Taking a Look Back

5 years, 3 months, and 1 day ago, my Ava Lili made my world brighter, happier, more complex, more rewarding, and more exciting than I ever thought possible. In 2 days, she will be a full on honest to God kindergartner. The space in between these two major life changes could not possibly be enough. She's still my baby. But, she's my baby who helps her little sister with everything; my baby who is intelligent, well spoken, kind, and has wit 100X the average adult. She is beautiful and she is wise. And yet, I still worry that she won't ask for help. I worry she will lose that unbelievable spark of charisma and personality only she can carry. I worry that she will fall victim to the kind of kids who are intimidated by all of the above. But, if I know anything about Ava, I know that where she is kind, she is also strong-willed; and where she is happy in the company of as many friends as possible, she is also independent. I've spent 5 years worrying that I didn't teach her this or that, or worrying that when other kids were doing one thing, she was doing another. I've compared her to other kids and found what some might consider short-comings and what some might consider bold successes. But, recently, I stepped back and I watched her more closely. I watched her just being her on her favorite yellow swing doing things that would terrify me, things that require more balance, agility, and skill than I will ever know. And I saw her as a child who is as in touch with herself and her surroundings as possible. Her beautiful, dark hair trailing behind her, her face turned up toward the sun, eyes shut, smile giving hint to her internal bliss. She is remarkable. She is mine. My mom asked me if Ava's kindergarten teacher knows and appreciates that she gets to look into the eyes of one of God's greatest gifts; I can't possibly imagine how she wouldn't notice.

So, with pride and a really, exceptionally heavy heart, I send my baby off to kindergarten. Every new era starts somewhere and my little girl is headed toward great things, even if "all" she ever is is my baby.

I love you Ava Lili!!!

Cool Mom? HELL YEAH! Smart Mom? Umm...

I was mowing the lawn and doing my very best to think about none of the things I should think about; none of the things that have been polluting my mind these past couple days. It is a beautiful Friday, my girls are getting along and playing nicely, the dogs haven't had one senior moment, and the cat used her litter box. Really, this day is pretty great. I'm sitting on the deck now in the shade with a perfect breeze watching the girls enjoy my least thought through moment to date (and eating fresh from the vine tomatoes). At this time, I'm not prepared to answer any "how" questions, but, I put the girls 10'x6' inflatable pool into the 15' trampoline. My hands are still shaking, but I prevailed and my kiddos are now enjoying their very own backyard water park. Pretty great.

The Calm AFTER the Storm

Well, it is Thursday night. The girls are asleep. I ate a whole grain english muffin with butter and marmalade. My Lorazepam helped me settle. Tomorrow is Friday and I will greet it with optimism and nonchalance. Optimism because I survived Thursday. Nonchalance because you never show your enemy fear. My bed is comfortable, the windows are open, the breeze is refreshing, and Jeff envelopes me in a way that makes everything outside of us obsolete. I am safe there and loved and, really, that's probably all I need. Oh, and we sold our car today so that is pretty splendid also.

Nighty night friends. Sleep well. I am especially thankful for you all tonight.

Ang

180 Degrees anyone?

Here are some things that make me feel pretty A-O-K again:

1. You, my friends, who sent me messages that remind me that though not everyone understands my issues there sure as hell are people out there who are willing to listen to me cry about nothing and everything all at once. It is heartwarming knowing I have friends like you because on the bleakest days its tough to sort it out. Thanks guys. I will always be here to return the favor.

2. Watching my girls play in the sandbox, totally and completely naked.

3. Finding an ENORMOUS garden spider web on the side of our grill. I figured it was big, but when we threw the unfortunate caught bug into the web, the spider that appeared with stunning speed was giant. I'm still a nature/science geek and this was a pick-me-up Mother Nature hand delivered. SO cool. I feel a little bad about the bug, but if it didn't want to be caught it should've stayed out of damn pool.

4. Lasagna from Whole Foods. I don't currently have any on my person, but its nice to think about.

5. The tomatoes Jeff and the girls grew in our backyard. Seriously better than any others I've ever had.

6. Just for the record, I am NOT bipolar. I know the previous blog followed by this one could point toward such an affliction, but no. I'm just your regular, ol' garden variety crazy person.

So, there it is. And just to keep things interesting I'm now starting to have an anxiety attack. Whoever I was in the previous life must have been bad bad bad. I've got to go medicate.

WARNING - Whiney Pouty Sniveling Pathetic Blog

Jesus. Whoever said a good cry would make a person feel better was lying through their teeth. I am getting buried in the negative emotions I'm heaping upon myself. I sit here and think if I could just call someone and cry I would be ok. But I'm pretty sure that's not the case. I would just hang up and feel stupid for unloading on someone who, I'm sure, has their own life struggles and wasn't looking to take on another person's. I would also rehash the whole conversation and assume that I had just scared away another friend - it's happened before. That sucks. You open yourself up and people get scared of you or something and just never come back. That isn't helpful. The girls are in quiet time. I'm going to use this time to stare at my ceiling through my incredibly blurred and skewed vision.

Happy day.

Just gotta get past this one. One day at a time and this one only has 9 hours and 43 minutes left. Not that I'm counting...

Welcome Back. We saved your seat for you.

It's been a while. Let's recap:

Figure out anorexia will kill me - CHECK

Spin wheels for years getting nowhere in the mental health dept - CHECK

Have epiphany, hit stride, begin gaining ground in life-saving progress - CHECK

Gain weight, maintain weight - CHECK

Get to hear therapist use words "really impressive progress" - CHECK

Relapse and throw it all into the Goddamn wind - CHECK

Anyone else have one of those days? Yeah, they're fun, aren't they?

I met, head on, several of my biggest fears and eating disordered triggers over the past few months. I spent 16 days back home in ND where my family accepted me eating disordered or not. By the time I got back there I already had several accolades in the recovery department to my name. While back there, I buckled down even more so and didn't back away from one terrifying challenge that previously would have been a no-brainer situation before. Before I achieved the level of health I busted my ass to get to, any one of the seemingly simple situations would have sent me reeling and I would have lost 5 pounds easily. But, for the first time in my life, the sick voice in my head was getting quieter and the healthy, confident voice was loud and clear. I did awesome. I was proud of myself. I had nothing to hide and it felt liberating.

Well, I got cocky. I decided one Sunday that going for a run would be nice even though my therapist and I had discussed my struggle with over-exercising and decided I was not to go running until I had a few more months of health under my belt. I threw caution to the wind along with his friends progress and thinking-it-through. I started having chest pains during the run. I pushed and pushed and pushed to get past them. My ankle felt like it was breaking. I pushed to get past that too. Jeff paced me as much as he possibly could. I think it's entirely likely that he is the only reason no one had to call 911. The next day, I threw the girls in the double stroller and headed out again, with no one to pace me. And in those two decisions, I let the evil, sick voice out of it's sound proof, hidden cell and gave it a nice loud voice. So, now I have to dig deeper than ever and pull out what feels to be a minor miracle.

I had an appointment with my therapist today. She has termed what happened as a relapse. Do you know how much that sucks? She told me that the battle I'm in now will likely be harder than any other. It feels insurmountable. It feels like every second of every day is consumed in trying to do the right thing; to continue eating and do my damnedest not to hate myself for it. While getting Ava ready for kindergarten, Phia ready for preschool, and the 9 million other things I tackle everyday. I'm not saying my life is harder than any other person's, but at the end of my day I pray for a coma. I'm exhausted. I'm disheartened. I feel crushed under the weight of this horrific disease. I don't want to live this way forever. Jan asked me if I knew that if I keep pushing through this really shitty setback, that in time I'll be back on top. It was not that long ago that I knew what that awesome, successful feeling felt like; but now? I can't imagine the voice in my head going away, I can't imagine not feeling like every step every day is being done waist deep in mud with 1000 pound weights on my shoulders.

But, I'll keep pushing because I can see the change my progress has had on my girls. I will keep pushing because I will do whatever it takes for them to not have this disease affecting their everything. I will keep pushing because it is what I've taught myself to do. And I want to be proud of me again.

"Its ok to look back, but don't stare." Quote I saw on ANAD - Natl Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders.

10/4

What am I Thinking?

I have a whole lot on my mind right now.

Ava and I had the talk about how the baby comes out of the mama's body some time ago. It went very well, actually, and she thought that was a very cool thing that a mama's body can do. Last night she asked me how the baby gets INTO the mama. It was a very insightful question the way she asked. She wasn't asking out of simple curiosity; there was something complex in her tone. I should have seen it coming since she asked how the baby comes out and because she is just a very smart little girl who wants to know more always. But, I was caught totally off guard. It wasn't something I didn't want to talk about, but I wished I would have thought it through before the moment it came out of my mouth. I think, all things considered, it went well. And the conversation ended on babies with two mamas or two papas instead of one mama and one papa. I explained things the best I could and then asked her if she had any questions. And once again, she reminded me how soulful and awesome she is. She had no questions or comments on the baby-making info (I think it was a lot to absorb; Jeff sometimes thinks I tell the girls too much, but I feel like I'm lying if I'm not honest and thorough with them. So, I'm anticipating another conversation in the future). But, after talking about mamas and papas and all the different possible combinations of family, she said, "Well, that makes sense mama. Everyone is here to be loved". In her eyes, it is just the same as how some of her friends have different colored skin than her; inside we're all the same. She's five. And I am out of this world proud of her.

Here's another thought. Hide and seek is a game we play a lot. And it's really interesting to watch the girls play. Ava wants me to hide her so she has a really great hiding spot. Sophia wants the same, but then hides in the same place over and over again. This frustrates Ava beyond words. She really wants to have to look for Phia. So, we try to help by telling Phia if she hides in the same spot we will know where to look for her and then the game is over sooner. But, I got to thinking, maybe she's right. I mean, it won't work over and over and over. But, if she hides in the same place two times in a row; aren't we the ones who look like fools? Because either we find her because we were dense enough (as adults) to look for her where we told her not to hide, or we don't find her because we didn't look where she just hid in which case, she was right. Right???

Also, last night as I was falling asleep listening to the thunder storm and feeling secure in my space, I got to thinking about the friends I've had the longest, who are attached to my soul, and the varied ways in which they became part of my world. This is by no means an all-encompassing list, but there are these few friends who have been with me through the thick of it. I think I will assign them all alter egos, just to be safe.

Friend 1: We will call her Roberta. I've known Roberta since kindergarten. We have been really close since. We are the kind of friends who don't see each other for literally years, and then end up face to face in an airport me with my brand new baby and her with her brand new southern accent, and it feels like we drove to the airport together. It is always comfortable, it is always easy, and something is always reduce you to tears hysterical. This friendship is remarkable to me because she has always been there, wherever "there" may be. What makes it even more special to me is that our friendship survived junior high and high school where any number of variables ends lifelong friendships in one afternoon. Rumors, rival groups of friends, different decisions or schedules or lives. But, no. Roberta and I made it through and I think about her EVERYDAY whether she knows it or not.

Friend 2: We will call her Talula. Talula and I met when we were 3. I was in my pajamas, my hair likely sculpted into a FINE rat's nest; undoubtedly, she was wearing a pleated skirt, matching button down puff sleeve shirt, knee socks, and blonde braids for which Crayola still hasn't developed a color to match. She lived down the street from me, her grandma lived up the street from me. Convenient? Yes, but here is the kicker. To me, this friendship is the definition of amazing: she moved to a different state when we were 5. A different state. She was no longer down the street from me. I no longer knew exactly where to find her. We couldn't stand on our opposite sides of the street and yell to each other until one or the other's mom would help us to safely rendezvous. There was no one else in the neighborhood to practice trick or treating with. The biggest problem though was that I couldn't even write my own name legibly yet. How in God's name would two 5 year olds keep in touch? I don't know the answer to that. But, here's what I do know: we never lived in the same state again, but when I got married she was my maid of honor and when she got married I was her matron of honor. She is more my sister than my friend. And I am more comfortable in my own surroundings when she is there with me. I am thankful for her in ways I may never be able to express.

Friend #3: Let's call her Nurse Betty. Nurse Betty and I met in college. I hated this woman when I first met her. She walked into the room and my rage alarm would self-destruct. She is beautiful beyond words. And, while I was just trying to keep my GPA head above water in what was a rapidly rising tide, she couldn't figure out why she only got 108%. And then I met her because we were assigned partners in one class or another. And in that instant, I met the most impressive, amazing, kind, and focused person. She is also to this day, the strongest person I know. There is no room for the word 'adversity' in her world. She was in my wedding and was one of the very first people to come visit me in my new world here in Madison. She has been a confidant like none other. No judgement, no scornful look; just support, advice, and a keen ability to call me on my bull before I've spoken the whole statement. She is one year younger than me, but WORLDS more wise. I miss her always.

Friend #4: I'm going to call her Sunshine. Sunshine and I were fortunate to meet because her parents were thespians and my mom was the magic behind the thespians. I attended production wrap parties at her house as a smallish kidlet. I remember the first time we hung out because I was taken with how kind and friendly she was. Over the years, we would meet up sporadically and then, as if our parents thought nothing of it so as to make a grand announcement, we ended up at the same school together. We played soccer together. We became really great friends. And Sunshine was the first person I told when I met Jeff and knew I was going to marry him someday. After some time of developing this really awesome friendship, we were out for dinner while both home from college and Sunshine told me on no uncertain terms if I ever broke up with Jeff she would kick my ass. She was part of my wedding. And while I was unable to get to her wedding which incorporated a number of deeply meaningful religious and spiritual rites, my parents took a road trip so that they could be there. My dad is not one to look forward to weddings, but he talked about Sunshine's wedding for a very long time. He still will mention it from time to time and say, "boy, that sure was neat" in this tone that implies a respect and appreciation for everything they put into it. You have to be someone pretty amazing to work that angle with my dad. But, I'm not surprised because Sunshine is amazing plus some. A really, great big plus some.

So, these were the 4 amazing friends I thought about last night as I fell asleep feeling secure and content. It certainly doesn't hurt that I had the world's greatest husband with built in best friend upgrade lying next to me, but I can't help but think the security I feel these days isn't at the very least rooted in the 4 women's presence in my world.

It also helps that I know some of their secrets too, so mutiny in our friendships is pretty unlikely...

10/4 Good Buddy.

Too Much Thought for a Mini Blog

I've been thinking about Facebook lately. I've been thinking that I am friends on Facebook with people that I probably wouldn't spend time with if we lived in the same city. This doesn't mean I don't like these people or that I have anything against them or their ideals. It just means I have finally taken one more step toward being an adult. I mean, what is the point really in continuing to be Facebook "friends" if I have no interest in the day to day goings on of some of the people I've met over the course of my 32 years on this planet? Did you do your laundry today? Did you wake up and smell toast? Are you considering taking up yoga tomorrow? If I said I cared, I'd be lying. So, isn't this the honest thing to do? In addition, I'm not using Facebook to make business contacts; I just wanted to reconnect with old friends, but somewhere along the way I got sucked into that pattern where you 'friend' anyone whose name you've maybe ever heard. I don't have a band, I'm not selling natural cleaning agents that you can also cook with, and I know nothing about running a farm; real or imaginary. I am happily married, I have two amazing children, and I'm living the life I had hoped I would. It was nice to talk to people from my past, get the rundown on how they are, etc., but I could have done an equally satisfying job of that if I had run into them at Target. I fully intend to stay in close contact with some of the people I've re-friended from the past. And others, well, I'm happy for them that life has been kind. I'm sorry if life hasn't been kind. I hope they find what they need. But, I didn't give up my cellphone three years ago in the name of simplifying my life so that I could announce to half of my graduating class that my two and a half year old says "vagiant" instead of just 'giant'. So, hasta luego to those of my Facebook friends who had just as little invested in my life. I hope no one will be offended.

10/4 Good Buddy.

I'm Back, but Only Just Sort of...

Been a long time, I know. Let's jump right on in. I am having one of those days where I feel it would be appropriate to stroll up to a complete stranger and ask, "What the fuck?". I am easing my nerves while the girls are doing "alone time" by drinking Mello Yello, eating a chocolate chip banana bread muffin, and watching a movie about gay relationships. Here is but a minor excerpt from my morning. Last night, it rained here. The rain ponded in both the dog poop scooping shovel and the dog poop bucket. The same thing happened Tuesday morning, well, Monday night. Monday night, however, the rain FILLED the bucket to the top. So, I checked the yard for dog poop before the girls came outside and when I got to the bucket to dump said poop, I realized the bucket was full of water and I REFUSE to touch that bucket. So, Jeff took care of it when he got home, but in the meantime, I set the shovel (complete with fresh poop) on the other side of the house where no one ever goes. Jeff emptied the watery poop bucket, but since I had squirreled the shovel away he didn't know it needed emptying and I had kind of bumped it down to the bottom of my to do list, so when it rained last night the poop shovel got all soupy. As if standing there looking at it didn't nauseate me enough, I knew I had to pick it up and empty it. A sane person would have made a plan. I just reached down to pick it up. Apparently, I used a little too much gusto because I grabbed the handle hard enough to up end the poop soup holder and it ran down the shovel onto my hand and up my arm. Just then, the girls opened the deck door, let in a fly (this is a huge issue in my world), and said they wanted a special treat for cleaning up their mess. Mess? What mess? When I went outside to dump poop juice up my arm the kitchen was spotless.

On the upside, Jeff and I are going out on a date tonight to celebrate our 11th anniversary. We just have to choose a destination. Honestly though, it is a night out for just the two of us so I'd be happy with McDonald's. Not really. I want to go somewhere where I can be assured nowhere on the menu will I find chicken fingers or mac n' cheese. The babysitter will be here at 6:30, so, here's to the next 5 hours being poop juice free...

Ang

Ain't Life Grand???

It's been a while, I know. And I know because I keep checking back to see if someone has written a witty and insightful blog in my place since I'm nearly positive my brain is melting.

I have been up to my hip pockets in birthday jazz for a while now. In approximately 16 hours, Ava will have been on this earth for a full 5 years. Does that seem impossible to anyone else??? I swear it was just yesterday that I was wiping her brand new baby poop off my face at a lunch party with women I'd hoped would become my new best friends. Not so much. I was just happy in the end to escape with my child, myself, and maybe 1% of my pride. But, you know, getting your own baby's poop on your own face and mistaking it for the mustard on your sandwich is immediately rendered insignificant when she makes eye contact with you for even just a split second while you buckle her in her car seat. Every time she looked at me, I felt like my heart would burst.

Ava is my trail blazer. She has taken my world and myself in directions I couldn't possibly have predicted. The last 5 years with her have taught me an incredible amount about everything life has to offer. She is a funny, kind, intelligent girl. I feel so honored to call her my daughter and when people give me compliments on her, it's really all I can do to smile usually. She is an awesome little person. At this time 5 years ago, I went into labor and the mixed bag of emotions that came with that was unreal. I was out of my mind excited to meet her, to know if she was a she or a he, to see her and touch her and hold her. But, I was also feeling a bit of sadness knowing that my one on one time with her was soon to end. From her birth on, I would have to share her with the rest of the world. Of course, the second I saw her I was 100% thankful that she was finally, actually, safely in my arms. These days, she's a busy girl, so long lasting hugs are hard to come by; as my dad says, "legs that short have to move fast to cover that much ground". I'm thankful for her everyday and I love her more everyday.

And, at the same time that we celebrate her birth, we remember a little more privately that there is another soul in this world whose life is no less valuable. Ava was a twin. When the ultrasound technician told us at 6 weeks that I was carrying one single baby, I knew she was wrong. No matter how crazy it made me seem, I kept telling Jeff that there were two babies. A few weeks later we went back for another ultrasound and the second she turned the ultrasound machine on, clear as day, there were my two babies side by side. Perfect little shadows of each other. Unfortunately, I had to learn to celebrate life and grieve loss at the same time. I'm still not very good at it, but I can see deep enough into Ava's soul to know we never really lost our other baby. And Ava will never ever be truly alone. I am one lucky Mama.

So, here's to five awesome years of life and five years of burgeoning faith.

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran"

Bliss

I am vacationing in a corona commercial. I’m not referring to the alcohol, because while there is that and plenty of people are drinking plenty of alcohol, that is not the cornerstone of our vacation. I will admit straight up that I was concerned what kind of vacation could be had in Mexico. Now, that is due purely to a cultural, geographical ignorance on my part. I haven’t heard a lot of great things about Mexico in the news lately, though, CNN is hardly the place to broadcast news they can’t sensationalize. Mexico is beautiful. Our resort upgraded us from the most basic room to their most expensive, decked out, ammenities you can’t even imagine Emerald Room. We are ocean front. We have our own patio and our own private beach. The sand is like walking on powder. The weather is hot and sunny, but the wind is comforting. And the ocean never ceases to amaze me. It makes your brain think in ways it hasn’t been trained to do. I’m sure there are people here who think I am a total nerd because I can’t take two steps without dropping to my knees and checking out a shell. But, here’s the kicker, I don’t care. There are so many people walking around here totally oblivious to the natural beauty. I can’t imagine that. I have to wonder how many of the shells and rocks that the ocean shuttles onto the beach are older than me. The waves wash the sand right out from under your feet, and just as you feel you are going to get pulled out with that sand, the next wave comes in and steadies you. There is most certainly something hypnotic about it. Right now, I’m watching the ocean and pondering all kinds of things.

But here is something pretty great I learned about myself, the closer I get to the equator, the less anorexic I get. Jeff wants to move here. It is like living life through someone else’s mind. I’m eating what I want and I don’t feel even remotely guilty or bad about it. I just keep looking forward to the next meal. Who would have thought that I would go on vacation on a beach and be less self-conscious than when I am in my regular world. Unless you yourself have an eating disorder, you can’t possibly imagine what this feels like. I feel like a human being who does in fact deserve this break. I miss my girls unbelievably and I can’t wait to hug them again. But, that is in one area of my brain. I am so grateful to my amazing, wonderful husband that he pushed for this vacation. I honestly felt during most of the planning that this was more for him. He has always known my soul just a little better than me. And being here, my face hurts from smiling, we get to listen to each other 100% and not worry about the slap fight that’s starting in the playroom.

This place is miraculous.

I hope you are all feeling as zen as I am.

Ang

Blogging Down To You...

Well, I got on the plane without use of a horse tranquilizer. That could be because I was up with the girls for most of the night and Jeff "woke" me at 3:00am. I had conversations I didn't realize I was part of. At our connecting airport, I said to Jeff, "Hey, don't think the worst when I ask you this, but, do you have my passport?" Now, I think Jeff will agree that usually I am the one who keeps us together and moving in a semi-forward motion. I'm the one who remembers names and sometimes even birth dates of his co-worker's spouses. But, this morning, I was most definitely the handicap on board. I think the best case scenario here is that we get to the resort, I drag my nearly lifeless body to the beach, collapse in the sand and stay there until someone calls the paramedics. My plan was to tan a bit before hitting the beach 6 inches from the equator. But, real life prevailed and didn't do anything even in the remote direction of a pedicure until last night. Just after I finished sobbing while the rest of the family tried to watch The Princess and the Frog. I stopped crying and thought, "Christ's sakes I'm stressed out! If I accomplish something on my list of to-do's (remember that?) I'll feel better." So, yes, I moved 'pedicure' from the bottom of my 'have someone else do it' list to the top of my 'what is most pressing right now' list. But they look pretty. Whenever I've painted the girls' nails I know it looks like their mom has epilepsy. Of course, that isn't as much a problem of shaky hands at it is small feet that never stop moving. Wow, train of thought derailed.

...

So, yes. I am currently on the plane. I just paid $10 for about 15 minutes of internet time because my book is all of a sudden boring and Jeff and I aren't sitting together. Yep, Laura, you were right. Not so many swingin' singles on the plane to Cancun who are up for trading seats. But, it's actually been fine. Take off was, well, let's not get into specifics. What's done is done. Now we just need to get this plane on the ground. I say 'we' because I'm pretty sure the pilot is going to request my presence in the cockpit (Gina, keep it clean). I have seen Bee Movie several times and I paid close attention to the part where they land the plane specifically. How hard can it be?

Hey, something interesting just occurred to me. When I look out my window, below me I see blue skies with puffy cotton ball looking cloud bursts. This is the view I get from the ground, when I'm looking up. So, I feel a little bit like I should be able to look up now and see, I don't know, maybe an end to color? We are up that high. We are above the blue skies. Did ELO do a song about that?

I think we're supposed to land soon. So, I'm going to wrap this up. I hope soon to be praising myself for wearing flipflops as opposed to chastising myself for it very soon. It was nippy this morning.

Ooo, pilot needs me. Gotta go!!

Countdown to Meltdown

Captain's log: Star date 051010

Spock is behaving strangely. He cries easily. The sound of other space stations flying overhead nauseates him. He complains of nightmares where he has no understanding of phones; he is unable to use them, no one will help him; when he finally figures them out, no one answers the phone. He also seems to be fixated on finding an actual legally-worded 'this person has permission to make medical decisions for my dog' form.

Holy balls people. We are counting down. I will be on a plane in HOURS. And that plane will leave the ground. I am freaking out. Weird dreams at night, panicky, anxious, easily overwhelmed. I think I'll be ok once we have checked into our room. I say "I think" I'll be ok because after checking into our hotel, the flying fear will dissipate, but the realization that I won't get to hug, kiss, or smell my kidlets for 5 days will set in.

This vacation is going to be awesome. And I will be a better parent for it. Jeff and I deserve this break, and we desperately need it. But, I am going to need to resurrect my meditation and relaxation practices from labor and delivery because I may well need them. Realistically, so will the people spending their vacations around me.

Deep breathing. Or, really, just any breathing, beggars can't be choosers.

I'll do my best to blog about our adventures (which currently include snorkeling in underwater caves, exploring Mayan ruins, swimming with sea turtles, and hopefully a 2500' zip line experience followed by a cliff dive and canoe adventure).

So, that's that. The grandmas fly in tomorrow and I have half the City of Madison on high alert for signs of things going awry while we're gone.

Until next time, adios!!

Mother's Day

My Mother's Day would be incomplete without a little blogging. So, here are a few thoughts. Today on my day to do as I please, I slept in, was served pancakes and strawberries with whipped cream for breakfast, I read news articles I could have lived the rest of my life not knowing about, I organized the bathroom closet, played with the beads with Ava, went to Target hoping to find biodegradable sunscreen, and browsed all kinds of books at Borders. Now, Jeff is making curry for dinner (honest to God, the best you'll ever have) and I'm having a little alone time.

I remember reading a mother's day article years ago and the author was talking about how she would rather spend her mother's day sitting back and just watching her family 'happen' instead of being alone to do her own thing. Today, that really resonated with me. It may be mother's day, but I spent more of my time today feeling honored that I get to call Ava and Sophia my daughters than I spent feeling that the day should be all about me. These little girls are just incredible. And, they are both miracles in their very own ways. There was a period of time in Ava's second trimester of pregnancy when all signs pointed toward miscarriage and the doctor at the ER was unable to find a heartbeat. During her actual labor and delivery, her body just couldn't handle the stress of labor. She was born dark purple, not crying, not breathing. I don't remember any of this, Jeff told me sometime after her birth. There were tense moments when her life seemed to be hanging in the balance. But, no. This little girl of mine clung tight and showed us all a mere glimpse of the fighter she undoubtedly was. There were more than a few OBs and pediatricians who stopped by to see her and what was most commonly said was how beautiful she was; that she did not look like a newborn. I'm partial, sure, but they were right. She was strikingly beautiful. Before she was 3 weeks old, she was described as "exotic". And today, her smile brightens the room, her spirit is indomitable, and her eyes are those of an old soul. She is named after her great grandma, a grandma I never met but when seen through the eyes of my dad was nothing short of astonishing; strong, beautiful, intelligent, and feisty. That's my Ava Lili. In Sophia's case, the fact she survived her entire pregnancy is shocking. I was so ill I had to have a PICC line placed (go ahead, google it). I was hospitalized numerous times, had home health coming in to take care of my line and medication supply, and started preterm labor just before 30 weeks. I also passed a kidney stone measured at "at least" 1 full centimeter at 6 months. There were no safe options to remove the stone and I refused pain meds just based on what this tiny baby had already been subjected to. The stress on both of our bodies was immeasurable. We found out we were having a baby girl as soon as possible because I needed something to cling to; something to think about and know that in the end, it would all be worth it. Sophia's labor and delivery were fast, intense, and terrifying. But when she was born, I couldn't have listed one negative thing about her pregnancy. She taught me a very valuable lesson in perseverance. And when she slept, from day one, she looked like a china doll. Today, she is the instigator, the fire-starter. She throws caution to the wind and puts Ava's life and limbs in the line of fire. She's no fool and she will not walk in any one's shadow. She is also sweet beyond belief and loves to snuggle. She is endlessly amazed by rubber gloves and will bounce all alone on the trampoline for hours on end if we let her.

So today, especially, being a mom is awesome, but not because of the recognition, because of the the perfect little people who made me a mom.

And about my own mom I want to say this; I love her, I am proud of her, I admire her and can think of no greater compliment than "wow, you remind me of your mom". She is funny, smart, beautiful and classy, she makes you feel like the only person in the room no matter who you are or how long she has known you. When I'm sick, I still call her and wish she was here to take care of me. But most importantly, what amazes me most about my mom is that as an adult myself, I had the privilege of watching her really, truly come into her own. She took some excruciating life lessons, grabbed onto her boot straps, and dug in. To see the transformation she dedicated herself to is awe-inspiring. She went from being the beautiful woman we could all see but she could not, to being that beautiful woman consciously and loving herself for it. There is honestly no greater gift a mom could give her kids.

I hope you've all had an awesome mother's day. Joy and Jill, congratulations on your first mother's day. You are incredible women and this world is a better place by you bringing new people into it and raising them to be just as extraordinary as their mamas. I love you!!

Mini Blog

I've had lots of questions about where I came up with "Pootenblagen". So, here's the story. It's longish, so I'm abridging for the sake of the mountain of laundry I should be folding but am not...

Part 1 - When I was in elementary school, my brother gave me the nickname Pooter. And it stuck in a major way. My dad usually only calls me Poots, my soccer jersey in high school said PL, which was an abbreviation for Pooter Louise - a variation on Pooter that my dad came up with, my nickname is used far more frequently than my real name.

Part 2 - My family is German. We are by no means a German-speaking family, but have several favorite German terms we use. One of which is, guten-tag(en), which essentially means good day, hello, it's just a pleasant greeting in German.

Part 3 - So, Guten-tagen (pronounced goo ten toggin) = Pootenblagen (pronounced poo ten bloggin)

Ta-da!

Queen of My Own Procrasti-Nation

We leave for Mexico in a week and the list of things I've yet to even add to my already neglected list of things to do is astonishing. What makes my to do list freakish is my insatiable need to make everything 100% more complicated and stressful. Anxiety is the fuel that powers my inner hamster. If I could harness the energy produced by my crazy little hamster sprinting for hours on end in his crazy little wheel, I could power a large metropolitan area. However, I choose to use my energy to create stress. I was going to give a few examples of my grand plan, but decided I don't need the additional list-making stress. Suffice it to say the kinds of things that bog me down are making sure the rolling laundry supply cart in the laundry room doesn't have fuzz on it. Our laundry room will probably never be mistaken for a surgical suite. Kind of dark, kind of moist, unfinished bug haven. And I'm concerned about the fuzz on the laundry cart. What's more is that my mother in law and my own mom are the ones coming to stay with the girls while I'm gone. And I'm concerned about the fuzz on the laundry cart. But, the flip side to that is that I'm not in any way concerned about the safety or happiness of my children while I'm away. I can't imagine the girls having anymore fun than they will with their grandmas. My concern lies more with the grandmas than anyone. These girls of mine are something else and if you don't get out of bed bringing your A game, they will take you down. So, I'm hoping the grandmas hit the coffee and they hit it hard; our day doesn't stop around here until the girls are wrestled into jammies and subdued with a good book.

Where was I going with all this?

Oh, right. My 'anxiety-driven, professionally-neglected admitting I'm leaving my girls for a week' list. If that was my biggest concern, I would consider myself ahead of the game. But, no, it isn't that simple. Here's my BIG one: I'm afraid of flying. I haven't always been, and I've flown a lot. I had one negative experience flying home from Japan when I was 14. We were flying over the Pacific Ocean, no immediate landing options, and we hit turbulence. Not the "weeeeee!!" bouncy-bouncy fun kind of turbulence. The kind of turbulence that makes good Catholic nuns swear and tough guys sweat buckets; I'm assuming here because I am neither a nun nor a tough guy. I was, however, on that plane and terrified out of my mind. The wings of the plane were going in opposite directions of the body of the plane, the overhead bins were opening and luggage was falling out of them, the flight attendants were buckled in their seats and clearly not cool with the situation. Some moron stood up to close the bin above him and the flight attendants screamed at him. They actually screamed at him to sit down and put his seat belt back on. The oxygen masks dropped down and the tops of my legs hurt from the seatbelt jerking against me as we would all of a sudden lose all kinds of altitude. By the time we were able to land, I was, well, there are really no words to describe it. I've flown countless times since then and have not had another really horrible experience (knock on wood - sorry, I feel it necessary to abide by all laws of chance here). Jeff knows about my fear and is awesome at talking me down. But, our travel agent was unable to book our seats together on our flight into Mexico. If no one will switch seats so we can sit together, the person sitting next to me is going to need their own special breed of therapist upon touchdown.

Today as we were walking out of Target, a plane flew overhead and Sophia said, "look Mama! A plane! Just like you and Papa are going to ride on. And I bet you won't even fall out the windows!" I almost threw up on myself.

I am so excited to go on an honest to God vacation with my husband, but holy (insert your favorite expletive here), getting there is going to be anything but relaxing.

Ok. I have to stop writing now. I am absolutely positive that if I keep thinking about this, the wings are going to start falling off of planes just because of my mind power. My God, why can't I be this fixated on money raining from the sky.

Food for Thought...

Ok. Let me start this blog with a disclaimer: psychologically, I am not always rocking out with a full band.

Now, I'm not being self-deprecating, I'm not looking for affirmations from anyone, I'm simply stating the obvious. From one day to the next my ability to process the multitude of mental factors vacillates as radically as the plots and characters on (fill in your favorite soap opera title here). I feel it necessary to add here that I am not saying I am not an intelligent person, either. True, much of the knowledge I've retained over the years could fairly be qualified as "the definition of trivial", but some of it has served me well. SOME of it. I have forgotten all of my spanish, most of my animal biology (see blog #1), and I feel confident in saying I was never even in the room with someone teaching geography. For Christmas one year, Jeff gave me a magnetic set of countries with a flat placemat type of thing to order them on. Thank God the earth is flat or getting all those countries on would have been brutal...

Now, in all seriousness, I started this blog thinking it would be all fun and games. But I'm going to seize this opportunity to blog about my morning and be really honest. This morning, I had an appointment with my therapist. I started seeing my therapist, Jan, about 4 years ago. She specializes in treating adolescents and adults with eating disorders. So, why am I there? I've struggled with anorexia since I was about 14. I've been incredibly ill. I was told after a bit of testing that my heart's ability to support my body was failing. My kidneys are damaged with reduced kidney function. I have had stretches of time where it was like seeing the world through someone else's eyes. When I was pregnant with Ava, I felt like the poster child for healthy pregnant mamas. I didn't count one calorie, I didn't push my activity level, I loved looking in the mirror. The weight change on the scale fascinated me. If you've heard anything about Sophia's pregnancy, you will understand why I'm not including that here. But, whether I was striving or merely surviving, that anorexic voice was always there; sometimes it was just hushed a bit. At this point in recovery (because, do not kid yourself - a person with an eating disorder is as much an addict as an alcoholic), I am working only with my therapist. I no longer see a dietitian or a psychiatrist. I don't have to schedule weekly weigh-ins anymore either. What I do have to do that is harder than everything else combined, is be honest. I have to walk into Jan's office, sit down, and as she says, "own my emotions". I'm not good at this. The anorexia pushed me to a point where my emotional self shut off. There was no way you could distinguish between happy, sad, angry, excited, etc. unless I straight out told you how I felt. But, that was a bigger problem than it seemed since I had also stopped feeling any of those emotions. After years of what some days appears as a lot of busting my ass to get healthy and other days seems as though I'm merely gliding by on my Zoloft, I still struggle to face my reality.

Our schedules got crazy around here and I had to cancel a couple appointments. Cancelling those appointments throws me off my rhythm a lot. So, today I walked into Jan's office after not having seen her in two months. And it was rough. My favorite thing about my therapist is that she doesn't pull her punches. She calls me on my bull, she makes me "own" my everything; well, she tries to make me own my everything. This is a skill I just haven't pinned down. Today was the culmination of having almost 2 full months to kick around all the 'filler' in my head. I went in really feeling that I didn't have much to say. Turns out, I was full of eating-disordered thoughts. The root cause(s) of my anorexia is something I have to wrap my head around fully before I go blogging it to the rest of the world. But, here is what I learned today: I need to take the bad that has happened and I need to own it and what I have allowed it to create in my world. I need to take away the power I've given to the unfortunate parts of my past. I need to acknowledge that the damage, the pain, the struggle exist. And then I need to let go of all of that. It doesn't serve me in anyway. Nothing can be gained from picking it apart again. When this funk rises up and starts to swallow me, it is because I still let the past pose as my present, my future, and my reality. So, today I start working on putting my past away. Today I have two healthy, beautiful little girls who need to have their Mama around for a long, long time; even if I can't see me being needed. I will gladly accept input on the best way to let go of the trash that has polluted my essence for 29 years. That sounds straight forward enough, right?

My mom has a favorite saying she learned along her very own path of letting go and becoming the incredible woman she is today, "I have let far too many people live rent free inside my head".

This property owner is pissed. It is time to evict.

10/4.

One small step for our monthly budget, one great step for my communication skills.

Ok, I tried to think of flowery words that would make the subject of this blog witty and forward-worthy, but I've got nothing. I'm just going to jump right into this.

Today, I got a cell phone. Good God! These things are incredible! Good job team. Everyone on the floor. Neat-o!

It is quite possibly the most scaled back, basic, knob-proof phone out there, but holy balls is it cool. To me. All you I-Phone users; God bless you, because if I was presented with one of those new fan-dangled 'place a call only by thinking about it and your phone does the rest' kind of things, all I'd be able to muster up would be, "shiny". Which mine is. Shiny, I mean.

So, now I will address your main concern. Who has been holding this woman hostage in a dark cell phone tower-less cave??? Well, I did have a cell phone once upon a time. But, I never answered it. I never heard it ringing. It annoyed me more than anything, which in turn annoyed the great number of people who were trying to call me on said phone. Fine. It wasn't a "great" number of people per se, but they were annoyed all the same. I decided 3+ years ago that I needed to simplify my life. Step 1 in the simplification process was to ditch the cell phone. It was glorious. But then situations began to arise where a cell phone would have been kind of nice. Case in point, the other night it was Jeff's turn to put the girls down for bed. I ran to the store quick and when I came home I found I had locked myself out of the house. 3 doors and not a damn one open. My keys were tauntingly visible on the kitchen counter. I tried to pick the locks with my fingernail clipper. I tried sending ESP messages to the cat in hopes that she would rise to the challenge of letting me in. I know this seems impossible, but neither of these ideas panned out. I ended up knocking on the sliding glass deck door with one finger until it started to sting. Jeff and I both have a habit of falling asleep with the girls. And because I didn't want to bother the neighbors who have keys to our house because they were likely doing the same bedtime mele Jeff was, I figured I was in for the long haul. Jeff finally stumbled into the kitchen from the girls' room, walked over to the sliding glass door, saw me standing outside in my flip-flops with the groceries and my bag, no coat (a bit chilly that night), and mouthed to me, "what are you DOING?!".

So, yeah. Today I got a cell phone.

10/4

Do you read much?

I've received a bit of gentle nudging in the direction of my very own blog. Of course, I'm not sure that this is because I'm interesting so much as I just don't ever stop talking, and people find if they suggest I start a blog it derails my train of thought enough for them to escape. Regardless, here I am to chronicle my world as I see it unfolding. I don't know who will read this, but I figure it's similar to finding someone's lost grocery list in the parking lot. If I didn't pick it up and read it, maybe no other stranger would and then all that list making work was wasted. Yeah, I'm that woman.

I once came home from running errands and told my husband, "I saw a house that just has a creepy feeling emanating from it. It seems like the kind of house a stalker might live in. I drove past it three times but still couldn't see anything inside because the blinds were turned just enough, so I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure they're up to no good".

This is the kind of thing I'll blog about, just to forewarn you, because my world would most certainly be incomplete without the constant and perplexing backward thought process that has gotten me this far.

I'll end my first blog with this: owls 'distribute' pellets because they cannot urinate, and someone near and dear to me once told me he could "breathe through his butt". Unfortunately, he had only figured out how to exhale, he could not yet inhale. This is true. Well, the second part is true. I just found out about a week ago that the first statement isn't. Owls can pee. I did not see that coming.

10/4.