Category Archive

Cough, cough. I know, it’s been a while.

There have been a few changes in Casa de Less of Paige. If you don’t already know, for one thing, we are now foster parents. To a fifteen year old girl (who would jump in to tell me that she will be sixteen in TWO DAYS). Hold me.

I haven’t written here for many reasons. The primary one being I haven’t had time. As it turns out, life is alot busier with a teenager who can’t drive yet. The secondary one, but probably the more influential one, is that this is such a huge thing in my life, but I feel to identifiable here to feel like I can write about it.

So I’m changing to an anonymous blog, and I don’t want to connect it to this one, so I am not linking it here. If I know you via comments, e-mails, or in real life, if you really want feel free to shoot me an e-mail and I’d be glad to give you the link. I’m not trying to play a game of I’m too good for this public blog, but I don’t want random internets searchers being able to identify her. So we’re going incognito!!

I hope to see you all there. Forgive me for the very long absence, and bear with me while I get back into the routine of blogging on a regular basis.

~Paige

Paige127@cox.net

I’m still undecided about what to do with my bloggity blog over here.

There are a couple of things going on. The first is that Khalil and I are looking at a major undertaking. I’ve found in the last few months that this is one of those things that, if you can’t talk about it, you find yourself not saying anything at all. And I a little too present here to be able to fully share what we are doing and still feel comfortable. It’s huge, and scary, and exciting. But I can’t really share, because it also involves someone else’s personal information.

The other thing is that I have not had much else to say.

And lastly… well, the truth is I’ve been having a hard time. I work, and then come home, and the only thing I want to do when I am home is lay on our pretty new couches. I don’t want to check my e-mail, or check my other blogs, and least of all blog. I’m very much wanting to escape the world. I am coming into a hard time. February has been hard because almost every day this month I have been trying to remember- or not remember, depending on the day- what I was doing this time last year. I expect March to be much of the same.

I want to talk about it, but to talk about it means to face it. Which is something I do not want to do. I am fully aware that I need to, and that I need to walk through it. One of the best ways for me to work out my grief is by writing about it. But that also makes me cry.

I don’t want to give up blogging altogether. I like writing, and I like that it also keeps me connected to the friends that I know in real life that read, and the friends that I have “met” through this medium.

I don’t know where to go from here, necessarily. I know that something has to change, if I’m going to keep blogging, I’m just not sure what. So I’m sorry for those of you  (jenn) who keep refreshing and those of you (shannon) who check their e-mail for updates. I’ll figure it out.

So. I didn’t say anything, for good reason, but I was going to do Blog 365. I didn’t say anything because my goal was to go a month of daily blogging (January) and then join and tell folks. But then I only made it 18 days, then it was 10 more days and a comment from my sister before I remembered… I have a blog?

The visit from Caleb and Ellie was wonderful. No surprise, I cried when they left. I love our apartment, I love my life with my husband and cat. I even love the quiet. But when they leave, it just feels too quiet. Too, too quiet. So I was sad.

I have some good pictures, but to be honest I bent a pin in my memory card slot and am very upset about it. I still have a working camera, but have barely picked it up because I’m so upset with myself for minorly damaging part of my camera. I couldn’t figure out how to get the memory card in (was I tired? deranged? I do not know.) and so I tried it all different ways and VOILA! bent pin. I had to work hard not to cry but there were three children here and it just wasn’t the time.

So. Pictures will come. Ha ha. Maybe after Christmas pictures, or something. I don’t know.

I’m in a weird place. There’s tons going on and yet nothing at all. I don’t really want to yammer on about my weight, or my issues around food, because I feel like- what else can I say? I hate to exercise and have a hard time getting the eating under control. What more is there to say?

So. Silence. I don’t like the silence though, because blogging is therapeutic. And I need to do those kinds of things.

Sunday nights when I hate my job are notoriously bad: Khalil and I both cranky, no one wanting to go to work. It doesn’t make sense to ruin those last few minutes of “freedom” but nonetheless, it is inevitable. These days, I like my job, so I’m a bit more relaxed and not dreading the next morning. Khalil may have the day off tomorrow, they’re predicting some snow around here. He’s excited about that.

When I worked at my last job, sometimes they closed. I’m pretty sure that we don’t have that option at this job, so I’m looking down the tubes of going in no matter what. That’s new for me. Even before, if they didn’t close, if you didn’t go in it was kind of expected and not a big surprise.

It kind of stinks. I liked snow days.

Abigail Catherine. Pretty cute, huh?

Well, one at least.

I’m going this weekend to see my good friend’s baby girl, Abby. I can’t wait. She’ll be lucky if she can wrangle her from me all weekend. I leave tomorrow after work for a breeze of a drive- only 6.5 or 7 hours. No biggie.

So worth it though. Time with a good friend, smooshing her baby. All will be good.

But first, a year in review. I was trying to figure out how to write about this last year, then found a meme over here. Perfect. (By the way, if you’re on her site, look around for pics of her new kitten, Linus. I have claimed him as Rory’s Internet Boyfriend.)

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?

Got my social work license. Learned the true meaning of grief. Learned what an RE is.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I did make resolutions. Here they are:

1. Really- be serious about losing weight. Get off my fat ass and do it, and not give up this time when the going gets rough.

3. Get pregnant. Stay pregnant. Have baby.

4. Take more pictures. Learn how to use my fancy pants new camera. Be a better photographer.

**********

1. I gained weight. Whoops.

2. Passed the LCSW.

3. Did not get pregnant, so could not stay pregnant.

4. Did in fact learn how to use new fancy pants camera, and even started a fledgling little business doing so!!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Did they ever!! In 2007 one co-worker gave birth and another one got pregnant. I had three very close friends give birth (Welcome to the world, Jack, Abby, and Caroline!). One friend had a miscarriage and I have several more who are currently pregnant.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes, my grandma and then a week later my dad.

5. What countries did you visit?

none!

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?

A baby. A whole year without funerals. Some self-control.

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

March 8 and March 15. See above question re: people close to me dying.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I have two: Getting through the year whole, and passing my LCSW exam.

9. What was your biggest failure?

My total abandonment of any effort to lose weight or even to take care of myself in any way.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Only mental.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Huh. This one is giving me pause. The best things I’ve gotten in 07- a new camera lens, a new couch, My So Called Life on DVD- were all gifts. Best thing I’ve bought? I’m not sure…

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

My husband’s. He has been a literal rock for me this last year. I don’t know how he’s survived it. The emotional stuff hasn’t been easy for him, either, and yet he’s stood by me through some serious ups and downs.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

It was very sad for me watching some of my family decompensate when my dad and grandma were sick and dying, and then in the aftermath.

14. Where did most of your money go?

bills, bills, bills. BUT! We started seeing a financial planner, and now some- not most, but some- of our money is going into savings and retirement funds! So exciting.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

2007 ending.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?

Nickelback, “If Everyone Cared”. For a looong time I blasted that every. single. day. Just to remind me.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?

a. sadder. b. fatter. c. richer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Taking time and taking care of myself. I really didn’t do a good job of that this year. Also? Nurturing my marriage. With all the other things that went on… sometimes I take that for granted. Unacceptable.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Grieving. Necessary evil, but I’m tired of it nonetheless. Also? Eating.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

With my family. We went to my sisters and watched the kids open presents. It was quiet, and peaceful, and wonderful.

21. Did you fall in love in 2007?

Every day.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

Hmm. America’s Next Top Model, I think. Oh, and the Office.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Not really, I don’t think.

24. What was the best book you read?

Water for Elephants.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

???

26. What did you want and get?

A new camera lens. And a new couch.

27. What did you want and not get?

A Kitchen Aid. A baby. A living father and grandma. To lose weight. I don’t ask for much, really.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?

Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. For me, it was magic. I loved it.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 28 this year, and Khalil and I stayed home.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Have you read answers 1-29??

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

Wear What Fits.

32. What kept you sane?

Khalil. My sister. Having some solid friendships.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Fancy???

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

I don’t know.

35. Who did you miss?

Again, see above. Or go here.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

Carisma.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007.

What doesn’t kill  you may not, in fact, make you stronger.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I’d take another chance, take a fall
Take a shot for you
And I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it’s nothing new
I loved you with a fire red-
Now it’s turning blue, and you say…
“Sorry” like the angel heaven let me think was you
But I’m afraid…

~Timbaland and One Republic, Apologize

The job is going well. I have been doing lots of training, and whatnot. My desk doesn’t look like my work home yet, but that will come. I thought I would miss my old job- particularly the kids- desperately, but I don’t, at least not yet.

I do miss my co-workers. I had a bit of a breakdown Tuesday night and ended up in tears, because I don’t have friends yet. After the second day. Good friends of mine reminded me that they will come in time, and that I really do have to take this one day at a time.

I have been busy cleaning, wrapping, doing Christmas cards, etc. Life is good. It’s a quiet kind of chaotic with holiday preparations, but in a good way.

My stress level has already greatly decreased. I can feel it with almost every breath I take.

I start my new job tomorrow.

I don’t know what I’ll be doing, where I’ll be sitting, who I’ll be sitting with. I don’t know what my day will look like or even what time exactly I’ll be leaving. I don’t know what I’ll have for lunch or who I’ll eat lunch with, if anyone.

I think that’s the biggest part that gives me some twinges of anxiety. My sister kindly pointed out I do know some things- that I won’t be leaving my desk/ cubicle, I won’t be going outside, I’ll have less flexibility. I think she was pointing these things out because they appear to be negative, but for me, for right now, all those things are actually ok with me. They may seem negative tomorrow, but for now they’re ok.

My brain appears to be having more anxiety than I am, though. I had a dream last night that I totally missed my first day. I had some appointments to go to, some bad news, then more appointments (in my dream). I didn’t think to call my supervisor until 4:30pm, and then I was in tears. She told me it was ok, to come in tomorrow. And in my next dream, I did go in the next day. Fifteen minutes late, with no paperwork filled out.

Sigh.

I know neither of those things will happen. The paperwork will be done, and I’ll be there at if not before 8:30. But I guess that’s my brain or subconscious’ way of telling me that I’m maybe a little nervous?

We’ll see how it goes!

This morning I walked out of my door into freezing cold. I almost walked into him or her. It was a little bird, on the sidewalk in front of our apartment. He was just sitting, and I almost walked into him. There’s no way something wasn’t wrong, because he didn’t fly away. I thought something was wrong and he was probably dying. I looked at him as I walked away, and as I drove away. I couldn’t think of anything to do. It is the circle of life that sometimes birds die, but I also felt like I should do something. I wanted to save the bird. I couldn’t bring it inside, because - well, her name is Rory. Bring the bird to the vet? I don’t think so. So I drove away.

And I cried. I cried. I thought- I don’t know what to do. I want to save you, or be there with you, but I don’t know what to do.

When I told co-workers I was leaving, I tried not to show how happy I was. I was so ready to be done. So tired. So burnt out. So, so, so tired.

Then I started telling my kids. One after one- I have something I need to tell you.

One after one, the next question was always the same.

Why?

It’s one thing to explain it to coworkers and foster parents. They may be sad, but they can understand. They understand burnt out. They get emotionally drained. They tell me you need to do what you need to do. I would nod my head and agree. It was time. I told myself you need to go before one of your kids or families pays the price for you being burnt out. My foster parents had a range of reactions- tears, lots and lots of questions, disbelief at my next move (insurance?!?!?), and understanding, compassion, and support.

It’s one thing to tell them.

It’s a whole other thing to answer why from my kids.

How do you tell them? How do you explain to a six year old that you can’t walk around carrying his pain anymore? The pain that he deals with personally every day- how do you explain that?

How do you tell a fourteen year old you can’t fight for him anymore? That you’re running out of energy and can’t fight his battles for him? How do you explain that you are scared that you won’t be able to fight the way you have for the last two years and that he will end up paying the price for that?

How do you explain to a thirteen year old that you are leaving, again, and that she’s going to have to have a new worker, again. How do you respond when she tells you how much she hates changing workers, and tells you that she tells you everything, and won’t have anyone else to do that with?

How do you help an eleven year old understand that you can’t finish the work you’ve started with her, because it’s time for you to go? What do you say when she asks why? I just don’t know.

I don’t know what to tell them. I don’t know how to explain that I can’t carry their pain and fight their battles anymore. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I can’t be there for them,  yet I ask them to live with their histories and their pain every day of their lives. I don’t know how to explain the personal toll that my attachment to them, my passion for helping them, changing their lives, has had. I don’t know how to help them understand that the toll has become too great, at least for a time.

I’ve always wanted to be a social worker. There’s never been anything else for me, besides mom. I knew I wouldn’t fit anywhere else. I just knew. There’s always been a passion inside me to fight for those who are helpless. The bird, the children. I’ve always wanted to rescue them. As I became a little more experienced, a little less naive, I realized that I couldn’t rescue them. But I could show them someone who cared, I could be someone who was willing to fight for them, I could advocate for them. If I changed their lives in some small way, if I saved one of them in one way, it would be worth it.

I feel like I’m not only leaving a job, but that I’m cutting off a limb. I feel like I’m walking away from a part of me that has always been there. People joke that I am going to the “dark side” and I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m walking away from such a huge part of who I am, in order to save the rest of who I am. This is something I still don’t completely understand. I know on several levels that it’s time to go, that I personally need a break and a change. I know that I need to focus on other parts of my life right now, and that while I am still pouring my heart and soul into these kids I cannot focus on the things that I need to elsewhere. I know, but I don’t understand.

I know. It’s a lot of emotion for someone changing jobs. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I’m overestimating the impact that me leaving is going to have. But I see the look in their eyes as they asked why. I hear the frustration they feel at finally finding someone they trust, only to lose yet another social worker. I feel the pain of having to say goodbye to someone yet again.

I feel guilty for causing any of them any kind of pain. It’s one thing to be the bearer of bad news, it’s another to be the cause. I know, I know I need to do what I need to do.

I want to save you, but I don’t know how anymore and I’ve run out of energy trying.

Why, indeed?

Is it wrong of me to be thankful that Thanksgiving is almost over?

Actually, we’re having a lovely day. Lots of family, friends, and laughter. It is as it should be, I suppose.

Mostly.

I have SO MUCH respect for people who design websites. Every time I swear Khalil pipes up with, “That’s why they PAY people to do that stuff!” Yeah. Like we can do that. Very helpful, hon.

There seems to be a sliver of a light. Will keep you updated.

I have no clue what any of this means. Is there a book that translates it into English??

what? we’re wrapping presents? can I help?

let me check and make sure you got the tape on right over here…

not a bad job, if I do say so myself…

I’ll just,  um, watch this box for you…

That kind of has a nice ring to it, a nice symmetry.

I think the thing that I love most is just the playing. It’s Caleb and Ellie, to be sure. As we read the book Howard and the Purple Crayon tonight, Caleb got an imaginary purple crayon and drew all the things Howard (Harold?) did. After we read Fancy Nancy, Ellie told me that she’s not too interested in being fancy. She doesn’t know all the words, she said.

They love me for who I am, as they do everyone they meet. They don’t care what you look like, only that you treat them well. They don’t care if you have the right shirt on, only that you love them unconditionally. Patience is rewarded with smiles and with gems of sentences that come out of their brains. Not taking every moment seriously is rewarded with the joy of seeing what comes spontaneously from them.

Tonight we also read the book Caleb and Noah’s Ark (or something, I don’t feel like getting these books to check the titles. Sorry.) Caleb the Caterpillar brings his mate (who Ellie told me is named Kassidy in the book, although she is unnamed in the book) onto the ark. I asked Caleb who he would bring and he started giggling and told me Elizabeth. Apparently Elizabeth is a girl in his class and he told me, “Elizabeth is my wife”. Ellie then told me she is going to marry Harry from her class. I asked her if Harry likes her, too, and she told me he gives her funny looks and then she just smiles at him.

It’s all so uncomplicated and simple when you are eight and five. And wonderful.

We did the Buddy Walk on September 30, 2007.

 NaBloPoMo is coming, and I signed up!!

********************

Welcome to your page on NaBloPoMo!

Welcome, paige! You are member #1836 of NaBloPoMo. 18 seconds ago

*************

(clearly I rock at screenshots, but anyways. This is to prove that I signed up and will be blogging the month of November away.)

I’m mostly just tired, but also emotionally drained.

Haven’t given up altogether, almost every day I think of a blog post. I just don’t have the energy to write them.

Of Rory, that is.

It’s on my husband’s site. Go see it.

I arrived, and we spent some time putting beautiful programs and favors together.

The bride and her niece.

The bachelorette was at the Melting Pot, which was soooooooooo yummy!

Pedis and Manis the day before the wedding.

Do you guys think that’s Jonathan Antin of BlowOut?? I could have sworn it was him, and pretended to take a picture of the mother of the bride so I didn’t blatantly take a picture of him, but it’s really hard to tell. We were at this little nail salon not in LA or Beverly Hills, but I still think maybe. If it is him I’m so going to kick myself for not saying something.

A bridal tea.

The day of the wedding, getting hair and makeup done!

The newly married couple- who knew a whole face could smile so big??

Isaiah.

Kira “hey! what’s up?”

Naomi, me, and Jenn.

Jessica and I.

********************************

It was a very good weekend. So nice to be part of my friend’s wedding, and so nice to see my friends. I miss them very much. As I said to Naomi before I left- it’s sometimes harder to come, because I remember how much I miss them.

I googled famous roller coasters. The ones that stuck out to me the most were Nemesis, Cyclone, and the Boss.

See? Infertility really is a roller coaster.

Yesterday was a down for me in our little battle.

Let me give you a picture of our ride though.

Tickets to the Park: We started thinking seriously about “trying to conceive” (ttc) probably after about the first year of marriage, which would be June 05. We didn’t do anything then, decided we weren’t ready, were enjoying our alone time together, etc. By about January of 06, we started to get a little more serious in our thoughts about making babies, or expanding our family. We decided we’d start trying in about September of 06. This would plan things perfectly- if we got pregnant on the first try (of course we would!)

Standing in Line: We started our “ttc” journey in June 06. A little earlier than anticipated, but we figured if it happend sooner than September, we’d be excited! We were ready!

Stepping on the Ride: There’s that moment when you get on a roller coaster, right when you board, that you wonder if you’re making the right decision. What if this is the time the coaster actually goes off the track and you plummet to your death? If you don’t think that, something’s wrong with you. Then you shrug, give in to the thrills and buckle up. That was what June felt like. Wondering if we were doing the right thing, having fun, and giving in to the ride. Never having any idea what was ahead of us.

The slow climb up: It was fun until it wasn’t. After the first few months, we tried to be hopeful. We’d both be disappointed when it didn’t happen, but not devastated. Just vaguely disappointed. In my heart of hearts I started to wonder what was up. I had always thought it would just…. happen.

The first big drop: This one is so ridiculous I cringe to even write it. But there it is. I was at my friend’s wedding. Her aunt is supposedly psychic. No, really. She predicted that of my friend and her brothers, one would get pregnant before they got married and have a boy and a girl (her brother), one would have boy girl twins (her other brother) and numerous other predictions about babies, weddings, and life events that have come true. Normally I don’t really believe in psychics and predictions, but I wanted to know: would it be this month? The next? how soon? I couldn’t get the nerve up to ask her, so my friend did.

14 months.

Whaaaa? My friend tells me that she watched my face crumple after her aunt told me that. As much as I didn’t want to- and still kind of don’t- believe in psychics, this was devastating.

Some more lows: Eventually we started testing. We found some things wrong. We went further into testing. We heard that it would be fine, then maybe not.

The worst low: Positive for Hep B. Given the medical issues, need to move to IVF. After I talked to Khalil, I called my sister and bawled. I know exactly where I was sitting- I was at work, and I remember looking for a place that I could sit and not be bothered. I couldn’t believe that was what it was going to take.

Climbing back up: More tests and specialists. Letting myself believe that we might be able to do this without IVF. I let myself believe it and hope it. I reveled in letting a teeny, secret part of me hope that just Khalil and I could do this. Getting the likely-negative for Hep B result was part of that climb back up. I didn’t like the thought of waiting six months, but there that is.

The drop back down: Definitely moving to IVF. That’s the direction we’re going.

Part of me, to be honest, is relieved. Relieved to be out of limbo, relieved to have a plan. Wait six months, head back to the MDs, move forward. Excited at the thought of having real hope that IVF could work and soon I’ll be the one pregnant, we’ll be the ones scared to death at the prospect of parenthood. Looking forward to the time to regroup, the time to move towards some of our other goals, and then move forward.

Climbing on a roller coaster of a whole different kind.

Today is September 2nd. Which means November, and NaBloPoMo, is right around the corner.

I’ve been meaning to practice for NaBloPoMo since…. January? something like that? But it hasn’t happened. (clearly).

I think today I’m going to start. We’ll pretend like September 1st didn’t happen, and that today is day one of BlogSeptember.

BlogSeptember, here I come! Anyone want to practice for NaBloPoMo with me?

Sucks.

Need I say more? I tried for a minute to use another blog to write about it. Then I more or less “came out” with most of my friends about my/ our infertility. So I figured I may as well just “come out” here with it:

Khalil and I are struggling with infertility. Real, live, bonafide infertility.

And in the way that my weight loss posts don’t typically talk about calories and pounds (although I know some do) but the emotional and mental aspects of weight loss, my infertility posts are not going to talk about MD visits, medicines, diagnoses, or other such details. I find them boring (to myself, I’m not at all talking down about others who want to keep that kind of record, it’s just not me) and so I don’t want to share them with you guys.

I will tell you this, though: infertility sucks.

It’s weird thinking that you can’t just have sex and BAM! there’s a baby. It’s kind of sad and very frustrating knowing that it’s going to take more than just the two of us and a magical moment and all of a sudden there will be a new addition to our family. It’s hard knowing that it will take us, lots of not-so-magical moments, and a team of doctors to get us pregnant.

The first thing that I have to grieve about? Is the way we get to tell people we’re pregnant. I didn’t tell many people that we were even trying or considering pregnancy. When people asked, I was very vague. “Sometime!” or “We’ll see” or I’d go so far as to make things up “We’re waiting until Khalil gets through grad school”, “My career’s going so well right now, we want to wait”, “We’re waiting for a house”, “We’re trying to get our debt paid down”- all of those have come out of my mouth. I really, really wanted it to be a surprise. There was a place in my heart every month while I waited that planned out when I’d be seeing family next and how we’d tell them. The month before Thanksgiving I wondered if Thanksgiving would be too soon to tell everyone. Ditto Christmas, Memorial Day, Easter, etc. (Not Valentines Day. I was in Pittsburgh for Valentines day, dealing with my dying father. I wasn’t planning pregnancy news.)

When I told my mom, she asked why I waited so long to tell her. And I told her the truth- because I had wanted it to be a surprise.

It still breaks my heart that when we get pregnant, it will likely be planned. There are still some steps in the meantime, but right now the all-knowing doctors are saying that IVF will probably be our best bet (for those of you not familiar with infertility vernacular/ acronyms, IVF stands for In-vitro fertilization, and it’s when they take my egg(s) and his sperm, fertilize my eggs in a petri dish, and a few days later (hopefully) transplant embryos back into me. Fun, no?). This is just about the most intrusive and expensive way of getting pregnant. Again, fun, no?

Infertility, much like death and dying, is a grieving process. The difference is that there are sparkles of hope along the way, that keep getting run over. You have a test, or a doctor’s appointment, or something. And you have a hope that this one will be fine, this one will show something different. And then it doesn’t. You have each month of hoping that you’ve happened upon a miraculous surprise- naturally-achieved pregnancy- and then you don’t.

The idea is to keep up the hope. But this infertility? Not only does it suck, it’s also a hope sucker. You have to work to keep it from sucking all the hope right on out of you.

In my 27 years, I have moved something between 10 and 15 times. The first was when I was little, and I don’t remember it. My parents moved from Wyoming back to Connecticut. They did it via cross country road trip (the first of three times I would move across country). I moved from our home when my parents got divorced.

I have dreams about that house sometimes. For all intents and purposes, it holds all of my childhood memories. The woods in the back where my mom put a salt like one year for the deer. Where I could wander for hours and my parents didn’t need to worry anything would happen to me. There was a small pond (giant puddle?) in the back that would dry up in the summer but that I could “ice skate” on in the winter. We were surrounded on three sides by woods that I spent hours upon hours exploring. I lived in two bedrooms in that home. I have happy and sad memories from that home- happy memories of us living as a family, and sad memories of the things that ripped our family apart in the end.

The home that started out red and was gray by the time we moved out holds my memories. I could go on and on about all the things I remember about growing up in that home. If I think hard enough about them, I remember, but I know that if I ever walked back into that home memories would come flooding back.

No home has ever felt like that one. I have lived in many places I called home since them- condos with my mother, apartments with girlfriends, in a room in my father’s house, and apartments with Khalil. None has quite the nostalgia that the home I grew up in holds.

This week we packed up my husband’s childhood home and helped my mother-in-law move into a new home. This move came closest to that move out of my childhood home. Most of Khalil and I’s first memories are from that house. First time hanging out, first kiss, first realization that I was with the man I was going to marry. Some other firsts. But none of my memories compared to the memories my mother in law and husband packed up on Monday.

Our memories come with us. They do not get stuck in homes, or on beaches, or in any specific place. They may feel like that, but they don’t. They live in our hearts, in our skin, in the spaces inside us built for them. They come when we want them to and sometimes when we don’t. Memories are slippery, but precious.

I had my own moments of saying goodbye to the house. It was a home. There were reasons why this move was so hard for everyone- but especially Khalil and his mom. In a way, this was the final close on the chapter of their lives that included his dad and favorite aunt. They had to say goodbye to that time, because the new house will not hold any of those memories.

My heart breaks for them. I know that they will carry their memories with them forever, but I know it is hard to say goodbye to the physical, tangible connections to those memories.

So here’s the thing.

Monday, I was all set to write a post because I was very excited. You see, Monday I exercised again. And I decided to start eating healthy again. All very good things. I spent about two weeks out of the saddle, off the wagon, sidetracked, backtracked, etc. Monday I did well.

Tuesday I was going to write a post. This one was going to be short- I was very excited about the fact that I did not have to write Monday’s post at 11pm because I am no longer contractually obligated (Ha!) to write every day.

Then today came. And I have to tell you guys something. Two weeks of being out of the loop, off track, and sidetracked does a girl in. I was doing so well with everything. My body felt stronger. I had increased weights when I exercised etc etc. I am now struggling to get through an entire video. It feels pathetic.

I know that I need to keep my focus. I need to do what I can and get through as much as I can. Hopefully my body will bounce back and in a few weeks I’ll be back to what I was able to do before. But this week I’m finding myself out of breath, my legs and chest in pain, and wanting to curl up on the floor and absorb the exercise by TV-osmosis. (Which does not work.)

It’s frustrating.

However, it is a good reminder to me of how important it is to try and stay on the ball. And even if I drop the ball a little (hello, handful of M&Ms today), to not give up entirely. To keep doing what I can do and let go of the mistakes I make. Try to do better next time.

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.

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?

*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!

***************************

We had such a wonderful time.

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!!

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.

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.

I just realized that tomorrow is the first day of November.

The first day of NaBloPoMo.

What was I thinking?

For other participants, look here.

Hopefully my first NaBloPoMo post will be, well, better than this one.

Part of me hasn’t written in a few days because there are things I want to talk about, but I’m not sure I want to write them here. Things I want to say, but I don’t know if I want to say them to the public at large. There are things going on, but they have less to do with weight loss and general nonsense and more to do with… me, my life, my family.

Which brings me to two questions. Why blog and what to share?

I know they’re important questions. I started the blog as a way to talk about my weight loss journey. It was and still is a central part of my life. It’s a huge part of me, whether I like it or not, and is immensely helpful to have a place to put the emotions of weight loss. This way I don’t burn anyone out by whining about it.

I also like the community. I may not have made tons of friends through my blog, but I’ve made some, joined a community, and enjoy that piece. I enjoy finding other people’s blogs, reading blogs, and being a part of the community.

What about the rest? The rest of my blog is… a little of this and that. What I did, what else is going on.

What’s taboo. I don’t talk about my marriage, except to say how wonderful it is. Clearly, it is always wonderful all the time, obviously. But even on the slim chance it wasn’t wonderful all the time, I wouldn’t write about it here. I rarely talk about it- that’s between my husband and I.

What about things like trying for babies? Or things that go on in my family? Things that are upsetting/ bothering/ annoying me? I don’t typically write about that stuff, but I’m not sure why. I have a post in drafts, and I can’t decide if I want to share it. I just don’t know.
So, my *ahem* loyal readers, here’s my question(s) to you.

~If you blog, why?

~How do you decide what to blog about and what is sacred?

~What do you like reading about in other people’s blogs?

~What makes you cringe in a kind of “oohh… that’s too much information” kind of way?

Share!!

When I was in high school I had a very close-knit circle of girlfriends. There were six of us, and we called each other “the brat pack”. I had known some of them for two years, and some of them for fifteen by the time we graduated. Since high school, they’ve all faded away, the last two to go this past year.

In my first two years of college, I didn’t have many girlfriends. One of my brat pack members was at school with me, and we stayed friends. I made a few other friends here and there, but overall was busy creating very unhealthy relationships with boys. I left that college and none of the friends, save the one from high school, really stuck. However, I did stay friends with a girl I met while working at a camp while I was in college.

Then I went to my second college. There I made the truest friends of my life. There weren’t many, only three. But for some reason I clicked with them. They are my lifelong friends, that I have no question about. So I added them to my cache of my high school friends and my camp friend.

Here’s the problem: All of these friends lived in the states I attended college. One year after graduating, I moved to my home state. I had one friend here, for a while, that ended this year.

I miss my friends. I miss them with an ache that is almost physical sometimes. I miss seeing them for coffee, for dinner, for movies and TV. I miss talking to them. I miss going shopping with them, doing things with them, doing nothing with them.

I am making new friends, slowly but surely. But they aren’t the same. They don’t have the history of my old friends. I don’t have the same comfort level. The intimacy isn’t there, at a time when I need it desperately. I feel so far away from my closest friends that it’s hard to tell them my deepest stuff over the phone. And I don’t feel comfortable enough with my new friends to tell them.

Thank God for my sister. Without her I would be lost.

But I still miss my friends. I try to explain this to my husband, but he happens to be a boy. And his best friend lives five minutes away. Also, he doesn’t totally understand the need a girl has for girlfriends- close, dear friends you can pour your heart out to whenever you need to. Who will support you through thick and thin. Who know you.

It’s hard to know what to do. When you’re in college, intimacy happens quickly. Because you are at a level of high intensity in your life, of finding out who you are and growing up. You share your history with them, and have lots of time to get to know them. Once you are married, with a job and people start having children, it is harder to make friends like that. While you may make friends at work, or online, they’re not made at the same intensity and intimacy as your high school and college friends were.

I miss my friends. I miss the comfort and ease, protection and safety I feel with them. They are just a phone call or plane ride away, but it is too long.

I’m a foster care social worker. What this means is that I work in conjuction with our state child protective agency in foster homes- as a support to the family and advocate/ therapist/ case manager for the children. Our homes are what are called “therapeutic foster homes” meaning that the children require a little more than the “average” foster child- i.e., their behaviors are worse.

It’s a hard job. It’s emotional- as hard as you try, it is very hard not to get attached to the little people you work with who have been through so much- hell and back. I was talking with a relative of my husband’s, and he said something along the line of, “Wow. So you’re responsible for these kids lives.” I reframed it for him- in some senses I am, and in others, well, not so much. But yeah, every day I carry around the lives of little people who have to trust the adults in their lives to keep them safe.

To say the kids I work with have been through hell and back is an understatement. I do therapy with some of my kids, and usually leave sad and angry. Sad for what they have been through, angry at what we put them through. Not only do they have “issues” of abuse and neglect, but foster care is not a pretty picture. These children move around far too often, and often for not very good reasons. The families we have are wonderful, and try their best, but after years of abuse and then transition, well, these little people can be hard to live with.

I have always been very good at keeping my job separate from my life. In the field I’m in, burnout is rampant and when you burn out you are no longer an effective worker. You lose your perspective and your energy, two things which are crucial to the job. Crucial to these children’s lives. One way to prevent burnout is to “leave work at work”. Usually I do ok with that, but sometimes… sometimes it’s harder.

The hardest time I have is when my children are disrupting from the homes that they are in. Homes that I have worked hard to help save, homes I have put time, effort and energy into to make sure they can stay. And it’s not about me- moving for these kids adds another notch on their belt of “I’m not worth it”, “It’s all my fault”, “No one loves me” and “No one really cares”. Our goal is to give children homes that can unteach all of those lessons.

From the thirteen year old boy who has moved four times in three years, and still has temper tantrums, to the seven year old who is being adopted, to the 10 year old who just went to an inpatient psychiatric unit, to the 21 month old who headbangs… I carry them with me. Their hurt sometimes becomes my heartache. Their pain invades my dreams. I worry about them and worry that they might be going through things I don’t know. Because they don’t trust the grown-ups in their lives, it can be difficult for them to trust us. Even though their lives depend on it.

When you see me, or when you are interacting with a social worker, know that they are carrying their children with them. For their own sake they are working hard to keep appropriate boundaries, take care of themselves, separate themselves from their clients, but know that somewhere in them at that moment lies the lives of children who are unable to care for themselves. Know that they worry about those children. Know that they celebrate the joys with those children. Know that they love them even though “clinically” they should be more separate. They love them in a way that is not the love of a parent or family member, but in a way that means they want the very best for children who have experienced the very worst.
Know that they care.

The recipe for Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Cookies, AKA the recipe for The Most Dangerous Cookies Ever. If you come here for weight loss support, just skip right over this post.

1/2 c margarine
1 1/2 c sugar
1 egg
1 can pumpkin puree
1 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 c flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
1 c choc chips
1 c nuts (I omitted these)

Cream margarine and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg, pumpkin, vanilla. Mix and sift flour, baking powder and soda, salt, nutmeg and cinnamon in seperate bowl. Add to cream mixture, mix well. Add chips, mix well.
bake at 350 for 10-12 mins until lightly brown. (I actually cooked for 13-14)
remove to cool, makes 3 1/2 to 4 dozen.
recipe can be doubled.

Also, just an FYI, they come out VERY moist. They are more like a small cupcake, they don’t really get like Tollhouse cookies do- hard or anything.

 Enjoy!

National Blog Posting Month!!

Fussy and Kerflop (formerly Very Mom) are hosting NaBloPoMo. It’s a challenge to blog EVERY DAY in the month of November. I’m pretty excited for the challenge.
Best yet? There are prizes!!!

So. Um. Anyone want to walk me, step by step, through how to get that little picture in my sidebar? Anyone?

Come see me over at:

http://lessofpaige.wordpress.com

I want to thank my first Blogging home, Blogger, but I have found a site that actually keeps up with me as I type. How refreshing!

Last night we found out that an in-law of an in-law died. (My mother-in-law’s sister-in-law’s father, in case you needed to know.) The funeral is today at noon, and there’s no way my husband can go, so we went over to the wife’s house (who’s husband died, can this get more confusing?) to see the family and pay our regrets last night.

I’ve watched my sister handle grieving people. She is a nurse, who used to work in hospice and now works on an oncology nurse. She knows how to say the right thing at the right time. She’s comfortable dealing with this stuff head on.

Me, not so much. I’m usually the person who says the wrong thing, “How are you?”. How are you? how do you think they are? Their husband/father/grandfather just DIED! Shut UP, Paige! SHUT UP! Yeah. I just don’t know what to say. I do the “I’m so sorry” but always feel like… how many times do these people have to hear that. Sheesh.

I haven’t had to manage alot of personal grief in my own life. Some, yes. But not alot. But- and I do not mean this to be trite- I’ve read something about grieving people that has stuck with me. How they feel like people are nervous around them.

Nervous that their grief, their pain, their suffering, might be contagious. Grief makes us sad, and it makes us scared. It makes us- me- sad for the people who have lost someone they loved. And it makes me scared- if that could happen to someone else, it could happen to me. I was watching Miami Ink the other day, and they had a young wife who’s husband had died. I. Lost. It. Royally. Just cried and cried. If husbands actually do die, that means mine could too. I just couldn’t go there.

It’s kind of ironic. I do therapy, and I can be around grief when I am working with clients. But I pull on a different skin when I’m working, in a big way. And how to manage grief is different when I’m working and when it’s in my personal life. It’s easier when I’m working, because I can depersonalize it and focus on something else- helping my client walk through the grief. I have something to do.

Because isn’t helplessness the most frustrating part about watching people who are grieving? There’s just nothing you can do but be there. Just- be there.

The man who passed away last night was not someone I was close to. But it still made me sad, and made me very sad for the people who I am more close to who had a significant loss this week.

Last night was a bad, ugly night. I wrote about the stupid cookies, then felt so bad. I was totally out of control, and well aware of it. When I wrote and was eating the cookies, my husband was grocery shopping.

I was crabby. Short. Snippy. Bitchy, if you must. I get that way sometimes, but 9 times out of 10 I know exactly why, or it only takes a little bit of time to figure it out. This time, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know. I knew one reason that I was a little bit irritated, but felt like it was stupid. Not something I wanted to talk about- mostly because it was little.

My husband came home with potato chips. I saw those and thought, “Mmmmm, those would be SO GOOD with some french onion dip”. What do I pull out of the next bag? Lo and behold, French Onion dip. I wanted those chips. I wanted them in a way that I wanted the cookies, in a way that I haven’t wanted food in a long time. I’m a big victim to the slippery slope- once I start making excuses and allowances, it becomes very, very hard to stop.

This started with the cookies, and was continuing on with the chips. I expressed several times how much I wanted those chips. So the point where my husband felt bad that he brought them home. Please don’t blame him. I am a very, very firm believer that two adults live in this home, and both should be allowed to eat at they please and not be brought down by the other person’s attempts to change. That translates to: I don’t think he should have to diet just because I do.

He’s so good about it though. If I ask him to put a food away, he will. I do ask him to please help keep me accountable, and he does, in a very gentle and kind way. Because I ask him to, not because it matters to him outside of it mattering to me.

Where was I going? Ah. The cookies and the chips. I wanted them both. Badly. I wanted to sit somewhere, with the remaining cookies, the chips, and the dip, and be left alone. To eat. To taste the sweet and salty goodness.

I ended up in tears. Khalil asked me what was wrong and I just started to cry, “I don’t know”. I think I felt like I failed. I failed because I kept eating the cookies. I failed because I wanted the chips. I put alot of pressure on myself- every other time I’ve lost weight, I’ve either done it half-heartedly or have failed after a while. For alot of reasons, this time has to be different. And I want it to be. But that means I have to keep working at it. And last night I really wanted to give up. Be done.

But I don’t. I have to walk through the hard and ugly days, and make it to the next day, or week, or month, and keep going. I can do this.

Khalil went through the recipe for me, telling me what we needed from the pantry. (I am far too lazy busy to do work like that myself.)
While I was in the middle of cooking, he asked me “Why are you making these again?” And I told him, “Because I felt like it.”
I had the honest-to-goodness true intention of eating only ONE pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookie.
I have eaten… probably close to 15, if not.. well, let’s just leave it there. I didn’t KNOW that they would be so good. I didn’t know that the moist pumpkin would meld so well with the slightly crunchy chocolate chips. I didn’t know that mixing two of my favorite flavors would rend me helpless. Honest to God, I thought I was going to eat one cookie.
On the way home tonight, I thought to myself, “I want some of those cookies”. And I knew I’d eat some. Then I thought, “What if I went home and planned not to eat any cookies? What about that?” Because that has actually worked for me- if I make up my mind about something, I usually stick with it. But when I said that this time, I laughed at myself. Ha ha, that’s so funny. You are just as helpless against the pumpkin-chocolate chip cookie as you are against the cookie-dough Pop-tart (I had four one day. Four.).
Needless to say, unless they all leave my house, I will not be making pumpkin-chocolate-chip cookies again “because I feel like it”.
Also, as a side note? I’m watching a TiVo-ed episode of “Mi Vida Eres Tu”. It’s a requirement for my Spanish class. I wish I knew what they were saying.

Ahem.

This could be dangerous.

 I can blog from work.

I am considering moving house.

I have liked my last house over at Blogger. But there are some things that I didn’t love, and so I’m house searching right now.

If you want to see my old home, visit me at http://lessofpaige.blogspot.com. That blog will remain until I choose a home and import my old home on over.

I’ve been blogging for a little over a year. I talk alot about my weight loss journey. So far, since about June of this year, I’ve lost close to 30 pounds. I use the Diabetic Exchange Diet, which gives me certain amounts of each kind of food. I also exercise using the Firm.

I’m a wife, aunt, sister, daughter, and friend. I blog about those relationships occasionally.

I’m a social worker. I work in the foster care system- not for the state agency, but for a private agency that works in therapeutic foster care. I have been doing social work for over 6 years now. I love what I do and can’t imagine doing anything else.

My husband and I are trying for a baby. That’s been going on for about five months now. Hopefully one day this will morph from a weight-loss-social-work-family-whatever blog to a mommy blog. Ah, such dreams to aspire to in the blogging community.

Here I am:

If you’re stopping on by, please say hello!

I love fall.

I like spring, too, and summer. I like spring- the coming out of winter, emerging feel of spring. I like summer, I like the sizzling hot, I like beaches, I like the heat of summer. I like winter too- but mostly just the beginning. The first snow, Christmas, and wearing sweaters.

But I love fall. I love the crisp air. I love the smell of the leaves on the ground. I love apple picking and pumpkin carving. Hay rides. I love going to fairs and fall festivals. I love the weather- it’s not so warm I’m always hot, but not so cold I have to wear a jacket. I like that it’s chilly in the morning and at night, but warm in the afternoon.

Also? I LOVE food for each season. Summer brings ice cream and iced coffee. Winter is time for hot chocolate.

But fall? The food that fall brings. Hot apple cider and a plethora of apple desserts. Pumpkin and apple pie. Pumpkin lattes. Cider donuts. Pumpkin bread. Thanksgiving food. Fair food! Fried dough, funnel cake, cotton candy, apple fritters, caramel apples.

Which of course leads to the dilemma. No, dilemma just isn’t the right word. Temptation is I guess. I love this food. Alot of it doesn’t come around all the time. And if it does… well, it’s just not the same. I want to eat it. I want to let my discipline go. I want to not worry about it. A couple of times, I’ve already done so. But I know that I can figure out ways to do every season without always having an excuse. Once I started losing weight, I went all. summer. long. without Dairy Queen. Listen, maybe to you it’s not a big deal. But for me? Huge. HuGE. Every summer, I went at least a few times a week. This summer, instead of going to DQ every week, I lost weight. I felt better. I look better.

I have to keep that. Maintain the focus and discipline. This weekend already I’ve felt myself not wanting to be careful. Just wanting to eat whatever when I go out. Not worry about the consequences.

But there are consequences. Thirty pounds of them.

Fall is here. I’m trying not to fall.

Love Is…

My sister.

I have learned so much from my sister.

About how to be a good mother, who your children feel secure with.

About overcoming some of life’s biggest challenges.

About facing your worst possible nightmare, surviving it, and moving through it with grace.

About being a sister and what that means.

About being best friends with your sister, how much that means to me, and what a gift it is.

There’s so much more I could say. So much more I want to say. My sister is amazing and my best friend. I’m blessed to have her in my life.

*Brought to you by Love Thursday.*

I got some new pants this weekend. (thanks Shannon!) They fit me and are not too big on me. I received several nice compliments today and was asked how many sizeds I had dropped.

Three.

I have dropped:
20
18
16

I now fit into 14s. I can hardly believe it. I can remember when I was at my highest weight looking at the 14s, and trying some on, and just wanting to cry because they would barely come around my stomach. Much less zip up or be comfortable.

I have done some very hard work. It’s funny, and I think some piece of this is because I exercise, but the weight loss has slowed down. I’m approaching 30 pounds, and it’s going more slowly. Which is fine. Because my body feels different, and I fit continually into smaller clothes! My body is changing. I measured myself on Monday, and have lost 5 inches in the last couple of weeks- almost an inch in most of the spots I measure myself. What a nice feeling.

It’s this stuff, these good feelings, that I need to hang on to when I feel done. Burnt. Tired.

When you start dieting, you’re all gung-ho. You come up with all these ways to do it right. You print out sheets upon sheets of a food journal. You sign up to sparkpeople. You enter your food at least every night, if not as you’re eating it. You obsess about both exchanges and calories. You exercise religiously. You swear off of all white carbs. You don’t go out to eat because you don’t know how and you don’t know how many ounces of chicken are in that salad you got. You weigh and/ or measure your food. All. Of. It.

Oh? You don’t. Well, I did.

And I started to see results. And they were good. And encouraging. And then I went to the MD, and he told me even better news. And that was encouraging too.

Then it got to be alot. It got old talking about it all the time. It got tiring to write about it. It got exhausting living that way. No ma