CONFESSION TIME!
So, my brain has been working away trying to come up with a good confession. And here is the tough part. I love to embarrass myself. Well, I just love it all the way around when people get embarrassed. So, normally, if I have a confession that I think will make people laugh, I tell it immediately.
So, I have to really dig here to think of things that I have not already exposed about myself.
And once I started digging, the things that I haven't exposed are the things that I don't want to expose. Like, how much I currently weigh. Or the number of times I have to take a picture of myself before one actually turns out normal. These are things that I am purposefully keeping between me and me.
But, I figure if I keep typing mindlessly and as fast as I can, something will just come out. Ok, got it.
Sometimes, I pretend to be deaf in order to avoid talking to people. Mainly, this happens when I get hit on while pumping gas at the gas station. I mean, who wants to answer the following question, "Hey! Does your baby have a daddy?" (YES, I was asked this question outside of my dr office a few weeks ago). So, instead of giving them a smart remark or glaring at them...I look in their direction...and do some sort of hand signal that I don't even understand but am pretty sure that they won't either.
Then, if it is the summer, I get into my car and quickly turn off the radio...because, well, that wouldn't make much sense.
Showing posts with label Confessionals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Confessionals. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Tuesday's Confessional.
19 Drafts.
I write on here a whole heck of a lot more than what it may seem to you. I just get bored mid-writing and decide to go back to whatever I was doing before...you know, something more important like taking my socks off. or attempting to cross my legs without losing my balance. yes. I am a worldchanger.
I have always toyed with the idea of creating a secret blog. One that is only for women. Where we can talk about all things ladylike without the boys in our lives finding out the real truth about us. And it would be password protected. And it would be awesome. For instance, I have questions. And you woman have some answers. And I may just never hear them because I can't ask how you all handle a booby itch in public on this post. And, well, now that I am pregnant...there are certain things that I can no longer take part in...or even see for that matter... and I just want to KNOW.
But, public post. No password protection.
So, I will stick to gender neutral topics. Like recipes and crafts and love. You know, the usual.
I have decided to start a Tuesday's Confessional. I am going to start telling you all (and by you, I mean my 8 trusty followers...thank you momS, Calley, Hannah, Elissa, Becca, Leah and Scott) my secrets and...well, confessions.
Confession #1 - I am incredibly embarrassed and aware of the fact that I breathe VERY loudly when I sleep. I swear on my mother's bean burritos that I have a deviated septum. I can't get a full breath in EVER through my nose...forcing me to have to breathe very intently in order to sleep at night and not wake up with a sore throat from breathing through my mouth.
But, here is my confession. Sometimes, when I know that Scott is still awake in bed...I roll away from him and take my fingers and hold open my nostrils so I can actually breathe without sounding like a rushing wave is coursing through my nose. And I do this until I think he is asleep...
Or at least until he stops asking me if I still have any breathe right strips left...
I write on here a whole heck of a lot more than what it may seem to you. I just get bored mid-writing and decide to go back to whatever I was doing before...you know, something more important like taking my socks off. or attempting to cross my legs without losing my balance. yes. I am a worldchanger.
I have always toyed with the idea of creating a secret blog. One that is only for women. Where we can talk about all things ladylike without the boys in our lives finding out the real truth about us. And it would be password protected. And it would be awesome. For instance, I have questions. And you woman have some answers. And I may just never hear them because I can't ask how you all handle a booby itch in public on this post. And, well, now that I am pregnant...there are certain things that I can no longer take part in...or even see for that matter... and I just want to KNOW.
But, public post. No password protection.
So, I will stick to gender neutral topics. Like recipes and crafts and love. You know, the usual.
I have decided to start a Tuesday's Confessional. I am going to start telling you all (and by you, I mean my 8 trusty followers...thank you momS, Calley, Hannah, Elissa, Becca, Leah and Scott) my secrets and...well, confessions.
Confession #1 - I am incredibly embarrassed and aware of the fact that I breathe VERY loudly when I sleep. I swear on my mother's bean burritos that I have a deviated septum. I can't get a full breath in EVER through my nose...forcing me to have to breathe very intently in order to sleep at night and not wake up with a sore throat from breathing through my mouth.
But, here is my confession. Sometimes, when I know that Scott is still awake in bed...I roll away from him and take my fingers and hold open my nostrils so I can actually breathe without sounding like a rushing wave is coursing through my nose. And I do this until I think he is asleep...
Or at least until he stops asking me if I still have any breathe right strips left...
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Like a Man.
My voice, that is. Expecially when I wake up.
Somehow, in the night, little tiny elves sneak into my throat...create an Adam's apple, all the while scratching and stepping all over my vocal cords...decide against the Adam's apple, remove it and scurry away before daybreak.
This is the only way I can explain how I go to bed with a female tone and wake up sounding like Jack Nicholson. Well, the only reasonable explanation.
But, no matter how manly I sound on the phone in the morning and how surprised you may be to find out you are talking to a Stephanie and not a Stefan...I am all woman.
And being a woman, there is a little bit of territory that I have conquered that I am not proud of. I may just be a little bit of a tiny smidge of an eency weency tadbit of a...One Upper.
I HATE to admit it. In fact, it is one of my largest pet peeves about people. But, Scott and I were talking last night and he was telling my about his observation about some woman, especially now that I am pregnant.
He said, "I think some woman just like to hear themselves talk."
Now, at first, I wanted to throw my oven roasted chicken and potatoes with steamed broccoli at him (oh yes...I cooked that...from scratch...had to throw that in there since this is a once a month accomplishment) and spend the next 10 minutes telling him why I thought he was wrong and give 17 examples of how I am not like that. But, I stopped myself...barely... And said, "go on..."
And he told me that since I have been pregnant, he has noticed that so many ladies ask me how I am doing and before I am done answering, they begin their next phrase with "When I was pregnant...." and THEN I answer with a "Oh, I know! Now back to my pregnancy..." And THEY respond with a " I so get that! When I was 6 months along...." and I say "Yeah, at my 24 week appointment..." And they say, "I remember my doctor telling me...." And so on...both talking about our own experience...hardly taking in the other's experience...
You get my jist. And as much as I hate to admit it. I do like to hear myself talk. And sometimes, when I listen to someone else's story, I am already thinking about my past experience and am bursting at the seams to share it with them.
ometimes, I am not even listening to what is being said because I am just waiting for someone to take a breath so I can start my topic....about my experience...me...me...me...
Well crap Scott. As annoyed as I wanted to be and as much as I wanted to walk away thinking how great I am at listening and really taking in someone else's story without interjecting my own details, I couldnt.
The truth is. I need to remember that conversation with people doesnt have to and really shouldn't turn into Stephanie's storytime. And when someone talks about their wedding...or their birth story...or their horrible boss...or their dilemma with a friend...or their dogs... I should really just listen. And listen. And listen. Period.
Unless, Scott asks me what we talked about...then, I can say, "Oh, this happened to her...remember when this happened to me???" Baby steps people.
Anyways, the lessons are being learned everyday. And my lesson for the week is to remember that the art of conversation has little to do with me. So, maybe, just maybe, I should do something that I hate hearing people say.
Just. Shut. My. Pretty. Little. Sometimes. Manly. Sounding. Mouth.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
17 Things.
1. Why is it that when you have an open wound on your thumb, you seem to ALWAYS hit your hand on something that directly comes in contact with this open wound?
2. This week, I have never had more memories of youth camps growing up. Why you ask? Because I have had too many late nights and early mornings and awful food and am feeling extremely emotional. I swear, if I saw an alter, I would run to it. Just out of habit.
3. Had I been cool enough at any point in my teenage years, I would also find some old Philips Craig and Dean song and start doing human video motions. But alas, always the audience member....never in a black t-shirt and khakis.
4. I havent gone maternity clothes shopping yet and the clothes I have been given dont quite fit yet. All of this equals me in way too tight and unbuttoned dress pants with a belly band that is doing a sub par job.
5. We painted the baby's room a very soft green. And unfortunately, I think about Tinkerbell when I walk into it. I am hoping this feeling changes soon.
6. I have played my Scattered Trees CD on a daily basis at work since I got it months ago. And I didnt know this was possible, but I wore it out and it no longer plays. So sad.
7. This may be my lack of sleep talking, but I have a sudden urge to call Harpo Productions and see if Oprah is free for lunch.
8. There is a lady at my work who walks into my office everyday and takes some candy from my candy dish while telling me she really shouldnt be eating it. THEN. DONT.
9. Side note, it is a really good idea to buy candy that you dont like for your candy dish so you dont get tempted to eat it. My current candy dish collection? Gobstoppers. So not my style.
10. I STILL have not had to cut my toenails ONCE since training for my marathon last summer. I think they have all permanently stopped growing. Gross. And yet, kind of awesome.
11. My baby girl is doing so well and I am kind of in shock about the whole thing. I would like to go back to all of the specialists that I have seen and point to my belly and say "Boo-yah".
12. I honk at EVERY single person who drives on the highway and is looking at their phone. And everytime, I startle the crap out of them. Makes me so mad that people are that stupid.
13. I am currently having a love affair with bagels. Plain bagels. with a little bit of butter. Toasted to perfection with a light brown hue around the edges. I would choose that over oreo cheesecake right now. Now, that's love.
14. Out of the 6 colors we picked out for the house, I am in love with 4. These are really great odds for me considering I painted my old kitchen 4 times in under 4 years.
15. Our carpeting is getting put in today. And I am not picturing myself laying on it enjoying it's softness. I am picturing myself crawling around on it picking up any piece of dirt and fantasizing about taking people's shoes off for them when they walk into the house. Oh, and I haven't decided yet, but should I print out a piece of paper that says "You cannot eat, drink, spit while you talk, sweat or go barefoot on the carpet" or should I just pay someone to put it on canvas and make it my wall art?
16. I always wanted to be Rachel, but I am totally Monica.
17. I thought about calling Oprah. But then I figured she might have a day off. And be with Gayle. And I would think Gayle would be in a yellow velour sweatsuit with white sneakers and Oprah would be in a dark purple velour sweatsuit with her hair in a ponytail and visor on her head...and I just dont really want to be in public with people in velour sweatsuits. So, I decided to wait until tomorrow. When Oprah is more presentable.
2. This week, I have never had more memories of youth camps growing up. Why you ask? Because I have had too many late nights and early mornings and awful food and am feeling extremely emotional. I swear, if I saw an alter, I would run to it. Just out of habit.
3. Had I been cool enough at any point in my teenage years, I would also find some old Philips Craig and Dean song and start doing human video motions. But alas, always the audience member....never in a black t-shirt and khakis.
4. I havent gone maternity clothes shopping yet and the clothes I have been given dont quite fit yet. All of this equals me in way too tight and unbuttoned dress pants with a belly band that is doing a sub par job.
5. We painted the baby's room a very soft green. And unfortunately, I think about Tinkerbell when I walk into it. I am hoping this feeling changes soon.
6. I have played my Scattered Trees CD on a daily basis at work since I got it months ago. And I didnt know this was possible, but I wore it out and it no longer plays. So sad.
7. This may be my lack of sleep talking, but I have a sudden urge to call Harpo Productions and see if Oprah is free for lunch.
8. There is a lady at my work who walks into my office everyday and takes some candy from my candy dish while telling me she really shouldnt be eating it. THEN. DONT.
9. Side note, it is a really good idea to buy candy that you dont like for your candy dish so you dont get tempted to eat it. My current candy dish collection? Gobstoppers. So not my style.
10. I STILL have not had to cut my toenails ONCE since training for my marathon last summer. I think they have all permanently stopped growing. Gross. And yet, kind of awesome.
11. My baby girl is doing so well and I am kind of in shock about the whole thing. I would like to go back to all of the specialists that I have seen and point to my belly and say "Boo-yah".
12. I honk at EVERY single person who drives on the highway and is looking at their phone. And everytime, I startle the crap out of them. Makes me so mad that people are that stupid.
13. I am currently having a love affair with bagels. Plain bagels. with a little bit of butter. Toasted to perfection with a light brown hue around the edges. I would choose that over oreo cheesecake right now. Now, that's love.
14. Out of the 6 colors we picked out for the house, I am in love with 4. These are really great odds for me considering I painted my old kitchen 4 times in under 4 years.
15. Our carpeting is getting put in today. And I am not picturing myself laying on it enjoying it's softness. I am picturing myself crawling around on it picking up any piece of dirt and fantasizing about taking people's shoes off for them when they walk into the house. Oh, and I haven't decided yet, but should I print out a piece of paper that says "You cannot eat, drink, spit while you talk, sweat or go barefoot on the carpet" or should I just pay someone to put it on canvas and make it my wall art?
16. I always wanted to be Rachel, but I am totally Monica.
17. I thought about calling Oprah. But then I figured she might have a day off. And be with Gayle. And I would think Gayle would be in a yellow velour sweatsuit with white sneakers and Oprah would be in a dark purple velour sweatsuit with her hair in a ponytail and visor on her head...and I just dont really want to be in public with people in velour sweatsuits. So, I decided to wait until tomorrow. When Oprah is more presentable.
Friday, January 28, 2011
a simple thank you...
I have this gift. I am super talented at it as I have spent years honing my skill. I am really really good at going to the store and buying awesome thank you cards. I mean, I can pick them. And then, what's even better, is I am really good at is getting them out to write thank you notes to people. I mean, I am a star at putting their names on the inside of the card and writing their name on the envelope. And most of the time, I can write a wicked heartfelt thank you inside the card.
But, where my talent has been mastered? Is in the department of NOT sending the cards off. I mean, if anyone is better at finishing a thank you card but never letting it leave your desk at home, I dare you to come forward. I can easily whip out a good 25 cards that are just sitting in the thank you boxes ready to go.
I would normally be proud of any talent that I can scrounge up seeing as I am married to Scott 'talent seeps out of my perfectly moisturized and never smelly skin' Zibell, but this one? Not so much.
All of that to say, I have been incredibly blessed. I feel as though my life has been a broken record for the last few years and frankly, I am surprised how many people have stayed so supportive and encouraging to me during the whole time. You would think after a year or two of it, they would steer clear of calling me, but no, the calls never ceased. And sometimes, you just need to stop and take a minute and tell them how much they mean to you.
Leah, my sis - you have never stopped acknowledging my three little ones as your nieces and nephews and though it seems like a really small token...it has been one of the most special things for me. Because even though they arent here, it hasnt made them any less family to you and because of that, it has kept them even closer to my heart. You have been a rock of support for me. It is a gift that I treasure.
Jess and Tom - Your phone calls, prayers, text messages, listening ears... Scott and I couldn't ask for better friends... You are way more than our vacation buddies... You are family. Jess, you know the saying "steel wrapped in velvet"? Well, you are velvet wrapped in steel.. The softest heart with the fiestiest mouth... My favorite thing about you.
Amy - 20 years of friendship. I can't tell you how many times I heard you say, "I'm so sorry..I don't know what to say". And I can't tell you how much those words meant to me. You are always honest and always sincere. Plus, you are pretty hilarious and just as self-depricating as me, so that always makes for a memorable time...one that somehow always gets photographed.
Calley - I feel like I have known you my whole life. You are the epitome of what a true friend looks like. You give more of yourself and so wholeheartedly. I am so fiercely protective of you and it's because I have seen how incredible your heart is. I can't count the times I have said to Scott, "She has no idea how much I have needed her friendship". And I dont think you ever will.
My small group girls, Linds, Ahndea, Theresa, Leah and Leah (and Brit!) - You are each a God-send. You have let me be so honest and so raw with my feelings. You have taken me out, let me stay in, brought me dinner, prayed your hearts out for me. You have cried with me and celebrated with me. Linds, running with you has been healing. Ahndea, singing with you has been freeing. Theresa, talking with you has been calming. You all have been God's hand extended when we wanted nothing to do with Him. And even though your words have been loud, your actions have been louder. I don't know how I would have gotten through these past few years without any of you.
Ashley, Jen, Paula, Cheryl, Sharon and Linda... For an entire year, I have been surrounded by your prayers and words of encouragement. God has used each of you to inject me with hope and faith and confidence in His goodness. I have saved every single email. I hope that I can be to someone else what you all have been to me...because it has literally changed my life.
There are many more that I am going to thank in future posts, but I have run out of lunch break time, so I have to get back to the grind....
I'll be back.
But, where my talent has been mastered? Is in the department of NOT sending the cards off. I mean, if anyone is better at finishing a thank you card but never letting it leave your desk at home, I dare you to come forward. I can easily whip out a good 25 cards that are just sitting in the thank you boxes ready to go.
I would normally be proud of any talent that I can scrounge up seeing as I am married to Scott 'talent seeps out of my perfectly moisturized and never smelly skin' Zibell, but this one? Not so much.
All of that to say, I have been incredibly blessed. I feel as though my life has been a broken record for the last few years and frankly, I am surprised how many people have stayed so supportive and encouraging to me during the whole time. You would think after a year or two of it, they would steer clear of calling me, but no, the calls never ceased. And sometimes, you just need to stop and take a minute and tell them how much they mean to you.
Leah, my sis - you have never stopped acknowledging my three little ones as your nieces and nephews and though it seems like a really small token...it has been one of the most special things for me. Because even though they arent here, it hasnt made them any less family to you and because of that, it has kept them even closer to my heart. You have been a rock of support for me. It is a gift that I treasure.
Jess and Tom - Your phone calls, prayers, text messages, listening ears... Scott and I couldn't ask for better friends... You are way more than our vacation buddies... You are family. Jess, you know the saying "steel wrapped in velvet"? Well, you are velvet wrapped in steel.. The softest heart with the fiestiest mouth... My favorite thing about you.
Amy - 20 years of friendship. I can't tell you how many times I heard you say, "I'm so sorry..I don't know what to say". And I can't tell you how much those words meant to me. You are always honest and always sincere. Plus, you are pretty hilarious and just as self-depricating as me, so that always makes for a memorable time...one that somehow always gets photographed.
Calley - I feel like I have known you my whole life. You are the epitome of what a true friend looks like. You give more of yourself and so wholeheartedly. I am so fiercely protective of you and it's because I have seen how incredible your heart is. I can't count the times I have said to Scott, "She has no idea how much I have needed her friendship". And I dont think you ever will.
My small group girls, Linds, Ahndea, Theresa, Leah and Leah (and Brit!) - You are each a God-send. You have let me be so honest and so raw with my feelings. You have taken me out, let me stay in, brought me dinner, prayed your hearts out for me. You have cried with me and celebrated with me. Linds, running with you has been healing. Ahndea, singing with you has been freeing. Theresa, talking with you has been calming. You all have been God's hand extended when we wanted nothing to do with Him. And even though your words have been loud, your actions have been louder. I don't know how I would have gotten through these past few years without any of you.
Ashley, Jen, Paula, Cheryl, Sharon and Linda... For an entire year, I have been surrounded by your prayers and words of encouragement. God has used each of you to inject me with hope and faith and confidence in His goodness. I have saved every single email. I hope that I can be to someone else what you all have been to me...because it has literally changed my life.
There are many more that I am going to thank in future posts, but I have run out of lunch break time, so I have to get back to the grind....
I'll be back.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Let's All Just Get Honest.
My baby can pee now. Yes. at only 14 weeks old, this little tyke can let it all out. I wonder if they make a tiny sigh like so many of us do when we finally get the chance to take a tinkle.
By the way, as much as I hate having to inconvenience my day by going to the restroom, I do love unloading my bladder. Sometimes, I just smile and sit there for a smidge longer than normal and just enjoy the moment. (Cue my husband reading this blog, getting embarrassed on my behalf, shaking his head and saying quietly to himself, "Steeeeeeph". He thinks I should keep some things to myself.)
Hey, I never claimed to be classy.
Which reminds me, (Scott's embarrassment, not my classy claim) for the most part, I love attention. And in almost all instances, Scott is not a fan of it. We went to the Blue Man Group show once and I had an aisle seat. The blue men were walking down the aisles looking at people all creepy. Of course, I can't just sit there and stare back, I have to make a slight scene, like they are scaring me..I mean, how else will they have a conversation after the show about that one really cool girl that they freaked out? Anyways, what I didn't realize was they were looking for someone to bring on stage. Well, the attention worked. And I landed myself in a 15 minute scene with the no talking, plastic smelling, heavy breathing blue men and, I must say.... I stole that show like it was a ding dong in my neighbors lunch box.
Where was Scott while I was egging on the crowd and soaking in the rays of attention?
He was sweating. And shaking. And trying his best not to have a heart attack right then and there. Because he was THAT nervous for me! And I am sure, completely embarrassed, as people laughed at something I did, they would all look lovingly his way too. Man, if I could have ALSO been in his seat..double attention! Score!
I also made a sign once at a Packers game. Because I wanted to get on tv. And not just the jumbo tron. ESPN. Go big or go home. So, I made an enormous sign that read, "This is our Honeymoon!" With a big heart and the letter Z in the middle. Did Scott grunt and try to hide behind the sign everytime I flew it proudly in the air? Of course. Did we make it onto TV? Oh yes. Did people around us give us strange looks and ask questions as to WHY we would pick Green Bay Wisconsin as our honeymoon destination? You betcha. Were we prepared to answer? Of course not. I only think in the moment. I just stared sweetly at Scott like those new wives who always wait for their new husband's to answer every question. Which made Scott all the more happy about my sign.
I had a point. But now all I want to do is figure out a way to get on a gameshow. or find a way to secretly nominate myself for some hero's episode of Oprah.
Oh, you have ALL thought about doing that before!
No?
Just me?
By the way, as much as I hate having to inconvenience my day by going to the restroom, I do love unloading my bladder. Sometimes, I just smile and sit there for a smidge longer than normal and just enjoy the moment. (Cue my husband reading this blog, getting embarrassed on my behalf, shaking his head and saying quietly to himself, "Steeeeeeph". He thinks I should keep some things to myself.)
Hey, I never claimed to be classy.
Which reminds me, (Scott's embarrassment, not my classy claim) for the most part, I love attention. And in almost all instances, Scott is not a fan of it. We went to the Blue Man Group show once and I had an aisle seat. The blue men were walking down the aisles looking at people all creepy. Of course, I can't just sit there and stare back, I have to make a slight scene, like they are scaring me..I mean, how else will they have a conversation after the show about that one really cool girl that they freaked out? Anyways, what I didn't realize was they were looking for someone to bring on stage. Well, the attention worked. And I landed myself in a 15 minute scene with the no talking, plastic smelling, heavy breathing blue men and, I must say.... I stole that show like it was a ding dong in my neighbors lunch box.
Where was Scott while I was egging on the crowd and soaking in the rays of attention?
He was sweating. And shaking. And trying his best not to have a heart attack right then and there. Because he was THAT nervous for me! And I am sure, completely embarrassed, as people laughed at something I did, they would all look lovingly his way too. Man, if I could have ALSO been in his seat..double attention! Score!
I also made a sign once at a Packers game. Because I wanted to get on tv. And not just the jumbo tron. ESPN. Go big or go home. So, I made an enormous sign that read, "This is our Honeymoon!" With a big heart and the letter Z in the middle. Did Scott grunt and try to hide behind the sign everytime I flew it proudly in the air? Of course. Did we make it onto TV? Oh yes. Did people around us give us strange looks and ask questions as to WHY we would pick Green Bay Wisconsin as our honeymoon destination? You betcha. Were we prepared to answer? Of course not. I only think in the moment. I just stared sweetly at Scott like those new wives who always wait for their new husband's to answer every question. Which made Scott all the more happy about my sign.
I had a point. But now all I want to do is figure out a way to get on a gameshow. or find a way to secretly nominate myself for some hero's episode of Oprah.
Oh, you have ALL thought about doing that before!
No?
Just me?
Monday, December 27, 2010
Timing.
When I was a little girl, I had a crush on this little boy named Jason. He was the boy that I woke up extra early for one Sunday morning (that just happened to be Valentine's day) and snuck to the corner gas station to buy a chocolate sucker for. I remember getting ready for church and preparing in my mind the moment where I would hand him the sucker and say something awfully romantic, like "Here, I found this. Do you want it?". You know, as romantic as an 8 year old can be. But that moment never happened. Because as I was walking into the kids service, I saw my friend Heidi, who was way cuter than me and somehow already developing boobs, giving him a homemade card with a box of conversation hearts.
My timing has been bad since childhood..
From picture taking to dance moves to even my first kiss, that ended up being more of an interaction between my chin and his lips because I had no idea how fast or slow you go in for one of those things. Yes, me + timing = bad bad bad.
As an adult, I got a little bit better. I don't blink or sneeze nearly as often in pictures, I can move like nothing else if you give me some old school Michael Jackson and an empty room and I would have to say that after years of practice, I now know how to give a kiss directly on the lips.
Beyond that, I have noticed that a lot of the 'timings' of my life have been out of my control. From jobs to creating major organs to houses to starting a family. In fact, in the last two and a half years, I have completely given in to the idea that God is in control here and He is so good and loving and faithful, that it's about time I start trusting Him with every part of my life. Genius, I know. You would think after years of felt bible characters and easter services that I would have figured that out by now.
So it really should come as absolutely no surprise to me that the day after we move out of our home and into my mother's house in Beloit. And the week after we gave our leased vehicle back to the dealership with no new car to bring home due to our recent drout from the lovely garage lady (if you dont know this wonderful story...see a few posts down). And the day before we have an appointment with my kidney specialist to find out what is exactly wrong with my singular kidney and see if it is even ok to try to get pregnant. We find out that we are in fact, with child.
Well, just me. Scott still has his washboard abs. jealous. My abs? Well, let's just say I could win a beer belly contest. And while we are at it, let's also throw out there that my favorite part of the day is when I unbotton my pants. feels. so. good.
So, are you saying that this wasn't in your "plan"? Actually, yes. I am a worry wart. And knowing that I have one kidney and a blood disorder that shifts me into the high risk region of the pregnancy world, I was really prepared to never try to get pregnant again. And I was ok with that. For the most part. And gosh, it felt like with our luck...from the garage crap to the car stuff to the kidney disappearence to the 3 lost pregnancies... The timing of all of this has been SO wrong in my mind...
But now that I look back, I couldn't have painted a better picture of God's faithfulness.
And just because I know that He is faithful does not mean that I am certain of my future. Or my sweet little baby's future. But, at this point, I don't need to be. I have today to celebrate. And tomorrow can wait. No matter what happens, God is still good and his timing is better than mine could ever be.
My timing has been bad since childhood..
From picture taking to dance moves to even my first kiss, that ended up being more of an interaction between my chin and his lips because I had no idea how fast or slow you go in for one of those things. Yes, me + timing = bad bad bad.
As an adult, I got a little bit better. I don't blink or sneeze nearly as often in pictures, I can move like nothing else if you give me some old school Michael Jackson and an empty room and I would have to say that after years of practice, I now know how to give a kiss directly on the lips.
Beyond that, I have noticed that a lot of the 'timings' of my life have been out of my control. From jobs to creating major organs to houses to starting a family. In fact, in the last two and a half years, I have completely given in to the idea that God is in control here and He is so good and loving and faithful, that it's about time I start trusting Him with every part of my life. Genius, I know. You would think after years of felt bible characters and easter services that I would have figured that out by now.
So it really should come as absolutely no surprise to me that the day after we move out of our home and into my mother's house in Beloit. And the week after we gave our leased vehicle back to the dealership with no new car to bring home due to our recent drout from the lovely garage lady (if you dont know this wonderful story...see a few posts down). And the day before we have an appointment with my kidney specialist to find out what is exactly wrong with my singular kidney and see if it is even ok to try to get pregnant. We find out that we are in fact, with child.
Well, just me. Scott still has his washboard abs. jealous. My abs? Well, let's just say I could win a beer belly contest. And while we are at it, let's also throw out there that my favorite part of the day is when I unbotton my pants. feels. so. good.
So, are you saying that this wasn't in your "plan"? Actually, yes. I am a worry wart. And knowing that I have one kidney and a blood disorder that shifts me into the high risk region of the pregnancy world, I was really prepared to never try to get pregnant again. And I was ok with that. For the most part. And gosh, it felt like with our luck...from the garage crap to the car stuff to the kidney disappearence to the 3 lost pregnancies... The timing of all of this has been SO wrong in my mind...
But now that I look back, I couldn't have painted a better picture of God's faithfulness.
And just because I know that He is faithful does not mean that I am certain of my future. Or my sweet little baby's future. But, at this point, I don't need to be. I have today to celebrate. And tomorrow can wait. No matter what happens, God is still good and his timing is better than mine could ever be.
Monday, November 1, 2010
I Remember When....
I have a confession.
I love talking about memories of other people.
But here is the real "issue".
Sometimes I do it, just so they will talk about a memory they have of me.
There is something validating about being told how funny or curious or strong or fearless you were as a kid. Or how brave or adorable or cute or dorky you were as a teenie bopper. It's like when you put in your status update "Write down one memory you have of me" and then sit and wait for the answers to pour in...laughing to yourself as someone says "memory, memory...that was so funny" while you are smiling and thinking "man, I was so funny".
It's awful and I know it. But, when I tell you something from your childhood that I think was hilarious or worth sharing again, it is partially because I want a boomerang memory to come right back at me... For example, I fed this bait to my brother last night. And he didn't take.
"I remember you doing ninja kicks behind the couch as a kid." - me.
"haha" - Colin.
If the story played out the way I wanted it to, it would have gone something like this:
"I remember you doing ninja kicks behind the couch as a kid: - me
"Oh my gosh! I totally remember that! I thought that was so fun! And you would always try to kick too, but you were so bad at it!" - Colin
"I was, wasn't I?" (to myself...oh clumsy silly stephanie..sigh) - me
See, Colin would have walked away feeling so cool because he could do the ninja kicks and had he reciprocated, could have made me feel equally as cool for being the cute and clumsy younger sister. fail, Colin. fail.
So, listen. We all love validating our friends for their super human kicks and amazing fort-making abilities as kids. Or how cool they really looked with that jewel studded hat in their 6th grade picture or the enormous corduroy pants that catapulted them into 9th grade popularity.
But, can't these memories be for both the giver and receiver? So, I'll scratch your back...you scratch mine, ok?
Backscratching...I used to play this game with my childhood friends called Write On Backs. They would write a word on my back and I would have to guess what they were saying and vice versa...Amy always tried to fake me out with her lower case "l" and upper case "I". She was so sneaky! But, I usually figured it out...oh smart and witty young Stephanie...sigh...
I love talking about memories of other people.
But here is the real "issue".
Sometimes I do it, just so they will talk about a memory they have of me.
There is something validating about being told how funny or curious or strong or fearless you were as a kid. Or how brave or adorable or cute or dorky you were as a teenie bopper. It's like when you put in your status update "Write down one memory you have of me" and then sit and wait for the answers to pour in...laughing to yourself as someone says "memory, memory...that was so funny" while you are smiling and thinking "man, I was so funny".
It's awful and I know it. But, when I tell you something from your childhood that I think was hilarious or worth sharing again, it is partially because I want a boomerang memory to come right back at me... For example, I fed this bait to my brother last night. And he didn't take.
"I remember you doing ninja kicks behind the couch as a kid." - me.
"haha" - Colin.
If the story played out the way I wanted it to, it would have gone something like this:
"I remember you doing ninja kicks behind the couch as a kid: - me
"Oh my gosh! I totally remember that! I thought that was so fun! And you would always try to kick too, but you were so bad at it!" - Colin
"I was, wasn't I?" (to myself...oh clumsy silly stephanie..sigh) - me
See, Colin would have walked away feeling so cool because he could do the ninja kicks and had he reciprocated, could have made me feel equally as cool for being the cute and clumsy younger sister. fail, Colin. fail.
So, listen. We all love validating our friends for their super human kicks and amazing fort-making abilities as kids. Or how cool they really looked with that jewel studded hat in their 6th grade picture or the enormous corduroy pants that catapulted them into 9th grade popularity.
But, can't these memories be for both the giver and receiver? So, I'll scratch your back...you scratch mine, ok?
Backscratching...I used to play this game with my childhood friends called Write On Backs. They would write a word on my back and I would have to guess what they were saying and vice versa...Amy always tried to fake me out with her lower case "l" and upper case "I". She was so sneaky! But, I usually figured it out...oh smart and witty young Stephanie...sigh...
Monday, August 16, 2010
Hitting THE Wall.
I have heard about this "wall" that runners hit. A point in their race where they feel like they can't go on any further. I didn't really understand this wall.... mainly because I had never had one...
Fast Forward. Me. laying flat on the floor of my bedroom. My face landing on a pair of jogging pants(ironic). Crying. Well, sobbing. Ok, wailing.
"I don't want to run anymore"
Scott...my confused for the moment husband...sits next to me and tries to hide his smile and act very concerned about my current state...
"Sweetie...you signed up for a marathon... and you just ran 15 miles! You can't stop now"
The wailing continued for about 35 seconds. Then, after a few moments of listening to him trying to stifle his laughter, I start to laugh....and cry....but more so laugh. I imagine this moment will be re-lived in the Zibell house... except it will be with our oneday 4 year old child who is crying over a missing button on a favorite stuffed animal or a lollipop that fell on the floor and shattered. And this time, Scott will be calming down the appropriately aged person. (Unless, I lose my mind and train for another marathon...which in that case, I will definetely be in a corner somewhere wailing)
Rewind. 3 1/2 hours earlier. And the wall has been hit. And man, I totalled that bad boy. I was not even TWO MILES into a FIFTEEN MILE run and I was already done. over it. tired. physically worn out. mentally gone.
It was the worst 3 hours of my life. AND YES. It took 3 HOURS! That is how bad it was. Last week, I ran 14 in 2:22. And this week, I added not only a mile but almost 40 minutes to the run. Em to the barrassing.
Lindsay, my faithful running partner and I, tried everything we could to get over it as she, too, was not wanting to keep going. We changed things up and started listening to music for the first 5 miles instead of the last. We tried to talk about things that would take up a lot of time and hopefully distract us, like wondering if hell was a marathon race that never ended. But nothing. Two days ago, I was running a 9 minute mile. And today. I could hardly get to 12 minutes. I'm not kidding. It was so very bad.
It was like my body was not my own. I could contort my face and strain with the best of 'em and my body would react by slowing down instead of moving faster. I couldn't find a rythym and felt like I was running for the first time. I haven't been out of breath running in a long time unless I am doing sprints and I couldnt catch my breath. The normal self-talk I do was backfiring left and right because all of the sudden I had a new voice in my head cussing out the inspiring voice. And she was mean.
I wish I could tell you that I won. That I overcame the wall and bounded like a gazelle to the finish line. But, no. I jogged...if you can call walking with a slight hop jogging...to the end with a pained look on my face and an even more pained body for spending the last 3 hours in awful running form.
And afterwards, I walked through the door of my house, dropped my half frozen Gatorade on the floor and crawled to my bedroom where the carpet welcomed me. And wept in self-pity and agony. like a baby. IT. WAS. PATHETIC.
And I have a 16 mile run in 5 days. And I have 5 today. And 7 on Wednesday. And 5 again on Thursday.
So. Today, I need to make a quick list of why I am running. And maybe this will help. If it does not help...then, I may need to pay one of you to get all Tanya Harding on me. Go for the shins.
Why I Run:
For Jennifer Aniston. Well, for Jennifer Aniston's stomach. Actually, because of Jennifer Aniston's stomach. This feels like it is getting creepy. I just want to have a stomach like hers.
For my three little ones. I want to make them proud.
For me. Because I love the space and the thinking time and the music and the empowerment and the challenge.
Ok. I can do this. I just need a little more gusto. A little more Gatorade. And a LOT more carbs.
Fast Forward. Me. laying flat on the floor of my bedroom. My face landing on a pair of jogging pants(ironic). Crying. Well, sobbing. Ok, wailing.
"I don't want to run anymore"
Scott...my confused for the moment husband...sits next to me and tries to hide his smile and act very concerned about my current state...
"Sweetie...you signed up for a marathon... and you just ran 15 miles! You can't stop now"
The wailing continued for about 35 seconds. Then, after a few moments of listening to him trying to stifle his laughter, I start to laugh....and cry....but more so laugh. I imagine this moment will be re-lived in the Zibell house... except it will be with our oneday 4 year old child who is crying over a missing button on a favorite stuffed animal or a lollipop that fell on the floor and shattered. And this time, Scott will be calming down the appropriately aged person. (Unless, I lose my mind and train for another marathon...which in that case, I will definetely be in a corner somewhere wailing)
Rewind. 3 1/2 hours earlier. And the wall has been hit. And man, I totalled that bad boy. I was not even TWO MILES into a FIFTEEN MILE run and I was already done. over it. tired. physically worn out. mentally gone.
It was the worst 3 hours of my life. AND YES. It took 3 HOURS! That is how bad it was. Last week, I ran 14 in 2:22. And this week, I added not only a mile but almost 40 minutes to the run. Em to the barrassing.
Lindsay, my faithful running partner and I, tried everything we could to get over it as she, too, was not wanting to keep going. We changed things up and started listening to music for the first 5 miles instead of the last. We tried to talk about things that would take up a lot of time and hopefully distract us, like wondering if hell was a marathon race that never ended. But nothing. Two days ago, I was running a 9 minute mile. And today. I could hardly get to 12 minutes. I'm not kidding. It was so very bad.
It was like my body was not my own. I could contort my face and strain with the best of 'em and my body would react by slowing down instead of moving faster. I couldn't find a rythym and felt like I was running for the first time. I haven't been out of breath running in a long time unless I am doing sprints and I couldnt catch my breath. The normal self-talk I do was backfiring left and right because all of the sudden I had a new voice in my head cussing out the inspiring voice. And she was mean.
I wish I could tell you that I won. That I overcame the wall and bounded like a gazelle to the finish line. But, no. I jogged...if you can call walking with a slight hop jogging...to the end with a pained look on my face and an even more pained body for spending the last 3 hours in awful running form.
And afterwards, I walked through the door of my house, dropped my half frozen Gatorade on the floor and crawled to my bedroom where the carpet welcomed me. And wept in self-pity and agony. like a baby. IT. WAS. PATHETIC.
And I have a 16 mile run in 5 days. And I have 5 today. And 7 on Wednesday. And 5 again on Thursday.
So. Today, I need to make a quick list of why I am running. And maybe this will help. If it does not help...then, I may need to pay one of you to get all Tanya Harding on me. Go for the shins.
Why I Run:
For Jennifer Aniston. Well, for Jennifer Aniston's stomach. Actually, because of Jennifer Aniston's stomach. This feels like it is getting creepy. I just want to have a stomach like hers.
For my three little ones. I want to make them proud.
For me. Because I love the space and the thinking time and the music and the empowerment and the challenge.
Ok. I can do this. I just need a little more gusto. A little more Gatorade. And a LOT more carbs.
Friday, June 11, 2010
MOMENTOUS OCCASIONS.
I am FINALLY pre-babies weight.
Wait. What?
Let me give you my chubby tubby timeline, as I like to call it..well, I like to call it that now because I have never given it a name until just this second. And let's be honest, it could be better.
May, 08 - ran first half marathon. body = awesome (in my book...again, all up for debate here)
May, 08 - leave for baby makin' cruise. and it worked. the baby was made.
July, 08 - lost our little one. spent the week at home. people brought food.
*time out*
When I say "people brought food", I mean, for ONE meal...we would get an appetizer... bread... entree...dessert...drinks... and sometimes even more. (insert many dang gina's)
I will not embellish each time, but I need to make you aware of this: EVERYTHING was in the comfort food genre and EVERYTHING was portioned for at least four people.
And. I. Ate. Pretty. Much. All. Of. It. I mean, I would leave a brownie for Scott. Sometimes.
*time in*
September 08 - time to get back in the saddle. literally. baby makin' time again. And yes, Scott eggoed my...preggo.. wait, that can't be right... He leggoed my eggo? What is that saying?!? I got pregnant. Man, I thought I could have said that way cooler.
November 18, 08 - lost our second little one. (now it's time to insert explitives..it's ok. we started to)
Spent another week at home. PEOPLE BROUGHT FOOD. And Thanksgiving began.
-Now this is where it gets tricky. Not only was I so angry with my body and felt so much guilt for what my body was doing that I felt the need to destroy it. I also didn't want to talk to a single person. And with the holidays all around me, what better way to avoid conversation than to always have food in my mouth. And naughty naughty food. Because, hey, if my body isn't going to do me any favors, why should I do it any.
I honestly thought that. Self-destruction at its worst. or actually, at its best.
December, 08 - Find out I have a blood disease. Just another confirmation that it is my fault. So, what to do? Besides cry and fight off the urge to sleep all day. Eat, drink and smoke cigarettes. I was seriously having a serious fight with my body. I was like a bully. I just wanted to see it hurt. so sad to look back on. But, my heart was very broken. And sometimes, you break things when you are broken.
Jan, 09 - Realized I had been depressed and just kind of snapped out of it. It was literally like a snap. And all I thought was, "What have I been doing to myself?" But, 20 pounds and a sad liver and black lung later, the damage had been done.
Feb, 09 - I was on a mission to be healthy. So, ran a 10k. Cut the crappy crap and moved forward.
March, 09 - Got pregnant. Started 14 medications including daily shots to the tummy, a strict diet and daily one hour walks and weekly dr. appointments.
June 14, 2009 - Lost our 3rd baby. Found out he was a boy. Named him Will.
You know where I'm going with the whole people bringing food thing...and the emotional eating thing...
June - September 09 - Spent entire summer not talking about it. (the absolutely healthiest thing to do, if you don't mind me lying)
Nov - Dec, 09 - Went on a working out warpath. Who knew how much time I had before the doctor would tell me I wasn't allowed to again (I skipped that...everytime I was pregnant, thought about getting pregnant or for 4 weeks after I had a miscarriage, I wasn't allowed to work out because of the whole blood disease thing)
January, Feb, March, April and May, 10 - Tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant. really? 3 times pregnant on the first go. And now? Notta single hit. Not one swimmer made it to the mothership. so strange. and a WHOLE new set of emotions to deal with. I lost my babies...I wasn't supposed to also have the big "I" stamped across my belly. Infertility was not supposed to be a part of our story too.
May, 10 - Decide it is time. Time to stop. As you can see in a very condensed version, the past two years have been all consuming with baby. And body. And hormones. And doctor appointments. And medical bills. And grieving. And researching. And eating. And tears. And shots. And misplaced anger. And deep deep deep sadness. And more doctor's appointments.
It's time to take a break and take a breath. And explore other options. I refuse to throw my hands up and give up on family. But, I have reached my limit on what my body can handle. It was like it was screaming at me, "I NEED CONSTISTENCY...please" So, I have given in.
_____________________________
You might laugh and say, wow...you wrote all of that to tell us you have lost a few pounds?
All of this weight I have added, I can pinpoint. It's like the credit card debt that never goes away..."it was that one doctor's appointment...remember when the car needed to be towed...school books...that one dinner we had to pay for..."
Those three pounds? Baby number 2. Thanksgiving to Christmas, 08? 7 pounds. Baby number 3? Lost 6 then gained 9. Medication? 6. Every pound had a name. And I am sick of those names.
I want the good memories of these past two years. I want to look at Scott's tattoo and think of our little ones. I dont want to look at my flabby stomach and think of what used to be in there. I want to think about the laughter that occurred when we told our family we were pregnant for the first time. Not the silence that came with sitting on my couch with a tub of ice cream, spoon and glazed over eyes.
So, partly, this has been serious closure for me. Maybe that is why I have been working so dang hard at it. And partly, any mom would understand this...I want them to be proud of me. I don't want to look back and say that this was the point in my life where everything went downhill. I want them to be proud of the decisions that I made and who I chose to be.
So there. Momentous Occasion #1. Here is to many, many more.
Wait. What?
Let me give you my chubby tubby timeline, as I like to call it..well, I like to call it that now because I have never given it a name until just this second. And let's be honest, it could be better.
May, 08 - ran first half marathon. body = awesome (in my book...again, all up for debate here)
May, 08 - leave for baby makin' cruise. and it worked. the baby was made.
July, 08 - lost our little one. spent the week at home. people brought food.
*time out*
When I say "people brought food", I mean, for ONE meal...we would get an appetizer... bread... entree...dessert...drinks... and sometimes even more. (insert many dang gina's)
I will not embellish each time, but I need to make you aware of this: EVERYTHING was in the comfort food genre and EVERYTHING was portioned for at least four people.
And. I. Ate. Pretty. Much. All. Of. It. I mean, I would leave a brownie for Scott. Sometimes.
*time in*
September 08 - time to get back in the saddle. literally. baby makin' time again. And yes, Scott eggoed my...preggo.. wait, that can't be right... He leggoed my eggo? What is that saying?!? I got pregnant. Man, I thought I could have said that way cooler.
November 18, 08 - lost our second little one. (now it's time to insert explitives..it's ok. we started to)
Spent another week at home. PEOPLE BROUGHT FOOD. And Thanksgiving began.
-Now this is where it gets tricky. Not only was I so angry with my body and felt so much guilt for what my body was doing that I felt the need to destroy it. I also didn't want to talk to a single person. And with the holidays all around me, what better way to avoid conversation than to always have food in my mouth. And naughty naughty food. Because, hey, if my body isn't going to do me any favors, why should I do it any.
I honestly thought that. Self-destruction at its worst. or actually, at its best.
December, 08 - Find out I have a blood disease. Just another confirmation that it is my fault. So, what to do? Besides cry and fight off the urge to sleep all day. Eat, drink and smoke cigarettes. I was seriously having a serious fight with my body. I was like a bully. I just wanted to see it hurt. so sad to look back on. But, my heart was very broken. And sometimes, you break things when you are broken.
Jan, 09 - Realized I had been depressed and just kind of snapped out of it. It was literally like a snap. And all I thought was, "What have I been doing to myself?" But, 20 pounds and a sad liver and black lung later, the damage had been done.
Feb, 09 - I was on a mission to be healthy. So, ran a 10k. Cut the crappy crap and moved forward.
March, 09 - Got pregnant. Started 14 medications including daily shots to the tummy, a strict diet and daily one hour walks and weekly dr. appointments.
June 14, 2009 - Lost our 3rd baby. Found out he was a boy. Named him Will.
You know where I'm going with the whole people bringing food thing...and the emotional eating thing...
June - September 09 - Spent entire summer not talking about it. (the absolutely healthiest thing to do, if you don't mind me lying)
Nov - Dec, 09 - Went on a working out warpath. Who knew how much time I had before the doctor would tell me I wasn't allowed to again (I skipped that...everytime I was pregnant, thought about getting pregnant or for 4 weeks after I had a miscarriage, I wasn't allowed to work out because of the whole blood disease thing)
January, Feb, March, April and May, 10 - Tried unsuccessfully to get pregnant. really? 3 times pregnant on the first go. And now? Notta single hit. Not one swimmer made it to the mothership. so strange. and a WHOLE new set of emotions to deal with. I lost my babies...I wasn't supposed to also have the big "I" stamped across my belly. Infertility was not supposed to be a part of our story too.
May, 10 - Decide it is time. Time to stop. As you can see in a very condensed version, the past two years have been all consuming with baby. And body. And hormones. And doctor appointments. And medical bills. And grieving. And researching. And eating. And tears. And shots. And misplaced anger. And deep deep deep sadness. And more doctor's appointments.
It's time to take a break and take a breath. And explore other options. I refuse to throw my hands up and give up on family. But, I have reached my limit on what my body can handle. It was like it was screaming at me, "I NEED CONSTISTENCY...please" So, I have given in.
_____________________________
You might laugh and say, wow...you wrote all of that to tell us you have lost a few pounds?
All of this weight I have added, I can pinpoint. It's like the credit card debt that never goes away..."it was that one doctor's appointment...remember when the car needed to be towed...school books...that one dinner we had to pay for..."
Those three pounds? Baby number 2. Thanksgiving to Christmas, 08? 7 pounds. Baby number 3? Lost 6 then gained 9. Medication? 6. Every pound had a name. And I am sick of those names.
I want the good memories of these past two years. I want to look at Scott's tattoo and think of our little ones. I dont want to look at my flabby stomach and think of what used to be in there. I want to think about the laughter that occurred when we told our family we were pregnant for the first time. Not the silence that came with sitting on my couch with a tub of ice cream, spoon and glazed over eyes.
So, partly, this has been serious closure for me. Maybe that is why I have been working so dang hard at it. And partly, any mom would understand this...I want them to be proud of me. I don't want to look back and say that this was the point in my life where everything went downhill. I want them to be proud of the decisions that I made and who I chose to be.
So there. Momentous Occasion #1. Here is to many, many more.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I am a 71 year old in a 27 year old body.
So, I'm starting to look at all of the blogs out there and wow. I am ashamed at my lack of web smarts. I dont even know if I could insert a picture. Do you people still use the old copy and paste?
Another reason I am an old soul. I can't have a conversation with anyone in my car if the music is on. Or, if I am anywhere and music is playing for that matter. My desk, my house, a dentist office. It's strange, I know. But, I just can't concentrate.
Anyways, I started training for the Chicago Marathon this week. ouch. And one of my friends who is running it with me wants to document it via blog. Here are our blog name ideas:
For the fear of sausage rolls and the love of ice cream.
Where the world knows no cellulite.
So, I dont have a runners body. awesome.
Why cant our hobby be napping?
We just do this for the friday night pasta dinner.
We'll see. But, I will tell you one thing. My last half marathon, I trained for a few months and didnt lose a pound...all the while watching my younger brother's extra layers slide off of him like butter on a hot knife.
I WANT TO BE THE BUTTER AND HOT KNIFE THIS TIME.
Another reason I am an old soul. I can't have a conversation with anyone in my car if the music is on. Or, if I am anywhere and music is playing for that matter. My desk, my house, a dentist office. It's strange, I know. But, I just can't concentrate.
Anyways, I started training for the Chicago Marathon this week. ouch. And one of my friends who is running it with me wants to document it via blog. Here are our blog name ideas:
For the fear of sausage rolls and the love of ice cream.
Where the world knows no cellulite.
So, I dont have a runners body. awesome.
Why cant our hobby be napping?
We just do this for the friday night pasta dinner.
We'll see. But, I will tell you one thing. My last half marathon, I trained for a few months and didnt lose a pound...all the while watching my younger brother's extra layers slide off of him like butter on a hot knife.
I WANT TO BE THE BUTTER AND HOT KNIFE THIS TIME.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Today.
For today, I am starting to blog again. Because, today, I need an outlet. Tomorrow, I might become consumed with cleaning my house or staring at the sky. I might forget about this blog, like I have twice now. But, today, I need it.
I am the proud mother of three tiny babies. Babies that I have met only while in my stomach. Babies that I have touched only through the barrier of skin between us.
Even though I cannot hold them, take them for walks, introduce them to their grandparents, watch them grow...I am still their mother. And I am impatiently waiting to meet them someday.
I have walked through the darkest valley of my life this past year. Scott and I both. The rollercoaster ride of "We're Pregnant!!!" to "We lost the baby..." and back and forth three times. Watching my body change and experiencing morning sickness and exhaustion and having my hormones go wild...and going back to normal...and back again three times. Experiencing pregnancy with the end result being that I am held by my husband instead of holding our newborn. Scott and I feel like we are pros at getting pregnant and at the same time, we are becoming pros at grieving. Two things I wish weren't simultaneous. And every pregnancy, we get just a tad bit further along...9 1/2 weeks..10 1/2 weks...12 weeks...Maybe this time four years down the road, we will be able to finally make it 40 weeks. My calculations could be off...
One day, I am going to finish the book I'm writing. And there, you can read, in detail, the story of our journey. I am not one who faces sad times with a sad disposition. Unfortunately, for some, I handle most things with humor..cynical, sarcastic and sometimes joyful humor.
For now, I think I might just write on this little blog. You might not get me..and if you don't, that's fine. You can stop reading. You might think I am a little off with my understanding of God. That's fine, I probably am. And Im sure you are too. You might think I downplay some of the things that I have gone through or overdramatize other circumstances. Again, to each his own. And this is mine.
Today, I am going to take a shower. Try to eat something. Clean my house that has turned into a walking mold patch. Or at least, attempt to clean my sink. Get dressed. And limit my crying to 4 times. Which means don't watch Oprah, Tyra or google the word babies. Oh, and celebrate that I had 12 wonderful weeks with this last one. It was a wonderful, wonderful time. And I don't regret one moment.
I am the proud mother of three tiny babies. Babies that I have met only while in my stomach. Babies that I have touched only through the barrier of skin between us.
Even though I cannot hold them, take them for walks, introduce them to their grandparents, watch them grow...I am still their mother. And I am impatiently waiting to meet them someday.
I have walked through the darkest valley of my life this past year. Scott and I both. The rollercoaster ride of "We're Pregnant!!!" to "We lost the baby..." and back and forth three times. Watching my body change and experiencing morning sickness and exhaustion and having my hormones go wild...and going back to normal...and back again three times. Experiencing pregnancy with the end result being that I am held by my husband instead of holding our newborn. Scott and I feel like we are pros at getting pregnant and at the same time, we are becoming pros at grieving. Two things I wish weren't simultaneous. And every pregnancy, we get just a tad bit further along...9 1/2 weeks..10 1/2 weks...12 weeks...Maybe this time four years down the road, we will be able to finally make it 40 weeks. My calculations could be off...
One day, I am going to finish the book I'm writing. And there, you can read, in detail, the story of our journey. I am not one who faces sad times with a sad disposition. Unfortunately, for some, I handle most things with humor..cynical, sarcastic and sometimes joyful humor.
For now, I think I might just write on this little blog. You might not get me..and if you don't, that's fine. You can stop reading. You might think I am a little off with my understanding of God. That's fine, I probably am. And Im sure you are too. You might think I downplay some of the things that I have gone through or overdramatize other circumstances. Again, to each his own. And this is mine.
Today, I am going to take a shower. Try to eat something. Clean my house that has turned into a walking mold patch. Or at least, attempt to clean my sink. Get dressed. And limit my crying to 4 times. Which means don't watch Oprah, Tyra or google the word babies. Oh, and celebrate that I had 12 wonderful weeks with this last one. It was a wonderful, wonderful time. And I don't regret one moment.
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