Christopher crawled in bed with us at 3:00am Sunday morning. I fell back to sleep with no problem but woke up two hours later hanging on the edge of the bed. I gave up and snuck into Christopher’s room and fell blissfully back to sleep. An hour later I hear Jacob crying and calling me in a complete panic. I bolt out of Christopher’s bed, forgetting where I am for a moment and get all tangled up in his bed rail.    I got myself untangled and ran to the hallway where Jacob was standing, holding his mouth. Luckily, I guessed what was about to happen and ran with him into the bathroom… just in time.

Victory! That was the first time in his life Jacob has ever made it to the bathroom in time to vomit into the toilet.   As far as I’m concerned, the day started out VERY well.  For once, I’m not covered in it. It did, however, put a damper on attending the church service I had been looking forward to all week.

Jim ended up going with Christopher, however so Jacob and I were able to have a quiet morning. We snuggled up on the couch together and watched Mary Poppins.  I didn’t say anything to Jacob but, on top of being worried about him, I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to attend service. Just a little way into the movie, Jacob looked up at me and patted my hair and said, “It’s going to be ok, Mommy.”   I realized then that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  I looked back at him, patted him on the back and said, “You know what buddy? You are so right. Everything is going to be ok.”  Two minutes later, he was asleep. Thank you, God, for making my little one so wise.  (And for getting him to the toilet on time…)

I was walking around my kitchen today getting lunch ready for my boys and guess what? My pants are falling down. Just slightly, but I keep having to hitch them back up. 75 days ago, this seemed impossible.

I am on day 75 of my 100 day challenge of fitness. Why did I do this? Because, I need to lose weight, a lot of it. How did I get to this point? Lots of reasons, but what I want to focus on now is what I’m doing about it. On January 6^th, I woke up and decided it was time to do something about changing my life.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it, but I knew I needed to get moving. Exercising is hard. It’s so hard. That’s what I used to tell myself. I hated exercise. I kept saying to myself, “I have so much weight to lose it’s overwhelming to even think about it. It’s going to take a year before I probably even notice any change in myself.”  Then, fortunately, I thought, yes, that sounds  like a long time and it does seem overwhelming, but, do I really want to be standing here a year from now in the same shape I am, wondering why I hadn’t started?  Wouldn’t I rather be able to look back and see what a change I’ve made? So, I started moving. And, instead of thinking about the big number, I decided to focus on what I could do in just one week.

I started slow. I had jumped onto the weight loss train too many times before, going overboard and doing too much in the beginning and either hurting myself or just wearing myself out enough to make it too difficult to continue. So, I just walked. After just one week I had more energy, so I started doing 30 minute circuit workouts. I created a little workout routine for myself with very low weights but a lot of repetitions. Between each rep, I would set the microwave timer for one minute and do some kind of aerobic activity. After just one week of this, I could feel my energy level increasing. Then the circuit training didn’t feel like enough. So I moved onto aerobics.

I found this old, cheesy video from the 1990’s; they are wearing leg warmers and tights… yes, very cheesy. But, it got me really moving. By week three I was able to do 45 minutes of aerobics.  Three weeks. That’s it. After just three short weeks, I was able to keep up with 45 minutes of heavy duty moving. Me, who hates to exercise. I wouldn’t have believed it possible. But here I am, on day 75. Not only do I not mind moving now, I enjoy it. I can’t get over how much energy I have these days.

I just want to say to anyone that might read this that is convinced that they can’t do it, I’m doing it.  And believe me, if I can do it, anyone can do it.  All you have to do is start. Just make one small change. You don’t have to jump head first into some insane program, or go spend a ton of money joining a gym. Just move.

I still have a lot to go but I’m on my way. I am already considering myself a success story.  For now, I need to go find a belt to hold up my pants… that I’ll be replacing soon.

I have the pickiest eaters in the entire universe… I’m convinced of this. Especially Christopher. He would live on chicken nuggets, pasta and fruit if I’d let him. Jacob is a bit more adventurous. I can get him to at least try whatever it is I cook. But with Christopher, dinner time is a frustrating event. So, when we were at Target today and Christopher absolutely begged me to buy him a frozen pizza, I was hesitant. It’s just a DiGiornio, nothing fancy but, I know my son. I’m going to pull that thing out of the oven, cut it up and put a slice in front of him and he’s going to look at me like I’m trying to serve him razor blades.  Against my better judgment, I bought the pizza.

We drove home, talking about the pizza almost all the way. Both boys helped me carry in the grocery bags. We all went into the kitchen, I got the oven going, the boys helped me put some things away and I kept saying, “You’re both sure, you want to eat pizza tonight, right?”  Their response… “Yes, Mommy!” Christopher even went so far as to tell me, “I can’t wait to eat that pizza!” I got the pizza in the oven and the boys went off to play.

The timer goes off, the pizza cools, I cut it up and set it on the table. Both boys looked at it, looked at me, looked back at the pizza and, as they both pushed the plates away from them, Jacob said, “I need some scrambled eggs.”

Last Sunday, I decided that maybe it was time to try another church… but not a Catholic one this time. I have been Catholic all my life. It’s all I know. I went to vacation bible study at different places of worship as a kid but, I wasn’t there to hear about the church, I was there to spend time with my friends. Last Sunday, I thought it was time to try something different.  So, I looked online at a church a friend of mine attends and I saw that they had a new member’s class that morning at 11:00. I decided to check it out.

When I arrived, I went to the office of the Sunday school Director. They were very welcoming and friendly. They took their time with me and showed me the classrooms and let me observe for a few minutes. Another issue with attending mass recently has been that Jacob cannot tolerate all the noise. There are a lot of echoes in church… a lot of singing. I actually tried to take Jacob the week before and as soon as everyone started singing, he plugged his ears and started shivering. “Can we go now, please, Mommy, please?”  The only way for Jim and I to attend service is separately. One attends one service while the other is at home with the boys. I would like to find a place we can worship together.

After meeting the Sunday school staff, I headed over to the chapel where the new member’s meeting was to take place. Again, everyone was very welcoming. The pastor came in and began speaking. I found out that it was actually a meeting for those that are ready to join the church, and this was their third group meeting.  There must have been a lot of Catholics there because the pastor focused quite a bit on the difference between this church and the Catholic Church. He wasn’t negative in any way, just pointed out the differences.   At first I was comfortable. But after just a few minutes, I began to feel extremely tense and very out of place.

Again, he wasn’t Catholic bashing, he did quite the opposite. He talked about how, even though our beliefs are somewhat different, we are all unified in Christ. It was very uplifting and beautiful.  But, the longer I sat there, the more I started to feel lost. How can I, a Catholic all my life, be sitting here seriously considering leaving my Catholic faith behind to become a member of a new faith? I’ve been saying that lately I have felt empty but at that moment, I didn’t feel empty. What I felt was plugged, stopped up, unable to take anything into myself spiritually. But, I also felt like I was breaking. It was like I was being pulled from my roots and they were desperately clinging for life. They aren’t quite ready to be pulled. My roots are strong in this soil. It was terrifying and sad. But I tried my best to be open minded. I need something more, I just don’t know what it is yet.

My husband and I had a nice long talk about it when I got home.  He went through a similar thing many years ago, but his roots were quite a bit more loose and ready to be replanted. I have decided to give it another try next week. We will all attend this new church together, letting our boys attend Sunday school and see how they do as well. I don’t honestly know where I’ll go from here. I need to do some serious soul searching and praying. The thought of leaving the Catholic Church terrifies me quite honestly. But, all change is frightening. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad thing. Clearly, some kind of change needs to take place. I know I’m not ready for the new member’s group but, it’s time to open my mind and my heart and take a new adventure and see what I can find.

March 15^th, the Ides of March, a notorious day in history.  But for me, it brings back happy memories of one of my favorite people. It’s my Aunt Debbie’s birthday.

Debbie is only a few years older than me so she has always been more like a sister. I have so many fond memories of her. When I was little and would go to my grandma’s Aunt Debbie would let me hang out in her room with her and her friends, listening to all their favorite records. She is the reason I am such a big fan of Elton John. (And The Eagles and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and so many other bands.)  At night, she would snuggle me up on the couch while we watched TV.  We would stay up far too late, watching Hoolihan and Big Chuck. She would also tell me scary stories and scare the daylights out of me… but I loved it.

When I was a teenager and going through those awkward changes, she always found a way to make me feel less self- conscious about it.  When I started my period, I was mortified. She was the one that helped me find some humor in the situation and got me to laugh about it.

I didn’t go to college right after high school and I was very scared about starting. My Aunt Debbie was my biggest cheerleader, always telling me “You can do this,” when others told me I couldn’t.  She is the one that helped me fill out my first school loan papers and wouldn’t let me give in to all the negative talk from others. She is the one that calmed me down during my first finals when I didn’t think I would make it. Any time I had a problem, I could always talk to Debbie and she always found a way to make me laugh.

When she got married, she wore barrettes in her hair. She gave them to me later and said, “When you get married, you can wear these.”  I kept those barrettes for years in my dresser taped together with a note. I refused to wear them; not knowing if I’d ever get married but determined I’d only wear them if I did. Sadly, when I was in the 11^th grade, we moved and I lost them. I was so devastated. I cried when I told her. She said to me, “I don’t even remember those barrettes so don’t be sad about it. When you get married, we’ll think of something even better for you to wear.” Years later when I got married, she came to me and remembered that story and how sad I was.  Since I couldn’t wear the barrettes, she offered me her wedding ring as my something borrowed instead.

She is a tremendous wife and mother. She and my Uncle Tim are the couple I watched while I was growing up and knew that, if I ever did get married, I wanted a marriage like theirs. I watched her raise her kids, always treating them with love and respect.  I admire and love her so much. I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Aunt Debbie. Thank you for always loving me no matter what, for always being in my corner and always finding a way to make me laugh.

I recently challenged myself to complete 100 days of at least 30 minutes of exercise. I wasn’t sure I had enough faith in myself in the beginning to actually follow through with it but, I decided to try. It was time to get in better shape. I have two young boys that like to run and play. My main objective was to be able to keep up with them.

I wish I would have chronicled in writing how different I felt each day. I am on day 68. I know I have changed so much.

I have never been a morning person. When I started this challenge, I told my husband I would have to make time in the middle of the day to exercise. I know if I had tried to force myself into doing it at the crack of dawn I would never have succeeded. My routine the past 2 months has been to get Jacob on the bus, have my breakfast with Christopher and spend some time playing with him. About 10:00 I tell Christopher it is time for me to exercise and he can either do it with me or play while I do it.  He usually tries it for about five minutes then runs off the play. When I finish, I head into the playroom to join Christopher for a bit before taking my shower.  It has been a fantastic routine.

Today, I actually found the ambition to get up and work out first thing this morning. It was a struggle to get out of bed. Most nights, Christopher ends up in bed with me and Jim and snuggles into my like a tic. Having that nice, warm little body snuggled up against me at 5:45am certainly wasn’t giving me motivation to get out of bed. But I started slow.

At 6:00am, I told myself, “Just get up. Go downstairs and start the video. If you find you’re too tired, stop and finish later.” After the 5 minute warm-up I told myself, “Ok, that wasn’t too bad. See how long you can go.” I made it the entire 45 minutes and it felt so incredibly good to have it done! I went up, took my shower then woke my boys for school. I had the whole day ahead of me.

So, while I haven’t written about this from the very beginning, I know how much I have changed and accomplished in the past 68 days. On January 6^th, I didn’t even consider getting up that early. I am now starting to think, I just might have the energy I lacked before to tackle 45 minutes of aerobics at 6am each day.  I think I’m finally starting to believe in me… just a little bit.

We are meeting with Jacob’s teachers and IEP team tomorrow to discuss his transition to Kindergarten. I don’t know what I am more frightened about; discussing what services he’ll need next year or the thought of leaving the team we have grown to know and love these past three years.

Jacob’s first love… Miss Amanda. She was his first teacher in the PEP program.  That was almost three years ago and Jacob’s face still lights up when he sees her.  She helped Jacob find his voice when we were beginning to fear he never would.

Miss Joy… Jacob’s speech pathologist.  She helped Jacob learn how to use that voice to communicate his wants and needs.

Miss Kateri… Jacob’s Occupational Therapist.  In Jacob’s 2^nd year at PEP, when he had a teacher that could not be counted on to guide him, Miss Kateri kept him working and learning how to use his hands and work with other classmates.

Miss Lizzie… Jacob’s second love and teacher this year.  What time Jacob lost last year, Lizzie has made up for tenfold.  Unfortunately for Lizzie, she got Jacob the year I am grieving… she has let me cry to her many times… even when it wasn’t really about Jacob.

Miss Marla and Miss Kate… our Parent Educator’s that have gently and patiently guided both Jim and me through our million questions and concerns.  Miss Kate has also been a shoulder to cry on this year and was a big help in getting me motivated to move and get out of the house more, even going so far as joining me in a yoga class.

It is obvious how much you truly care about all of your students but you still somehow manage to make each parent think their child is the most special. What a tremendous group of women. We are so blessed to have had you in Jacob’s corner these last three years.

Most of the families I have met in the past couple of years have a girl and a boy or all girls. So, I’ve always thought my boys were more hyper than most kids. I mean, when I take them to another family’s home for a play date, I am always a bit nervous about how crazy they are going to be. I tell my husband, “They are like little bear cubs; constantly rolling around, throwing each other down and being generally crazy.” Today, I finally met another family with two boys the same age as Jacob and Christopher. And guess what! Those boys are just as crazy as mine!

She was walking with her boys and her dog down our street and my boys and I were playing in the yard. Her boys ran over to us and just started running around our yard like they had just done a shot of Redbull. Jacob and Christopher joined right in on the fun. While we mom’s introduced ourselves and attempted a conversation, Christopher and one of her boys started chasing each other, picking up mud and throwing it. Jacob and the other boy watched calmly for about 2 seconds and then joined in. Within seconds, all four boys were running around, screaming and laughing and throwing mud at everyone; me and the other mom trying (in vain) to get them to play nicely and calmly so we could talk for two minutes. We got as far as introductions but that was it.

As we both tried corralling our boys, we finally decided after about five minutes to try another day when it wasn’t quite so late. In all fairness to those four boys, it was close to dinner time. The closer to bed time it gets, the crazier my boys get. As she walked away, I was so happy. Not to see her leave but, that I finally met another mom that had that look of exhaustion on her face as she watched her boys run crazily around a strangers yard like monkey’s at the zoo.

When tragic things happen in life; divorce, loss of job or home, death of a loved one, we all have a right to grieve. What we shouldn’t waste time doing, however, is feeling sorry for ourselves. I am ashamed to admit that I have spent a lot of time doing that recently.

I have had a lot of changes in my life over the past few years. From my son being diagnosed with Autism to losing my sister to cancer last year, I have had reason for grieving. But, I have let that grief spiral. It has led me down a very dark path. I have almost completely lost my faith in God. In all the self-pity, I have become the kind of person that looks to others for validation for my self-worth. I am constantly looking to others for my happiness.  It has made me really dislike me.  I don’t want to be this person anymore.

I made it to mass today and during the homily, the priest said that all the 7 deadly sins stem from pride. I’m not sure if I completely agree with that but it made me think about my behavior lately. In the past week alone I have been guilty of many of these sins.

I have definitely felt envy. As I started this blog just over a week ago, I have since started comparing my writing abilities to everyone I know and feeling I come up short.

I have been greedy in the sense that I can never seem to get enough validation from others these days. I have been desperately getting online every hour or so to check to see if anyone has responded or commented.

And in the past couple of years, I have been lazy in my spiritual growth. I have been emotionally inactive. I have reneged on my spiritual obligations.

Lastly, instead of accepting what has happened and finding a productive way to deal with it, I’ve let myself become angry.  Angry with God and turning away from Him instead of letting Him guide me through it.

When mass ended today, I had a long talk with God. The first one I have had in a very long time where I wasn’t angry and just accusing Him of causing all my misery. I am finally ready to take responsibility for my own feelings.  I am tired of depending on everyone else for my happiness. It’s exhausting.  I have too much in my life to be happy about to waste my time in this self- inflicted misery.

Who cares if I don’t write as well as others? I like doing it. I’m going to let myself enjoy it.  I will check my comments of course but, I will enjoy them when they come. I will stop assuming that if there are no comments that it means no one cares.

I have already started working on my spiritual growth. Being able to admit all of this to myself, let alone admitting it to others, is a good start.

I am so very, very tired of being angry.  I just can’t waste any more energy on being angry over things I cannot change.  I know I have a long way to go but, for the first time in a very long time, I am truly hopeful.

Ok, I’m not sure who is reading my posts but… if you have, then you know my ice cream/Lent story.  Either life is really coincidental or God really is trying to tell me something.

So, my boys never ask for ice cream. I mean, never. We have been to Dairy Queen 2 times in their entire lives so it’s not like we even make regular trips there. Nor do we keep ice cream in the house. But today, we get to gymnastics and as Jacob was taking off his coat he looks up and says, “Mommy, can we go to Dairy Queen after gymnastics and get ice cream?” I asked him, “What made you think of that?” He didn’t respond but he asked again if we could go. I told him we could and then asked him what kind he wanted. Before he could answer, Christopher chimed up and said, “I want chocolate!”