Friday Fotos 7/27 (It's Sunday...same diff)

Last weekend

my parents went to

my dad's 40 year high reunion.

Wasn't he adorable times 300?

I started a new job this week

and it is awesome.

Worked an event here.  Memory overload.

Admittedly I am a little gun shy

about the whole deal

as it's been a tough road

in the employment department this year.

But here's hoping.

I kept to my goal

of exercising 3 times this week

and almost died on the elliptical machine.

This was Day 1.  I didn't die until Day 3.

This ol' mare ain't

what she used to be

but she will be soon.

In fact she'll

be better.

***

I haven't always known

what defined joy for me;

always chasing

counterfit happiness.

That job,

those shoes,

that weight,

those friends,

that guy.

On Thursday

I woke to the sound

of Paul making breakfast

and Lucas singing in the shower

and I think I exploded

into a pile of glitter.

My bliss is finally here.

It is

in working with my guy

on his pet project,

It's a bed. He did all of the manly stuff.  I helped stain.

in following behind James

as he rides his bike in the setting sun,

in holding hands with Lucas

as we travel through an average Sunday.

Fawn-cy new drive thru car wash

My truest joy

is in the here and now.

With this life.

These friends.

These boys.

This man.

This body.

All I have is all I need;

and I have so very much.

New lipstick still makes me giddy.

Pretty in love with this song:

Purity Ring - Fineshrine

Weekends over folks,

and tonight I see Fiona.

Happy week ya'll. xo.

1-8-5

185.

That is how many pounds

I weighed yesterday

when I got on my parents' scale.

It is only 6 pounds less

than what I weighed

the day I brought James home 

from the hospital.

It is 42 pounds heavier 

than the weight 

I put on  my license

when I was 17.

143 pounds.

A lie by the way.

I think I weighed

somewhere in the 150s.

My 29 year old self wants to punch my 16 year old self for hating this bod.

I have struggled with my weight

my entire life.

Always hating something

about my body.

My stomach has always been soft,

my shoulders broad,

my feet too big.

I love vintage clothes

but have never been able 

to really fit into them

and

I think the last time

I felt comfortable in a bikini

I was 5.

I put myself 

on my first real diet 

when I was in 5th grade.

Skipping breakfast and lunch

and jumping on a ski machine 

after dinner.

High school was much

of the same

and my unhealthy body image

fueled unhealthy habits.

I'm pretty sure I've been

on every single diet ever.

Atkins.

4-hour body.

"Eat nothing and Drink only lemon water" diet.

(I think I made that one up)

In college I subsisted

on caffeine, nicotine, and diet pills.

And I was genuinely disappointed

when they outlawed my favorite

weight loss go to.

Strokes and death be damned,

I needed to be summer ready.

The first time I remember 

really loving every inch of my body

was when I was pregnant with Lucas.

Yeah I gained 75 pounds 

and got lost in a triple-chinned,

swollen foot,

moon face haze,

but I was growing a baby dammit

and I loved myself for it.

3 days before he was born.  Fat and happy.

I was barely 21

and my body bounced back.

By his 1st birthday

I had lost all of the weight

on Weight Watchers

and running 4 to 5 times a week.

When I got pregnant with James

I was somewhere in the low 160s

which sounds like a lot,

but my clothes were fitting well

and I was feeling good.

I gained 60 pounds with him

and lost most of it quickly.

However by the his 1st birthday

the depression of my failing relationship

had ballooned me 

to almost my pregnancy weight.

Yesterday as I looked for pictures for this post 

 the boys and I came across images

from his birthday party

and James didn't recognize me.

I have yo-yoed ever since

and cannot seem to get where 

I like the size of my clothes.

I no longer hate my body

but I know it should be healthier.

One of my worst habits

is that I hate to exercise

and another 

is my love affair with cake.

My 30th birthday is

5 months and 1 week away

and I would like to feel

hotter, healthier, and stronger.

Yes in that order.

The goal:

lose 30 pounds by January 29th.

Bring myself down

to a weight I remember feeling 

good about.

I know from past experiences

that if I set up a big elaborate plan

I will fall short and give up

so I'm starting with small goals.

Yesterday I weighed myself

and took measurements.

I set a goal of doing something active

for 30 minutes

3 times this week.

I ran intervals on the local track

while Lucas was in swim class

and of course it felt great.

Next week I'd like to do that

and maybe use that exercise ball

collecting dust under the stairs.

The one I constantly yell at the boys

not to bounce in the house.

So here's to 5 months

and 1 week of getting

in better shape.

And for honesty's sake...

I'm not giving up cake.

Friday Fotos 7/20 (aaaaaand 7/13)

Keeping oneself

on a blogging schedule

is tougher business

than I had anticipated.

Especially when

it's summer

and I'm unemployed

and the sunshine

and kiddos beckon.

Anywho...

this one's a doozy.

We've been

bein' places

and seein' people.

So here go 2 weeks

of fotos...

I am typically a homebody.

However a few Saturdays ago

I got a call to head out for adventure.

It was 11:30pm

and I was in my underwear

baking cupcakes.

So I went

and it turned out

to be an adventure

alright.

I hope that this is

the last time I see

9am from the nightside.

Silverlake bathroom. 3:30am.

Officially too old and boring for this scene.

The next day we went

to a pool party and

my guy was the only dad

to get in the water

and throw the kids around.

FYI

that's one of the reasons

why I think he's

such a dreamboat.

Lucas was stoked to the max.

Last week

my parents rented

a house in Palm Springs.

It was GORGEOUS

and posh

and Paul came

and Lucas

was over the moon.

James was able to catch

a few days too.

Paul says he's had enough

Palm Springs for the year.

He hasn't received the memo

that there is no such thing

as enough Palm Springs.

We did a lot of floating.

My guys took me to the movies to escape the heat.

I made this frozen chocolate peanut butter pie and then we all died.

Recipe here.

(except I didn't have dark chocolate so I used semi-sweet,

and I didn't have dark brown sugar so I used light.

And when I made it again this week I used an Oreo crust.

It's a do-anything-you-want-and-it's-still-awesome recipe)

Friday I had the priveledge

of joining my best friend

and a handful of his nearest and dearest

to celebrate the life

of his young nephew

who passed away suddenly

last summer.

It was one of the most

beautiful events I've ever

been a witness to.

Summer storms mean amazing sunsets here in SoCal.

I am officially the paper lantern master.

The randomly purchased lantern was lime green...his nephew's favorite color.

I believe in magic and signs and this was surely all of that.

It pays to have talented friends.  The sax played as the sun set.

This week we've done a lot of this:

this,

and this.

I also ate about

8375628973562873

ice pops.

 And listened

to this song a bazillion times

because Lucas thinks

it says his name.

M83 - "Midnight City"

Happy weekend. xo.

The Elephant in the Room

It's the last picture

I have of them

on my phone.

I took it

at the Santa Ana Zoo

and it was

one of the last times

we were together 

as a family.

I don't talk about him

because there is

not much to say.

Or at least...

not much that is not

tainted by my anger,

sadness,

and resentment.

We were together

on and off for 

almost 5 years

and most of it

was horrible.

The only light...

our beautiful son.

I was my ugliest 

with him.

The most dishonest,

the most insecure,

the most demanding,

the most lost.

And our break-up

was long.

And it claimed 

more hearts

than our own.

I have not known

how to deal

with such 

consistent hostility.

He spews hateful words

in response to simple questions.

Continues to attack me

as a mother.

Fails to meet 

financial obligations.

And still blames me.

In his eyes

it's has always

been me.

And sometimes I wonder

if he even knows

why he hates me.

I took the bait

for so long.

Signed up

for every fight

he sent my way.

I don't do that anymore

but it's still zero fun.

I have asked

for co-parenting counseling.

Outside help to assist

our navigating 

this odd dynamic.

But he refuses.

I hate who we are

as parents.

Paul and I 

did not have

a custody order

until Lucas was 4.

Even then

most of it stated 

that decisions 

would be left to us 

to deal with

on a case by case basis.

The lawyer said

we were the easiest

custody case

she had ever seen.

Even when we

didn't like each other,

we were still able

to discuss and agree upon

schooling, vacations, sports,

and the like.

This is not 

the case with James.

With this round

I stay in bed at night

on the verge of a panic attack

worrying about

how we are failing our son.

He starts school in September,

and if we are not speaking,

how will his homework get checked 

and weekend projects completed?

How will we manage

any discipline issues?

How will we sit

in parent-teacher conferences?

James can be 

so sensitive

and so unsure of himself.

I worry that he

feels unstable

and insecure.

I want to fix it.

I want to love him enough.

I wish we were capable

of a friendly exchange.

An open dialogue.

Really the elephant in the room

is not James' dad,

it is my feeling of failing my son.

It is my awkward silence

when Lucas asks,

"Mom...

why can't my dad

be James' dad?"

What can I possibly say?

Ready or Not...Here I Come

Recently I heard about a couple
that decided to break up
over their mismatched views
on having children.

One wants them,
one doesn't.

They are lovely and awesome
and I hope they realize
they can't live
without each other
and decide to have
3456398465 babies.

Or at least one.

I also know of one couple "trying"
and one couple getting ready to "try".

All of this got me thinking about
my total non-choice in having children.

I think being a mother was something
I assumed I would do when I grew up.

After college and trips to Europe,
gin soaked vacations,
my own apartment,
and a decked out wedding
with the man of my dreams.

In my mind the idea of motherhood
lived in the land
of Far Far Away.

The last thing I did was plan it.

With Lucas,
I found out I was pregnant on a Sunday.

Labor Day weekend 2003.

It was the middle of the night
and I was high on a cocktail
of too many things

I am still too embarrassed to name.

I was living in a big house

full of drunken strangers.

I wasn't really speaking to my family,

my best friend had just moved away,

and the other half of the chromosomes

wasn't spending any time with me

in the daylight.

I've told this story dozens of times.

About how suddenly at 2am

I realized I hadn't had my period in awhile.

About how mysteriously there was a

pregnancy test under my bathroom sink.

About how when that faint pink line appeared

I blamed the drug haze
and my blurred vision.

About how the next morning

there were two more tests.

Brighter lines.

Clearer vision.

I know the first person I told
was my roommate.

And then maybe I told a few friends.

I know I went to Barnes & Noble
and died a thousand deaths
trying to find a manual
on how the fuck I was ever going to do this.

I settled on
"An Idiot's Guide to Pregnancy & Childbirth".

I know I called my mom
and tried to nonchalantly
request her presence
at an upcoming Dr.'s appointment.

And when she asked why,
my nonchalance crumbled into
whispers and sobs.

I know we were supposed
to meet for coffee that night
but we never made it out of the car.

And within weeks
I moved out of that crazy house
and back into the room I grew up in.

I gave up all of my bad habits.

It was less than ideal
and I have been so painfully imperfect,
but there was never a moment
when I doubted my choice.

Something in me just knew.

And when I started spotting
at 8 weeks,
I experienced that first
ferocious instinct
to protect my child.

My introduction
to the ever present parallel
of fragility
and tigerish indominability.

My pregnancy with James
was a surprise as well.

I do not know
what it is like
to plan for a baby.

Ovulation charts
and schedules,
financial and emotional preparedness
are foreign to this mama.

A part of me
still wishes I had had
that experience.

And another part of me
smiles knowingly
at the false sense of security
those things provide.

Because with all of the planning
no one is ever prepared
for a hurricane.

Friday Fotos 7/6

Things that suck:

a car that refuses to work,

 

a relationship going through growing pains,

financial insecurity,

a baby daddy that hates you

and tells you so on the regular,

the disease of alcoholism,

an ever present battle against depression,

and the feeling of exasperation.

Things that do not suck:

having all needs met,

having two wonderful boys,

having a job interview on Monday,

having my grandma at my parents all week,

car dance parties,

pool parties,

maiden braids,

4th of July,

s'more cupcakes and flag cake,

cake & frosting recipe here

garnish here

white cake, cool whip, fresh berries YUM!

having a slumber party kinda house,

"Movies Mom Loved When She Was Young" marathons,

(so far we have seen: Beetlejuice, Pee Wee's Big Adventure,

Jumanji, Mrs. Doubtfire, and The Sandlot)

Magic Mike and a theater full of screaming women,

watermelon,

uncles,

cat-eye liner,

books,

friends,

family,

and the ever present belief that this too

shall pass.

Right now would be nice.

I believe we create our own lives,

that we draw circumstances to ourselves,

that the universe will continue to teach a lesson

until it is learned.

I believe we must stay

where we are planted

until we bloom.

I believe that in times like these

when my body and mind give up

my heart must take over,

and I'll be damned if I don't have enough heart.

I forget how much I love these guys:

Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah - Over and Over Again

Happy Weekend. xo