The Hard Things

I often keep a mental list of topics that I would like to write about.  Many of them get crossed off the list because they are just too hard to write about.

1.  I don't want to offend anyone and I know (or at least think, assume) that not everyone feels the same way that I do on certain topics - religion, politics, etc.

2.  I don't want to write anything about my family that would upset them (and right now they are all very, very curious).

3.  Why do people even want to read whatever it is that I have to write?  (self doubt, such self doubt)

But I keep coming back to this and I need to just get it out.

I just can't not talk about it any more.

We bought a treadmill this summer.  (which you obviously know because I posted about running last week and have mentioned it on the facebook)  It was a big purchase and we hemmed and hawed over it.

You see, from November of 2010 to June of 2011 I gained twenty pounds.

And people said that I looked good.  That I weighed {as my father used to tell me all my life} 100 pounds with a brick tied to my ass before and that I had finally "filled out."

I actually had my doctor test my thyroid. {Apparently there was nothing wrong with it.}

In July of 2011 we joined the gym.  We went all.the.time.  We changed our eating habits.  We drank lots of water.  We hired personal trainers.

And then some time around the end of September or so we just couldn't do it any more.

We have a commute to work + picking up/dropping off children.  We have a dog.  I have a side business and a blog and books to read and well, there are only so many hours in the day and the thought of racing home after picking up the girls to change clothes, put my hair in a ponytail and go to the gym for 25 minutes before having to race to pick Q up just got the best of me.  And that only worked on days that I did not have after school meetings.

Chris's schedule changed and he got home later.  Some days he would walk in from the garage loosening his tie and immediately turn on the stove to cook.

{in case you aren't aware...cooking is his chore, laundry is mine}

And now that we were both working in Athens, where there is every kind of take out imaginable, (especially compared to where we live)...Well, you get the picture, take out happened a lot more frequently than ever before.  {Not McDonalds, but hibachi take out...that made me feel better about things.}

So we have weight gain + time loss + falling off the physical fitness wagon + general unhappiness + addictive personality = drowning my sorrows in bags of Chex Mix, potato chips and cheap wine = more weight gain = more unhappiness.

Do you see where this is going?

And so, what did I do?  I ate more.  I drank more.  I gained more weight.

I was hoping to plateau on the weight gain at some point.

But I haven't thus far and that is slightly alarming.  I just keep gaining the weight.

Ok.  I know that there are people out there reading this and saying Give it a rest, Angie.  You have no idea what you are talking about.  You look fine.

To which I say, that is your opinion and this is my blog, where I get to share my opinion...not yours.  :)

I am not fine though.  This summer has taught me about sweating in places that I have never sweat before.  I walk differently.  My shorts ride up the middle of my thighs in ways that are just not ok.  I carry myself differently and judge, judge, judge myself in a bad, bad, bad way.

Since last summer, I lost 6 pounds and then gained another 20.  I went up 4 to 6 (depending on the brand) sizes in pants, two cup sizes in my bra - after buying new clothes last August, then again in December, then March, new summer clothes in May (because last summer's shorts wouldn't.even.button.the.bastards.) and now I have purchased new clothes to start the school year in...because I can't pull my khaki pants that I bought in March up over my thighs.

I know that some of you out there are thinking Then stop over eating.  It's easy.  Just stop.

Part of my problem is that I have poor body image.  Not in what I think about other people but in what I think about myself.  (We all do this, right?)  Growing up, I was always told that I was too skinny, my feet were too big, my boobs were too non-existent.  I gained about 75lbs+ when I was pregnant with the girls and I was told that I was as big as a house.

I lost all of that weight.  Returned to normal and then did the same thing with Quinn.

I lost all of that weight.

And then began to gain.  And it was depressing.  I felt badly about myself...

I blame part of it on my addictive personality (thank you, society, for giving me that term).  You see, I have struggled almost all of my adult life with smoking.  I would quit and start, quit and start, quit and have one only every once in a while...I would quit while I was pregnant and then start when I had too much in life to handle.

And I felt terrible about it.  If you know me in real life, you may not have ever known.  95% of the people in my life didn't know.  Secrets = shame, right?

I hit my breaking point with it.  I was so disappointed in myself.

I knew that my life would be so much better without it and I blamed all of my problems on that one habit.

So I saw a therapist and planned for my official quitting.

Which I did.  Successfully.  It has been almost two years since I quit.


Each and every day is a struggle.  I think about it all the time.

But here's the bottom line for me...

I did not quit smoking to begin over eating.

I did not do this amazingly hard thing to turn around and have another struggle with something else.

I did not chose to become a nonsmoker only to become obese.

(Which, according to my percentage of body fat, I am.)

I have a lot of friends that are doing different things to lose weight - Advocare, HCG, cleansing, fasting, etc - and I admire them because I don't think that I have the willpower to tackle something so huge.

I also can't let myself do that because I am still sitting on my couch every night eating chips and salsa, so I feel like I can't get a free pass on the weight loss.  I have to do the hard things first.

But, I am going back to the beginning.  We bought a treadmill.  And I am using it.

I am eating better.

I am making better decisions at the grocery store.

And I'm talking about it.

The Mommy and Me Collection

Wow, Weekend!

Wow!  This weekend was a whirlwind!  A serious whirlwind!

I spent massive amounts of time making jewelry...keeping up with regular orders...working on the very jane orders...and putting the finishing touches on my new fall and holiday collections.

I had my first real photo shoot this weekend.  And it was surreal.

I'm not gonna lie.  By Saturday afternoon, I was freaking out.  I was wishing that I was a recluse.  I get that lifestyle, I really do.  Hermit-dom doesn't sound like a bad plan most of the time.  Saturday afternoon I was having panic attacks and meltdowns.

My friend, Abby (the photographer), said at one point, "What is the worst thing that could happen?"

And I thought about that and then tried to describe it to her...

Imagine that your photographs are in a show and you have to stand there next to them.  In the middle of the show the pictures start peeling and melting and the easels won't stand and by the end of it people are laughing and pointing.  At you.  At your work.  At something you spent hours dreaming of, planning for, creating, and it breaks and people laugh.  And what if they don't like it...and worse, if they don't like it BUT say that they do because I am standing right there???  Ugh.

But none of those things happened.  Everything went splendidly.  Swimmingly.

Yep, that's right...you see a kid.  Such a sneak peek, right????

And here's me, snapping from the next room over...

And that's when I started to tear up.  You see, I see my jewelry on my mom, on my family and friends, but to see it how I imagine it, to see it like it's in a catalog...to see this sweet lady and her precious little girl modeling my jewelry...the pieces that I dreamed about and made with my own two hands...big sigh...it was a little overwhelming.

Kia and Abby, I never could have imagined a more perfect day!  And the models!  Such troopers!

And there's more.  I've made almost 75 *new* pieces of jewelry for collections this fall and the holiday season.  I have never made that much to stock pile before.  I am so in love with these things and I hope that you will be too.

So, that was my weekend...and this week has the potential to kick the Pendley's booties!

Monday night we're home.
Tuesday night I have PTO and Chris is teaching a class.
Wednesday and Thursday nights are dance nights.
And on Friday, I am leaving to go out of town for the weekend.  A girls' weekend in the mountains.  I am both nervous and excited.

The Story of a Four Year Old Negotiator

Quinn is a natural negotiator.  Period.  I have no idea where he learned these strategies from, but if you need someone to negotiate a new car deal for you, he's your guy.

Take this evening for example...

We've been using what we call "Mickey Money" as a reward program with Quinn for a couple of weeks now (super successful! similar to Daddy Dollars that we used with the girls a few years ago).  He earns money throughout the day - getting dressed in the morning, being picked from school without a fuss, good dinner behavior, good bath time behavior, etc.  and then can spend his money on things like playdoh time, a pick from the treasure box, a new workbook (I stocked up at the hot spot at Target), special dessert, movie and snack, etc.  

We talked about adding a trip to his school's playground as a bigger ticket item.  So when Chris picked him from school this afternoon and he was crabby about not being able to play on the big playground, Chris offered up the new prize....

Chris:  Mom and I were thinking about adding a playground trip as something you could buy with your mickey money.

Quinn:  How much?  5 mickey monies?

Chris:  Um, we were thinking more like 25 or 30.

Quinn:  Oh, so not 5?

Chris:  No, more than that.

Quinn:  How about 10?

Chris:  I could maybe do 20.

Quinn:  Done.

I think Chris was scammed.  Just sayin.

About that running thing...

First, let me just say that if you don't want to read me being a complainer, then you should perhaps stop reading.  Just sayin.

So about that running thing...I am not very good at it.  And I don't really like it.

But, you know what else I don't like?  Not fitting into the jeans that I bought last Christmas.

You know what else I'm not good at?  Dieting.

And you know what else I don't like?  Seeing a number on the scale that I haven't seen since I was six months pregnant.  (I know numbers aren't everything.)

You know what else I'm not good at?  Going to the gym.

So back to the running... We bought a treadmill at the end of July.  It sits in our living room {ruining my decor} and I use it 3, sometimes 4, times a week.  Some days I get on there and only do a mile, some days I do a little over 3 miles.  The important thing to me is that I keep getting on it.  Even when I don't feel like it and I forgive myself if a mile is all I can give.  That mile is more exercise than I would have gotten if I had stayed sitting on the couch or at the jewelry table.  Really, I congratulate myself with a big pat on the back every time I turn the dang thing on.

Here's my secret...  {and this is the BEST part of it being in our home}  I sing while I'm on it.  Loudly.  And sometimes I dance.  And raise the roof.  Because that is fun to me and I always felt deprived of this when I went to the gym.

{Chris keeps threatening to set up a secret camera.  We all know that I would kill him if he did.}

When I told a friend about the singing, she said, "But shouldn't your lungs already be in use?  I'm not sure you should be able to sing."

To that I reply...

1.  Yes, they should be and they are.  I never said that I sounded good while singing - just that I was doing that.

2.  It takes my mind off the running.  You know, the thing I don't like.  It's sort of like I have to keep talking while getting my blood drawn - I pass out otherwise.  Not that I would pass out if I didn't sing, but, you get the point.

3.  I use the term "running" loosely.  I want to exercise, not kill myself.  Baby steps, people, baby steps. 

We've also changed our eating habits.  And our drinking habits.  {more water, what, what!!}  And I am bribing myself with a new pair of shoes at my 50 mile mark.  I hit 30 last night.

Since the last week in July I've lost 6, some days 7, pounds.  I could actually get my last year's jeans on the other night and I still had circulation to my feet.  2 months ago they were strangling my thighs to the point of no return.

So is that progress?  Yes, I believe so.

curious about what I'm listening to?  here's a sampling...

 

Lap Blankets

The girls came home with these lap blankets from Pop Pop last weekend...

 

...and they are so excited about them!

1.  Because they are beautiful and they love them.
2.  Because Pop Pop told them the story of these lap blankets.  His mother made them and used to put them on the pews at church for people to use if they were cold.  Pop Pop wanted the girls to have these two because he wanted to pass them down in the family.

They are taking this task very seriously and have already talked about how they can't wait to give them to their children.

My Weekend Review {three days??? what the what???}

Three day weekend, where did you go???  Oh, wait.  Yes.  I do know what happened to you...

1.  Friday night...I ate hibachi...again.  It's my weakness.  I love it so.

2.  Saturday I worked like a maniac (maniac, I tell you) cranking out jewelry.  I have some BIG (really big!) things coming up in the next few weeks and I am busy, busy with it.  I also have 52 earring orders to get out from my very jane deal.  Woot!  Woot!

3.  Saturday afternoon we headed up to CB and Drew's for a grown up/kid play date.  I say that both jokingly, but not jokingly...yes, our kids all love to play with each other, but we (Chris and I) also really love hanging out with them.  Drew smoked chickens, Christy Beth made awesome cheese dip and a turkey sandwich something or other (that I can't wait to do the weekend after Thanksgiving) and I brought up a pasta salad....

This is how I make pasta salad (which I learned from my stepmom)...  I buy the marinated mozzarella balls from Trader Joe's.  (Sometimes I get the ones at Super Target, but they're not as seasoned as the TJ's ones.)  Then, I cook a box of pasta (bowties, penne,  spirals, whatever - just not long noodles).  I rinse the pasta with cool water and dump in the whole bowl of mozzarella - oil and all.  And then you can add whatever you want - cucumbers, tomatoes, black olives...you get the picture.  And that's that.

4.  We watched The Lucky One.  Does it make me a dirty old lady that I think Zac Efron is hot?  If so, then I am okay with that.

5.  Sunday morning we headed out to my parents' house.  It was the last swim of the season.  The kids played water balloons and bouncy balls and Q swam with just water wings, no vest.  My mom made a new potato salad - dill and lemon and dijon mustard instead of mayo.

6.  Everyone, including Ike, snored on the drive home.

7.  We are almost finished with Breaking Bad.  We started watching it  this summer and we are almost all caught up.  Do you watch?  Yowza.  That's all I can say about that one.

8.  Today I did the grocery shopping and forgot to buy any meat.  I guess we're all going to be vegetarians this week.  Big sigh.

9.  Jewelry.  Jewelry.  Jewelry.

10.  Laundry.  Laundry.  Laundry.

11.  I ran another 5K.  On the treadmill.  In our living room.  And I do use the word "run" very loosely.  My definition and your definition might not be the same thing.

12.  Chris is making scallops for dinner as I type this.  Hooray!

13.  I pray this four day week is...uneventful, productive, stress, er, mild?  (free might be asking too much), positive (I am going to look for a way to make someone else feel good every day.  And maybe not yell at my children so much.  Just sayin.)