Securing a walk

"Will NOT be distracted by the ducks ... will NOT be distracted by the ducks ..."

Happy Friday!

This is my friend Beemer. He’s the head of security at my new job.

No, really. Look here.

And that’s just one great perk of my great new gig. Among the others is that I work only a mile from one of my favorite parks.

So, yesterday I put ol’ Beem on his leash during lunch, and we walked to the park, around it and back.

Our studio is in a house in Bay City’s historic district. Lots of beautiful architecture and nice, shady sidewalks the whole jaunt. Ahh.

It sure helped my body and soul, considering I was feeling crappy for having skipped my before-work walk on the treadmill.

Plus, I felt pretty special having my own security chief escort me. Gets me ready for when I’m famous someday.

Have a great weekend.

Securing a walk

"Will NOT be distracted by the ducks ... will NOT be distracted by the ducks ..."

Happy Friday!

This is my friend Beemer. He’s the head of security at my new job.

No, really. Look here.

And that’s just one great perk of my great new gig. Among the others is that I work only a mile from one of my favorite parks.

So, yesterday I put ol’ Beem on his leash during lunch, and we walked to the park, around it and back.

Our studio is in a house in Bay City’s historic district. Lots of beautiful architecture and nice, shady sidewalks the whole jaunt. Ahh.

It sure helped my body and soul, considering I was feeling crappy for having skipped my before-work walk on the treadmill.

Plus, I felt pretty special having my own security chief escort me. Gets me ready for when I’m famous someday.

Have a great weekend.

A quick true story

So, I went out with a friend Saturday night for dinner and a couple of drinks.

If you remember, I am not wearing my wedding ring right now. My husband and I even joked about it before I went out.

Well, we’re sitting at the bar, and a guy and girl who had come in for a little while got up to leave.

The guy (whom I didn’t get much of a look at, beyond noticing that his left arm had a tattoo down it) was already to the door, and the girl taps me on the shoulder before walking out:

“By the way, my friend thinks you’re a hottie!”

For full disclosure, in this bar, I was likely the only woman who had all my teeth.

But I’ll admit it did put a little extra pep in my step.

Have a great day.

A quick true story

So, I went out with a friend Saturday night for dinner and a couple of drinks.

If you remember, I am not wearing my wedding ring right now. My husband and I even joked about it before I went out.

Well, we’re sitting at the bar, and a guy and girl who had come in for a little while got up to leave.

The guy (whom I didn’t get much of a look at, beyond noticing that his left arm had a tattoo down it) was already to the door, and the girl taps me on the shoulder before walking out:

“By the way, my friend thinks you’re a hottie!”

For full disclosure, in this bar, I was likely the only woman who had all my teeth.

But I’ll admit it did put a little extra pep in my step.

Have a great day.

Ohno? Oh yes.

We are Ohno Design.

Welcome to my 21st weigh-in day.

My weight stayed exactly the same.

I’m not gonna beat myself up, though, considering I have been sick and hadn’t been on the treadmill since my abbreviated walk Wednesday.

I’m still fighting off the last of this cold, but my lungs felt pretty good during my 3 miles this morning, and my legs felt great.

I’m pretty tired of hovering at this weight, so here’s hoping I get the scale moving downward again starting this week.

By the way, I start my new job today at Ohno Design!

Ohno is owned by my former Flint Journal co-worker Michael Robb and his wife, Tammie.

Pictured with me here are Michael, Tammie and Ohno designer Alan Garcia, another newspaper refugee.

I’ve done freelance writing for them for about a year and a half, but getting to go to work full time with them is a dream come true.

We’ve talked about the possibility of me doing this for several months, so I’m just thrilled that business has grown so much that it’s now a reality.

I’m stoked for several reasons.

I love the diversity of their client base. I’ll be writing about many different business types, and that will keep me on my toes.

I love how much they care about their clients, and how local the business is. I think I’ll start to feel like a part of this community in a way I haven’t been able to so far.

I love how much faith they have in me, and how they want me to try as many new things as I want. I’ll get to do some Web programming and even sales calls.

I love that I am on the ground floor of something that I believe in with my soul. I feel great about it.

I love that the success of this small company is completely dependent on how hard we work. I have that much faith in myself and in them.

I love Michael and Tammie.

Today is the start of another leg of my adventure. I’m so glad you’re here with me.

Ohno? Oh yes.

We are Ohno Design.

Welcome to my 21st weigh-in day.

My weight stayed exactly the same.

I’m not gonna beat myself up, though, considering I have been sick and hadn’t been on the treadmill since my abbreviated walk Wednesday.

I’m still fighting off the last of this cold, but my lungs felt pretty good during my 3 miles this morning, and my legs felt great.

I’m pretty tired of hovering at this weight, so here’s hoping I get the scale moving downward again starting this week.

By the way, I start my new job today at Ohno Design!

Ohno is owned by my former Flint Journal co-worker Michael Robb and his wife, Tammie.

Pictured with me here are Michael, Tammie and Ohno designer Alan Garcia, another newspaper refugee.

I’ve done freelance writing for them for about a year and a half, but getting to go to work full time with them is a dream come true.

We’ve talked about the possibility of me doing this for several months, so I’m just thrilled that business has grown so much that it’s now a reality.

I’m stoked for several reasons.

I love the diversity of their client base. I’ll be writing about many different business types, and that will keep me on my toes.

I love how much they care about their clients, and how local the business is. I think I’ll start to feel like a part of this community in a way I haven’t been able to so far.

I love how much faith they have in me, and how they want me to try as many new things as I want. I’ll get to do some Web programming and even sales calls.

I love that I am on the ground floor of something that I believe in with my soul. I feel great about it.

I love that the success of this small company is completely dependent on how hard we work. I have that much faith in myself and in them.

I love Michael and Tammie.

Today is the start of another leg of my adventure. I’m so glad you’re here with me.

Snoozing and oozing and goodbyes

I can’t seem to win lately.

My little situation on Wednesday morning cleared up fast, only for my little head cold to grow into a monster that has now slammed me for 2.5 days.

My husband has it, too.

And my son, whom we suspect brought this nastiness home from daycare in the first place, has now added oozy pink eye to the mix.

We are the House of Yuck.

I’ve stayed in bed and off the treadmill for two days, trying to let myself recuperate. So far, it’s not working.

Fingers crossed that I can get over the crud and back to my weight-blasting battle soon.

In the meantime, today is my last day at P&M.

Back in December, I got a call from P&M to come to work for them – on the very same day I received my last unemployment check.

Don’t tell me someone wasn’t watching over me.

Since then, I’ve gone from a scared, out-of-work journalist to someone who realizes there is a life beyond newspapers, and that maybe my skills really can be valued in other industries.

I gained a lot in my seven months at P&M, but nothing more important than a few new friends.

When I started there, I really had no intention of making new friends.

I figured I had plenty at this point, really, and I was tired of saying goodbye to people.

Especially devastating was when I left The Flint Journal after nine years. My co-workers there quickly became my family, so when we all left, it broke my heart.

I not only lost my identity, but my support system.

But the kind folks at P&M (pictured are my buds Nancy, Denise and MaryBeth) helped me realize that it’s OK to let down your guard and open your heart again.

Like my Journal friends taught me, where you work doesn’t dictate who your friends are.

So despite my best defense, I’m leaving today with a few new friends as I continue on my journey.

And that’s better than anything I could put on my resume.

Snoozing and oozing and goodbyes

I can’t seem to win lately.

My little situation on Wednesday morning cleared up fast, only for my little head cold to grow into a monster that has now slammed me for 2.5 days.

My husband has it, too.

And my son, whom we suspect brought this nastiness home from daycare in the first place, has now added oozy pink eye to the mix.

We are the House of Yuck.

I’ve stayed in bed and off the treadmill for two days, trying to let myself recuperate. So far, it’s not working.

Fingers crossed that I can get over the crud and back to my weight-blasting battle soon.

In the meantime, today is my last day at P&M.

Back in December, I got a call from P&M to come to work for them – on the very same day I received my last unemployment check.

Don’t tell me someone wasn’t watching over me.

Since then, I’ve gone from a scared, out-of-work journalist to someone who realizes there is a life beyond newspapers, and that maybe my skills really can be valued in other industries.

I gained a lot in my seven months at P&M, but nothing more important than a few new friends.

When I started there, I really had no intention of making new friends.

I figured I had plenty at this point, really, and I was tired of saying goodbye to people.

Especially devastating was when I left The Flint Journal after nine years. My co-workers there quickly became my family, so when we all left, it broke my heart.

I not only lost my identity, but my support system.

But the kind folks at P&M (pictured are my buds Nancy, Denise and MaryBeth) helped me realize that it’s OK to let down your guard and open your heart again.

Like my Journal friends taught me, where you work doesn’t dictate who your friends are.

So despite my best defense, I’m leaving today with a few new friends as I continue on my journey.

And that’s better than anything I could put on my resume.

TMI?

I had to cut my treadmill walk short at 2 miles this morning after my second round of The Trots.

The fact it was at mile NUMBER 2 is a coincidence, but damn funny.

Zumba tonight.

Carry on.

TMI?

I had to cut my treadmill walk short at 2 miles this morning after my second round of The Trots.

The fact it was at mile NUMBER 2 is a coincidence, but damn funny.

Zumba tonight.

Carry on.

It’s a big, big day

First things first: Check out my odometer. I rolled past my 200th mile on the treadmill this morning.

Yay!

Second, I GOT MY RINGS OFF!

This is big for me. Huge.

I haven’t been able to get my rings off for several years now.

Last night after coming in from mowing, I was sitting on the couch, subconsciously wiggling the rings on my fingers as I have done so often over the years.

Then it dawned on me that they were going farther than usual. Up near the knuckle.

It took some maneuvering, but by golly, they came off.

I texted my mom.

“I got my rings off!”

“Why couldn’t you get them off before?”

Uh, “because I gained 140 pounds.”

“Oh.”

Good talk, Mom.

Truth is, back when my weight was creeping up, instead of making the decision to lose weight, I simply decided I was going to keep my rings on.

I’d rather have them stuck on than off, I reasoned.

But last night, they came off. And they’re gonna stay off for a little while.

They’re in serious need of cleaning, as you can imagine, and my engagement ring needs repair. I bent one of the prongs a few years ago and honestly wondered if I’d ever get it off my finger again to be fixed.

Plus, my fingers need to recuperate a little from these indentations.

It’s a huge motivation, right when I needed it.

Have a great day, folks.

It’s a big, big day

First things first: Check out my odometer. I rolled past my 200th mile on the treadmill this morning.

Yay!

Second, I GOT MY RINGS OFF!

This is big for me. Huge.

I haven’t been able to get my rings off for several years now.

Last night after coming in from mowing, I was sitting on the couch, subconsciously wiggling the rings on my fingers as I have done so often over the years.

Then it dawned on me that they were going farther than usual. Up near the knuckle.

It took some maneuvering, but by golly, they came off.

I texted my mom.

“I got my rings off!”

“Why couldn’t you get them off before?”

Uh, “because I gained 140 pounds.”

“Oh.”

Good talk, Mom.

Truth is, back when my weight was creeping up, instead of making the decision to lose weight, I simply decided I was going to keep my rings on.

I’d rather have them stuck on than off, I reasoned.

But last night, they came off. And they’re gonna stay off for a little while.

They’re in serious need of cleaning, as you can imagine, and my engagement ring needs repair. I bent one of the prongs a few years ago and honestly wondered if I’d ever get it off my finger again to be fixed.

Plus, my fingers need to recuperate a little from these indentations.

It’s a huge motivation, right when I needed it.

Have a great day, folks.

The pity party is winding down

Hey. I’m here.

But I might not be every day, and that’s OK.

That’s what many of you helped me realize on Friday afternoon when I started a pity party on Facebook by saying I was thinking about shutting down this blog.

I was tired, discouraged and overwhelmed.

But I got a ton of comments and messages saying that I don’t have to write every day, as long as I write.

I honestly had no idea how much people value this blog.

More importantly, I didn’t know how many people are emotionally invested in my journey as they find their way on their own.

And I promise you, I will never take that lightly.

So, I’m gonna keep on fighting my fight, and I’ll keep on sharing it here.

But I’m also going to write only when I can, when I have something to say, and when it doesn’t make me crazy because I’m running short on time or whatever.

I don’t want this to be a burden.

So, that’s that.

This picture is from this morning. A little before 5 a.m., this little fella came to my bedside carrying his blanket and Elmo, so I scooped him up and put him in bed beside me.

Trust me, it was hard to get out of bed with such a snuggly cutie there.

But I got up and weighed, and I had lost 3 of the 4 pounds I gained.

Then I got on the treadmill for 3 miles.

Welcome to a new week of this crazy journey, friends.

The pity party is winding down

Hey. I’m here.

But I might not be every day, and that’s OK.

That’s what many of you helped me realize on Friday afternoon when I started a pity party on Facebook by saying I was thinking about shutting down this blog.

I was tired, discouraged and overwhelmed.

But I got a ton of comments and messages saying that I don’t have to write every day, as long as I write.

I honestly had no idea how much people value this blog.

More importantly, I didn’t know how many people are emotionally invested in my journey as they find their way on their own.

And I promise you, I will never take that lightly.

So, I’m gonna keep on fighting my fight, and I’ll keep on sharing it here.

But I’m also going to write only when I can, when I have something to say, and when it doesn’t make me crazy because I’m running short on time or whatever.

I don’t want this to be a burden.

So, that’s that.

This picture is from this morning. A little before 5 a.m., this little fella came to my bedside carrying his blanket and Elmo, so I scooped him up and put him in bed beside me.

Trust me, it was hard to get out of bed with such a snuggly cutie there.

But I got up and weighed, and I had lost 3 of the 4 pounds I gained.

Then I got on the treadmill for 3 miles.

Welcome to a new week of this crazy journey, friends.

Snoozing and struggling and snakes, oh my!

Thanks to all of you who wrote to me about the book issue yesterday.

If there was any common theme, it’s that you appreciate the honesty of this blog.

Well, here’s some honesty: I’m struggling.

Since returning from our trip home to Kentucky, I feel like I can’t get enough to eat or enough sleep.

What a horrible combo.

Of course, it doesn’t help that we are also transitioning our toddler into his first real bed this week.

By the way, he has spent every single night in that bed since we got it.

No, it hasn’t been easy, but we’re getting there.

And God bless my husband for his patience, since our son would rather he be the one who sticks it out on the floor beside him than me.

That boy loves his da-da.

Anyway, this adjustment has not been all that great for my diet or exercise routine. This morning I opted, for the first time, to stay in bed rather than get on the treadmill before work.

I did manage three mornings of 3 miles on the treadmill, but I haven’t gotten to the gym at all this week, either.

Ah, well. I hope to be rested for the Alice Cooper concert tomorrow night, and then continue on this never-ending quest for a healthier life.

Yes, I said Alice Cooper. Probably the most random thing you’ll read all day, eh?

Support your farmers market

This picture is from my lunch break Wednesday, during which my friend Nancy introduced me to the Downtown Saginaw Farmers’ Market.

It is delightful! Makes me wish I had taken advantage of the Flint Farmers’ Market more when I worked there.

There was even live music, and I bought this painted wooden snake for my son from Nancy’s artist neighbor.

That night we had a delicious dinner of chicken, corn on the cob, tomatoes and a pattypan squash.

The Saginaw market is open on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays.

Find out when one near you is open, and go! Have a great weekend.

Snoozing and struggling and snakes, oh my!

Thanks to all of you who wrote to me about the book issue yesterday.

If there was any common theme, it’s that you appreciate the honesty of this blog.

Well, here’s some honesty: I’m struggling.

Since returning from our trip home to Kentucky, I feel like I can’t get enough to eat or enough sleep.

What a horrible combo.

Of course, it doesn’t help that we are also transitioning our toddler into his first real bed this week.

By the way, he has spent every single night in that bed since we got it.

No, it hasn’t been easy, but we’re getting there.

And God bless my husband for his patience, since our son would rather he be the one who sticks it out on the floor beside him than me.

That boy loves his da-da.

Anyway, this adjustment has not been all that great for my diet or exercise routine. This morning I opted, for the first time, to stay in bed rather than get on the treadmill before work.

I did manage three mornings of 3 miles on the treadmill, but I haven’t gotten to the gym at all this week, either.

Ah, well. I hope to be rested for the Alice Cooper concert tomorrow night, and then continue on this never-ending quest for a healthier life.

Yes, I said Alice Cooper. Probably the most random thing you’ll read all day, eh?

Support your farmers market

This picture is from my lunch break Wednesday, during which my friend Nancy introduced me to the Downtown Saginaw Farmers’ Market.

It is delightful! Makes me wish I had taken advantage of the Flint Farmers’ Market more when I worked there.

There was even live music, and I bought this painted wooden snake for my son from Nancy’s artist neighbor.

That night we had a delicious dinner of chicken, corn on the cob, tomatoes and a pattypan squash.

The Saginaw market is open on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays.

Find out when one near you is open, and go! Have a great weekend.

Book it?

Happy 100th Blog Post Day!

Today marks the 100th time I’ve written since this journey began.

Not that that in itself is a big deal. I just like marking things at 100, I guess.

If I can keep my butt moving, I will hit my goal of 100 pounds lost by Dec. 31.

Fingers crossed.

Can I ask you a serious question? Good.

Do you think this blog would make a good book?

Please trust me when I say that I am not asking this question as a fishing expedition for compliments. You all have been very forthcoming with praise about both my efforts and my writing all along, and that’s not what I am looking for here.

I want a real, honest opinion about whether you think all these blog posts would be helpful, entertaining and marketable in book form.

I keep fighting that notion for several reasons.

1) I feel like there are a few personal blog posts sprinkled in here that would relate to no one.

2) The success of the book would be largely dependent on whether I actually hit my goal of losing 100 pounds in 10 months. Not that I’m already saying I won’t make my goal, but I am saying that actually accomplishing what I set out to do is a factor.

3) Probably most importantly, I’m realistic. I know what people go through to get books published. It’s grueling. It’s lots of rejection. It’s an all-out assault on your self-esteem. I don’t know if I can handle that after I’ve put my heart and soul into this project … Project Me.

I have many friends who have had books published. Heck, I’m one of the very few from my college newspaper staff who hasn’t published a book.

There’s Jerry’s true-story tear-jerker, Ryan’s look at UK basketball, Molly’s vampire series and Chris’ sci-fi masterpieces.

These folks are amazing, and I was lucky to have worked beside them.

And I don’t think my subject matter or writing skills are at their level. I really don’t.

But the notion of turning this into a book keeps coming up, even by some very smart people whose opinions I value greatly.

What’s your very smart opinion?

Book it?

Happy 100th Blog Post Day!

Today marks the 100th time I’ve written since this journey began.

Not that that in itself is a big deal. I just like marking things at 100, I guess.

If I can keep my butt moving, I will hit my goal of 100 pounds lost by Dec. 31.

Fingers crossed.

Can I ask you a serious question? Good.

Do you think this blog would make a good book?

Please trust me when I say that I am not asking this question as a fishing expedition for compliments. You all have been very forthcoming with praise about both my efforts and my writing all along, and that’s not what I am looking for here.

I want a real, honest opinion about whether you think all these blog posts would be helpful, entertaining and marketable in book form.

I keep fighting that notion for several reasons.

1) I feel like there are a few personal blog posts sprinkled in here that would relate to no one.

2) The success of the book would be largely dependent on whether I actually hit my goal of losing 100 pounds in 10 months. Not that I’m already saying I won’t make my goal, but I am saying that actually accomplishing what I set out to do is a factor.

3) Probably most importantly, I’m realistic. I know what people go through to get books published. It’s grueling. It’s lots of rejection. It’s an all-out assault on your self-esteem. I don’t know if I can handle that after I’ve put my heart and soul into this project … Project Me.

I have many friends who have had books published. Heck, I’m one of the very few from my college newspaper staff who hasn’t published a book.

There’s Jerry’s true-story tear-jerker, Ryan’s look at UK basketball, Molly’s vampire series and Chris’ sci-fi masterpieces.

These folks are amazing, and I was lucky to have worked beside them.

And I don’t think my subject matter or writing skills are at their level. I really don’t.

But the notion of turning this into a book keeps coming up, even by some very smart people whose opinions I value greatly.

What’s your very smart opinion?

Please pray for Tifany’s mom

This morning, my mind is on my longtime best friend, Tifany, and her mom, Sherry (pictured).

Some have a right-hand man. Tifany is my left-shoulder girl.

We’ve been best friends since we were kids, and for many years, we played softball together. Her dad, Chalmer, was one of the best coaches I ever had.

I always pitched. Tifany always played second base.

She was always over my left shoulder.

And throughout life, even as I’ve moved away and we’ve started our own families, she’s right there when I need her.

Today she needs me. And you.

Tifany’s mom has cancer.

When Sherry was diagnosed a few months ago, Tifany was quite optimistic. The doctors told her that if she had to have cancer, this was a good one to have. The prognosis was excellent.

But I got a text from Tifany when I woke up this morning that said a scope revealed that the cancer has grown to 4 times the size it was.

Sherry is a hard-working woman. I’m sure she got pretty tired of feeding me throughout high school, during which I probably spent as many nights at her house as I did my own.

She would probably tell you she’ll be fine, that she has worked hard all her life and that she’s overcome plenty of odds and will beat this, too.

And she’s right.

But for her, and for my dearest friend, Tifany, I’m asking you for the only help we can really give her: our prayers.

Pray for health, pray for peace and pray for blessings on this family that has given me so many.

Please pray for Tifany’s mom

This morning, my mind is on my longtime best friend, Tifany, and her mom, Sherry (pictured).

Some have a right-hand man. Tifany is my left-shoulder girl.

We’ve been best friends since we were kids, and for many years, we played softball together. Her dad, Chalmer, was one of the best coaches I ever had.

I always pitched. Tifany always played second base.

She was always over my left shoulder.

And throughout life, even as I’ve moved away and we’ve started our own families, she’s right there when I need her.

Today she needs me. And you.

Tifany’s mom has cancer.

When Sherry was diagnosed a few months ago, Tifany was quite optimistic. The doctors told her that if she had to have cancer, this was a good one to have. The prognosis was excellent.

But I got a text from Tifany when I woke up this morning that said a scope revealed that the cancer has grown to 4 times the size it was.

Sherry is a hard-working woman. I’m sure she got pretty tired of feeding me throughout high school, during which I probably spent as many nights at her house as I did my own.

She would probably tell you she’ll be fine, that she has worked hard all her life and that she’s overcome plenty of odds and will beat this, too.

And she’s right.

But for her, and for my dearest friend, Tifany, I’m asking you for the only help we can really give her: our prayers.

Pray for health, pray for peace and pray for blessings on this family that has given me so many.

Running on empty

So, I should probably go ahead and apologize to my current employers about returning from vacation more exhausted than before I left.

You see, I have a toddler.

A toddler who has hit the Terrible Twos with such magnificence that he didn’t even wait to be 2.

A toddler who left for vacation with broken speech and a strict bedtime routine but came back a linguist who laughs in the face of bedtime and tells us off as he’s scaling cribs and walls and what have you.

Hey, “No night-night, Momma!” is smart-mouthing. I don’t care what you say.

So yesterday we bought him a toddler bed since he climbed out of his crib and opened his bedroom door within 30 seconds of us putting him in his room Sunday night.

Last night sucked.

My husband got on the floor beside his bed for our son’s first night in the big-boy bed, and was back downstairs with the angel sleeping in his bed by 10:20 p.m.

Then all hell broke loose.

11:40 p.m.: I hear him crying on the monitor. He’s still in the bed, though, so I go in, comfort him and get him back to sleep. Whew.

12:21 a.m.: More crying. I go into the room and almost trip over my husband, who has resumed his position on the floor next to the bed but somehow is sleeping through these cries. I wake him up and we discuss our game plan. Uh, yeah. We have nothing. The crying continues.

12:21-2:30 a.m.: The exact times get blurry as I race from our room to our son’s. He’s now running up and down the hall. My husband determines that the diaper boxes full of clothes near the railing that overlooks our foyer is a jump risk. I’m not sure if he means for our son or him, but I help him move the boxes to a spare room.

2:30 a.m.: We raise the white flag and say our son can sleep in our bed.

2:31 a.m.: We realize that this kid not only has no interest in sleeping in his new bed, he has no interest in sleeping anywhere.

2:41 a.m. (pictured): Our son decides what we need here is a little music. Just give him a minute. He’ll find the right button.

2:45 a.m.: Why is there a golden retriever ass on my face? Clyde, GET OUT OF THE BED!

3 a.m.: I come to after slightly dozing off to hear “Well, I thought you wanted milk. You want juice? OK.” I doze back off. “OK, I’ll go back and get the purple straw.” Doze back off. “MISTY, IT’S YOUR TURN!”

3-3:45 a.m.: I chase him up and down the hall a few more times and plead with him to stop crying. He wants da-da.

3:45 a.m.: We’re all back in our bed, and I open my eyes to hear my son say, “Hi, Momma!”

4 a.m.: Silence. Sweet, sweet silence. He’s asleep horizontally near my knees.

5 a.m.: My alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button.

5:09 a.m.: Snooze button.

5:18 a.m.: Snooze button.

5:27 a.m.: OK, I hear you! Damn it. I somehow crawl to the treadmill for 3 miles.

Anyone wanna make predictions for what time I fall asleep at my desk?

Running on empty

So, I should probably go ahead and apologize to my current employers about returning from vacation more exhausted than before I left.

You see, I have a toddler.

A toddler who has hit the Terrible Twos with such magnificence that he didn’t even wait to be 2.

A toddler who left for vacation with broken speech and a strict bedtime routine but came back a linguist who laughs in the face of bedtime and tells us off as he’s scaling cribs and walls and what have you.

Hey, “No night-night, Momma!” is smart-mouthing. I don’t care what you say.

So yesterday we bought him a toddler bed since he climbed out of his crib and opened his bedroom door within 30 seconds of us putting him in his room Sunday night.

Last night sucked.

My husband got on the floor beside his bed for our son’s first night in the big-boy bed, and was back downstairs with the angel sleeping in his bed by 10:20 p.m.

Then all hell broke loose.

11:40 p.m.: I hear him crying on the monitor. He’s still in the bed, though, so I go in, comfort him and get him back to sleep. Whew.

12:21 a.m.: More crying. I go into the room and almost trip over my husband, who has resumed his position on the floor next to the bed but somehow is sleeping through these cries. I wake him up and we discuss our game plan. Uh, yeah. We have nothing. The crying continues.

12:21-2:30 a.m.: The exact times get blurry as I race from our room to our son’s. He’s now running up and down the hall. My husband determines that the diaper boxes full of clothes near the railing that overlooks our foyer is a jump risk. I’m not sure if he means for our son or him, but I help him move the boxes to a spare room.

2:30 a.m.: We raise the white flag and say our son can sleep in our bed.

2:31 a.m.: We realize that this kid not only has no interest in sleeping in his new bed, he has no interest in sleeping anywhere.

2:41 a.m. (pictured): Our son decides what we need here is a little music. Just give him a minute. He’ll find the right button.

2:45 a.m.: Why is there a golden retriever ass on my face? Clyde, GET OUT OF THE BED!

3 a.m.: I come to after slightly dozing off to hear “Well, I thought you wanted milk. You want juice? OK.” I doze back off. “OK, I’ll go back and get the purple straw.” Doze back off. “MISTY, IT’S YOUR TURN!”

3-3:45 a.m.: I chase him up and down the hall a few more times and plead with him to stop crying. He wants da-da.

3:45 a.m.: We’re all back in our bed, and I open my eyes to hear my son say, “Hi, Momma!”

4 a.m.: Silence. Sweet, sweet silence. He’s asleep horizontally near my knees.

5 a.m.: My alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button.

5:09 a.m.: Snooze button.

5:18 a.m.: Snooze button.

5:27 a.m.: OK, I hear you! Damn it. I somehow crawl to the treadmill for 3 miles.

Anyone wanna make predictions for what time I fall asleep at my desk?

I’m back. And fat.

OK, OK. I’m not gonna start off my first blog post since returning from Kentucky late last night by whining about how much weight I gained.

The whole “I ate whatever I wanted for a week and a half and now I’m paying the price, and I’ll never do that again since learning this very valuable lesson” bit seems too predictable.

I told you I was gonna eat, and I did. All 10 days.

And I gained four pounds.

These things happen, right?

Holidays and vacations and whatever will come our way, and we will take a break from our healthy selves.

It’s my first gain in 19 weeks, and I had fun doing it.

But the true test comes now. I … you … whoever … can come off a week like this and say screw it and keep eating that way, or we can say “damn, that was fun. Time to get back to the hard work.”

So … damn, that was fun. Time to get back to the hard work.

And hard work it will be.

I did take the time to walk several times while at my mom’s, actually. This picture is of my son checking out the bridge over the Green River in Livermore during one walk.

Had I not walked, I would have probably gained even more.

But I will tell you that I felt awful not eating right and exercising daily.

I actually like feeling healthy, and that’s what will get me dusted off and back on my healthy path.

It won’t be easy. I’m now way behind.

My net loss is now 36 pounds. To be on goal (2.3 pounds a week, at 19 weeks), I should be at 43.7 pounds.

I can do this.

I’m lacing up my shoes, thanking God for our safe trip and jumping back in the saddle.

Have a great week.

I’m back. And fat.

OK, OK. I’m not gonna start off my first blog post since returning from Kentucky late last night by whining about how much weight I gained.

The whole “I ate whatever I wanted for a week and a half and now I’m paying the price, and I’ll never do that again since learning this very valuable lesson” bit seems too predictable.

I told you I was gonna eat, and I did. All 10 days.

And I gained four pounds.

These things happen, right?

Holidays and vacations and whatever will come our way, and we will take a break from our healthy selves.

It’s my first gain in 19 weeks, and I had fun doing it.

But the true test comes now. I … you … whoever … can come off a week like this and say screw it and keep eating that way, or we can say “damn, that was fun. Time to get back to the hard work.”

So … damn, that was fun. Time to get back to the hard work.

And hard work it will be.

I did take the time to walk several times while at my mom’s, actually. This picture is of my son checking out the bridge over the Green River in Livermore during one walk.

Had I not walked, I would have probably gained even more.

But I will tell you that I felt awful not eating right and exercising daily.

I actually like feeling healthy, and that’s what will get me dusted off and back on my healthy path.

It won’t be easy. I’m now way behind.

My net loss is now 36 pounds. To be on goal (2.3 pounds a week, at 19 weeks), I should be at 43.7 pounds.

I can do this.

I’m lacing up my shoes, thanking God for our safe trip and jumping back in the saddle.

Have a great week.

Adios, amigos

Okey doke, folks. We’re hitting the road.

(Well, you know. As soon as I finally get packed.)

I went ahead and weighed this morning since I won’t be around for the next 10 days, and I managed to lose one more tiny pound since Monday.

So I’m heading to my old Kentucky home 40 pounds lighter than the last time I was there.

Not too shabby.

Now, what it will be when I get back … eh. We’ll deal with it when it gets here.

Once again, I sincerely thank each one of you for reading this blog and for wrapping me in this huge virtual blanket of comfort and support.

Have a great Fourth of July, and I’ll see you again on the 12th.

Adios, amigos

Okey doke, folks. We’re hitting the road.

(Well, you know. As soon as I finally get packed.)

I went ahead and weighed this morning since I won’t be around for the next 10 days, and I managed to lose one more tiny pound since Monday.

So I’m heading to my old Kentucky home 40 pounds lighter than the last time I was there.

Not too shabby.

Now, what it will be when I get back … eh. We’ll deal with it when it gets here.

Once again, I sincerely thank each one of you for reading this blog and for wrapping me in this huge virtual blanket of comfort and support.

Have a great Fourth of July, and I’ll see you again on the 12th.

Tour de Kentucky

One day ’til Kentucky. I’m stoked.

I was all prepared to write about not blowing my diet on vacation. I figured I’d look up articles that gave advice about sticking to my routine, eating in when possible … blah, blah, blah.

But let’s get serious.

It’s freaking VACATION.

So, here’s my plan. I’m gonna enjoy myself. I’m gonna eat a few things I don’t normally eat.

You know how Olive Garden has the Tour de Italy plate? I have my Tour de Kentucky.

There’s my beloved mutton and burgoo from Moonlite BBQ. My Geno’s pizza. My Island Dairy Freeze burger.

Grandma’s chicken and dressing.

Hey, I get these things like twice a year. Cut me some slack.

I still plan to walk while I’m there. I think the route from Mom’s down to the Green River and back will make a lovely stroll.

Wave if you see me.

My husband’s parents have a treadmill, so it’s nice to know that’s available, too.

But I’m gonna enjoy this trip, my first home since Christmas. I’m gonna soak in my family’s laughter, my son’s joy and Kentucky’s beauty.

I’m gonna be. And do. And live.

And when I get back, I’ll get right back to reality and continue on this weight loss journey. I’ve come way too far to let one vacation get me off track.

And I know you’ll be right here with words of encouragement, like you have been all along.

That’s why I know I can do it.

Tour de Kentucky

One day ’til Kentucky. I’m stoked.

I was all prepared to write about not blowing my diet on vacation. I figured I’d look up articles that gave advice about sticking to my routine, eating in when possible … blah, blah, blah.

But let’s get serious.

It’s freaking VACATION.

So, here’s my plan. I’m gonna enjoy myself. I’m gonna eat a few things I don’t normally eat.

You know how Olive Garden has the Tour de Italy plate? I have my Tour de Kentucky.

There’s my beloved mutton and burgoo from Moonlite BBQ. My Geno’s pizza. My Island Dairy Freeze burger.

Grandma’s chicken and dressing.

Hey, I get these things like twice a year. Cut me some slack.

I still plan to walk while I’m there. I think the route from Mom’s down to the Green River and back will make a lovely stroll.

Wave if you see me.

My husband’s parents have a treadmill, so it’s nice to know that’s available, too.

But I’m gonna enjoy this trip, my first home since Christmas. I’m gonna soak in my family’s laughter, my son’s joy and Kentucky’s beauty.

I’m gonna be. And do. And live.

And when I get back, I’ll get right back to reality and continue on this weight loss journey. I’ve come way too far to let one vacation get me off track.

And I know you’ll be right here with words of encouragement, like you have been all along.

That’s why I know I can do it.