Sleep Screaming

Didn't get much sleep last night. Because last night, I "sleep-screamed."

Yup.

Sometimes I feel like Bridget Jones and wonder if anyone else does these crazy embarrassing things.

I've never really sleepwalked or sleep-eaten or any of those other things. I don't even know if I sleep-screamed like this before but if I did, I certainly don't remember it like I remember it this time. I may or may not have sleep-talked a time or two. But never a full-out scream.

And actually this wasn't like a scream really. It was more like a full-out, belly "RAH-LA-LAL-RRRRRRR!" Almost like I was roaring at someone or perhaps the sound one would make when jumping out of the bushes to scare them -- you know, with their arms up over their head and their hands in that "claw" position... Something like what I used to do to my sister when we were little. I was a meanie.

In my dream, I was trying to scare someone. I remember that. I don't remember who, but I remember I was in a car with someone in a parking lot, I was in the driver's seat and I turned to them and went, "RAHRRRR-LALALALARRRRRR!!!!!!!!!" in this deep, throaty growl. Kind of like when Elaine and Jerry would put their fingers up to their heads to make devil horns and make that roaring devil sound. And by the way, my roar didn't scare them. They were just looking at me like I was nuts. Which is pretty much true anyway, who are we kidding. And I never really can scare people when I try anyway. Actually it's pretty 50-50. Sometimes I get them good, coming around the corner when they are completely unsuspecting. Yes I do enjoy a good scare from time to time. I just feel bad if it's one of the kids and they start to get upset. Then I feel bad. But adults are fair game. I forgot how much I actually like doing this, come to think of it. It's like a secret past time.

Anyway, that was sort of off-topic. Well I woke myself up with the scream and when I opened my eyes, I realized my face was still contorted in the roaring-scary face I was making in my dream. So I curled my lips back to their original position and closed my mouth (boy my mouth was really dry, probably from the screaming -- I wonder how loud I actually was.) and in the dark 3 a.m.-ness that it was, I saw my husband, who was sleeping on his back, turn his sleeping head from me, slowly to the other side. That was it. He just quietly turned his head.

Which means he must have heard me. And which makes me laugh because he didn't ask me about it or anything, almost as if he would have expected something like that from me.

Oh God. How embarrassing.

So I'm trying to fall back asleep afterward, but I can't stop thinking about the roar, and my face is a little hot from embarrasment and I think about what he must have heard and how my face was still all contorted and how my mouth was still open when I woke up and I picture my husband turning away from me. And I start to giggle. And I think, please don't start laughing, you'll shake the bed, you'll wake him up and you won't be able to stop.

But it was like in church, when you're in a place that you're really not supposed to be laughing. The more I tried to stop myself from laughing, the more I would laugh and well, it was over.

I was in full hysterics and my eyes were squirting tears. And then we were both up, me hysterically laughing trying to recant the details and he, sleepily, shaking his head at me like I'm crazy. I asked him if he heard me and how loud it was, and he (who is used to me doing nutty things) told me he heard it and thought to himself, "Okay? ....Whatever that is..." and then said he had decided that if I were fighting someone in my dream that he'd better turn his head. Just in case.

I never really did get back to sleep after that and neither did he. Thank goodness it's all for better or for worse.

(Of course he couldn't help himself this morning after we woke up. I heard my roar played back to me at least twice already before work. Let the wife jokes begin!)

Sleep Screaming

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/sleep-screaming.html

i Heart Faces: At the Beach!

This week's theme at i Heart Faces is the beach. And I actually spent the entire week of vacation with camera in hand snapping away. But I still hadn't fallen in love with any of them, in comparison to my little nugget at the beach last summer. In his little hat, in our little cabana. Scrumptious.

Head on over to i Heart Faces to see more beachy photos! I've already seen some of them and they're beautiful!!

i Heart Faces: At the Beach!

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-heart-faces-at-beach.html

Mantra Monday: Face the Fear. Don't be a wimp!

As I spent the week on vacation on a beautiful beach with my family I had a lot of time to think. And as it turns out, I fear. I fear a lot.

I fear failure. I fear the open water and the fishies that may or may not be swimming around me. I fear wearing my clear goggles and that I may see a dark shadow swimming toward or under me and to be perfectly honest, I would much rather swim in complete ignorance and be surprised at the very last minute because I am quite sure that he (or she) would be a faster swimmer than I anyway. I fear pushing myself harder, faster or longer because it hurts. I fear joining a local "tri" group despite my need for group training because I fear that everyone may be or is faster and more seasoned than I, the beginner. I even fear success. And I fear that I stop myself from getting there, just because I can't really picture it in the first place. Instead I picture a road that never really ends.

What I realized through all of my thinking and rifling through the mental list of all my fears, is that (unfortunately and very very obviously) there is only one real way to relieve these fears. Face them.

Which of course prompted the following string of thoughts:

Sh*t.

Really?

Isn't there any other way? No, you say?

Sigh.

WELL okayyyy. I guessss. If you say so. (whine.)

Yes, I can be very wimpy and shrimpy.

So I (grudgingly and reluctantly) strode over to my workout bag which I brought with me to the beach. I put my goggles in the beach bag, thinking ok, if I have them, I might be inclined to actually use them. And I found a window in which the kids were happily playing in the sand and my husband could watch both of them while I sneak off to swim and thought, this is my window. Take it or leave it. Come on, wimp!

And so it was that I put on my goggles and I got into the open ocean and I swam. By myself. Not as long as I wanted because a little bit of panic did set in right toward the end and I aborted a tad bit early. But I still did it and that's a step.

Today, the fear I am facing is sending a note to the tri group in my area that I saw an ad for in my triathlon papers (which says newbies, beginners, people who are even just thinking about doing a triathlon are welcomed) to see if they really mean that beginners are welcomed. The slow kind of beginner. And if so, I will join them.

Face the fear.

Because joining them would make all the difference. It would push me just a little harder than I can seem to push myself and it would help me face my fear of open water swimming because they have regularly scheduled open water swims and group bikes, both of which I need to do. See? I get a twofer.

That's the Mantra this week, not just for triathlon training, but in whatever else might pop up in my normal day, too: Just face the Fear, darnit! And stop being a wimp!

So. What are you tackling this week? Join the Mantra and sign the linky!

Mantra Monday: Face the Fear. Don't be a wimp!

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/mantra-monday-face-fear-dont-be-wimp.html

Vacation all I ever wanted...

I accidentally mentioned the "v" word on Facebook (Vacation, you potty minds...) and my husband nearly had a fit. I know, I know, I shouldn't disclose to the entire internet that we are going somewhere else that is not our home, I should know better. Shame on me. So after the gentle admonishment from my husband, I kept quiet here.

Hence, the absence from the blog. Oh how I missed an internet connection. It was probably better that way, though, as I was not blogging and not looking up useless crap and not getting sidetracked while looking up useless crap only to look up more useless crap that I thought of during the original useless crap. Because that's what usually happens. It's actually what happened when I logged on about an hour and a half ago, when I had a full laptop charge and now all of a sudden I don't.

Actually, why don't I continue the list of what I didn't do while I'm at it.

I didn't... log my *cough* calories. Yup. Caution was thrown to the wind in the form of fish 'n chips, ice cream and pizza.

I didn't... spend hardly any time on my cell phone.

I didn't... wear pretty much anything that I brought with me to the beach.

I didn't... exercise as much as I should have, but I did get two runs in, two swims and one arm workout (not to mention the walking and the carrying of babies and beachstuffs including and not limited to beach bags, coolers, toys, towels and diaperbags). Does that count?

But what I did do was go on a boat ride to a little island with my family and see this along the way:

I still honestly can't believe I caught him jumping out of the water, I am so excited, that is one of my favorite pictures I have ever taken ever. I did a lot of picture-taking. A lot. Tons. My camera was a part of me. What else did I do. Let's see.

I did... drink sangria with my husband while watching this from our balcony:

I did... spend most of my time with my family, on this beach, literally morning, noon and night, which is why I wore nothing of what I brought, except for bathing suits and wraps. I could get used to that.

Sidebar: baby on a boat:

Another sidebar: baby on a beach: (ok, not quite a baby but always my baby anyway)

I did... read one and a half books.

I did... watch Cars 242 1/2 times (in between beach outings and before bedtimes).

I did... run on the beach right after sunrise.

I did... watch the sun set every night.

I did... see dolphins swimming in the water from our balcony.

I did... use sunscreen.

I did... chase my son down the beach as he chased every.single.bird. he could see.

I did... see a huge hawk land on our balcony and fly away before I could get my camera.

I did... do one open water swim by myself and only mildly freak out (it's a much different story when there's dozens of limbs flailing at once, I am sure the sea life stays far away from that.)

I did... watch almost no television (except for the aforementioned Cars when it was on).

I did... have ice cream with my boys at a homemade ice cream shoppe, the kind of shop that requires an "e" on the end of it, as in shoppe.

I did... coerce my husband into taking the kids to a Japanese Steak House where they thought the flames on the grill in front of them were the coolest.thing.ever.

I did... find some of the most beautiful shells I've ever seen and I live in Florida where shells are pretty much the thing.

I did...get sand stuck in my bathing suit bottoms.

I did... have one of my thighs nibbled on by a tiny fish, like I had barnacles or something.

I did a million other things with my family and we had such wonderful moments (with a couple of tantrums thrown in there but hey, that's what family is all about. The kids had some tantrums too. Hehe.)

But most of all, I did... cherish every single moment of being present with my family and disconnected from the rest of the planet.

It's good for the soul.

Vacation all I ever wanted...

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/vacation-all-i-ever-wanted.html

Final Weigh-in Wednesday!

I'm getting all sentimental now!

It's the last weigh in for this challenge but that means it's also the last weigh in with my team, Team Gold! What a great group of ladies, I had a blast getting to know all of you!

Well I finished down 3.5 total, I stayed the same for this week. I didn't reach my goal of ten pounds but I did break though the plateau, actually finish the triathlon and I can see some definition in my legs so we're definitely getting somewhere!

I learned a lot this challenge (and now I highly recommend counting calories as the former non calorie counter that I was.)

Congratulations to everyone who made headway this challenge! Team Gold rocks!

Final Weigh-in Wednesday!

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/final-weigh-in-wednesday.html

iheartfaces: Feet Week

I hate feet. But believe it or not, I take about a zillion pictures of them. For someone who HATES feet, I have two pictures of feet up on my mantel. They're black and white pictures, one is of my feet, which are in flip flops, while I'm overlooking some mountains in Utah with snowcaps. It was warm where I was sitting but it was snowing as far away as I could see. The other is a picture of my babies' feet together, just their little babyfeet. Who doesn't love babyfeet. I mean, really.

So I take lots of pictures of them. I could eat babyfeet. I love them so much. Here is my baby's feet. And I know I'm supposed to be focusing on feet here, but since it is I Heart Faces and it's mostly about faces (on most weeks, anyway) I figured a little face in there wouldn't hurt.. right?

Anyhoo, I'm off to check out the other entrants this week! Hopefully I won't run across too many adult feet. Babyfeet are so much cuter! Just kidding. Kind of.

ps. Mantra Monday returns to its regularly scheduled programming next week! I'm on and off the internet this week (mostly off) because the husband is home and we're having some much needed family time! Hugs!

iheartfaces: Feet Week

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/iheartfaces-feet-week.html

Kitchen Experiments: Penne with Chicken Sausage

It's amazing to me what kind of reviews I get with each meal; which ones get rave reviews from the kids and which ones don't. For instance, a cheesy pasta I made earlier in the week: blank looks and crickets in the background. Really?

A dish full of broccoli and red peppers, "THIS IS NYUMMY!!!"

?????

OK! I'll just go with it!

Well I found this recipe on an e-mail I get from www.active.com and it was in an e-mail about great and tasty recovery and/or pre-run fuel-ly type dishes. Because I, along with other people (as stated in the article) are known to scarf down something like a bowl of cereal after a workout just to get some protein and some carbos instead of actually eating something tasty.

But I didn't run today and didn't have to have a "recovery" today. But this meal looked so yummy I had to make it anyway.

It's the Penne with Chicken Sausage:

1 box whole wheat penne
1 pkg of chicken sausage (4 links), sliced (I used Al Fresca)
10 oz. pkg frozen broccoli
2 red peppers, diced
1 bunch basil, chopped
1/2 cup feta cheese

Directions: sautee broccoli and red peppers in a large skillet using spray oil. Set aside. Using same skillet, brown sausage. Cook pasta according to directions. Add veggies and cooked pasta to skillet. Top with feta and chopped basil.

I can't tell you how much the kids loved this. (Go figure!) The husband is lukewarm on broccoli so we won't count him. But I loved it. Loved it!! I think even red sauce, chicken sausage and penne would be yummy. I never knew about chicken sausage! It's deeelish!

Stats:
Servings: 4 (I actually think it could feed 6, we have a ton of leftover)
Calories: 397
Fat: 12.4 (A little more than I would like, but within the calorie range. Maybe low-fat feta would work better?)
Protein: 26.5

Carbs: 51

If you try it let me know! Got any good recipes? E-mail me!

Kitchen Experiments: Penne with Chicken Sausage

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/kitchen-experiments-penne-with-chicken.html

Running Scared: An Open Forum

Back when I was training for the half-marathon, there were a lot of long runs. Like 8 and 9 and 10 mile ones. More than I'd ever run before.

I did them mostly on Sundays when there was time and I tried to go with someone (aka husband) when we had someone to watch the kids. But sometimes it just didn't happen and I had to go alone.

I don't mind running alone, I actually prefer it because I can run my own pace. But going on the long runs means adding a lot of extra mileage and not always in the most public of places, aka trails. Which makes me kind of uneasy because there are always shady people on trails. It's just the way it is. I wish it weren't so, but it is.

When I lived in Utah, a friend and I were running on a trail along the Jordan River and some guy stepped out of the bushes and flashed us. Well it was a little more than just "flashing", and it was actually pretty scary. We ran off the trail and called police. Had I been running alone, I always wonder what would've happened? I'd have been all alone on a trail with a crazyman exposing himself. Crazy bastard.

When I was on one of my long runs a few months ago, I took a turn out of my house, ran down my block toward a main road, took another turn to get to another main road, and a van was coming down that block. No big deal. BUT, the van stopped, a man rolled down his window and said something to me and was looking at me in that way which made me quite sure he was not asking me for directions. So I kept running, faster. He didn't keep going, he just watched me out the window. And kept watching me until I got to the end of the block.

He went a little further, stopped at the stop sign and kept watching me. Eventually I turned off the other end of the block and I didn't know where he went after that. But I was scared for the entire rest of my run. Was he going to follow me now? Where was he? Was he going to wait for me? I had to run back that way to get home, what would I do now?

I kept watching for him the whole way which, was the entire 9 miles. On my way back down that block, I called my husband on the phone and talked to him while I was running, until I got right back onto my block. This happened at the beginning of a 9 mile run, so for 9 miles I was in an inner panic. I only had two runs left until the half-marathon and this was one of them. Not running was not an option. Not this day.

SO I wonder to you, out loud, WHY?! Really, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY??

Why do I have to be terrified to train alone? Why do I have to spend 9 miles worrying and panicking that something terrible is going to happen to me?? Why do I feel like I have to find a group in order to feel secure about going on long runs and rides?

I won't get on my sex discrimination platform (yes, I do have one of these, it began when I was 12 and playing baseball for me really meant having to play softball, because well, baseball was for boys and softball was for girls. This will anger me forevermore but this isn't about that.)

What does bother me and I realize I may be touching on some touchy ground here but stay with me. I don't see men being that nervous about training. My husband has no qualms whatsoever about training in the dark. They can run in the dark, they run along trails, and well, women have to be a little extra careful about doing it. Of course, doing these things for anyone always has some kind of inherent stranger danger along with it, I know, and I'm not saying that men can't be accosted by someone in this type of situation. I'm just saying that, especially in my own experience even in broad daylight on a busy street, it seems that women have to be a bit more careful and think twice about the time of day and route they're taking.

I get so angry when I feel like I am forced into not being able to train the way I would train otherwise. (I certainly won't run that van route anymore -- and I live in a very safe neighborhood!) I think twice about what time it is when it comes to going out for a run (if it's getting too late, that means it'll be a treadmill run at the gym) and I usually bike with a buddy. No, I don't have to. And yes, there is part of me that believes I am way too paranoid. Not only have I had my own experiences but quite frankly, it doesn't help that I worked in news forever and we covered story after story on abductions, missing joggers, and missing mothers. So in my mind it happens all the time because that is how we covered it, even though that is not true, (same with shark attacks), but it doesn't matter. I know it happens and I worry. A lot.

And honestly, it makes me angry. It makes me bitter. What I want is the freedom to train when I want, how I want and for however long I want, without worrying about someone jumping out of the bushes or pulling up alongside of me or even whistling or honking for that matter (why must men do this too?)

I just want to be.

Is that too much to ask? When I run outside, I just want to be left alone to my thoughts.

Instead, I keep my I-Pod low. I run quickly past any brush. I avoid the wooded trails that would otherwise be so beautiful to jog on if I had a running partner. I keep my eye on the cars to make sure no one is passing me twice or following me. And if I get nervous about something, I'll run with my keys between my fingers so I can gouge some eyes out if someone attacked me (and I have other things up my sleeve too so don't even think you know all my tricks, crazies!) and I always always map my run out ahead of time, tell someone where I am going. And while I'm running, I always have a mental escape route planned (run into the water! or run up to that house! and by the way, yes I would jump out into the middle of traffic and take my chances being hit by a car to escape me some crazy.)

I wonder if this is always how I will feel and how I can get past it. I have a family and training for a triathlon means a lot of working out and not always at the most convenient times. So being able to go out on a bike in the middle of the day in a busy area is not always possible. But I want to be able to go biking on a real bike and not have to do spin class! So what's a girl to do? Anyone with words of advice? Anyone carry anything with them? What do you do when you train alone?

Running Scared: An Open Forum

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/running-scared-open-forum.html

Weigh-In Wednesday: Darn.

So, OOPS. I've been procrastinating on this post alllll day. (Head hanging low.)

I gained a pound. (She says, sheepishly.)

Sorry, team. I don't know what happened. I did the triathlon this past weekend, it is true that I didn't have as many workout days leading up to the tri because of illness and whatnot, but mostly because it was supposed to be a restful week mostly anyways so as to avoid injury and put my everything into the tri. Which, by the way, I did and if you want the whole write-up on it, pictures included, you can read about it here.

Anyhoo. One pound. Sorry. Darn it. But I feel like a million bucks, does that count? OK, maybe feelings don't count for anything in an actual weightloss competition, but it does to me!

But I guess it gives me more motivation to feed my newfound triathlon addiction. (Next one in 8 weeks!)

How did you do????

Weigh-In Wednesday: Darn.

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/weigh-in-wednesday-darn.html

Mad Mommy

Poops' latest masterpiece.

He calls it, the "Mad Mommy."


He even pointed out the furrowed brow.



Nice.

Mad Mommy

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/mad-mommy.html

Mantra Monday: CAN

HERE IT IS! A Mantra Monday best told in a picture essay! OK yes, followed by the story of my first triathlon ever in the history of this girl. Because of course I have one! And yes I finished! Yes yes yes!

This is my space in the transition area, my favorite friend polka dot towel, my sneakers, water, helmet, GU chocolate energy gels and sunglasses. My bike's the one in the middle. It was dark. And there was one light and it wasn't on me.That's the husband setting up his transition area. It was 5 a.m. I have never been this awake at 5 a.m. The beach was clear and beautiful, sun was just coming up, the water was warm and calm and the current was going with us. It was like a nice soothing bath. With a lot of flailing and kicking at me from all directions. OK, so not really very soothing and not much like a bath at all. But nice. I have to practice remaining calm and staying steady whilst being kicked at from all directions.

The stats of the race were: the swim: 1/3 mile, the bike: 13.1 miles, the run: 3.1 miles.

I cried a little at the finish. YES! I FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And then I was happy. And hot. Because it was a hundredty-thousand degrees.I've never remembered a number from a race, but I will never forget this one. Thank you, Number 513. We were quite a pair.
Beer.


And the husband who may or may not have finished behind me but I am not sure if he wants that anywhere on the internet.

So here's the story. (If you care to know it.)

I FINISHED! I FINISHED! I DID A TRIATHLON! I did it in an hour and 49 minutes. I came in 17th out of 27 in my group which was first-timer. An official mid-packer! So what did I think about it?

Well, it's confirmed. A triathlon is, if I could describe it in one word simply, hard. Holy crap hard. Much harder than I thought and even expected. Even after training for 12 weeks. And that's just the short one. Ironmen and women, you're my heroes.

So of course things didn't quite go as planned last week, I may or may not have panicked, and yada yada yada, Sunday came whether I thought I was ready or not.

And the truth is, I was.

I couldn't sleep much the night before. I had a list and checked it a hundred times hoping I wouldn't forget something. Something basic, like my bike. Or the rules. Had to remember the rules. Things like no drafting, pass another bike on the left and within 15 seconds. Make a left at the yellow bouy...

I got up at 4 a.m., got dressed, and left and got set up. I felt like a total newbie among the crowd but once I started talking to other people, I found out it wasn't just me. There were plenty of us beginners and I started to feel better.

I had a very nervous stomach. I used the porta potty. Twice. You're welcome.

Then it was really time. And we made our way down to the beach.

It was a minute and a half before the horn would blow for my group to go. And I stood at the edge of the waveless ocean, deep in my head, breathing in and out, fixing my goggles to my face hoping they wouldn't fog up, thinking, "Right now I am just a girl in a bathing suit."

The horn blew and we were off. Despite staying toward the back of the pack to avoid the kicking, there was no way to avoid it. There was flailing and kicking from all directions and it made me keep stopping. And I realize now that no one else was stopping, that's why I was getting kicked! (So note to self for next time...stay the course.) But I made it through.

And when I say this thing was hard, I mean, there were quite a few moments where I actually thought to myself, "Do I have anything left?" Like coming up from the beach after the swim and having to run what felt like a mile to my bike and not being able to catch my breath. I thought, how on earth am I going to bike now. But somehow, somewhere, there was more.

Then about halfway up to the top of one of three bridges on the bike just after finally catching my breath from the swim, thinking my legs may not make another revolution. Because there was fire. But they did. I don't know how. Maybe it was good ol' friend, Number 513. I don't know. But the good thing about going up a bridge is that there is a down on the other side. And then a straight away between bridges where I started being able to pick people off. The bike ended up being my strongest to my surprise! Because I spent most of my training spinning instead of the actual bike because it rained on all my bike days, and I've actually only had my bike for about a month or so. I had only been on it twice before the triathlon. I know. Crazy, right?

So then there was the hopping off the bike and taking off on the run, which was, at the beginning, loose sand for almost an entire mile. It felt like an obstacle course. Like maybe there would be a big gauntlet to run through on the other side of the beach or something. But the sand was really rough to run in when you still have bike legs. And that was when I thought, ok now I really don't think I have any left. Because it's not like in the half marathon when my legs felt like concrete stumps and I had to keep picking up the concrete with each step. It felt like my legs wouldn't actually move this time. Like perhaps, there were rubber bands on my heels and every time I picked one up it wanted to sling itself right back to the ground.

And at that point, one feels like crying. Because the feeling of having nothing left reduces you. It reduces your soul. And when one is reduced to the bare bones of one's self, it is like you're exposed and you could actually break. It is a very vulnerable feeling when you feel like nothing is left. Like you are about to be conquered. Very humbling.

So I just started playing mind games. Singing in my head. People watching. Like I was at the mall. Baking banana bread. Getting out of my own head.

The thing is, there was no lack of inspiration the whole way. I spent the bike and most of the run playing leapfrog with a 75 year old woman. We had our ages written on our calves, so you knew when a 75 year old passed you. Yeah. She was 75 and she was rocking the triathlon.

The oldest competitor was 88. There was an 80-95 male category.

Yep.

There was also a 19 and under category. There were kids doing this. I so wish I had known about this wonderful little secret called Triathlon back then.

There was every shape and size and age and ability. There was a man in a wheelchair having to roll through the sand. There was a woman with an artificial leg.

Honestly? I felt so honored to be among these people, who had this unstoppable will and determination and motivation.

It makes me cry just thinking about it.

There were mothers and grandmothers and grandfathers and fathers. There were friends and couples.

I had my dad bring the kids down and they cheered me on in the transitions. It kept me going. And by the way, if you're wondering whether or not to bring the kids, I personally always err on the side of YES! Even if it's 5:30 a.m. They had a blast!

Overall, this was the most challenging, humbling, exciting, scary, nervewracking experience I have ever had. And I want more!!!!!!

I cannot express into words how much I have learned over the course of this 12 weeks. From what to wear, what kind of goggles I like, how to actually swim as opposed to just simply not drowning, the rules of biking and the gear system and what it's like to have a bike that actually fits my 5 foot nothing self (wonderful!!), to how to set up in transition and the etiquettes theretowith, not to mention, me. And what I've learned about myself.

I have to force myself to take the "day off" today not because I am sore (I surprisingly am not!) but because I need a rest day whether or like it or not. But mind is going and going and going. It wants to know how to improve, how to keep moving, it wants my body to be in motion RIGHT NOW! My mind knows that there are other people who are already miles ahead in training and have been doing triathlons for years and years and now my mind knows that it is onto something here!

Triathlon can get a bit expensive, but so can medical bills for health problems that go along with overweightedness, and honestly, I'd rather not have all of that so I can rationalize the cost. Plus just the amount I've saved on drinking beer alone has probably paid for itself!

People say all the time, if you do a triathlon, you'll be hooked and now I know exactly what they mean because -- and I really can't type this fast enough and if you were sitting here right next to me you'd see I am almost pounding the keyboard here -- there is something about a triathlon that lights a fire; that makes you want to run RIGHT NOW and bike RIGHT NOW and swim RIGHT NOW and feed your body right so that it performs these tasks RIGHT NOW. There is a certain urgent urgency that your body feels afterward like, I NEED TO GET BACK ON THAT BIKE or GET BACK IN THE WATER or GET BACK ON THE TREADMILL or ALL THREE and I have to do it RIGHT NOW!

Because someone else is...

My mind has seen them. And it wants to be them.

Triathlon's like a sport for people with A.D.D. -- and I say, THAT'S FOR ME! It's the ultimate mixitup, neverthesame sport!

I can't explain it. But that's how I feel. I'm doing another one in exactly 8 weeks so I'm searching for a new training plan. It's on September 13th, four days before my 34th birthday.

So for Mantra Monday, what is it this week? "Whether you think you CAN or CANNOT, you're right."

And I loudly and proudly and with vicious vehemence choose, "Can."

ps. JOIN THE MANTRA EVERY WEEK! MR. LINKY WILL NOW BE AVAILABLE!

Mantra Monday: CAN

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/mantra-monday-can.html

Tri Day

"Ain't about how fast I get there.
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.
It's the climb.-Miley Cyrus"

See you on the flip side.

Tri Day

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/tri-day.html

In the Weeds

Oh it just wouldn't be me if I didn't have some sort of a breakdown before a big event. That's my M.O.

No worries. I'm almost one with it. Learning to roll with the punches here.

What normally happens the week before any event, any event whatsoever, is that unplanned events occur. Illness. Sickness. A new aversion to the kiddie care at the gym. Oh any of those fun things like that. Happens literally every time. Every week of every year could be boring and uneventful except for the week we have something going on. And inevitably I have a period of about, oh 20 minutes, when I am reduced to a pile of grown woman-tears. (Yes, I'm a crier. Sue me.)

Anyway whatever decides to happen ends up piling up on top of whatever it is I am already inner panicking about and it feels like when I used to wait tables. We called it, "in the weeds"...

It all started with the throw up.

Tuesday night there was a sick Poops. Losing guts. No idea why. Yada yada yada, for a few hours, until it stops and then it's done.

Weird.

So the next day, for him, we decide no camp. We don't know the cause of said affliction and/or if it is indeed gone, so we stay home. It's a movie day. Which also means, there is no workout for me -- one of two final swim/slash/runs before the tri. Which is ok, because in my head I've moved it to Thursday. I still have Thursday, Friday and kind of Saturday but not really Saturday because you're not supposed to do much the day before. But I'm flexible. I'm Mommy first. Anything else, second.

So Wednesday was an entire day of not throwing up which is always good. A good day in fact. And the man has his appetite back. His only request? Pizza. I don't know about you, but when special requests come on sick days, I will pretty much give him a (reasonable) free pass. So pizza you want? Pizza you get. A small price to pay for losing everything in your body for a couple hours nonstop while a mommy stands by helplessly holding the bucket.

So I turn to the internet. Because, oh, yes, ordering pizza is soooo easy now!! You just order it online! One click! Yippety do!

You just plug in all your information and VOILA! PIZZA is at your front door. Is the way it's supposed to go.

But when, for some reason, and you know that it is NOT YOU, your card does not go through online, did you know that someone from Tennessee contacts you??? Instead of, say, the pizza place right down the block?

So I get the call from Tennessee that my card did not go through and of course I refuse to reorder over the phone because, well, it's someone in Tennessee and how do I know that this is a Pizza Schmut call center and not someone who has hacked into my computer somehow? So I call my local pizza place and order it over the phone and say I'll pay cash. Whatever. The kid wants pizza.

So I load up the car with the kids and go get cash with the very same card that did not go through, by the way. And don't you just hate it when cards don't go through and they look at you or talk to you like you're some sort of pauper who's beneath them? I'm sorry ma'am, (says their tone of voice) but it appears you can't afford pizza tonight. Now, why don't you go away so I can help other people who can pay?

Oh sure. Because it HAS to be me. It cannot possibly be your machine.

So I pay for the pizza and of course, GUESS WHAT?? I check my balance the very next day and it appears that my card magically went through!

Oh really.

So now I've paid twice for this damn pain in the ass pizza. (Sigh. But still worth it I guess darn it because of the "Mommy, this is the best bread ever!" that I got from a little boy who ate - and held down - the pizza. So I just say -- finger wagging here -- You are very, very lucky, Pizza place!) But yes, I did call them and give them the business.

Then Thursday starts off nicely, everyone's dressed and ready to go and I realize I cannot find said ATM card. I search my car. My bags. My wallet. The floor. The toys. Pockets. Nothing.

And it occurs to me that I actually don't remember taking it back out of the ATM after I got the cash. Or do I? I can't think! I was frazzled by the pizza thing so there is a good chance I might have left it! So I report that "missing" and now I am without. Which kind of stinks. Because now I have to be "cash or check girl." For 5 to 7 business days. But that's ok, because Thursday is a gym day and the kids are all healthy. One goes to camp, one goes to Kid Kare at the gym.

I get about 20 minutes into workout when I hear:

ATTENTION FITNESS MEMBERS! ATTENTION FITNESS MEMBERS! WOULD RYAN'S MOTHER PLEASE COME TO KID KARE! I REPEAT, COULD RYAN'S MOTHER PLEASE COME TO KID KARE!

People are snickering. I hear one lady say, "I'm not Ryan's mommy!" And I think, "I am, so shut it lady."

So I head on over and there is a little tiny someone, standing at the door, crying. Inconsolably. Red faced, big fat tears streaming, mouth open, hiccupping from crying.

OK OK, there there honey, we'll go. It's ok! The lady is apologizing, saying she really tried to keep him busy but he just wouldn't have it. And I know she tried, it's not her fault, it's ok, he's just having an off day I guess.

So instead, now the panic is beginning to set in that I'm scrapping this workout too, but I breathe in deeply and think, that's ok, I have two workouts left before Sunday but I still have Friday at least. We'll scrap Thursday, but I will still be able to get something else done that I really need to do which is, take our snack over to the bike shop so I can get something to wear for the tri, (if I can't work out).

Because, at present, I have no idea what I am going to wear. I know what I won't do. I won't throw on bike shorts after the swim because they cut off my circulation at the waist. And plus you can't run in them because of that massive padding in the butt. And plus mine take me about 10 minutes to put on. So the race will be over when I get them on.

And sure, some people do the whole thing in their bathing suit, but, uh uh, THAT'S NOT ME. My thighs still believe they are, indeed, one thigh, and not two. They probably always will no matter how much weight I ever lose. The chafing would be unbearable.

The one piece tri-suits help with that (see all this stuff I've learned??? I never thought about any of this before!). Anyway, trisuits, it's like a spandex tank and bottoms that are fused together at the middle and without the cutoff in circulation, so you can swim, then bike, then run in it, it's like a bathing suit type of running and cycling dream! It dries quickly and there's no changing! Oh. But they're $175 you say?

OK so I'll try to find one on clearance. Oh. But the ones on clearance seem to be on clearance for a reason i.e. stain, hole, etc...

And no one else has them. Hmm. (Dream temporarily shattered.) Ok I'll try on two pieces then (spandex top and spandex bottom). And this process becomes all very eerily remniscent of when I was in the larger sizes trying to stuff myself into regular clothing -- the sweating, the near-crying... And as suspected, two pieces won't work either. This sucks. Circulation being cut off everywhere. Baby is crying again. The dressing room is becoming very stressful. Oh and plus guess what?? That's right. No ATM card. Ugh. We're leaving anyway.

So not only do I not have anything to wear (I want my mommy!), I am also panicking that I still don't know how to change a bike tire should the opportunity present itself on the ride because no one is allowed to help you if you get a flat. And by now I realize I can't go to the store to try on tri clothing because somewhere between the time that I got money out and the time of well, now, my ATM card has disappeared. Meantime, going to the store is a fruitless venture anyway because my normally level-headed and pleasant 19 month old for some reason cannot seem to hold it together in any type of store (or daycare) whatsoever, so I am just sweating and panicking on the inside the whole time anyway. Not to mention two days of workouts are gone. TIME IS RUNNING OUT!!!!!!!!!

And this is where I really start to lose it.

It's about lunchtime by this time, I have really tried to roll with the punches but now I am really starting to panic. And heeeeeeere come the water works!

I really am at the end of my rope for the day. I have my little cry. And we head out the door to pick up the other one and I leave myself enough time to get my most favorite comfort food of all, the light caramel frappuccino at Starbucks (130 calories fyi).

World is looking better. I decide to go to the bike shop when husband comes home, the heavens open and I find an outfit (husband came home bearing gift of cash for ATM card-less wife). I decide I will wear my bathing suit for the swim, throw on Tri shorts over it (which are like bike shorts but with lesser padding) then toss on a light blue, very light bike jersey (which is super cute and I am excited now because it matches my helmet) and that will be it.

I found a quickie free bike maintenance class at the bike shop, I skip on over there, and now I am somewhat versed on changing a tire although I am not sure I'll actually remember all the steps but I'll just pray for no flat at all, mkay?

World looking much better now.

So on to Friday's workout at the gym but the kid just won't do the kidcare again. Crying and madness ensues before we even step foot into the gym this time. And this is all becoming very very super inconvenient.

But life will go on. I'll just have to go now when the husband comes home. And I guess I'll have to live with the fact that I'll only have one more workout instead of two and pray that I will just be ready on Sunday.

Right?

It's really almost funny now. (Almost.) Because of course why is it that one would get sick and the other would go on strike from the daycare the WEEK before the triathlon when I feel like there is so much left to be done? How? Why? Really???

Murphy's Law. Well at least I have something to wear now. If I get a flat or can't finish the race, at least I'll look good! Right?

In the Weeds

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-weeds.html

Weigh-In Wednesday

Hello sisters! Time for our weekly weigh-in at the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans! (which for me will happen around 8 a.m. and I will report back after that. )

Weight loss: 1 lb
Goal for next week: Yay! Yay! Yay! A little more weights, a little better at the restaurants.

OK so it was a bit of a tough weekend in the eating department. We went away for the weekend to visit my best friend and her family and I had a couple meal indescretions. Despite my plan to, well, not.

Bah.

I would say that if it were a math equation, I would have eaten well 85% of the time. But there were a few meals (2 in particular) in which it was impossible to count calories and so I didn't. So my Spark People graph is all over the place for the week.

But I did get a pretty good run in while I was up there and I had a swim/slash/run on the Thursday before we left. Which wasn't that great (I had to stop because my chest was on fire. And now I'm pretty worried about how Sunday will go. You know, that whole triathlon thing.) Yeah, it's Sunday. So when we meet again next week, it will be over. I will stop obsessing over it Sunday around 11 (when it will be over) so I apologize in advance for all the talk about it. I'm nervous. And I talk when I'm nervous. But I'm trying to spend the week thinking of baking banana bread.

How did you do this week??????? Go Team Gold!!!

Weigh-In Wednesday

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/weigh-in-wednesday.html

Barbies and Jackets and Music and Memories

OK it was the post that almost wasn't but really has to be because I can't help it. I'm not going to talk about any of the crazy weirdness that has ever surrounded Michael Jackson or anything like that. That's not for here or today, or quite frankly, for me.

What I will talk about is a bright-eyed little girl I once knew. An eight-year-old with dirty blonde hair and pigtails. She would sit on her bed with her yellow eyelit bedspead in her bedroom with matching curtains, a Barbie Dream House with Barbie-sized ponies and her first true love: the record player.

Yes she had a record player and it played 33s and 45s.

This little girl loved music so much she would sit and listen to the entire Kasey Kasem Top 40 Countdown and write down every song that made the list. This took hours but she wouldn't miss a song. She would take snack and potty breaks only during commercials and make it back in time for the next song.

One day, her daddy brought her home her very first record.

Thriller. And yes, she was thrilled. It was a dream come true. (She doesn't count the Julio Iglesias record she got because she didn't like Julio Iglesias much at the time -- not that there is anything wrong with him, and plus her dad worked in retail and had gotten it free in a record promotion.)

Anyway, this little girl would dream of one day owning that red jacket with all the zippers.


She would play the record over and over again while holding the record jacket and staring at the picture of Michael Jackson in the centerfold, the one where he was kind of laying down petting a tiger. And she loved tigers too, by the way, and had done a cross stitch of one that was hanging in her room, so she and Michael had that in common too. Not the cross stitch. Just the tiger thing.

And MTV was just coming out but her parents didn't have cable yet (and even if she did, she suspects she wouldn't have been allowed to watch MTV yet anyway but she did at lots of her friends' houses). She was obsessed with Michael Jackson's videos. Beat It, Billy Jean, Thriller... She loved the video where all the squares lit up when Michael walked on them.

Her favorite Michael Jackson song was Human Nature. It made her dream of New York City. She had no idea that she'd get to live there one day.

She did all the dances. She recreated his moves. And she danced and squealed with all her friends over anything Michael. The way his curls would fall on his face. That bad-ass look he had when he looked at the camera in "Beat It." So dreamy.

The glove.

She moved around a lot as a kid, but she always had music. And Michael was there for her through all of it. Along with Madonna.

From then on, from that one album, music became part of her life. Her dreams. Her inspiration. Everything she did or became was because of music fueling her passion, her memories, her emotions, her motivation, her writing.

And throughout her life, she learned that everything was always easier or harder because of music. Music made it easier to drive somewhere, to run somewhere, to clean something, to soothe someone, to have fun, to dance more, to care less. But music also made it harder to move on, to forget, to stay strong, to hold in the tears, to lose something. Or someone.

But no matter what, music meant memories. Driving the car down the interstate to college for the first time, crying into a pillow after the devastation that is a teenage breakup, sitting in a driveway with a cassette player and her best friend, crossing the finish line at her first half-marathon, sitting in a car with her boyfriend after his father's funeral, middle school dances, her first concert, walking the streets of New York after September 11th (and the subsequent karaoke "therapy" that followed), sitting on a hillside alone after moving to Utah -- alone.

She was music. Music was her. And it all started with one person. One record. And one record player.

Oh, I remember that little girl like it was yesterday. I remember sitting cross-legged on my bed holding that record tight to my chest while listening to his songs over and over again. I remember the dreams I had, the fire I felt for life, the place I wanted to carve out in the world. It was all so big. But I didn't feel small. Because everything was possible.

That's who I think about when I think about Michael Jackson. I think about the millions of people he inspired, down to the little girl sitting on her bed with pigtails dreaming about what will become of her in her life. The starry eyes, the dreamers. People who were shaped by his music and his words.


It seems so unnatural that there is a world without Michael Jackson in it. And I can't even picture it, really. Even with the news and the memorials.

So I just wanted to say, Thank you. For the memories and for the dreams and the inspiration, for all of it. For shaping my love for music. I don't think there are many of us out there who don't have some sort of memory with a Michael Jackson song in it. Even if it is a 40-something-year-old guy in a bar re-creating the Thriller dance scene in the movie "13 Going on 30". Yep. That's one of my favorites.

Barbies and Jackets and Music and Memories

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/barbies-and-jackets-and-music-and.html

Mantra Monday: When All Else Fails, Make Banana Bread

It's a post-July 4th Mantra Monday! I hope you had a great Independence Day, I sure did! We took a little roadtrip to Atlanta to see my best friend and her family and it was a lot of fun.

And now I'm back (and posting a little late). But today I have butterflies.

My arms are a little numb and my breath gets short and I get a little panicky because this time next week, I will be done with my very first triathlon.

Done!

OMG.

The day is Sunday. Just a few days away now. Less than a week.

So this week, there is one thing I have to do, and one thing only, not just during my very final workouts, but in my life in general.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

It can be a very scary place if I let it. I can allow fears and doubts to swirl around like a neverending whirpool that will trap me. (Did I do enough? Did I push through it? Sure I can run. I can swim. I can bike. But can I do all three? In one day? Back to back? Am I in good enough shape? Will I panic in the water? Will I throw up? Will I have anything left when it's time to run? Will I get sand in my bike shorts and chafe? Will I get a flat tire? Will I trip and fall? Will I have to pee (or worse?!) What do I wear? How do I wear my hair? How long will I take? Will I come in last? Will I forget something super important? Like my bike?)

And those are just off the top of my head. If I air them now, maybe I can leave them on this page and keep my head clear. Until I wake up at 4 a.m. next Sunday and get out the door and step onto the beach and breathe in the salty sea air.

Sometimes when I swim, instead of thinking about my stroke or my breathing, I think about baking banana bread. I hate bananas but I make banana bread all the time because the kids like bananas and I won't throw them out if they're going bad, I'll make bread.

So instead of thinking about what I'm doing when I swim, I think about peeling the bananas, tossing them into my mixer, adding the ingredients, one by one, presetting the oven, giving the kids a taste of the batter, each and every step of making banana bread. Until it's done. All warm and toasty with that awful gag-me banana smell that everyone else likes but me.

It really seems to work, too. The time passes. Quickly. Efficiently. All because I just didn't think.

Because sometimes I just think too much.

So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to spend the week just not thinking. I'm not going to "review" everything I've done. I'm not going to criticize myself. I'm not going to second-guess myself. I'm just going to know that I've "studied" for more than 11 weeks now, and hope for the best.

Because this week, it's not about me. It's about the banana bread. An entire week dedicated to the making of banana bread and each delicate step. Just to keep my mind busy. I may even make it. As a show of solidarity to myself. It would certainly keep my mind busy.

* * *

Join the Mantra every week! Send me your Mantra link and I'll list it right here!

1) Dragonsinger

2) Tuffy

Mantra Monday: When All Else Fails, Make Banana Bread

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/06/mantra-monday-next-week.html

The Cirque-us

Last week we went to the circus. Not the real circus with tigers and elephants, but the other one with lots of people in tights and heights.

A little thing called Cirque du Soleil. You may have heard of it.

Of course I didn't know how to explain what Cirque du Soleil was to a certain three-year-old so I told him it was the circus with lots of gymnastics. Because he's in gymnastics (I suspect it's mostly for the girls...) and I thought it would help him aspire to do things like stand in line after his turn instead of running all over the gym after he's done trying out a cartwheel. You know, help him maybe want to focus. A girl can dream.

Anyway, this is the Cirque du Soleil: Saltimbanco version and I was lucky enough to get tickets through Mom Select . And I'm so glad I did because not only have I always wanted to go to a Cirque du Soleil of any type...

!!!!!!

But I have to admit I was scared. I googled the show and couldn't find anyone who had dared to take a three-year-old and an 18-month old to the show who had lived to tell about it afterward. And after 7pm. Yes, the show started at bedtime. Aye-aye-aye. But I really wanted us to all go.

So here's what happens when you take two toddlers to Cirque du Soleil after their bedtime.

First of all, people look at you kind of funny. I got all gussied up and so did the husband (he wore his good khakis) and the kids wore their little polo shirts. There were actually plenty of children ages three and up accompanying their parents. But it was also opening night, so there were lots of couples. Oodles of them.

I am pretty sure we broke the record with the Mini. He was definitely the youngest one there.

I did get some looks from mommies and non-mommies alike that said, "Are you freaking crazy?" Actually, the mommies were thinking that; the non-mommies were probably thinking that the 18-month old I had on my hip didn't go with the dress I was wearing. (Oh I'm kidding!) And all of their manfriends were oblivious by the way, stopping to make goo goo faces at him. That was kind of cute.

So when we got in, we found our seats and the husband took Poops to the potty and to get popcorn. If all else fails, have snacks. That's my theory.

I happened to have a 100 calorie-pack of Oreos on hand because we were about 20 minutes early, which meant it was 7:10, which also meant it was 10 minutes after bedtime and 20 minutes before the show started. This 20 minutes was precious. It could make or break the whole show.

So then it was Mini and me - and he sat on my lap and we danced to the music pumping as people flooded into the arena, pausing only for more crackers. The time went quickly, the lights dimmed, the family was back together and the show went on. Success.

The show opened with a bunch of Cirque-ish clowns doing silly things, some of them to the people in the audience, then the dancing and flipping and juggling and swinging and the "Oooh!"-ing and the "Ahhh!"-ing began. And the kids were pretty entertained.

Mini eventually became very squirmy and wiggly but was kept at bay pretty nicely with his popcorn. Poops was entranced. An hour and a half in (yes, we made it a whole HOUR AND A HALF with no major incidents to report!), there was an intermission where there was ice cream and two very happy ice-cream eaters. But on the flip-side of intermission, things started to go downhill.

Mini began talking in his loud gibberish, and only to hear his own voice. Which would not have been a problem except that it was during the silent parts. And silence in Cirque usually means that there is some sort of death-defying act happening and, well, the acrobats were really trying to concentrate. People who are suspended from the ceiling usually want to be able to do this.

But they lived and the only people who seemed annoyed were the "date couples" around us. Sorry guys.

He did pipe down (I think that must've been the last gasp) and he was almost asleep. He started the eye-rolling and the nodding off. And I briefly thought, SWEET! We were going to be able to stay! Yay! But at this exact same point, it turned out that Poops was now laying down in his seat with his head on Daddy's lap. So we decided to let a good thing be a good thing. We decided to take off.

Overall, I'd say: take the three-year-old? YES! The 18 month old, nah. I'd spare him, if you could, but you know, it's not the end of the world if you take him. It's like baby roulette. It could work out and he'll fall asleep, or it could end badly. Really badly.

Cirque in general, I loved it. It was silly in parts, it had some over-the-kids'-heads' jokes, it had beauty, it had a tiny bit of scary (a monster-sounding voice) but that pretty quickly turned funny (to my relief), the music and singing was absolutely unbelievably beautiful and there was even a point where they played just two notes that was unmistakenly from "Billy Jean", a little moment for Michael Jackson because the news reports were just coming out about him. There was daring and amazing and stunning and breathtaking.

I loved it. (Can you tell?) Maybe an earlier time would have been better for the kid(s). But honestly, I judge "success" on whether or not there was tantrum-throwing-crying-wailing-hitting-or just overall embarrassment. So, no we didn't finish the show. But there was none of that other stuff, so I consider the trip a success! Besides, I had a great time with the family, Poops saw real gymnastics (and really is totally excited about going to classes now!) and we knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. I think that part is key.

The show's moving out of Tampa next week, so find out when it's coming to you! It's a great show.

The Cirque-us

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/06/cirque-us.html

Weigh-In Wednesday: HappyBeef

It's weigh-in Wednesday at the Sisterhood! (Goooooo Team Gold!!) I can't wait to see how we all did! I had a pretty strong week I think, so I'll update my stats below around 8 a.m. e.t., my normal weigh-in time.)

Today's stats are as follows:
Weightloss: -0.5
Next week's goals: Not too shabby, at least it's in the right direction! I am not even going to say I wish it were more because at this point I think it's going to be this slow going with 6 1/2 pounds left. AND WOOT FOR THAT!!!!

PS. 11 DAYS TILL TRIATHLON! (ACK!!!)

My first official assessment of the plateau breakage: Yeah. Turns out I was definitely eating TOO.MUCH. (Hiding sheepishly behind my computer screen.) I can't believe I even thought for a second that I wasn't eating enough. The thing is, when I didn't pay attention, it alllllll added up. I thought I was eating well, but nope. No wonder I didn't lose any weight. Silly, silly oblivious girl.

I also want to say that honestly? This is the best I have felt in years. YEARS! Seriously. Since before the babies. I am seeing real changes in my body, my hormones, my hair is back (I know it sounds silly but it was a frizzy mess during and after the babies), there is actual definition in my legs, my double-chin is shrinking, I have so much boundless energy that I just feel like running around with the kids all day! My mood is always pretty darn great (which is good for everyone in the house!), the husband and I are so happy and completely in synch, things are really just great. Period. I wish I could freeze time so I can bask in this for just a moment.

I'm so glad I'm doing this challenge with all of you and I'm so happy I bit the bullet to train for this triathlon. This has been probably the most positive, powerful, self-affirming thing I have ever done. And I know that it's still 11 days out and I haven't done it yet, but can I tell you how many hours of sweat I've put in for the last 12 weeks? Ask my family because I've been a big pain in the arse if there was a possibility of a conflict with a workout. Poor family. I love you! Even if God forbid, I don't finish the race, I feel like I've already won.

Well anyways, while you're here, I also wanted to open up a discussion about a topic other than the cheese cube but something equally as damaging: the Restaurant. If I could eat all day every day at my house, I'd be fine. But I don't and I have a bit of a beef with restaurants these days, so I'm going to briefly open up the complaint department. Get your grievances ready because I wanna know what you've got in your bag!

OK here we go. I'll start it off with the following (in the format of a Seth and Amy segment on SNL called, "Really?")

So, really, Taco Bell? A meat, bacon, potato and cheese burrito? Do we need this as a society? I'm getting fatter just typing it.

For me, the restaurant, and really, pretty much any restaurant, and its commercials theretowith, just like the cheese cube, has become the enemy. Even ones with the best of intentions. (We won't even talk about fast food for now.)

I can avoid restaurants a lot of the time, but let's face it, it's the home of the social outing. After a softball game, a mom's night out with my mom's group, a lunch with the family, dinner after church, outings where everyone in the group is excited to head out to eat.



And I don't want to be the lame-ass or the fuddy dud just because I happen to be counting calories. (Not to mention the fact that I LOVE FOOD AND I HAVE TONS OF RESTAURANT FAVORITES!) So I've learned to adapt. I do things now like look up the nutritional menu for a particular restaurant before I leave so I can figure out what I am going to have without asking at the table and making a big deal about it. I usually know what I'm going to order beforehand and have it all planned in my Spark People log. Kind of takes the fun out of restaurant going but no one has to know. It's just between me and you. Right?


Or I call ahead and ask about a particular dish (they usually haven't a clue) and try to do all the math myself. But when I do this, I realize how many places actually don't provide nutritional information and look at me (or talk to me) like I'm an idiot because I want it. Frustrating.



But on the flip side, there are some fascinating internet features out there to help me be the Calorie-Counter M.D. that I strive to be, like independent web sites that help me "build a burrito" from a chain like Chipotle (which is actually pretty entertaining--go ahead, try it. You can even post a burrito on your blog if you want. It's a little weird, but I won't judge.) And by the way no matter what combination of burrito I try, meatless or not, a big burrito still ends up being more than 600 calories so right now, as much as I'd love to, I don't get to go to there. Unless I want a tortilla with one bean and a diet coke.



I don't even try to make healthy choices, I actually do! But it seems like everywhere I turn, there's sabotage lurking in every booth. Like when I get a nice salmon and rice dish with zucchini which sounds easy and innocent enough, and then it comes, I look down at my plate and the zucchini's fried and the salmon's covered in butter.

Really? Really restaurant?? Is that necessary?

Or I get the broccoli side dish instead of fries (yay me!) but the broccoli comes and it's covered in melted butter and when I pick it up with my fork, it's dripping and the broccoli is officially D.O.A. because it has drowned in butter. Really, restaurant? Really?? Come on, here. You're killing me.

Frustrating!

I realize now that if I must be the Calorie Nazi and truly get it right , I'll have to order everything "dry" or without any butter at all but honestly I hate being the one at the table who is all lunatic about it. I'm really self-conscious about looking like a nut. I already look like that half the time anyway for other reasons not stated here, so it does no good for me to add to it. And I know I shouldn't care that much, but really, I just want to know what happened to just making the food without all that crap in it?

So that's my beef. In this calorie-counting world of mine, it's hard not to feel sabotaged even by little things as seemingly-innocent as commercials with cheesy beefy bacon-ness. Because it feels like everywhere I turn there are things I can not and should not eat that the universe is trying shove into my piehole. And not only that, if I actually partook or partaked (whatever the past tense of partake is) in just one of these crazy cheesy cheesefilled cheesesauced meatinesses, I'd literally grow a second ass before I even left the drive-thru.

Oh, I won't lie. It could also be that deep down, maybe sometimes I harbor the slightest bit of resentment and maybe get just the slightest bit bitter that there are people out there who can eat an entire pig on top of a cow on top of a slab of cheese on a bun and not gain an ounce. And I'm not her. That will probably always bug me to some degree no matter how fit I get because I have to work quadruple hard just to maintain, not to mention lose weight.

Maybe it's just simply the fact that trying to get through a day with actual events and outings involved is just.plain.hard. It's hard! There I said it. This is hard. Because very close to nothing is good for me, unless I have made it and brought it myself. And let's face it, it's probably better for my wallet and my calorie count if I do that anyway.

But I guess it's supposed to be hard, right? If it weren't, everyone would do it.

OK that's my beef. So let's hear it. What really pisses you off and/or tries its very best to sabotage you and how do you battle it? Hurry, while the complaint department is still open! (I'm cup half-full girl, I usually like to keep the complaints to a minimum.)

Hope you had a great weigh-in everyone!! Thanks for listening.

Please drive through.

Weigh-In Wednesday: HappyBeef

http://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/weigh-in-wednesday-happybeef.html