I Was Wondering...

Why won't my kid eat the food I serve him...but will eat ANYTHING he finds on the floor?

Is this one of the signs that he is now a member of the Toddler Anti-Obedience Movement?

Pondering My Position

I was in a crabby mood last week. I was feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, and depressed. Rob was working a crazy schedule; getting up at 3 a.m., not coming home for lunch, and getting home for dinner about 6 p.m. each day. The schedule was not as much of an inconvenience as it was a change from the norm. I like change, I do, it just takes me a little to get used to because I have to readjust my routines and overanalyze it to death.

I was tired because I was up with the baby twice a night and then up to say goodbye to Rob. Not to mention the buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. I became overwhelmed and depressed when I realized that the hours between 3 a.m. and 6 p.m. were foreshadowing the many years of my life to come. As a military spouse I will end up being a single parent almost more often than not. I was a single mom for 15 hours a day and only 60 hours of the week and I really felt like I was sucking at it. I don't know what the right things to do are. Do I play with them enough? Do I yell too much? Am I causing permanent damage in any way? Is my personal crisis of self causing me to be selfish and unaware of their needs? And my biggest fear, am I doing and saying things that will cause these tiny people to grow up and be like me?

I was overwhelmed, better said, I overwhelmed myself. I have harsh and unrealistic expectations of myself. I somehow believe that "if I were a good mother" I'd: have a clean house all the time, have the laundry done, be showered and well dressed every day, spend time singing songs and doing art projects to nurturing my children's creativity, be happy and relaxed, feed them nutritious foods so they get all the food groups (how many are there now anyway?), venture out into the world off base in actual Japan and see what there is to see like zoos, fish, beaches, and pineapples. I do not do all of those things, not on a daily basis and some not even on a weekly basis. But really Michelle…who the hell does??? My Mom never did, no one's sane Mom that I've ever heard of did, and none of my Mom friends do…so why do I hold myself to that standard? It is unrealistic and completely ridiculous. Because of some idealistic belief I beat myself up? Why and what for?

We were back on our normal schedule on Fri. When Rob popped in for a pre-lunch visit (he needed to get something) he asked, "So are you feeling better today? You were kind of snippy last night." To which, in typical female fashion I responded with flames spewing from the top of my head, "I WAS NOT SNIPPY, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, AND YO MAMA (for good measure)." My husband, the saint, replied "What can I do to help you?" To which I started crying and scared him to death. I tried to explain to him that he had done nothing wrong and that I did not need help. I told him, "I am just realizing my place in this life and am trying to adjust." I don't know if that phrase even makes sense but it sort of hurt his feelings. We talked a little more, he got unhurt, and I continued to ponder my position.

After he got home from work I escaped to the library for a few minutes and started looking for a book that would tell me what my problem was. I was actually looking for that Brooke Shields book about postpartum depression. I was beginning to hope that PPD was my problem then I could take pills and my life would be perfect. Easy peasy, because the loony pills worked so well for me in my AZ life….anyway I digress, that is another story. I did not find Brooke but found Oprah and Dr. Laura (insert Jessie's eye roll here) instead. I believe it was divine intervention and the power of the universe reaching out to me to say Stop Whining, Start Living which happens to be the title of the Dr. Laura Schlessinger book that I checked out. I also found a little collection of writings by Oprah called "What I Know For Sure." I started reading both books and they are both touching on so many of the same things that it is amazing. So far they talk about personal beliefs, life purpose, hurt feelings, and identifying yourself.

These are all of the things that I want to explore about myself and change. I have been living for a very long time looking backwards and asking why instead of looking back to see what I should have learned from those experiences. These books have started me thinking and given me great jumping off points for my writing. I am very optimistic.

Weighting and Wondering

So here goes a major step on my journey of honesty and self discovery.

I am fat.

I am 5’1” tall and weigh…weight for it…ha ha weight…I’m so funny…180.4 pounds. There.

This is what fat me looks like right this very second. I did not crop out my face so you can see how um, happy, I was to take my own phat photo. Phat photo…hee hee I’m on a roll today! Very biggest looseresque of me don’tca think?


Monday I started Weight Watchers again. I used Weight Watchers about 8 years ago to drop 45 pounds. I used the past 8 years to get divorced, remarried, have 2 babies, and eat my way through most of the northern hemisphere. I had a great time, but alas, I am sick and tired of being a little round girl.

Besides the improved aesthetics of losing weight my reasons are 3 fold:
1. Improve my healthfulness (ie energy, mood, stamina, longevity, etc)
2. Improve my self esteem
3. Concentrate on something that I actually CAN control

So far so good, I have had more than enough points to eat whenever I want and not feel hungry. Plus, a lot of things have changed food wise in the past 8 years. Fat free cheese actually melts and fat free mayo does not taste like weird sweetened gelatinous sludge. They even have 1 point ice cream fudge bars. Woo Hoo!

Here is a picture of my yummy Monday morning breakfast. It consists of a 3 egg white omelet (with spinach, onion, and fat free cheddar cheese) and a whole wheat English muffin with a yogurt fruit spread. It was huge, extremely filling, and only 5 points.

I think about many things when I contemplate my weight.

I remember my Father always giving my Mom a hard time about her weight. He would point out her size, how her clothing fit, and what she was eating. I remember my Mom secretly going through the drive-thru or hiding in the kitchen eating “bad” food just to spite him. My idea of overweight = unacceptable came from that.

I remember growing up that I always had girlfriends who I believed to be prettier and thinner than myself. As if somehow, I’d be thin and pretty by association. In reality, I ended up making myself feel like the fat ugly friend. No one ever pointed out to me that I was either of those things…it was just how I felt…overweight = unattractive, unpopular, unwanted, mostly tolerated.

As an adult I recall a pot luck office party when I worked at Charles Schwab. I remember getting so super excited about the deserts, especially the pie. I told my friend Tami something like “OMG, yeah, hooray, WE HAVE PIE!!” Tami chuckled and said something like “Wow that’s a lot of excitement over pie.” The mental picture of me being a whopping 190+ pounds at the time doing the happy dance over pie is embarrassing. My friend Tami is tall, thin, blonde, and beautiful. She matches my typical friend MO. She is also extremely kindhearted and would never in a million years be cruel. She never intended anything hurtful during the pie incident. It was me hurting myself once again. In my mind it was the tall, thin, beautiful girl laughing down at her stumpy, fat, homely friend because of her over exuberance for baked goods. That day, overweight = humiliating.

On the flipside of that I also have a very profound memory of a conversation I had with my friend Bettina back in the Schwab days. Bettina is also thin, gorgeous, and fashionable. I always admired the way she looked, dressed, spoke, and lived. I remember telling her about how much I hated my body and lack of style. I told her how I longed to be more like her and her fancy Scottsdale friends. When I was done rocking out at my own pity party Bettina looked at me and said, “The things that you don’t like about yourself are all things that can be fixed. Weight can be lost and you can buy surgery or new clothes. Those things are easy to get. But Chelle, what you have cannot be bought. You have an amazing personality and you are smart and hilarious. My fancy friends can never buy that.”

That struck a deep cord with me. I already had something great. I am indeed special. Maybe those fancy people were a tad bit envious of people like me…just as I’d been envious of them. That day planted the seed that I could change what I did not like, overweight = temporary.

It has been a long road and I have tried many times to lose weight for the wrong reasons. I am starting again during a new phase of my life. I am doing it for me this time. It is part of this new journey that I am on. I am sharing it with you because I want to be transparent. I am ready to examine my past, identify the lessons that I missed, and finally lay them to rest.

I am ready to move on.

I Was Wondering...

If I spill a bunch of Cheerios on the floor and some of them roll under the dryer...do I still have to clean them up?

Isn't that what they mean when they say "out of sight, out of mind"??

Back To The Playground

What April 15 Means to Me

Everyone has pivotal days in their lives; days you can pinpoint that your life took a sudden and irreversible turn. The first of these days that I can remember was April 15, 1991.

Historically, April 15 is a day that seems to be cursed. It is the day that Abraham Lincoln died and the Titanic sunk. It is also tax day in the US.

Monday, April 15, 1991 was the day that I lost Lori.

I was 15 years old, she was 23.

This photo was taken almost 2 months to the day before she died.

Up until that point I had been a normal teenager full of typical teenage angst and drama. On April 14, I made my Confirmation in the Catholic Church. Lori stood by my side as my sponsor. We had a big family party and had lasagna for dinner. I remember that Lori and I had made plans to go shopping on Wednesday because I had a half day at school.

The very next day, Monday, April 15, 1991 at 5:00 p.m., a man, Paul Blades, walked into the tanning salon where Lori was working and brandished a gun. Of the six shots fired, three hit and ultimately killed my cousin. You can read the events of that day in all its judicial clarity here.

This event shook my family to the core. She was 23 years old, innocent, and full of life. In one tragic instant, evil walked into our lives and took a piece of our future.

As an adult I have pinpointed this day as the day that I became broken. Lori was like my older sister. I loved her more than anyone in the world. I admired her for being so genuine, kindhearted, and sweet. She often marveled at my brazen outspokenness and propensity for mischief. She was the good one and I was…not so much. Since the day I was born she was always with me, teaching me the ins and outs of life. Without her I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally. I’d lost my role model, my compass. If the world was just, I should have been the one who died that day.

I don’t think I have ever said those words out loud. I believed it then and part of me still believes it 18 years later. Sitting here now, writing about Lori and what happened that day the pain is a raw as ever. She deserved to live so much more than I did. She never would have made the selfish mistakes that I have. In my life I have willfully lied, cheated, stole, hurt people, and hurt myself. She would have brought so much happiness and light into the world where I have only left patches of darkness. I still don’t know how to reconcile this. I still mourn the fact that I have been forced to live this life without her.

Whenever I am in Burbank I visit her grave. Every time I visit I end up lying next to her headstone sobbing. She is resting on a hill near a tree at the Forest Lawn Cemetery in the Hollywood Hills. It is so beautiful and peaceful there. Many times I’ve gone there and wished that I never had to leave. If there was a way I could have dug a hole right next to her and crawled in I would have.

The view from where she rests.

In 1993 when I graduated from high school I went there. Before I left California in 1996 I went there. At the beginning of our honeymoon Eric and I went there. I went there many times while I lived in Arizona and was self destructing. I went there when I decided to leave Arizona and divorce Eric. I went there when I met Robert and we got married. I went there when I found out I was pregnant with Vincent. I went there over and over, time and time again to pour out my soul to a patch of grass that is now all I have left. I’d never planned to live this life without her. Her absence has been the hollow ache I’ve felt in my heart during every joy and sadness I have experienced since that day.

I have not lived my life in testament to what she taught me. Instead I started walking down a path of self loathing that I have allowed to contaminate almost every experience of my life. It is only when I reach deep within myself and am totally honest that I feel hopeful. Writing all of this has been painful and it has taken me a long time to get it out.

As a wife, mother, and woman I want to honor her memory. I want to cast all my daemons aside and truly realize who I am. I want to be a person that she would be proud of. Most importantly however, I want to be a positive role model for my daughter, her namesake, Vivianne Lorraine.

In her I've found hope.

Learning New Things

Vivi found her tongue this morning.

When I went in to get her from the crib she was sticking it in and out just like a little snake.

Vincent was showing Vivi the ins and outs of the jumperoo this week. We had to cram her into it with a blanket to help her stand upright. She really loved how Vin explained all the colors and the toys.

She is in love with her brother and watches him play all day long. She will even stop crying if he comes over to look at her. He keeps watch over her but rarely ever touches her. He will poke her with is finger when he thinks no one is looking though. He is a great mimic so whenever she is crying he copies me by saying "Oh, oh, Vivi what's the matter? Why are you crying? Are you sad? Don't be sad baby." It is so adorable.

Vincent is learning how to remove his pants and diaper. (Woo hoo potty training time is on the way!) Earlier this week he stripped off all his bottoms and went bare butt horseback riding. I have some awesome video of him shaking his bare little groove thing all over the living room too...but alas I cannot share that with the world. It was hilarious to say the least. Can't wait to show that to his prospective girlfriends in the future.