Lonely

I went to church today. On a Sunday. With my daughter.

This is the first time I have gone to church on a Sunday since my mother died. I can think of two times in the history of my history that I attended a Sunday service without my mother (well, that's not true, some more when I visited friends' churches as a kid, but I am speaking as an adult here). Today was time three.

I have been wanting to attend church for some time. But each week brought a new excuse. Too tired. No clothes. Don't want to go alone. Beach day. Out of town. Did I already say too tired? But last night it hit me. I'm avoiding church because I don't want to go without my mama. I don't want to brave a new place all by myself. See, you aren't really a grown up until your mama is gone. I'm still adjusting. Being a grown up sucks, btw.

I woke up this morning. I wasn't too tired. I found clothes to wear. I was in town, and didn't feel a pressing need to get to the beach. So I got dressed, Googled local churches and picked one at random. Upward Church. I liked the way that sounded.

Today's message was all about loneliness. Funny, that's why I didn't want to go to church. I felt too lonely to go. The message wasn't catered to my personal situation, but I took so much away from it.

Throughout the sermon, the pastor talked of David. David who went from being a no one, to the very top, just like that. And then he LOST IT ALL. His wife, his friends, his home, his power. But he rebuilt. And again, he lost it ALL. His power, his family, his children and his friends. He was ALONE. And yet he turned to God. He found solace in our amazing God.

The pastor kept saying, we have to change the messages we tell ourselves. WE can't say, "I'm so lonely, my mom is dead. I'll never find another mom like her. She's gone, gone, gone." Instead I have to say, "Jesus, I trust you. I turn to you in my loneliness. I know I am worthy of love, for GOD loves me. I will not be lonely forever. I will take comfort in HIM."

I have kind of been doing that. But I need to do it more. It's not okay to feel this sense of isolation and loneliness. God wants me to have community, to have others I can depend on and talk to. I have to change my ways and reach out more.

The pastor said, when we are all alone, God places us in a family.

How true is THAT?

I lost my mom. And since then, people have never been more kind to me. People I barely knew, are now a PART of my life, through absolutely NO effort of my own. I have mom friends new and old, Ladies Let's Gather friends that care for me, Charity Chapel friends that are there for me, even though I do not attend that church. I can't attend that church. I said goodbye to my mama there. My in laws have been nothing but supportive and loving to me. I've grown closer with them as a result. I have internet friends, who loved and supported me even though I've not always been the kindest. I've met new friends through my weight loss surgery. I DID NOTHING to get any of this. God placed all these people in my life. He gave me a family in my loneliest hour. And now, NOW it is time for me to start being an active part of that family. To reciprocate and to love back.

I think so much of my friend Kim. Who lived here for such a short time. She may not think so, but I think so, that God gave her to me. She saved me. Without her in those weeks after mom died, where would I be? I don't know. She saved me from self destructing with her honest and strong/tough love. God gave me her. She was my family. She is my family. I will never forget the family she was in those days.

I'm grateful for soooo many people. I don't tell them enough. But so many ladies have touched my life in this past year. I don't know where I'd be without you. These are women here in Pensacola, and women half the country away that I've never even met. Women are my family. Some call it a tribe. I will stick with family.

God has blessed me with great family. These people just landed in my life. And I have to start realizing that. I am not alone. I am not. God gave me family. He provided for me, when I could not provide for myself.

I'll be going back next Sunday. I can't wait to learn the lesson. :D I have so many lessons to learn.

Surgery went great! My first month in pics!

Surgery day!

This is it! 

But I Do Have People

My last blog post discussed the idea of being personless and the resulting loneliness and sense of isolation that results from that. You can read about my struggle with being personless here .

I miss my mother every day. And that is not ever going to change. As I said in my previous post, she WAS MY PERSON. I doubt I will ever have a person again.

But I do have people. I have lots of people that bless me continuously even though I feel I don't deserve it.

I have isolated myself so much over the years. Don't get me wrong, I was social! I had friends. But I did not LEAN on my friends. I loved them, I loved being with them, but they were not who held me up. All of my needs were met by my person and my family. Now I have all these needs that aren't being met, and yet, others are finding ways to help me. It is so hard for me to ask for that help, as I was always so reliant on myself, my family, and my mother to pretty meet all of my physical and emotional needs.

There are so many kind, kind people in my life, who constantly bless and love me. I have lost so much, but I feel like that loss has opened my eyes to so much that I do have. Now, I won't lie. I'd rather have my mom back and my eyes shut tight, but since that is not going to happen, I am so grateful for all the wonderful women in my life.

I realized in my last therapy session, that I AM finding ways to get my needs met. I am using - hate that word but it is true- others to fill the gap. It takes many, many people to replace a Person though.

I have a beautiful friend who also owns an Etsy shop. She is who I now bounce ideas off of, show my new products to, and just generally discuss Etsy cuteness. She looks at everything I make, and always let's me know it's CUTE! ;)

I have a friend who prays for me, encourages me in my weight loss, and gives me encouraging words constantly. This lovely friend made me the most precious gift, which I plan to blog about soon.

I have an online friend who just tells me random things because she knows I miss having someone to tell random things too. We are the random girls, in my mind. :D

I have friends who plan events and then reschedule them just so I can come, so I can see my daughter play and hunt Easter eggs with their kids. They bless me by reminding me my presence is important. Even though I may hole up and hide away, I am wanted.

My sister in law who constantly posts cute messages to me on FB. She lets me know I am thought about.

I have a friend who loves my daughter, much like a grandmother would. It blesses me to see someone LOVE my daughter. To hug her and miss her and buy her little presents. To think of her with gifts like balloons and flowers. Without her, I wouldn't see anyone else doing this.

I have my therapist. She listens to every single thing I have to say, and does so without judgement. She is always in my corner, much like my mother was. Her goal is always to figure out what is best for me.

There's a whole bunch more too. My husband, my in-laws, other friends, my dad, countless online friends, weight loss surgery support groups, preschool mom friends who listen to me ramble. So many good people are in my life!

I know this post sounds so incredibly selfish. I don't mean it to. For years I had a person that did these things: made me feel special, praised my efforts, wanted only my happinessa above all others, adored my daughter, and so much more. Maybe I was spoiled having such a fabulous person. In fact, I know I was. the shock of not having her has been . . . hasbeenfreakingawful.

But I do have people. And I know I have to continue to reach out to them. I have to graciously accept their love and support, and the new roles they play in my life. And I have to learn to start reciprocating. I need to be a part of other people's PEOPLE.

That is how I think I will heal.

Personless

“A mother is she who can take the place of all others but
whose place no one else can take.”

― Cardinal Mermillod


I remember the first shower I took after my mother died. Turning the faucet, adjusting the temperature, stripping down and hopping in. It was surreal. I had never once in my life bathed without having a mother. She'd been alive my whole life. I know, makes perfect sense, but I couldn't wrap my brain around it. How can I do anything, when everything I ever did, she was alive. It was like the world had stopped spinning for me. Everything was a brand new experience, and not brand new and shiny, but brand new and scary. For thirty-eight years, everything I did, I did having a mother. I had never ever, not one single time, done anything without having her. While she may not have actually been there, or been in the forefront of my mind, she was always there. I always knew she was there, someone to fall back on, to love me unconditionally. Something as simple as bathing, as breathing, seems so much harder, so different, when you don't have that someone. And now, for the rest of my life, every single thing I will do, I will do not having a mother. Seems so simple, but trust me, it is not.


I will rock my child to sleep without a mother. I will have arguments with my husband, without a mother. I will wash dishes, walk dogs, write letters, drink wine, go dancing, eat good foods, bathe in the sun, swim in the ocean, build sandcastles, sing songs and live the rest of my days without a mother. I will never get to ask her a question, hear her opinion, or receive her guidance on anything that ever happens to me again. I'm on my own. Every breath I take, I will take motherless. She who gave me life, brought me into this world and nurtured me, is gone. Forever.

Yet, it is natural, it is ordinary, it is normal. It is in no way unique or extraordinary. Millions upon millions of women, all of them daughters, are doing the exact same thing. They are living without a mother. One day, my daughter will too.

How can something so ordinary be so mothereffinexcrutiatinglypainfulthatitmakesyouwanttojustquititall?

I'll tell you how. Because she wasn't "just" my mom. She was a million times more than that. She was my mom and she was my person. IN fact, due to her declining health and our role reversal, she was more my person than anything. And not everyone loses her person to sudden death. And not everyone loses her person and her mother at the exact same time. It's the double whammy. In losing her, I lost both, I lost almost everything. I am clinging to what I have left and trying to keep sane. It's not easy, but I am making progress.

She, my mother, my person, is the one I called for every little thing often five times a day. She is the one I ran to when the mailman was grouchy and made me cry, or when I felt insecure about a new haircut. She would listen and discuss my hesitation about public school over and over again, never tiring of the conversation, never wishing I would just shut up and make a decision. She was proud of me, in ways that no one else ever is. She admired my creativity, my writing, my generosity with others. She validated me, my thoughts, my feelings. She loved to hear the same stories about my girl over and over again, wanted to know exactly what we were doing each and every day. She loved to look at my designs over and over again. She never tired of them. Every sale in my Etsy shop was an EVENT to her, and she wanted the full details. Any complaint made by another was just ridiculous in her opinion. I was her golden girl I guess you could say. I was loved so hard and I loved her so hard back. This woman would spend hours with me, searching bolt after bolt of fabric just to find the perfect scrap of pink. She is the one who felt my anguish when I had to bust out the seam ripper AGAIN. She laughed at my jokes and I at hers. Nobody could make me belly laugh like this woman. The inside jokes were in the millions. Jason thought we were crazy. We probably were, in the best possible way. We moved, she moved with us. Not just once, but three times. I wouldn't dare go anywhere without her. Jason knew, it was a package deal. She was such a huge part of my life, she was at least half of it, and had tons of influence on the other half. She was my mom and my person and she was mine.

And then she died. She died and I didn't want her to. She died on a day that I had no idea it was going to happen. She died unexpectedly without saying goodbye. She died on an ordinary day where I was just sitting around doing absolutely nothing important. She just died. And she took my mother with her.

I will never, not ever, find another person like her. She was my mama and she was mine.

My Girl

My girl.

She's the sweetest thing to me. She is my world, my sun. After losing my mom, this girl is what has kept me putting one foot in front of the other. This precious baby girl.

She's five.

She's oh so smart. Everyone thinks this about her child, but I am right.

She's oh so funny. She makes the wittiest jokes, the smartest little comments.

She's oh so kind. She snuggles me when I cry. This girl draws pictures for my mother, and puts them on her box of ashes. She takes care of me, just as I take care of her. That's family. That's my girl.

So anyway. . .

I'm freaking out.

I love, love, love her. And I know that love just won't die. I'll always love her. But I also know she's five. And well, five year olds just forget. We all do. But she has her whole life to forget me, if I'm gone.

I don't want her to forget the feel of my arms, the warmth of my snuggles as we cuddle at night. I don't want her to forget that I smooch on her nonstop or that I pick out a different favorite curl on her head every day. I don't her to forget everything or anything. You see, love doesn't die. But memories fade. I'm not afraid of dying. I am afraid of being forgotten by the most important girl in the world.

I was supposed to write letters for her, just in case. Just writing this blog has me so emotional though. I can't get past, "Sweet Mimi Girl," without losing it.

I know this is not the way of faith. That fear is lack of faith. I need to trust Jesus. But I'm new at this trusting thing, and it is a lot harder than it sounds. I trust that no matter what happens, He will provide for her. Yes. But that still doesn't mean I won't be gone.

So if you read this. Or stumble across it. If you know me. . . think of me and my girl. And if something ever did happen, please do me a big one! Please remind her. Please tell her, not just a year from now, but whenever you get the chance. Please tell her she was my girl.

I am 99.9% sure I am going to be just fine. I am just, and have always been, a worst case scenario girl. I'm going to be fine.

But just incase, she was MY girl.

Hitting the Curb - Hard

Much profanity ahead. Well, not much by my standards, but perhaps a bit by yours.


My mother loved to haul some serious ass in her wheelchair. Woman did not slow down for anything. She was the crazy lady begging us to let her go at the top of ramps. . . She had one leg, so often the fastest way to go was to push herself with that one leg backwards. Zoom. Go. Go. Go. One time, we were taking the pups to the vet, and they had just poured new concrete. For some reason, my mother thought it was ramp all the way. Backwards she went, zoom, zooooom, CRASH, BOOM! She hit that curb going as fast as she could go. She went flying out of that chair and landed flat on her ass. Her face? Startled! What the hell just happened? Then laughter. My mother was always good for a laugh.

I hit the curb today too. But I didn't laugh. I've been crying all day.

I picked my gorgeous girl (who is driving me nuts lately) up from school and off we went to our favorite after school destination. Bonus points if you guess it. It's Target. I know, too easy. Anyway, as we approached the light on the corner, an old man was trying to get his wheelchair to hop the curb so he could get on the sidewalk. Now that's a trick my mom would do too. She couldn't be bothered with handicap ramps at the END of the walk. She got on where she was. But this guy wasn't making it. I rolled down my window and asked if he needed a push up. Yep, he did. So I stopped, set on my hazards, and got out to help him. I had to roll him down to the ramp part of the sidewalk, which was a joke and a half. It was on a hill, AND had a huge lip to it, so really, unless you had great strength (like my mom had) or someone pushing you, you weren't getting up that thing in a manual wheelchair. It just wasn't possible. I had to turn him backwards and pull him up, it was such a steep area, and such a big lip to the curb/ramp/whatever the eff you want to call it.

Here it is, this is what counts as wheelchair accessible.

I got him up, turned him around, and said goodbye. He saw my girl watching through the window and told me she was a pretty thing. I said she was my world. I waved and got back in my van. I had caused a mild traffic jam, but the guys in the car next to me, rolled down their window to tell me that I was nice. I said thanks. I felt fine.

Then my daughter asked why I did that? I explained that, well, when GaeGae (my mom) was in a wheelchair, wouldn't we have wanted someone to help her? Yep, we would have. "So that's why you did it?" Yep, that's why. Because we all should help each other.

Next up, biggest cryfest this girl has had in a while. I sat and sobbed and snotted all over my pretty new infinity scarf in the Target parking lot. I don't want to be nice and help other people up on the sidewalk ( I mean, I can, but that isn't what I WANT! )I want my mom. I want to push her up ramps and let her fly down them. I want to help her up the curb, and I want to lift her from the ground when the curb knocks her out of her seat. I want her to tell me I'm nice. I just want her.

That was the first time I've pushed a wheelchair since she died. I had no idea it would affect me that way. For so long I hated that wheelchair. I hated that it put this distance between us, made me more of her guide than her companion, made it more difficult to hug, be physical. I hated the limits it placed on her, and how cumbersome it could be. And now I just ache to hold those handles and push. I ache to deal with pushing her chair through doors that won't stay open when no one seems to want to help. I WANT to fold that chair up and throw it in the back of my van for the fifth time that day. I long to see her hauling ass backwards in it, and me shouting at her to BE CAREFUL. I miss that sorry ass chair. I miss that crazy, loving, fun woman; my mom.

As far as I go, I've hit a curb too. I am doing so much better, but after talking with my therapist, we realize my anxiety is back in full strength. She thinks my grief has turned into depression and that I need to up my medications. She's right. I'm shaking at everything. My surgery is coming up, and I keep hitting a wall on that too. I feel change on the horizon, and I'm scared I'm going to mess it all up. I'm just scared, and lonely, and well, motherless. Which is the worst. I can't think of a more awful word to be.


Anyway, I'm okay. It is going to be okay. I have therapy tomorrow, and tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully one where I can keep my emotions in check. Hopefully one where I can find a ramp, or if I do hit the curb, I can get up and laugh.

I miss you mom. I wish I had half your strength.

PS. I will try and take a picture of this sidewalk tomorrow so you can see what I am talking about. It is in front of the Whataburger on 9th Ave.
UPDATE: Pic added above

Counting it Down

I haven't blogged in a few weeks, mainly because I am in a holding pattern, waiting, waiting, waiting. Also because I have nothing to say.

However, I do have a date, and wanted to throw it out there.

April 1st. Yeah. April Fools Day.

That will be exactly 16 days prior to the one year anniversary of my mom's death.

I miss you Mom. So freaking much. So bad.

I will blog on this all later. I am still processing.

But, I HAVE A DATE. :D

I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy

down in my heart?

WHERE?

Down in my heart!

Where?

Down in my heart!





Today was not different from any other day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I didn't come to any new conclusions, win the lottery, or find the answer to all of life's problems.

I did, however, for the first time since my mom died, feel complete and utter joy! I hope it stays.

It was another random afternoon of cleaning, playing and hanging out around the house, and debating what to make for dinner (leftovers won). My sweet girl snuggled up into my lap crying. She was upset that I said we could not give the doggies a bath, because it is just too muddy outside. I comforted her, and my comfort led to kisses and tickles, which led to laughter and more kisses.

Now my girl, she doesn't like kisses! How can that be? When she was a newborn, I kissed her so much my lips cracked. I do not lie. I kissed her until it hurt! Maybe I overdid it? Anyway, she doesn't like to get them now, but she will give them. Since her new favorite game is counting to one hundred, she decided to give me one hundred kisses. And since she is such a sweet little thing, whenever we play this game, she pretends to forget where she is, so she has to go back and redo kisses. She does this for me, because she knows I eat those kisses right up. One hundred could never be enough for a kiss hungry mama like me. I get more like two hundred. She kisses my eyes, my ears, my nose, my lips, my fingers, even my chin! The only rule is I may not kiss back until the one hundredth kiss. For that one, it is smack on the lips, and as long as I dry my lips really, really well, I get to smootch her back!

Well, midway through this kissing extravaganza, I felt it. Something that I haven't felt in a long time. I felt the joy of being alive. The joy of having such sweetness and preciousness in my life. I immediately praised God for her, this life, this moment of joy. I thanked him for blessing me with such a strong, loving, and demonstrative relationship with my own mother, that I could have one with my daughter as well. My mom is the one who taught me the art of kisses and snuggles. I hate that my mother is gone, but she really taught me EVERYTHING I need to know. And that, is how to love. What else do you really need?

At this moment of joy, a moment of doubt then slipped in. :sigh: I became fearful. What if surgery was WRONG? What if I die? What if I don't live long enough to teach this girl all she needs to know about love? I panicked. I reached out to a few friends and shared my fear. They said PRAY. I did. Then the calm came. I realized, I want to teach my daughter how to be happy, and to do that, she needs to see me doing what makes me happy. I want her to see me run a half marathon, to go hiking in the mountains. I want her to hear me laugh as we ride bikes together, go down water slides together. I want her to learn more than to love, I want her to learn to be happy! This weight, it is holding me back. I am not as happy as I could be. Will WLS fix all my problems? No! But will it enrich my life? Absolutely.

So I have to go back to, "Jesus, I trust you." And I do. I trust that the outcome he wants for me will be what it is. I trust that if the worst case scenario happens, Jesus has my girl. Jesus will have a plan. I trust that if this surgery works out GREAT, Jesus is there for it. I trust, good or bad, or just somewhere in the middle, Jesus is going to be there to celebrate with me, or to help us pick up all the pieces.

So no more sneaky doubt during my moments of joy. They are mine, they are God given, and I am keeping them.

Social Media Lies and Real Life Truths

Isolation.

Lack of authenticity.

Social media lies.

A recurring theme in my therapy sessions are how I do not grow my authentic relationships because I take the easy cop out and seek support from solely online sources. My therapist argues (and I pretty much believe all that she says, as she is one smart cookie) that prior to my mom's death and the loss(loss of friendship, not death) of a very good online friend (within two months of one another) my life was full, and my emotional needs were met. I liked having what we call IRL (in real life) friends. I have several, and I love them. But I was able to weather storms and life's day to day without constant contact because I always had a listening ear and someone to fall back on. Both the online friend and my mother were ALWAYS there. I didn't have to "work" at relationships, because I had these super easy ones. The one with my mom, well she was my MOM. She was always there to listen, to be there, and her life basically revolved around ours. The other friend filled that girlfriend role so well, that even though we never met, I felt I had a best bud, someone to always listen and who was there. But while I loved her, I realize a relationship online is NOT the same as IRL. I will never be there to watch her kids for her in an emergency, and she mine. I will never give her a big hug when something devastating happens, nor she me. She won't see my tears or know I am crying as we chat it up on FB. Still, it was genuine feelings on both our parts. Unfortunately things went South, and that friendship ended. I also have an amazing group of online women that I can chit chat the day to day mom stuff with. And other stuff too.

But here's the deal. I lost two pillars of my support system, of my constant relationships. And the online group, well, having such easy and great access to that, means instead of reaching out to other IRL friends, I post there. I get the immediate gratification of instant responses. While that is awesome, it causes me to not call other friends and foster relationships with them. I lose the dialogue a local friend and I could have had, and thus, I drift slowly away.

When the shit hit, I was so blessed. Online, IRL, family, friends, everywhere and everyone, the support and kindness was amazing. It has literally reshaped my world view.

Even so, social media is lying to me. Just because 50 some odd people "like" that my insurance is approved, does not in any way deepen my relationship with them. Nor do they really share in my joy. And by posting it on FB, the people I could have called and talked about it with, shared my joy, relief and yes, newfound nervousness with, didn't get a call. Instead of sharing that moment with me, they got the opportunity to like it on FB. The end. So while, as a result of FB, I may "share" more of my life with more people, it is not authentic, and it does not deepen relationships, rather it eventually causes stagnation and distance.

So this is something I am working on. I am working on reaching out more to IRL friends and family members. I am working on not waiting to be invited somewhere, but making the invitations. I am making the call, instead of passively sitting around, and waiting for my phone to ring. It is working. I am getting out more, but not overextending myself by seeing too many people that I am flustered or that I am spread too thin. I am working on getting closer to a few people, and putting more into those relationships, and less into others. Which is good. But it also kind of sucks. I ain't gonna lie. I love me some online peeps. Always have, and always will. But by relying on them exclusively to share information, both good and bad, throughout the day, I am isolating myself and, as I already said, creating a divide in other relationships.

All this to say, I went back to my ladies sewing group this week. This is the first time I've been in quite some time. I kept making excuses to not go. I don't know why! I went this week, and it was such a relief. Such a relief to sit and sew, and listen and participate in chatter, and to hear women fellowship and talk about the Lord. It was such a relief to hear the devotions, and to pray in a group. The lesson was so what I needed to hear. It changed how I am processing my grief, and how I am viewing my upcoming bariatric surgery.

The lesson? Jesus, I trust you.

Jesus I trust you, when I am not sure why my husband is cranky. Jesus, I trust you when I am not sure if I am making the right parenting choice. Jesus, I trust you when I go to therapy each week. Jesus, I trust you, as I reach out more to the homeless and others. Jesus, I trust you, even though I am grieving and cannot ever possibly be the same. Jesus, I trust you.

See, catastrophes in life happen. We all suffer loss, be it via death, unemployment, divorce, WHATEVER. Our lives can change in a second. And in the pain, it is so easy to take a step away from God. It is so easy to become bitter, and to not only isolate ourselves from our loved ones, but also from the love of our Creator. But that is what we cannot (or at least I cannot) do, for then all hope is lost. It is in these times, we have to say, "Lord, I am hurting so bad. This pain is like no other I have felt. Jesus, I trust you, in this awful, awful time of my life. Jesus, I trust YOU." By doing this, the pain is not gone, the grief is still there, but the bitterness and anger aren't. It is this, that lets us take our worst moments, and not turn them into good, because there is nothing good about losing someone you love, but make good come out of them.

My mother died suddenly and discovering her body has been the most traumatic experience of my life. But I realized I did not want her death to just be another day, and nothing change. I refuse to let her go, and me not take anything from that. What I learned in her death was kindness and grace. People, strangers, friends, family, even people who I KNOW weren't necessarily fond of me, reached out to me in my suffering. I hurt so bad. I was a walking sore. And people responded with love, kindness, generosity, and grace. Now, not everyone is emotional like me and not everyone feels the need to share every single emotion they are feeling, as I so seem to do. But death IS happening all around us. So if I am feeling this pain and if I NEED this kindness so much, I imagine so many more people do too. People that I don't realize need kindness are desperate for it. They deserve it. So this has made me want to be kinder. This has made me want to give grace. I do fall short, and my temper does get the best of me, but I am striving to be kinder and to let stuff go. To give grace.

I also care more about those in need. For years I helped take care of my mother, and if not for my husband and me, she very well could have been homeless. Those people on the streets don't have a daughter willing to take them on, or if they do, for some reason it hasn't worked. So I want to be their daughter in whatever way I can. I want to deliver meals to homebound seniors that need that help, just as my mother needed it. I want to reach out and give and love, just as everyone needs and deserves.

We ALL deserve that.

Uh huh!

Approved!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That Ole Plan Saying

Failure to plan is a plan to failure. Yeah that one. It's TRUE. I guess that is how sayings become sayings.

Lately we've had zero plans, so we eat junk. When you are starving, frozen pizza is way easier than cutting up veggies. Taco Bell beats going home and making lunch. And sitting on the sofa, why, it is soooo much easier than going to the gym.

Honestly, it is like I've said to heck with it. We have eaten horribly for the past month and gotten in little to no exercise.

It's bad. Like I went to the mall with a girlfriend the other day, and walking from store to store was tiring. And we only went to like four. Pitiful.

I went on a cruise, and walking to the dining room exhausted me. :sighs: :smk: :biggest eye roll on the freaking planet:

My mom and I used to sing this little song when I was a kid. We really got into it, yelling and acting all crazy. We were like that. A lot. That's one of the best memories I have of my mom. WE would snuggle in bed and sing and act all crazy. Once we lived in an apartment, and we were having so much fun, the manage came and said we needed to quiet down. Ha! We snuggled loud. We loved loud. We lived loud.

The song:

Chooty Chooty Bang Bang,
Look at Tara (or whoever) do her thang!

--I can't!

Uh, why not?

--I just can't!

Uh WHY NOT????

--My back hurts,
My skirt's too tight!
My bootay shakes from the left,
To the right,
From the left and to the right!

I swear, that is the definition of me. My back hurts, my clothes are too tight, and I have most certainly not been able to do my THANG! Whatever that might be.

So it's time to plan.

I meal planned breakfast, lunch and dinner for the week for EVERYONE! Yes ,there are some meals where my child gets other food. I'm not a parenting genius, that's for sure.

I have chore lists for the house, plus the Motivated Mom's app on my phone.

I am charging my Fitbit and challenging my steps. Hi Ruby!

I am going to the gym on TUESDAY and THRUSDAY, no matter what.

I have a plan. The plan, may not be perfect, or intense or amazing. But the plan, is definitely not a plan to failure.

Chooty Chooty Bang Bang, look at Tara do her Thang!
I miss you mom. It's a lot harder without you, and not any fun. But I'm going to try. And first thing tomorrow, Mia is learning to sing Chooty Chooty Bang Bang!