The Ice-Maker Line Lesson

Homeowners stuff is so weird. Being a homeowner and adulting in that fashion, is still so weird to me. Some days are better than others. On the one hand you can paint and decorate and mess things up and not worry about losing a deposit. On another hand, you pay (sometimes in more ways than one,) for everything you mess up.

Water is a force to be reckoned with in most walks of life, but especially in a house. Pipes and stuff are serious business. I'm two types of people weirdly melded into one: I won't ever pretend to know more than I know, if it can get me into trouble, but I love a challenge and refuse to believe I can't find a way to figure something out or make things work. Sounds like a recipe for disaster right? I'm relatively careful.

Friday afternoon I get home in a storm, with groceries and kid, and I hear this faint noise from behind my fridge. The fridge is on, running properly and I think, "Huh? Have I never keyed into that sound before?" I go about my Friday evening routines and then come back to make tea and it's louder, it's almost like a weird hissing sound. I move the fridge and start digging around and there it was: a water leak from the ice maker line.

It was small but the more I started messing with it, the worse it got. I stood there calling my kiddo for help to get towels and just took a breath, "Okay, who do I call?!?" My husband was not my first call, nope not on a Friday during dinner service. I called my local friend who's husband was quite handy and had helped with weird things I'd never know in the past. She didn't answer. I knew there had to be a water shut off but how much do I mess with things? I called the front line of the restaurant and asked for my husband saying it was "Important." I'd never called that number before. Ever. 

He told me to shut off the water under the sink. First knob, water still going, my daughter reported back. Second knob, my daughter said same thing, no result. It wasn't working and I was freaking out. My husband told me to go outside and hit the main water shut off. Yeah that wasn't happening. That thing needed a serious tool to get it to chill. Back to the under the sink situation.

As I was meddling down under there my husband zipped home and I was picturing me twisting too much and breaking it worse, having some newer, worse leak and I just kept poking around. I had found a 3rd knob. Turn, turn, and done. Off. Of course that's when hubby arrived. Crisis averted?

Behind my fridge was disgusting. Lots of old dog food crumbs, fallen magnets, a broken something and so much crud and I was appalled. It looked moldy. Mold is the devil. There was a small hole of separation from wall to floor and that's when the panic set in...what if that thing leaked all day and there is MOLD under there now and it just keeps growing mold because we live in Florida?

I took off any clothing that was essential because I have the worst luck ever with bleach. I always stain something and usually it's clothing that I actually like. So in my bra and underpants in my kitchen on a Friday evening I'm on my hands and knees on the tile floor scrubbing with bleach all the yuck. It is also fun to note that since pregnancy I have had a fantastic aversion to certain cleaning supply smells. It makes it fun, really, and bleach is the number one offender.

I gave up and kept all the water in the kitchen shut off knowing that Saturday afternoon I could tackle the project. I Googled things and looked on YouTube. It seemed pretty straight forward, nothing to scary. I went to Lowe's armed with knowledge.

We had a play date that ran awkwardly long. It was a whole weird thing where they ended up at our house even though we started at the park and things just snowballed. It was okay. We get along but I had stuff to do and the play date ran twice as long as I'd planned. When I stopped and began I got out the video tutorial to go with the kit I bought...uh OH, the video said the kit I got was not preferred.

I packed up the kid. Back to Lowe's. Every non-fun outing requires a lot of negotiation between my daughter and I. There are many agreements of doing a good job. She loves the hardware store but when you go there needing help and guidance and needing to use massive amounts of patience? She grows tired and fast. 

I got round two of what I thought I need and with a back-up plan. I was ready to attack! I'm a practical person and I believe that most things can be done with an open mind, some specifically situational and learned tools, and some confidence. I realized how annoyingly strange it was all installed to begin with and became defeated pretty fast. I even tried to just rig it through Tuesday to work so that my husband could more expertly repair it on his day off, with no child under feet and asking for snacks as you are using the wrench.

It was when I got creative that I realized again, in all my over-buying for other options and in all my optimism and "Can-do" attitude that it didn't fit properly. We had to go back to Lowe's again. I was tired, but I wanted working kitchen water, so I had to finish. I had a great crying jag, balled up on my kitchen floor. My daughter came to console me. And we gathered up for the last trip. 

Immediately at the returns desk, my daughter recognized the cashier as the one from our first return and said, "Excuse me we need to return all of this, because like none of it worked for my mom and we need kitchen water and she said it doesn't work." The cashier found her endearing and said, "Well I'm sure your mom knows!" 

I had cried off my make-up and I'm sure had the look of determination, exhaustion and anger plastered on my naturally blemished face and the cashier that helped us twice said, "Oh, no, you're back," in a sweet way of saying she had hoped we'd fixed it last time. The one genius thing I did was grab an exact piece from the mis-matched size of the first part of the connector and took it with me. I marched right up to someone and said "THIS, I NEED THIS SIZE, AS A CAP OR STOPPER FOR WATER TO CLOSE A PIPE PLEASE."

When we got to the register with our friendly cashier that had helped us with multiple things earlier, my daughter said, "Yeah we had to come back because my mom had like a MAJOR meltdown in the kitchen." I laughed and said, "That's true. Mommy did have a meltdown."

I had given up on repairing the ice maker line. After 3 trips to Lowe's no one in my house needed ice ever again. Ever heard of ice cube trays? Had we become lazy millennial people? No thank you. I could have got the power drill and make the hole bigger but the problem was the connector sizes were different on the pipe side than the fridge side, which was why it was set up so badly to begin with. I then realized that in all my master plans of 2019 a dishwasher was my black Friday goal and the ice maker line goes right behind, so we should just do one big install in a few months.

I got the correct cap sizes, turned knobs back on and have been enjoying water ever since. I used the wrench properly and everything! I told my husband the ice maker news and he accepted it gracefully. I slept better knowing that I'd solved part of an issue and would live to tell the tale.

I don't feel like I bit off more than I could chew and I certainly didn't mess around with something I couldn't handle. I felt like I should have gone more with my intuition on a lot. My husband actually really supported my handling it myself and said, "You can totally do this, you're smart enough to find your way around everything." Even when he got called to come help he was patient and understanding that water leaks are no joke.

My lesson was a balance in what was all worth it really. It needed a safe fix of course, but when my sanity, my abilities and just how poorly it was set up to begin with came into play I had to make some educated decisions and maybe lose a luxury for a bit until we could have a more detailed repair later.

I felt accomplished and like I learned a lot, although slightly disappointed I couldn't write a post about my success of replacing the whole line. Perhaps that will be an end of year thing. Homeowners stuff is no joke though and I feel like there are some intense growing pains that go with it all, but I have to take it like I take everything else, one day at a time. Happy Monday!

Last Day Of 33, Whatcha Got For Me?

On the eve of my birthday, or as I have been referring to it this year as, "Just Tuesday the 26th," while of course saying goodbye to 33 and hello to 34, I'm almost forced into some reflection so just bear with me.

I remember last year going to an amazing concert with some of my favorite people around this time of year, running the St. Patty's 5K and I think there was ice cream cake. Not to mention, my mother's annual forced upon new fashion or a shopping trip with her. This year I am opting for as much calm and quiet as possible.

My daughter has promised me a "boutique" of flowers and as much as I didn't want to correct her, I did and told her she meant "bouquet," and I hope to snag some time to myself, a novel idea in motherhood.

I will say this, 33 has been a huge year for me personally in terms of growth and strength. Last year at this time I was still settling into things after surviving one of the worst Christmases of my lifetime. I was trying to scrape things together and stay positive, but I was feeling really hopeless and utterly alone.

This was before April, and in April my life was completely turned upside down in every way and I didn't handle it well. March, and especially my birthday, was the beginning of the chaos. At that time, I was still in a place of fight or flight and I was faced with having to support choices I didn't agree with, but sucking it up "for the greater good." It wasn't my best start to 2018.

This year has a much different vibe, more positive and affirming, and I'm proud of and happy with that. After a horrible April 2018, in May I took my life back. I really stood up for myself and my daughter and redefined our family norms. It was a bit rocky through September but we are still building, and growing. So this year, I'm just ready for 34.

Birthday wishes are great, but I no longer feel they are some kind of required barometer for a friendship or an attention level anymore. I feel grateful when someone remembers to text me, let alone remembers something as trivial as a birthday. I won't feel "forgotten" because people have lives and any relationship is complicated and scattered at times. Not getting a nod on a Facebook wall or a text the day of won't break my birthday or get anyone in trouble.

There aren't many years of my 34 on earth that I can recall the kind of strength and growth that I've manifested, especially over these last 6 months, so I want to celebrate that, more than anything else within the birthday. As an only child, my mom cannot help herself when it comes to making it a "thing," no matter how much I beg to just have some ice cream cake and call it a day. My husband gets annoyed I ruin my own requests by buying myself the stuff I need instead of waiting for him to do it for me.

I've decided that Jenny Lewis' new album "On The Line" was released as a birthday gift to me, as she is my spirit animal and one of my most favorite artists. She also starts her tour tomorrow, in Indiana unfortunately, but I can rock from here, regardless. I've been replaying her album as part of my reflective time because she usually writes and records all the feels I need, and somehow exactly when I need them. So, little things like this I consider part of the celebration.

For 34 I want continued growth, strength and bravery. I want to become less and less afraid to stand up for myself in every situation. Ironically this past weekend I had a recurring nightmare about still working in a place where I was made to feel intimidated, inferior and where my needs and requests were consistently ignored only to wake up disgustingly grateful that I'm no longer there. I'll take that as a good sign that I'm in a better place.

Also this weekend my family seemed to master "the chill," of which I am completely the worst. We did some household chores and some necessary upkeep, but we were lazy and watched too much TV, ate what we wanted, had a family sleepover, slept in and just bummed around. It's not something we indulge in often, even though it is necessary. On top of that, I had good conversations with favorite people about struggles and growth and about how we just need to face certain things head on anymore. We're too young to take it for granted and too old to mess around, and I think those two are interchangeable.

So 33, what else have you got for me? I'm ready for more with 34 and yes those all kinda rhyme in weird ways. Maybe the corny, dorky stuff comes with age too. Here's to growing up!

Really Big Questions Before Coffee

I spent the first four years of my daughter's life doing everything for her in the morning. I would try to get up earlier than her to sneak some quiet. Until you have a child, you do not appreciate silence. And silence, in my humble opinion, is at it's best while sipping coffee. 

I leave really early for work so morning time with my daughter is sporadic. Sometimes she is snoozing with dad and the pug and I'm the last wake up call before I pop out of the house. Sometimes she comes into the bathroom to supervise the get ready process and talk at me. My daughter doesn't stop talking from the time she wakes up, until the time she goes to bed. Laugh all you want, this isn't an exaggeration.

This morning was a pop-into the bathroom morning and she was ready to talk about everything. Unfortunately, I inadvertently left the best question right in front of her.

Not to be oversharing but after months of deliberation I just switched from Tampax to the Lunette Cup, and all I can say is it's a huge game changer, and I recommend it for anyone. I come from an environment of period-shamers and the cup has had some pretty awesome results in terms of my comfort and confidence in that arena.

I had just cleaned it this morning and left it out to dry when my daughter walked in. "Mommy, what is that?" She pointed directly at the cup. Oh man, do I have to give an anatomy lesson at 6:45? I haven't even started to boil the water for my COFFEE!

I gave her a small explanation for it's purpose and about my period but told her we could certainly talk more about it as she got older. Then came another big question: "Mommy, like how did I grow up and get so big like, how does that all happen?" Oh my gosh do I have to explain babies now? I haven't had toast or anything!

Again, a mild and dialed down version was given to her about everything and then it was: "Can I have make-up? What's that called? Why do you have two different brushes? Which one goes on your eyes? Will you wear pink today? Can you make me breakfast before you go? Can I wear my shirt from Sophia today? Can you help me find it? Did you know I didn't even hear you go to Boot Camp? I was still asleep! Was Daddy snoring a lot?"

I don't even think I can type as fast as she hurls the questions in my direction. There are so many wonderful things that come out of these conversations, but they are also exhausting. Because of life circumstances my daughter is just that kid that needs to know the plan. And mom is the planner. And when things don't go accordingly to plan, it can get upsetting so I've paid close attention to helping her navigate her feelings around all those things.

She knows the 1st Friday in August we're planning on a vacation to see PA and NY family. She knows every Saturday at the same time we have horseback riding lessons and every so often, she can switch that Saturday lesson for a different event. She needs to know how her day will look. Who is she playing with? Who is putting her to bed? Is it a normal bed time or flexible?

She is all questions and Mom is all answers. Some of the huge questions, I'm like "Uh, we'll find a video or book to better explain that." Once she asked me how did "dinosaurs get extinct?" That's a complicated question and even Land Before Time didn't really tell us everything and Jurassic Park would just scare her so, yeah. That's a long conversation, not a quick and simple answer.

We talk a lot about boobs and bodies and make-up. We talk about clothes, and ponies and friend problems. I try to steer her in the right direction with her questions but also not let her be too gossipy or dramatic, just the right amount of those. There's also a part of me that wants to enjoy that she's even asking me anything and wants to hear what I have to say.

I'm not that mom that's afraid to talk about vaginas and anatomy and how things work. I make sure she knows the right words for body parts and bodily functions and such. My child's vocabulary has always been vast and impressive, so I tell her what everything means. To my embarrassment, yes, mine is the child at the store that will announce, "Mom my vagina is really itchy!" She also likes to tell people she's "as tall as mom's boobs!"

But, again, I'd rather her have the answers to the questions, even if the answers aren't so awesome. Recently she came home talking to me about some boy telling her about Chucky, yes the doll that kills people. He told her about Chucky coming to get her and kill her dog and knives and such. I shut that down quick. I told her, Chucky is fake. He's pretend. He's a fake character with special effects made to scare people in movies and he won't hurt her. I wish I could yell at that kid. Six year old children have no need to know about CHUCKY!

The big questions before my coffee always come from curiosity, which I love and encourage just how much she wants to know about everything. It's hard to not squash that with an "I don't know, I don't care, or just be quiet," when life gets tough and I've tuned into the fact that I may have been doing that, even unconsciously. I've had many discussions with the husband about how, as a little girl, it's so important that she feels like she can be heard and say what she wants to say, even if it seems like nonsense to us.

Weekday mornings I'm always in "a hurry," and I remind her often to please not be "in my way," but this morning I made some time for her really big questions. Sometimes they need to be "continued" at a different time when mommy can function better. But most often, even as they seem annoying when I'm not at my best mom moments, I'd rather have her ask me everything than not talk to me at all. 

She's still my baby and is learning and absorbing EVERYTHING. There is plenty of time for her to keep things from me and give me the silent treatment when I piss her off. For now I really want to talk about the make-up brushes, my period, My Little Pony and extinct dinosaurs, even if it's before coffee. 

Perspective Is Half The Battle

You know that really annoying saying that personal trainers use too often, "Mind over matter?" Or like, "It's all a mental battle," and overthinking and expectations are bad?

It's taken me two rough and therapeutic years to wrap my head around what should be a reasonable concept, that perspective is everything, but I'm closer than I've ever been before and here to write about it!

This is something I work on daily. It is very much another practice in mindfulness. I work hard to internally chose my attitude and react to things after some thought, instead of only first reactions. It's like typing an angry text, just never press send because there is no "unsend."

Sometimes I think I'm just too tired for the fight and the terror state anymore. I'd really like to think it has everything to do with growth and evolving as an adult, even though I think adulting is crap, but there are certainly some parts that are important. 

Here are a few examples: during an extremely dark phase where I was making less than awesome choices, I was angry, irrational and just so filled with every part of me being upset that I was losing control. I was consumed by my personal turmoil. This made me self-conscious, unhealthy, insecure, and very obnoxious at times. I started to adopt a "Forget you" attitude about people that weren't acting the way I wanted, and anyone who didn't support my mania.

None of it worked. I was miserable. One friend, who was also going through some shit, and I had a row because we were taking out the dysfunction on each other instead of lending support. Never again, we said after finally coming to peace. To this day I hate that we even hit that point. And I hate that I had a heavy hand in it. 

Another example is, how much time have I wasted being upset over something I just can't change? I can't make the result any different. I just can't. I can only react to what is in front of me, to the best of my ability. I can't force someone to text me back, no matter how much I want a response. I can't force someone to reach out to me, when I'm feeling tired of being "the friend who checks in." I can't make someone want to make time to be around me, I can only be enjoyable to them if they choose to make the time! Or so I can try.

None of this is simple. All of it is uncomfortable. All of it revolves around perspective. 

One time I got called out on being a hater. The person who brought this to me, wasn't wrong, but there was no tact in telling me, or possible understanding that I might be deflecting my own personal detriment onto the accomplishments of others. And it was some time after that I realized my perspective was just completely off.

It wasn't about what I didn't have and what others did. It was about my outlook. With that said, for a long time I was talking myself out of my ambitions and goals and into accepting what I thought was my status. This wasn't quite the best direction, unfortunately. It was a slight derail but I've made my rounds now. 

And it's at this point where I'm more peaceful than I have been for a long time, which often borders on ambivalence, but I'm taking it for what it is, less stress. I seem to have figured out my tribe and whom I can converse with about what. This is quite a science.

When I was being a self-destructive mess, I told everyone everything and got a lot of judgement and negative advice. You learn really quickly to be more selective about who you let in when you do that. When I started to better cultivate my feelings, I was able to express myself and what I needed much better. And people responded way better to the amendments, let me tell you.

I stopped planning things with the ideas that "this might work for them." I could be invited, I could do everything in my power to attend, if it happened, it happened, if not, more time at home or with my daughter or to myself. I started limiting the obligatory events, tasks and meet-ups and shamed myself less for self care. I stopped obsessing about the responses of others.

I wish I could have all those hours I lost obsessing over text messages that were never read, never responded to, or responded to in ways I didn't like, back. I wish I could have those hours back to use wisely. I would probably have a vacation out of it. I'm much less anxious about it. In fact I had one crazy slip in the last 6 months where I lost it over some mixed communications and I was like, 'Never again. You achieved nothing, you didn't feel better after the tantrum and you looked like a psycho. Nope. Done."

We try to decode what has no code. We read too much into a simple text, and we put too much emotion into stunted communication. How else do you think the emoji was born? Seriously!

It's all about how you approach things, how you look at things, and that ever-important reaction. It's easy to mis-read, especially in the world of text messages and broken communication. It's easy to overthink. I feel like I may be the single best over-thinker ever. But I've been more mindful to not do that...as much!

I got a text from a friend last week talking about being busy and texting inhibiting cell-phone work related functions. I could have let it crush me and tank my day. I mean who wouldn't want to talk to me!? But instead I just said some nice things and asked to be text sometime when not at work or interfering. I still haven't heard back, but there are so many extenuating circumstances in life. I refuse to think of myself as "not important enough" or "not a priority" for someone. I cannot force interaction or anyone's acceptance of the many ways of Alison. When it is meant to be significant, when we can make the time, it will happen, or so I've discovered recently. I leave the universe to it.

Maybe this sounds, a little too "hippie dippy" as my husband says from time to time. Maybe it sounds like too much mental maintenance. I will say this, I have seen many changes, especially in my anxiety, by exercising these coping mechanisms for upset. Because it can feel upsetting when you reach out and get no response or one you didn't really want. It can all feel so defeating and rejecting at times. But it's all about the perspective. If you adjust your perspective, however small, it can have pretty big effects.

This isn't an entry about doing it "my way" or to change your life. But as an anxious, depressive, overthinking mess of a woman who deals with a lot on a regular basis and is finally coming to terms with her trauma, if my journey can help ONE person. Then this blog is worth everything. It's just something to think about. Pursue different perspectives. I'd love to hear from you all! Feel free to reach out!

Today's Post Brought To You By Resilience

I have recently been defined as exhibiting resilience, so I Googled the exact definition: the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress; an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change. 

Let's break this down.The capability of a strained body to recover it's size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress. Two words: CAR ACCIDENT.

An ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change? I possess said ability, yes. Adjust easily? Define easily! Easily to misfortune and change? Hmm...I don't recall any of it being done easily but just being done.

I'm not sure how to feel about this being me. In some ways it is complimentary but I can't help struggle with the feeling that I shouldn't have to be so resilient. This is why my new favorite word is wobbly, which is definitely a move from ambivalence, most likely in the right direction. 

Some of my easy adjustments to misfortune and change are from exhaustion. Sometimes I can't have that same argument over and over. Some of my adjustments to misfortune and change have come with tantrum, depression and all of them with anxiety. But I put on a good game face, that much is true.

I posted just last night about being that person who can look completely put together while internally just collapsing. You can say something that completely breaks me and my worst response would just be resting bitch face, I just get stone-faced and absorb whatever offensiveness affronts me. Sometimes that feels cowardly, other times I'm just avoiding confrontation like a normal anxious depressive adult.

But lately I just ask myself, is it worth getting upset about? As a woman we are notoriously labeled as nagging, whining, high maintenance beings. It's pretty unfair but sometimes we do live up to the stereotype, sorry to say. But then again, how many times should we have to adjust "easily" and "handle" the misfortune and change. 

I've been mistreated, I've been taken for granted, hurt physically, emotionally and spiritually like the rest of us. I've even experienced a degree of sexual assault and yet, I prove my resilience right? Is that a compliment though? To be able to put up with all of this? Maybe we shouldn't have to.

After everything with the #metoo movement it became more clear to me than ever that all women are resilient. We all handle more than our share, and most often with grace and composure, but we shouldn't have to. And this isn't to say that we need to take our resting bitch faces and turn on "the bitch switch." But I feel like we can use our resilience to better ourselves and our world, instead of letting it define us.

I think my issue with resilience is there is a feeling for me, of an underlying "doormat" -sub-context and really it's more about strength and calculation. Most change is difficult but we push our growth and do what we have to as we persevere. Misfortune hits us all, and maybe we need a day to cry and feel all the feelings, but most of us shed our tears and soldier on because we have to.

So while resilience is good, and I'm glad it is said to me as a compliment, I strive for more. I want more growth and evolution. And I'm surely going to use that resilience to get me there! 

Mom Bods: We Carry More Weight In More Ways Than One

This morning I did the unthinkable. I did something that bothered me to every fiber of my being. Something that I haven't done in over six years. I got on the scale to see what I weighed. Why did I cave into doing something I loathe in this way? Well, yesterday I went to my annual lady check up on a cold Florida morning and they made me get on their scale, and completely clothed, mind you. After obsessively working out with no time to eat too much, of course I expected to drop 20 pounds immediately because I deserved it dammit! Alas, I weighed maybe a pound or two less than last year, which was super disappointing.

So, I tossed and turned, hit the gym this morning and decided, "I can't actually weigh that much because I had on boots and serious layers and I started 2018 very puffy and uncomfortable. I refuse to believe I've made no progress." So I did it and as I suspected, 6 pounds less with no layers and boots. Score! And I looked at that number and realized, I was a good 40 pounds lighter than when I had Luna, but 24 pounds heavier than my skinniest. The best part? Those numbers didn't defeat me. 

Exactly 10 years ago when I was in Oregon, finishing my last semester at University of Oregon (Go Ducks) and finishing my depression and anxiety treatment, fitness was everything to me. In just 2 months in the future, I'd be engaged and then married the day after I graduated college. 

I was friends with a trainer that worked at the U of O fitness complex so between her and weight watchers I ended up trimming down to the absolute most fit I've ever been. I worked really hard because when you're a college student working only part time, you have all the time in the world to eat, but then again to work out also. When I actually looked at weight watchers and saw how many points were assigned to everything, I wanted to become anorexic or bulimic. Luckily I went through way too many years of orthodontia to ruin my teeth so anorexia became way more appealing than pigging out. Who was I kidding though, I didn't have that discipline and I was in love with food. 

I replaced binge-eating and emotional snacking with working out. My last semester at U of O I actually won the Nike Fit Female of the month and was up to 3 workouts some days. When I got married, I was legitimately thin. I was so terrified to put it back on because I LOVE FOOD and also wine and amazing cocktails. I maintained really well our first 2 years in Florida because it is mandatory you have a "beach body." With age and stress, I allowed myself a little more wiggle room until pregnancy and then after a really great first 4 months of growing a person, I just went for it. All I wanted was steak, potatoes, Twizzlers and Chik Fil A and also, if you can't eat like a pig when you're pregnant, when can you?

I got on the scale after Luna was born and there may have been tears over the post baby belly. It took me a year of motherhood until I allowed myself to take much time for me and when I hit boot camp, it was so hard. The first 90 days were the most brutal but I did it. I got down to my thick comfy size after a year. After two years I was in my pre-baby size but on the top of that range too. This past year was about stress and anxiety though.

We'd had a wedding to attend last summer that would be filled with beautiful people and I wanted to be one of  them. I had made grand designs to start in March only to have them completely derailed and halted. Not being able to work out my normal routine and being left with no other options sank me into a pretty bad depression. What helped? Bread and ice cream. Not together, just as my comfort cheats.

Finally I'd had enough. My mom, who has given me enough body issues to sustain multiple lifetimes, was of course on board to watch Luna so I could go workout during the weeknights so I could "start to feel better and fit into real clothes again," as she so lovingly describes my journey and struggle. So, I got a gym membership and went back to full time boot camp. Before I knew it I was working out twice a day again and every time I got angry or sad or anxious, I took it out in spin or on the treadmill. 

I stopped getting on the scale when I started Boot Camp because when I felt better, I noticed my sleep getting more sound and my clothes fitting differently so that was all I needed. I also had a tribe of people who supported me and told me I was looking healthier, happier and different. Working at the car dealership at the time also helped because I was surrounded by a bunch of 45+ old married dudes who loved to make inappropriately strange compliments from time to time; always a nice ego boost.

But I stayed away from that scale. Why? Because when I was younger with way more free time, all I had was time to obsess about food and all the rationalizations of "If I want that I have to work out more to earn it." In my old age I just decided, "Oh I'm having that cake, but just one small piece, not 3 because someone pissed me off today. Someone will piss me off every day, take it out on the elliptical. That's how you have your cake and eat it too mama!" Yes, I literally pep talk myself often. 

Even after the car accident, my stomach, an already super self-conscious area for me because my mom used to pat it and promise I'd "grow out of the baby fat and then be pretty and thin," got so smashed and bruised from the seat belt and impact that today there are little scar type crumples and bumps that I despise. It was hard for me to get really back into working out because I was so sore and swollen and awkward for a couple months. So my patience with my body has since evolved.

With all of the mental stuff that came with that, I just didn't take care of myself. So last year I took it back. Now due to adulting, the gym membership expires next week, however I have multiple back up plans to keep me healthy, but this morning was about my needing that validation that it was paying off. I have a few people who's opinion of my physical appearance I trust undoubtedly past the whole "Uh huh, yeah that matches" type thing, but I think I still needed a little affirmation for myself.

I don't intend to get obsessive about the numbers. I will admit I was a little disappointed, yes, but having the numbers be more already lost than more I need to lose was positive. And I've found that we all have these things about us, these strengths and weaknesses about our own personal imagery. And on these journeys, maybe we post too much about it on Instagram, but these routines for health we've established can sometimes be our saving grace. For me, the gym is a place where nothing else matters but my time to kick butt, everything else can slow down for a minute.

As moms we all carry weight so differently, which is why I hate the scale. I weigh the same as women 2 feet taller than me but it's all in my stomach and thighs, and maybe they carry it in their waist or bust. You never know. And us moms have it worse than you single ladies because our bodies went through uncontrollable changes. Sure we can try to keep everything together but pregnancy and childbirth change our figures forever! My hips can tell you that personally, and my boobs too! I didn't even have boobs before baby! And they still haven't even left me!

Already as moms we feel that pressure to be fit and look good even on the days we feel like a tired old handbag ready to be thrown in the Goodwill pile. I remember this weird feeling after I had Luna where I had to "dress like a mom." What did that even mean? I mean I had shirts with weird band logos and swear words. I guess I shouldn't show up to the park in those but did I need an Ann Taylor credit card? How does one dress like a mom? I still don't know.

We all have our own style and ways for ever facet of motherhood, especially how we carry our physical and emotional weight. Mom Bods carry it all, both figuratively and physically, so be gentle on each other, and be gentle on ourselves. It's progress over perfection and the last cliche of today is, the only workout you regret, is the one you didn't do! You got this mamas! WE got this! See you in the gym!