 1/2 cup of slow churned ice cream saves me.

I’d like to thank also fuzzy blankets and fuzzy slippers. These get me through the winter. We keep our heat lowish, in order to try and save on bills, and I spend lots of the winter wrapped in fuzzy blankets and slippers.

I’m thankful for US Weekly. Without it I wouldn’t be able to keep up on celebrity gossip. Which is one of my favorite pasttimes. How else would I know what happened at Tom and Katie’s wedding?

I cannot leave out the Internet! Not even just for blog reading, chat boards where I’ve made friends, and more celebrity gossip, but for internet shopping! I got half my Christmas shopping done yesterday. From the comfort of my pajamas. It was a wonderful thing.

Also? I just got a Senseo. Khalil’s uncle had it and didn’t like it, so he gave it to us. And it’s blue to boot! It makes delicious cappucino and decent coffee. And I love it.

I’m thankful November is almost over. This is a notoriously bad time of year for us anyways, but this year was particurly hard. Not to mention the whole daily posting thing, which I am glad is almost over. Hopefully in the future non-daily posting will save you from posts like this.

This weekend I have been relaxing. Chillin’. I sat on my couch so much that my neck started to hurt. I didn’t leave the apartment a whole lot. I didn’t exercise. I ate whatever I wanted. I went to bed early and got up late. I watched a zillion movies and alot of TV. I started a puzzle. Cuddled with my husband and my kitten.

It was a great weekend. Don’t get me wrong.

But tomorrow? Reality strikes. I’m dreading it.

Tomorrow I have to get up and exercise. I have to measure out my breakfast and lunch. I have to eat what I have measured and not more. I have to eat what I bring for lunch. I need to think about it.

I think that’s been the best part of the weekend. I didn’t have to think about a whole lot. I just ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I honestly didn’t go crazy with the food, by some miracle. But I didn’t eat well, either. Not by the ‘xchange standards, anyways. I ate alot of carbs and alot of sugar.

I’ll miss being home. I’ll miss Rory and seeing my husband all day. I’ll miss the relaxing part of the weekend. I needed it and I’m not ready to go back. I don’t have a choice, but I’m going back to my real life under protest. Wish me luck.

In the last two days, almost nothing has happened. I’ve spent alot of time relaxing, which has been woooonderful. But does not produce alot of blog material.

So. Here are some pictures.

Khalil fell asleep.

When he moved to the bedroom, so did Rory.

See all those papers there in the back? I certainly didn’t pull them out.

Thanksgiving Table

Where Khalil spent most of the day.

Rory begging for leftover turkey. She really IS a puppy. Also, see the seventies counter actually extends onto the wall. It doesn’t get more retro than that, folks.

But I still owe a Thanksgiving post.

Things I am thankful for, and they are many.

I have to start with my husband. And the love, support, and friendship he gives me, every day. And for his sense of humor and not letting me take myself too seriously.  

And I’m thankful that he can cook. Because man, if he couldn’t cook, we’d be in a load of trouble in life.

I’m thankful for my cat. She’s just my baby. She wakes me up every morning at five am to cuddle with me. And if I’m still in bed, she comes again at 6:45. That time she’s hoping that I’ll get up and feed her, but still, I get a cuddle in.

I’m so thankful for our families. Khalil and I have families that couldn’t be more different in some ways. But they all love us. And are there to support us.

Khalil and I have a roof over our heads. We have a warm bed to come home to and a guest bed to offer to people. We have food in our pantry, and a decorated home. We have family, and friends, and each other. We have each other.

We are so blessed.

I had a long, thoughtful, love Thursday-ish post planned. I really did.

But I am tired.

And I have a headache.

And my stomach hurts.

There is so much to be thankful. I am so thankful. So much that I don’t want to kill the thankful post because I am so tired. So bear with me. Will be back tomorrow.

Ha. I checked my blog stats: six views. Now, I’m not a huge blog, which is ok by me. But since I’ve started NaBloPoMo, I’ve had more hits… last time I had stats that low was, I kid you not, October 29. Two days before NaBloPoMo.

 I know where you all are. You are in your kitchens, cooking and baking. You’re in your bathrooms, scrubbing. You’re at the table making placecards. You’re at the store getting last minute ’stuff’. You’re packing, getting on a plane, or getting in a car.

I hear you. I’m doing the scrubbing, baking, placecard making thing. I’m so excited. SO excited.

But also? I’m SO TIRED. I still have a ton of baking to do, a kitchen to finish cleaning, an apartment to vacuum (it is days like this I LOVE not having a house- having less space means having less to CLEAN!).

Today was the day from hell. It puts tomorrow in perspective, I will tell you that. My grandma is having some medical problems, and I took the day to take her to the MD, get prescriptions filled, etc. I love my grandma, but she deserves a post all to herself. There have been about a gazillion phone calls to relatives, but mostly my sister and mom. There have been tears and recovery from tears. There have been good and horrible moments.

But she’s still here. I have so, so, so much to be thankful for. I may be exhausted, I may be not feeling well. I may be daydreaming of Friday when I plan to see… um, no one. Except Khalil and Rory. But in the meantime, I’m looking forward to tomorrow and I am counting my blessings. And I have many.

There are alot of things that annoy me on a day to day basis. People who drive in the left lane with their left blinker on, for example. People who drive the speed limit in the fast lane. The law about cell phone use. That I gain weight if I so much as look at a fattening food. You know, the normal stuff.

Then there’s the stuff that makes me angry or frustrated. You know- when someone is mean. Or rude. When someone is offensive. People who are stupid. I get alot of all of these at work- not typically from co-workers, but from… other people I have to interact with on a regular basis.

But there is one thing that puts. me. over. the. edge.

It is when someone messes with “my kids”. Nothing makes me flare up more, makes me swear more, or initially act more unprofessionally than when someone has done something to one of my children. The children that I am responsible for day in and day out. The children who have been hurt, abused, neglected, abandoned, and trampled their entire lives.

We had a situation at work this last week or so. It’s messy and complicated, and I won’t get into details. I’m sick of them and you don’t want to hear them. But the bottom line was that a coworker of mine inadvertantly, by doing something unwise, put the placement of three of my children at risk.

I saw red. I don’t mean pansy red, like that kind of pinkish-red you see when you’re annoyed. I don’t mean that kind of bright red you see when you’re angry. I saw deep wine red- the kind you see when you’re so mad, so infuriated that nothing really makes sense anymore. And you just keep talking to people and none of them are acting quickly enough for you. I was so, so, so mad.

Hopefully the situation will resolve. Hopefully the children will be able to stay where they are. Hopefully I will calm the hell down (which I have done alot of already almost a week later). Hopefully other people will learn that really? It’s best if you don’t mess with my kids.

I’m a protective “momma” bear. Sometimes, I’m the only one they’ve really got.

For the record, I was thisclose to not making it. To being out of NaBloPoMo for-evaaaaaaaaah. I went to bed, and then two minutes later popped up, realizing, “I didn’t post”. Which leads to a whole other question of why exactly am I doing this, why is this important??? It’s all about the prizes, man. All about the prizes.

What’s for Thanksgiving? This year we’re having:

Tomato appetizers, courtesy of my mother in law

Crackers and cheese

Pepperoni

****

Ham (A couple of years ago, we had a pseudo Thanksgiving dinner at Christmastime. Shortly after Khalil started throwing up- he had gotten the flu. He still can’t eat a turkey dinner.)

Turkey

Mashed potatoes

Green bean casserole (I didn’t grow up with this, but I LOVE it. I am a freak, I know.)

Carrots (ew. cooked carrots.)

Asparagus (Khalil kind of sautees them in olive oil and garlic and they’re SO YUMMY)

Appesauce nut bread- this is one of my mother’s traditions.  YUM

Grape Salad- my all time Turkey day food. It’s not Thanksgiving if you don’t have grape salad. I’ve been making it since I lived in California.

Stuffing (again, ew)

****

Apple Pie (courtesy of my stepmother, who will I think be buying it from a local orchard)

Pumpkin Pie (great aunt)

Blueberry pie (great aunt, sugar free)

Tollhouse Pie (me. every year, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, I make approximately a zillion toll house pies. I love the first slice then I’m sick of it.)

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip cookies (which I WILL be clearing my house of at the end of the night)

What are you having for thanksgiving dinner? If you’re going to someone else’s house, what are you bringing? What are your “It’s not Thanksgiving if I’m not eating_____ foods?

I don’t want to be fat.

1. I hate feeling out of control.

2. I hate when my thighs chafe.

3. I hate feeling tired all the time.

4. I want to be healthy.

5. I like when I’m not ashamed of what I’m eating when I’m eating in front of people.

6. Not hating what I see in the mirror.

7. Not hating the way my body feels.

8. Watching my body change in a good way feels so good.

9. Carrying around 40 extra pounds? Is tiring.

10. I hate hating exercise.

11. It sucks when the thought of food makes me want to cry.

12. Dreading the scale sucks.

13. Fat = high insulin

14. high insulin = higher risk of diabetes, heart disease, more fat, and more difficulty getting pregnant.

15. I want to never wear the clothes in the tub of fat clothes again. Unless I’m holding a newborn. That is mine.

16. Buying clothes in stores that only go up to 14/16 is fun.

17. Being able to find my size is also fun.

18. That feeling of being out of breath most of the time? Bites.

19. I want to love myself and take care of myself. That’s hard to do when I’m fat.

Just went to a big buffet. Lobster, shrimp, crab legs…

 am too full to write.

too tired to write.

see you tomorrow.

I am the bearer of all kinds of terrific news around here.

My mother had something like 6 or 7 pregnancies. (Granted, she had 4 miscarriages.) My sister had three pregnancies (but I am not implying all went well with all of those). Suffice it to say, neither of them had any difficulty getting pregnant, though they both suffered after that in other ways. I have been told all of my ever-loving life how easy it is going to be for me to get pregnant. My mom told me that the first time I had sex I’d probably be pregnant. She bet my sister I’d be pregnant in my first year of marriage. I was conceived while my mother was on birth control, for crying out loud.

I have many fears about pregnancy. My mother’s and my sister’s experiences have taught me that it is not all chocolate and roses. The results can be devastating at worst and while so joyful at best… there is that worst. When Khalil and I were talking about trying to get pregnant, we talked about the histories. We also talked about all I had seen while I worked for nine months in a NICU, doing social work. I was very scared.

My first fear, of course, was that I would have difficulty getting pregnant to begin with. I hoped against hope that it would happen quickly. I have several friends who got pregnant as “oops!” and another who had no problem getting pregnant. It was easy for them, and will be for me, right? Riiiiiiiiiiight.

I’m not naive enough to think that my measly five* six months of trying and six seven cycles are drops in the bucket in the infertility world. I know. Many women and couples go through alot more than that. I’m well aware.

But I’m so scared. I’m so scared that it’s going to be longer. So scared it will take too long or not ever happen. I’m nervous I’m going to let my husband down. I’m going to let me down. Our families. I very much want a child. I know I’ll be a good mother and GOD what an amazing father Khalil will be.

What if this keeps going? What if I get my period every month of my life for the next ever?

*I actually first wrote this post last month. I felt weird posting it… like I don’t have the right to complain, almost? Not that one more month gives me a “right” or takes one away- but this is how I feel, and why else do I write?? But then to talk about how I feel? Today we move on to cycle seven. yeehaw.

I’m not in a place today to be able to do a Love Thursday post. I’m just… not. I’m sorry.

Today, I ran.

The post should end there. That news is so big that the post should just end there. I got up too late to do a full Firm video, and so I decided to go out for a walk. I wasn’t in a good mood for other reasons, and so a walk was a good idea.

I walked down my very long driveway to the road. Then I decided to run. You should know, I hate running. Hate it. Within two seconds I’m usually cramping and fire is shooting up my calves and thighs. So I stop and walk. But today was somehow different. Today, I started running and couldn’t stop. It was kind of like Forrest Gump but ALOT less distance. I only ran down my street and down another street, but they were pretty long streets. It took me about 15-20 minutes to run. I can honestly say that I have never in my entire life run for 15 minutes straight.

By the end I had the ‘ole cramping-gut-fire-in-legs feeling, but I got to my goal. Which I only set towards the end.

I don’t know what was different. I really don’t. I NEVER RUN. Today, I ran. This huge long amount. The whole time I was running I had visions of becoming a marathon runner (I never get carried away with stuff). But I didn’t mind it. It felt good. I don’t know- it felt like I pounded all my angst and frustration out one step at a time.

Who knows if it will ever happen again. We’ll see. But for today, I ran.

And we didn’t go to the support group. So there that is.

Tomorrow I may or may not be going to a support group.* I almost did last month and spent four days in a foul mood preceeding the event because I was so worked up about it. It didn’t happen last month because my dad had two doctor’s appointments and was too tired to go.

It’s for my dad. He’s in liver failure, due to years as an alcoholic and I don’t think the Hepatitis helps either. He’s almost on the list for a liver transplant.

I’m not looking forward to going. Going means, as writing this also means, that I may have to face the reality of the fact that my dad is sick.

My mom was diagnosed with colon cancer a few years ago. It was a gut-punch and horrible and scary. Very, very scary. But once we learned that she would be ok, it was much less scary.

My dad said to me the other day, when I asked him how he was feeling about all of this (I am ever the social worker) that he was just focusing on the fact that he is going to get the transplant and bounce back, better than ever. Up until I asked him that, I was not ok with all of this. Because I was scared to death that my father might not make it. But when he said that, “I’m fine. I’m just looking forward to getting the transplant and being healthy again” with such confidence, I decided I could do that too.

Ignore all the other possibilities. Focus on him getting a transplant and getting better. Other options just do not exist.

*We may or may not be going based not on my mental ability to handle this, oh no, but on my work schedule. If I get out in time we’ll go. If not, there’s another one next month.

They say parenting is the hardest job. I contend that foster parenting is the hardest job. All of the struggles of parenting, fewer of the perks, more difficult children and lots of people constantly evaluating you. Essentially you are the janitor of children: you get to clean up other people’s messes.

I asked what to write about, and MerseyDotes of Elevated Umbrella (I’m on her fantasy team for NaBloPoMo) suggested I talk about foster parents. Whch is a great idea. Foster parents make my job easy and hard. They are amazing and frustrating. They do the job, we tell them how to do it and they put up with us.

If I had to write an ad in a paper for foster parents, it might go something like this: “Seeking certifiably crazy adult or adults to bring chaos, destruction and heartache into their life. Pay is horrible and not enough for abuse adult will endure. You will have no less than two people telling you how to do your job. Training is thorough but you will not integrate it until you are living it, if then. Benefits are: children in your home, for all the good and bad they bring. Also, self-gratification that you are doing “something good”. Must have own psychiatrist to apply. Good luck.”

No, I kid, I kid. Mostly.

I have to preface this by saying again: Foster parenting is one of the hardest jobs you can ask someone to do. Children are hard, our children are harder. They have undergone some sort of loss, abuse, neglect, betrayal, and/ or trauma. That’s what got them into our system. Once they’re in our system, we’ve often abused and traumatized them more, if that’s possible. Foster parents get to do the 24/7, day in and day out of the mess that abuse and neglect makes of these kids.

And it makes a mess. Abuse, neglect, and trauma are horrible on children. Children are absolutely resilient, however they bear the scars of the parenting they did or did not receive. Our children act out all over the place. They lie, swear, and steal. And those are the easy kids. They hit, kick, and punch. They pee the bed if you’re lucky: if you’re not lucky they’re peeing in your flowers or on your carpet. They poop their pants if you’re lucky: if you’re not they smear it on your walls. They have nightmares and daymares. They react oddly to the strangest triggers. They’re horribly inconsistent and difficult to figure out. (A side note: I work in therapeutic foster care. The kids we have require an extra level of training and support because the children are more difficult and require more work. There is a level down and those children are not quite as needy and difficult. Ideally.)

So. While I have the utmost respect for the foster parents I work with, they can be SO FRUSTRATING. I’ve written before about our kids not being puppies or returnable clothes. That said, here is what an ideal foster parent has/ understands/ are:

Our best foster parents have:

~Some experience with children. They don’t need to have parented before, but need to have some kind of experience with children. Have nieces and nephews, have taught, mentored, something. People who have no experience with children are going to struggle with fostering.

~A working knowledge of age-appropriate expectations. One of my most frustrating experiences with foster parents is when they have to be told, or explained, that the three year old they are fostering is not “oppositional/ defiant” in terms of having a disorder, but is just acting three. Or that their fourteen year old boy is not looking at internet porn because he has been sexually abused or is going to be a sexual offender, but that he is doing something considered age appropriate for him.

~A working knowledge of how abuse and neglect affects children. These children are not typical children. It makes me cringe when new foster parents expect our children to “just be normal kids”. In some senses, sure. In many, not so much. If you expect them to be “normal” you will be blindsided quickly.

~A good support system. This is crucial.

Our foster parents need to understand:

~Love is NOT enough. I cannot stress that enough. I. Cannot. Stress. That. Enough. Love goes a very long way, but these are children whose parents- the people who are fundamentally supposed to care for and protect you- have failed in the most basic ways. You loving them is not going to fix that.

~Our children are not going to be grateful. WE will be grateful, more than words can ever say. Our kids, your kids? Not so much. They are angry, sad little people and don’t have the room to be grateful to you. More often they will take out their anger and frustration at the world on you.

~That if you have ANY unresolved issue, foster children will bring it out. Then they will recognize it. Then they will use it to their advantage. So resolve as many issues as you can before foster parenting.

Our best foster parents are:

~Committed.

~Patient.

~Long-suffering.

~Calm

~Realistic

I know. It sounds harsh. But to do the hardest job in the world, you have to be ready. Some of my foster parents are amazing and ready. Rarely are our new ones, but they learn with time. We have some that just don’t get it. Again, these are not our agency requirements or what we actually talk about. Some of this we do talk about as an agency. But these are MY perceptions on what I think a foster parent needs to succeed.

*Otherwise known as, I have nothing big enough for a whole post, but a whole lot of little boring stuff should be fun, no??

1. I lost another pair of pants to the fat clothes bin today. I wore them but had saggy butt in them. Worn no more. I’m going to have to buy new pants very soon, especially given that I can’t find my smaller sizes. I know I own them. I can’t find them.

2. 180.0 I’d really like it to be under 180. I’ve been trying for months to have the scale say anything beginning with a 1 and 7 and maybe even 9. But noooooooo under the 180s eludes me. I’m thisclose.

3. I’m scared that I will get irritated with losing weight and gain it all back. I DO NOT want to do that. But I also DO NOT want to do what I need to do in order to lose more.

4. Does anyone know what happened to Six Degrees of Separation? Did it get cancelled? If it did I will be VERY upset.

5. Jules asked why I don’t give away my fat clothes. It’s because one day in life I’m hoping to get pregnant. And I don’t want to get rid of these clothes because if I do in fact one day get pregnant I think I may need them.

6. I’m feeling bad about posting the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. They were a stumbling block to me and I hope they aren’t for anyone else.

7. Anyone else doing Weffriddles? Quite possibly more addictive than the cookies, but in less fattening forms. I am stuck on level 32. I think I can’t figure this one out because I cheated on 19, and I think you solve it the same way. The ONLY clue I cheated on came back to bite me in the butt.

8. I really like the show Heroes on NBC (which we are watching as I eek out this excuse for a blog entry) but it can be seriously disturbing. Seriously.

9. Wow. Walking all over NY? I know I referenced it yesterday but my hips still  hurt. I think maybe I am an old lady inside?

10. I’m a little frustrated. For the longest time I’ve struggled with always being tired. When I started exercising and losing weight, that got alot better. Lately, though? It’s getting worse. I’m wondering if it actually wasn’t the increase in length of day and more sun and now the days are much shorter? I don’t know. It’s frustrating though.

11. WOW. Soup has alot of sodium. Who knew? I love soup, and was hoping to eat some as a healthy lunch option. The problm is, I have Miniere’s Disease. Mine isn’t as bad as it was in the story, but I control it by minimizing my sodium intake. When I eat too much sodium, I get dizzy spells. SO FUN, by the way. So the soup will have to be kept to a minimum.

12. If you’re wondering, the “low sodium” soup had significantly more sodium than did the Healthy Choice soup. Rock on.

13. I do. no. know. what to write about tomorrow. Any ideas? Any? (I know. Asking questions goes so well over here. Thought I’d give it a shot, but if you don’t have any ideas I’m going to head over to Mom on a Wire- she got alot of good ideas when she asked this question.)

*phew. Thirteen. I was worried I’d have to change the title.

Pictures!

We got to watch them put up the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

Dinner at Al Bustan

Some New York buildings

This was heartbreaking. At first I thought I was taking a picture of woman who had already done early morning shopping. I had to walk by her to realize that she was homeless.

Random New York

Veterans Day Parade.

Can you tell how excited George is??

I love Will.

Khalil with some important folks

Jordan!

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We had such a wonderful time.

We’re back from New York. It was wonderful.

Last night we went for Lebanese. We had lots of lamb: We had the lamb sausages for an appetizer, then both had some variation of lamb for dinner. It was very good.

After dinner we headed to the NYC Comedy Festival to see Denis Leary. He was fucking hysterical. (You have to use the word fucking when you’re talking about Denis Leary. No, really. You do.) I actually think though that one of the other comedians was funnier, buuuuut I don’t have the playbill and can’t find his friends online. It was NOT the guy that talked about disgusting sex acts and thought it was hysterical.

This morning I went out and got us breakfast and took some pictures. We went and watched the Veterans Day Parade. I’m glad we went to that. It was less about entertainment and more about remembering and honoring our veterans and those who currently serve our country. It was touching and I actually found a lump in my throat at some point. Going to a parade just doesn’t seem to do the sacrifices justice.

We moved on from there to go see some wax! I had never been to Madame Tussaud’s before. It was fun. We were hoping I think for more than it was but WOW were the figures just stunningly amazing. They were very true to “life”.

We did some shopping, finally at lunch - at 3:30- and headed home.

Every muscle in my body hurts. My shins, my thighs, my hips, my abs… hurt.

Pictures to come tomorrow.

We’re off to New York City for the night!! I can’t wait. We’re going to see Denis Leary and eat Lebanese! And shop! And stay in a hotel!

 I’m very excited. I will post pictures tomorrow!!

Love is… comfortable silence

There are two songs that fit one aspect of Khalil and I. It’s the ability to not need to fill up space with words if we don’t want to. To hear each other without speaking.

The first:

It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark
Try as I may, I could never explain
What I hear when you don’t say a thing

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

All day long I can hear people talking out loud
But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd
Old Mr. Webster could never define
What’s being said between your heart and mine

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes saying you’ll never leave me
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
You say it best when you say nothing at all

~Allison Krauss, When You Say Nothing At All

The second, in the same vein

When the calls and conversations
Accidents and accusations
Messages and misperceptions
Paralyze my mind

Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving
Burning fumes of gasoline
And everyone is running
And I come to find a refuge in the

Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay

Monkeys on the barricades
Are warning us to back away
They form commissions trying to find
The next one they can crucify

And anger plays on every station
Answers only make more questions
I need something to believe in
Breathe in sanctuary in the

Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay

Children lose their youth too soon
Watching war made us immune
And I’ve got all the world to lose
But I just want to hold on to the

Easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me

The easy silence that you make for me
It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay for me
The way you keep the world at bay

~Dixie Chicks, Easy Silence

Love Thursday

Wow. I’m wondering if other NaBloPoMo participants spend time thinking, “WTF am I going to write about?” I kind of like it though, I like having to write every day and stretching a little.

On to regularly scheduled programming.

Let’s talk TV. I’ve always loved TV. It’s the couch potato in me. One of my biggest guilty pleasures is trash TV. I’ll be honest. I don’t need quality programming to be happy. Do I like quality programming? Absolutely. I don’t need it though. I love all the trash TV that certain major ‘music’ networks have put out that have nothing to do with music and everything to do with pop culture.

I was thinking about my all time favorite TV shows. To limit myself, I’m only doing shows that are not airing new episodes. They can still be on the air in reruns, but can’t be producing new shows. That’s a different post for a different day.

5. Punky Brewster. Punky was an orphan who found a vacant apartment and then the owner or manager of the building took her in. I loved Punky best because she had her own style of dressing. Seriously! But I just adored this show when I was a kid. I watched it religiously. I haven’t seen it in forever and wonder what I’d think of it- first as a grown-up and second as a social worker.

4. Party of Five: Again with the orphans. What did I love about shows about kids living without their parents? I don’t know. I loved the drama of this show, and I loved how the family interacted. I was so so sad when it went off the air. I of course had a huge crush on all the boys, but I especially liked the episodes featuring Claudia, the youngest.

3. Life Goes On: This was my first exposure to Down Syndrome. I loved the family aspect of this show, particularly that the family was not portrayed as perfect. I can still remember the exact time and place when I first saw this show. I stopped dead in my tracks and for some reason was mesmerized. I think both by the portrayal of Corky, who had Down Syndrome, and by the fact that there was a character on the show named Paige. I thought that was cool.

2. Dawson’s Creek: Talk about teen angst. I watched Dawson’s Creek at the end of high school and all through college. You couldn’t find me anywhere else on Wednesday nights, and everyone knew it. There always seemed to be something going on in the show that was somehow going on with me. I identified with all the characters in one way or another.

1. Friends: Sometimes, I have trouble sleeping. If I get upset, sometimes I have a hard time turning off my head and calming down. When these things happen, I watch Friends. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. I can turn on an episode and it’s soothing to me somehow. Every episode makes me laugh every time I watch it. What other show can boast that?

A. My S0-Called Life: Teen drama abounds with Angela, who is a thoughtful and insightful 15 year old. She deals with issues far above her age, and I loved every second of it. You hear voice overs in Angela’s voice at the end of the show. I liked that insight. I was horrified when it was cancelled. horr. i. fied.

So I didn’t keep it to five. Sue me. There were others I could have added: Felicity, Mad About You, the Practice, Ally McBeal, ER… NO I am not a TV fanatic. Well… But the shows that made the top 5A are shows that I somehow relate to. Something in them spoke to something in me. There was something about that show I identified with that made it hard for me to turn away.

I’ve talked about exercise a few times before. I’ve been doing the TransFIRMer and other assorted Firm videos since approximately March of this year.

My body has changed. It’s insane. I’ve lost weight, yes, and a significant amount, yes. But my body has never changed this… quickly before. (I hesitate to say quickly. That seems like an exaggeration.) I’ve watched my legs get smaller, and my arms. I can almost see my clavicles! (side note: One day I said to Khalil, “Look! I have clavicles now!” He said, “you’ve always had clavicles” in his dry humor kind of way. Maybe you had to be there but it was funny.) And my butt! My butt is disappearing!

Listen, don’t get me wrong. I still don’t like exercising. I wish that I could live without it. I wish that I could feel healthy, and energized, and lose weight without exercising. I’m coming to the conclusion though that this may be something I have to resign myself to. Every day, every morning, I have to plan to exercise. It’s something I literally have to mentally plan for. If I don’t, I won’t exercise. My natural tendency is not to jump out of bed and EXERCISE! Nor is it to come home from work and EXERCISE! My natural tendency is to get out of bed, putz around, remind myself that I got up early to exercise, and well I already have my exercise clothes on, I might as well get around to it. (There’s no way I’d exercise after work. That’s just… laughable).

I’m doing it though. That is the miracle. For eight long and horrible short, wonderful months I have been exercising. I’m less tired, less sick, and look better.

Who woulda thunk?

I had a whole post, written and published. But then I thought about it, and talked to Khalil about it, and decided… does it breach confidentiality in the truest sense? No- there are no names or real identifying information. But does it share pieces of children’s lives that are confidential? Yes, in some sense.

I wish I could explain in a real way what I do. I wish I could tell you because maybe it would help me to share the children’s stories that I carry around. I wish I could share the burden. But for now at least, it will have to be shared with coworkers.

I still want to find a way to share with you pieces of what I do. I want to share what I go through and what the children I work with have been through. I will try. I apologize for another short post- the one I deleted was long- but I’m not comfortable with it. So it is gone and here you have this short explanation. More tomorrow, on Day 7.

I have reached a very crucial point in my weight loss journey.

I am sick of discipline. Sick of watching what I eat. Sick of getting up early to exercise. Sick of weighing myself. Sick of thinking about all of this. Sick of it. I want to quit.

However, I do not want to quit. I do not want to gain weight. I do not want to pull clothes out of the fat clothes bin. I do not want to lose control. I do not want to be unhealthy.

A crossroads. I don’t know what to do.

I need to do something. I know what I need to do, but see the first paragraph. I’m sick of what I need to do.

So I will show you pictures of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, which I think led to this place in my life anyways.

I know you love the rockin’ seventies counter. I know, stop yourself. It’s mine, and you can’t have it.

It’s hard to come up with something to write about on Saturday. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, either.

The thing is, nothing happens on Saturdays. Well, this Saturday, anyway. Let’s see. I went and got my eyebrows done, and paid a small fortune for the luxury of liking who does my eyebrows. Then Grandma and I went to lunch at Panera, went grocery shopping, and I went home and activated her phone for her.

I am contemplating a nap.

Our apartment is COLD. We just turned the heat up to 64 degrees. Still cold. The other day, after Khalil yelled at Rory for the 100th time for going behind the TV, scratching her paws on the speakers, and jumping up on top, he wondered, “Is she cold?” Huh. Novel thought. We are, so it makes some sense that even with the fur, so is she. Poor kitten. I offered to cuddle with her to warm her up and surprise, surprise she declined.

I promise. Tomorrow I’ll work on something interesting.

In the weight loss world, typically the huge exciting things that happen are that you lose weight. The scale moves .6 pounds, and you think, “Well, at least it was a loss”. The scale moves three pounds and you’re on cloud nine for the rest of the day. The scale goes up and you’re pissy all day. Is it sad and a little scary that the numbers on a scale have such power? Absolutely. However, at least for me, it is what it is and I have accepted it.

But there are other ‘events’ in weight loss also. There’s the day you move down a size. There’s the time you can put an entire bin full of clothes away because they’re all too big. There’s when you finally get out of your biggest size. It’s when those jeans you bought? That you never got to wear because you got too fat for them too fast– fit. Nicely. It’s little things like that.

Also, there are the food choices. Like, when you decide to take a meal “off”. And when, in the past, your regular meals could easily consist entirely of an entire small pizza. An entire box of mac and cheese. Approximately six ounces of meat, over a cup of starch, and no veggies. Chips with a side of oreos and diet coke. So, you take a meal off. And it ends up consisting of three pieces of pizza and two brownies, instead of the entire pizza and box of brownies you planned to gorge on. Or you go out and end up with a relatively mean- because it sounded good and not because you were trying.

But today? Today the best change EVER happened. EVER. One time I wrote about learning to love myself. It’s a really hard thing to do. It’s very hard to love your body. Not just who you are as a person, but your body. For a very, very long time I have looked in the mirror and every time- every. time. - I have had a negative comment. Even the times when I look at my body changing in good ways, there are always negatives to be had. I’m hard on myself. I hate my body and the way it looks. For a very long time, if I was at a mall or somewhere there were mirrors, I would avoid them like the plague because it was almost painful for me to catch a glimpse of myself. I’d look in the mirror and it would be a shock. I’d think, “Is that ME? Do I REALLY look like that? Who can even bear to look at me?” It’s painful. Really.

Today. I wore size 12 jeans. For the first time in yeeeaaaaaaaaars. This is a HUGE damn deal for me. When I restarted my weight loss, I was in 20, and getting close to and occasionally in 22. While I’m not always in 12s now, sometimes 14s are tight, 16s are too big. Things are going in the right direction. I went shopping in my size 12s. I walked by the floor to ceiling mirrors in a large and ritzy department store.

As I walked by myself, I did a double take.

Oh. I don’t look half bad. I actually look kind of cute today.

Shutupshutupshutup. I didn’t hate on myself as I caught sight of myself. Huge.

Another thing that is huge, that goes with this? I could have written about my mistakes today. There were a myriad of them. But I am choosing to focus on the positive.

I’m a size 12/14, I’m not that bad looking, and I can walk by a mirror without wanting to cry. All in all, not a bad day.

Out of the Mouths Of Babes

It’s no secret I love my niece and nephew.

Ellie and “Aunt Paige”

Caleb and Aunt Paige

Ever since Caleb was… ever since I knew he was there, i.e. my sister told me she was pregnant, I have been in love with him. He is my first niece/nephew and is precious to me, in so many ways. Caleb has a sense about him and sometimes he’ll just come up to you and hug you with a “my friend”. Sometimes, if you’re holding his hand, he’ll just… kiss your hand. “I love you Aunt Paige”. I remember when he was a baby. I was living in California and had come back from a rough semester. I held him in my arms- just held him, and knew it would be ok. I’d be ok. He gives hugs freely, and he gives bear hugs. He’s always loved me, but since Uncle Khalil came around… well… he LOVES Uncle Khalil. When they come to stay, Caleb looks for Uncle Khalil.

Ellie was one of the main reasons I moved home. Shannon had her, Caleb was getting old enough to know whether or not I was around, and I decided I was not going to be Aunt Paige who no one really knows. It was crucially important to me to be a big part of their lives. I’ve never regretted that decision. Ellie has a sweet spirit and takes after her mother and aunt in that she can talk about anything, to anyone, for any length of time. She’s sensitive almost to a fault, and brings drama like ONLY a four-year old can. She also has a way of saying things that is hysterical, as you will see in a moment.

Who can resist those dimples? Who?

So Ellie drew a picture yesterday. My sister had to call me to tell me the story. I imagine this is something like what her picture looked like (this is my rendition.)

(I know. You can’t get over my Mad Paint Skillz).

Ellie’s explanation of the picture went like this, “This is Aunt Paige. These are her freckles. This is her bellybutton, and this is the baby in her belly.”

It was so cute, and made me want to cry. There isn’t yet a baby in my belly (I wish) but I’d like to think that Ellie has some four year old intuition and there will be soon? She has been asking Shannon when there will be a baby in my belly for quite some time.

Love Is… your niece and nephew. And the amazing gifts they bring to your life.

Brought to you, as always, by Love Thursday

So.
I seem to have plateau’d in my weight loss. I’ve been bouncing around about 6-8 pounds in the last… since the end of August. At the end of August I weighed 189. Then I lost a little, gained a little, etc. Now, about two months later, I’m at 182ish. Seven pounds. Two months.

I’m getting a wee bit frustrated. I’m not sure what to do. When the weight is falling off it feels easy to keep going. The motivation is there. I like seeing my clothes too big. I like looking at the changes in my body. I like the compliments.

But when I’m doing the same things, and the weight loss just putters out… I’m not sure what to do. I suppose I could start journaling again. I suppose. I suppose I could start entering my calories again. I suppose. I’m just…

Well. I was going to say I’m not ready. But really? I probably am. I’m tired of not seeing changes. I’m tired of not being sure where the scale wants to land this week. I want to seem more progress again, feel good about where this is going again. I have, in all honesty, probably gotten a little more sloppy about my choices. I could probably use a little more discipline, a little less, “This one __________ won’t hurt me.”

Since last time I asked questions it went over SO WELL, I’ll do it again. For fun’s sake. How do you get out of a rut? Do you change things up and keep going, do you keep doing the same thing hoping that one day your body just responds? What do you do? How do you keep the motivation HIGH?

one day down. twenty nine to go.