Bedtime Blues with a Happy Refrain

Tonight, as I was getting the kids to bed 3 HOURS PAST their bedtime, I was feeling kind of burned out.  It's been a great holiday visiting with family and now the tiredness for the kids and entitlement after having so many "fun days" is kicking in.  As I replaced sheets on a bed that had been wet the night before (I thought we were over this!) and filled sippy cups I was feeling agitated about every little thing and very unsuccessful at this profession called "Mommyhood."  Was there REALLY a silver lining right now, in this moment in time? I wondered.  But then as I went to each of my children's beds to say good night, I came upon my Sammy.  He was already sound asleep, his stuffed Angry Bird under his arm.  He looked like an angel, peacefully resting.  All I could say to myself was "If this little boy could fall asleep so calmly and look so content, you must be doing something right."  To all the moms out there hanging on by a thread at times, I promise you ARE doing something right.  Because if you care enough to wonder if you are being a good mom, then you CARE ENOUGH.  And that care is what your kids need most of all.

23 Laughs

For all parents, nannies and friends of people with kids (to help you understand the beauty of our madness...) It's seriously like someone's been spying on me the last couple days and wrote me this personalized note of advice.  I already know not to buy white furniture, or worry about thread counts, or buy anything that requires ironing, but I learned a lot too! :) Thank you wonderful Virginia friend for sharing it with me!

PARENTING: 

1. Lower your standards for cleanliness and order.
2. Did that? Lower them even more.
3. Your house will never look like a magazine spread, period. Embrace that.
4. No matter how many baskets you buy to contain toys, they will always be visible. Embrace the Toys ‘R Us/ frat house-chic decor.
5. You can never have too many popsicles in the freezer. How many bad moods have been fixed by a simple popsicle?
6. If you can’t change them, change your perspective. For example I read recently– probably on Satan’s website Pinterest– that toothpaste is great for cleaning things like faucets. So now when I go into the bathroom every day and see toothpaste splatter all over the bathroom faucet I think about how my children have done half the chore of cleaning for me. How considerate of them! Then I wipe it off while cursing.
7. Those chores that no one ever wants to do. Decide if you would rather do it yourself, badger your child to it, or let it go. If you are confused about what to do, see Number 1 on this list.
8. No one cares what is stuffed under your child’s bed, why should you. Unless it is old food. In that case, you should get a dog.
9. If you have boys, your bathroom will always faintly stink like pee. Invest in some Febreeze and count down the days until they move out and you can go visit them and pee on their bathroom floor.
10. Don’t buy white furniture. Unless you enjoy screaming at your children every time they go near it.
11. However bad a situation might seem, one day it will be funny. I have a few for which I am eagerly awaiting for the funny to kick in. Any time now….
12. When your child is a young teen there will be nothing more embarrassing than your very existence. Use this to your advantage. Start planning early.
13. Do not paint any walls in your house with flat paint.
14. Be okay with letting your kids stumble sometimes. Whether that is turning in an assignment late because they didn’t do it or wearing an outfit so hideous you have trouble looking at them without laughing.
15. Noise cancelling headphones are great for blocking out whining, bickering and the endless episodes of Sponge Bob.
16. Socks do not have to match. Every day is Crazy Sock Day at my house, which is infinitely better than Crazy Mom Day.
17. The crayons will break and it is okay to throw them away rather then save them to make some sort of craft that involves the hair dryer. In fact, I give you permission to not feel guilty about all the crafts you know you will never do.
18. Your children will not die from eating the occasional hot dog or frozen pizza. And by occasional I mean more than you are really willing to admit.
19. If your children are driving you crazy arguing with each other, start an argument with them. Then your children will bond over their mutual hatred of you and be quiet.
20. Children do not appreciate top sheets or high thread counts. Buy neither.
21. Homework time is the worst time of the day. Help your kids and yourself by having a designated time and a quiet place to do homework. Preferably in a neighbor’s home.
22. Just say No to ironing.
23. Last, but not least, a glass of wine (or scoop of ice cream) and some really bad TV makes everything seem a little better.

link ---> https://www.facebook.com/MommyMadeCraftsAndRecipes/posts/427841773996564

Feels good to know I may not have been the only parent this week who bought 2 packs of popsicles and 4 boxes of Otter Pops to keep her kids happy and herself sane. :)

'Till Tomorrow! Luv, Eva

Worth It: The Reshaping of a Mother's Body & Her Heart

I was just telling Sam (while pointing to my tummy) "You are why I have this, but YOU are TOTALLY WORTH IT!  I cannot imagine life without you" and then I tickled his tummy like he likes to tickle mine.  It's true.  Before I had my third I was back to the weight I was in high school and running regularly.  It hasn't been as easy to do with 3 kids and the personality of my beautiful Sammy (as in he SCREAMS at any gym daycare I've tried to leave him at for even 20 mins.)  But that's OK.  Even if I never makes it back to that place physically, I don't mind.  He (and the chance to be a mother to him) is more than worth it.

Anyway, a minute after some tummy-tickling I flipped on the laptop and saw at least 4 of my friends had recommended this beautiful article, "Kate Middleton and the Mom in the Mirror" by Joy Gabriel.  I read it and my eyes filled with "happy tears" as we call them around here, and I was frozen in time, remembering so many similar moments I've had in my life, moments when my clothes didn't fit, and the ones that did were covered with stains, when I was asked if I was expecting (when I WAS NOT) and when because I was working 24-7 on tending sick, crying children I felt I looked more like an embarrassment than the runway model the media screams at women to be.  So I am reposting it (from the Huffington Post) because I want my sons and daughters to know the truths it shares.  It's beautifully written and more of what we need in this world.  It's a little long, but worth every word...

   
A friend of mine was totally shocked to see Kate Middleton's "still pregnant belly" the day after        she gave birth. Sigh. Not only is that what you're SUPPOSED to look like after giving birth, it's        annoying we're even TALKING about WHAT YOUR STOMACH LOOKS LIKE 24 hours after        giving birth.

It's about the baby, not the belly.

My daughter Ruby was pretty obsessed with my belly while I was pregnant. Who can blame her? It is utterly amazing to watch a body shape-shift into a human incubator. Even if you're still a baby yourself and don't fully understand what's happening, you know the two things that really matter: Something's up and It's amazing.

I thought it was all-too-sweet the way she pulled up my shirt to hug and kiss my bare belly and was just devastated if she couldn't kiss "bee-bee" goodnight. I'd pull her close and tell her all about this miraculous thing happening to my body (and to our family!) while we snuggled. They were sweet and tender moments I will always treasure.

Obviously, her fascination with my belly didn't end when we brought her baby brother home. So, I don't know why it surprised me when one of the first things she wanted to do was touch my belly.

"Oh," I laughed, delighted by her curiosity, "the baby came out! No more baby in mama's belly. He came out and he's right over there!"

I don't think she had the slightest idea what I was talking about.

A dozen times a day, she came over to look at my belly, but I tugged my shirt down as fast as I could and tried my best to chirp happily and with a shrug No more baby -- just belly! I knew this was part of her trying to process this whole crazy thing, so I tried to be patient. She eventually got the message (or so I thought) and transferred her curiosity to the new little baby in our midst (she had so much poking to do!).

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, it started up again. She was suddenly consumed with my belly (and boobs! but that's another matter entirely) and my glib little answer wasn't working. She knew all about the baby. She wanted to know what happened to my belly.

Can I be honest with you? I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't even want to think about it.

I was exhausted and emotional and unspeakably overwhelmed by the unceasing demands of a newborn and his (understandably) freaked-out big sister. The last thing I had the energy for was to explain why my belly still looked pretty pregnant even though I wasn't. Or why none of my clothes fit. Or why my belly -- which was once a cause for such sweet and curious bonding -- had suddenly become The Thing Which Shall Not Be Named. Addressing any of that would force me to accept that my body was different now -- I was different now -- and that was kind of a lot to process when I was deep in the throes of just keeping a helpless little person ALIVE.

The persistence of that belly (and so many other vestiges of a rough pregnancy) made me feel like a total failure.

Shouldn't I be more... together?

I wasn't asking to be posing in a bikini on the cover of a magazine two weeks postpartum (because that's 12 ways to Crazytown) and even though I've done this before and should know better I was STILL HOPING that by six weeks postpartum (and now 12, oy) I would at least look like ME. Not, as someone so politely told me when I was pregnant -- me "in a fat suit."

I did not want to face the fact that the lumpy woman in the mirror could in reality be... ME.

So, when Ruby innocently tugged on my shirt to check out the state of things in my midsection, I was in no mood:

No, no, Ruby. No more baby in Mama's belly. Just fat. No baby. FAT. Mama's FAT.

I don't know what it was -- something about the way she looked at me... almost through me... that s l o w e d everything down so that the two, unblinking seconds we stood staring at each other felt like a lifetime --

but I knew she understood.

Not the nuance of my insecurity, of course (all those cultural expectations so much heavier than the baby weight)

But the two things that really mattered: After a belly comes a baby. After the baby comes the shame.

When I saw the look on her face I wanted nothing more than to swallow those words I had so thoughtlessly spit out. The only thing I had to be ashamed of was feeling ashamed of my body.

I thought I was keeping a safe distance from all this "post-baby bod" crap, but it must have snuck in the back door. Honestly, it's pretty hard to escape these days. Not just because it's splashed all over magazines -- but because it's alive and well on my own little street corner too. I ran into a neighbor last week who is currently pregnant with her second child and as we were talking about the fears and challenges that accompany an expanding family... including her constant worry that her body will never be the same again... she gestured to my stomach and said, "Is it weird to still look pregnant after three months?" Of course, I wanted to die right there on the spot, but I laughed and did my best impression of The Person I Want To Be and said, "Well I did just have a baby three months ago."

Because I DID.

I'm not sure when it became the highest compliment you can pay a woman to say, "You look like you never even had a baby!"

...Because I'm supposed to... pretend this never happened? Is my body supposed to pretend it didn't rearrange all my organs and open my rib cage and my hips and grow a new human person who has never existed before and then proceed to feed and nourish that person from the very same body that delivered him, whole and perfect, into the world?

After experiencing something so miraculous that the only real way to describe it is "godlike" ... I'm supposed to want to go BACK?

To what? Being 15?

Even if you somehow manage to look 15 again (which, why would you want to?) you will never BE 15 again (thank heavens). (Matthew Perry movies notwithstanding).

Once you cross the threshold into motherhood, there is no going back. You might feel instantly and with acuity "Help! What did I DO? I'm not ready for this! Get me offa this thing! I don't know what I'm doing!" but it's too late. The curtain is up on the most important role you will ever play and it's OK that you and your body have shifted so that it fits. More: it is right and good. You're not supposed to zip up your old jeans and slip back into your old life.

Babies change us.

It's designed that way.

If our bodies tell the story of who we are, this is a story I don't want to forget.

And that's what I want my Ruby to know.

I dream of a world where a new mother can leave the house in the morning -- in ill-fitting maternity clothes because nothing else fits her large and slowly deflating belly, with greasy hair and puffy eyes from the hours/days/weeks she's been functioning without sleep, with a leaking shirt from her breasts that are constantly churning and adjusting to make just the right amount of milk for the tiny young babe who depends on her for every last thing -- a world where this woman can leave the house with her babies in tow (up and out in the world because her toddler's need for playtime trumped her need for a blow dry. Or a nap)

-- And this woman TURNS OUR HEADS (not out of pity "oh bless her heart") and TAKES OUR BREATH AWAY (not because we think she looks like the "before" picture of an ambush makeover) but because she is LITERALLY The Most Beautiful Thing We've Ever Seen.

She is a superhero
She is a goddess
She is a Mother

Drop-dead gorgeous not in spite of the things that make her so, but because of them.

This is the woman I want my daughter to see when she touches my belly. This is the woman I want to see when I look in the mirror. Not the ugly truth. But the beautiful reality.

It's a thing I'm really struggling with at the moment.

Pregnancy is not easy for me. I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to it because my whole mind and body just kinda freaks out. This last one was brutal and and my body is still shouting that story from the rooftops. Six months of bed rest and 60 lbs, agonizing hormone shots, early labor, depression, migraines, insomnia, stretch marks (just to name a few). I will probably never look or feel quite the same again and that's exactly as it should be. I'm not the same. Bearing children has brought me a wealth of insight and experience I wouldn't trade for the skinniest pair of jeans.

Maybe some mamas can do all this in a size 2 right out the gate and good for ya. But I'd like to stop pretending that's the normal or even ideal thing. For me, there is so much more to mothering than how my pants fit. As a new mom, it shouldn't even CRACK THE LIST, but it does because people stop you on the street and say dumb things motivated out of fear they'll end up looking like you at 12 weeks postpartum.

Well, I'll tell ya something, friend. This is what motherhood looks like at 12 weeks postpartum.

I caught myself in the mirror this morning... and just about burst into tears when I saw that rumpled, lumpy, saggy woman staring back at me. This is not what I'm supposed to look like!

But now that my eyes are dry, I'm ready for a second look. Sure, I can see a What Not To Wear episode waiting to happen. OR I can see a body -- and a person -- who is neither a shabby "Before" picture or a sleek "After" one, but is every inch a walking advertisement for "Just Doing It." I see a woman who knows that makeup is great but making a baby laugh is even better. That a chic haircut will make you feel like a million bucks but rocking a baby to sleep is priceless. That working out feels good but not half as good as the look in your child's eyes when you drop everything to read a book or play kitchen or just be together. That every time you have to choose between worrying about yourself and caring for your children it isn't a choice at all. I see a mother who knows how to dig deep and do the work and carry on when it is almost too heavy to bear.

On my best days, I can see myself. And in those moments, I see the two things that really matter: I can do hard things and doing them in the service of something greater than myself is what makes me beautiful.

Now I'm ready to welcome my babies onto my lap.

Come, my loves. Let me tell you a story. Mama's belly is different because I had a baby. I had you! This is where I stretched and stretched so you could fit inside! See how even my legs and my knees stretched! Everything moved around to make room for you! I got these dimply thighs and these little purple veins and these roomy hips when I got you! Aren't they beautiful?

It's a miracle and it's the greatest story of my life.

(Picture from my 30th birthday last month!)

In a world that questions even having kids anymore (like a recent Times cover,) and in a generation that often belittles the role of nurturer, teacher, and creator of safe havens, I know that creating life is the greatest discovery of all time.  It DOES NOT MATTER that I may still look 3 months pregnant.  I would gladly still choose this body (that walks and runs and washes dishes and drives to parks and libraries and cuddles and hugs) and I would definitely choose having the children this body shaped and made and brought into this world, over any other life I could of had, because God doesn't look at our outward appearance.  He looks on our hearts.  And even though having children has reshaped my body, taking care of my children is reshaping my heart into something more BEAUTIFUL and enduring than any skinny fad or fashion magazine cover.  I do not need to measure up to anyone else's standard of physical perfection, just God's standard of LOVE for others, including my precious rugrats, and myself, "Mom."

'Till Tomorrow!  Luv, Eva

Who's On My Trampoline? or Jumping Out Of Depression...

Today was rougher than usual.  Just trying to write that much, I misspelled and had to retype three words. Sigh.

Maybe it's because I was up past 1:30 a.m. last night and I'm up regularly with my 2 year-old throughout the night.  Maybe it's the stress that comes with am unemployed spouse.  Maybe it's the usual food, self-image issues because I'm not in the shape I want to be in yet.  And then there are the other things that weigh me down a little all the time, my Dad's illness, living faraway from family, our financial debt from student loans, medical bills, etc., my daughter's Oppositional Defiant Disorder & ADHD (which my other two might as well have since they follow her every lead) and the depression I'm always on guard against.

My goal was to have a fun, laid back movie night and sleepover in the living room with the kids.  Maybe we would paint our nails and pop some popcorn too.  Instead I was being the maniac, pick-up-toys-Nazi that wouldn't join the pillow fight.  My eyes burned.  My tummy was full and unhappy from our pizza and ice cream.  Is my grouchiness because I'm burned out or because I've finally grown up and turned into a boring, rather-go-to-bed-at-9-while-wearing-earplugs grownup?  I did just turn 30...

But thankfully, there was a little bounce back.  What I mean was there were some moments when I was low or "depressed."  But then, like when you depress the part of a trampoline you bounce down into, I bounced back up.  I felt a little light.  Other people helped me fly even higher.  A call from my mom (though she may not know it because I vented and complained during most of the conversation) helped cheer me up.  Talking to my hubby helped too.  Hearing my daughter say "I love you" while she picked up some toys literally relaxed my shoulders at least an inch.

My son came up to me just to give me a hug. 

Of course in between each of these moments were other ups and downs too, but at least there were some ups between every couple downs.  Talking to friends on Facebook also gave me a little extra bounce.  And then I was "up" again, enjoying the loud laughter, craziness, requests for thirds on ice cream and the view of princess pillows and Batman blankets all over the living room.

I laughed out loud when my daughter told me she was going to wear the pink and purple beaded necklace we made today to college to she can remember me every day.  And I grinned when I was asked to babysit her troll, during which the only item I was given to take care of it was a hairbrush.  Then I grinned even more when my son eagerly offered to babysit the troll doll.

I had a counselor that called Depression a temporary state or in other words, "depressing."  He said just like "sometimes you're running or eating or sleeping or sometimes you have really staticky hair (OK. He didn't sat that last part.  That was me, but with this picture I couldn't resist.)  And sometimes we are depressing.  It's temporary.  We don't need to get caught up in labels and think we will always be this way or that it's part of what defines us."

Hearing that gave me so much freedom.  Before I always thought I was stuck in this depressed state unless I distracted myself from it.  Now I feel the opposite.  There are distractions in life that get us depressed and get us stuck in that spot.  But we CAN bounce back.  Just ask yourself "Who's on my trampoline?  What's on my trampoline?"  Surround yourself with happy, supportive people.  Invite God and Jesus into your life.  They want to be there and lift you up.  Throw off the crap that's getting in the way!  Would YOU want crap on YOUR trampoline?  Seriously?!  No!  It would bounce everywhere, hit everyone else, and you'd step in it.

Above all, be willing to fly back up again.  The opposite of being depressed is being uplifted and that feeling is real and light and weightless.  It's like your burdens aren't even there.  And feeling this way sometimes, often enough to give our emotional muscles a break, is totally possible.  I know because I have moments like this myself, without escaping through alcohol or any other substance.

It's been a few hours since my Wild Things calmed down.  One is asleep and The Care Bears movie is almost over so soon the other two will be out too (after the troll doll is tucked in and read to.)  There are so many ups and downs everyday.  The kids are so tired now they've hit the "weepy hours" and they are looking like I did a circa my evening meltdown.  But what goes down, must come up.

'Till Tomorrow!  Luv, Eva

P.S. Since writing this, today's manic wind has completely destroyed the net around our trampoline.  Oh, the life metaphors for trampolines could go on and on...

Feeling Brand New...Thanks To A Loving Heavenly Father and the Most Amazing Book...

     As I have been quite vocal on the subject, most of you know I've battled depression for many years...11 to be exact.  During those years, and at the request of counselors, I have spent a LOT of time trying to figure out where the depression came from...I could write volumes on that.  At Dr's requests I accepted that severe depression is in my genes ( I do have some crazy stories from my ancestors) so I should get used to the idea of taking medication for the rest of my life.  I was also told I should expect to be depressed for a while since my situation WAS depressing and until it changed I wouldn't be happy. :/
     After a counselor said they couldn't teach me anything else because most of her patients were usually better after 6 months (thanks... :/), I was finally sent to a psychiatrist whose recommendation to me was to be "less stressed" and make sure my husband and I get out for an overnight date at least once a month, even if it was just Motel 6.  Being on Food Stamps at the time, as well as Financial Assistance from the govt., our church and family just to get our bills paid, my husband being recently laid-off and me being too sick to keep a job and with 2 kids at the time to find a sitter for, Motel 6 might as well have been the Ritz!  Just paying the gas and finding a sitter to make it to the apt. had been a miracle.  And on top of all that I was supposed to make more time for ME?  Like, "get my nails done" or "get my hair done?"  If I could afford to do those things, I probably would not have been feeling so low in the first place.  :)
     Years of increasingly lower thoughts and emotional pain led to me eventually being suicidal.  This mental state would last for months at a time, with a couple teasing "good weeks" in between.  Saying that that's a terrible way to feel would be a gross understatement.  When you are that low you feel crazy for staying alive and going through that pain again day after day after day.  In my case I endured it for my family, but I would go to sleep at night crying, knowing I would be getting up in a few hours to feel all of that sadness, despair, and darkness again as another day started.  The idea that there were just more and more days of life to endure was overwhelming and heartbreaking.  You pray for something to change...anything.  If your circumstances and health won't change, you pray someone will crash into your car so you'll die accidentally.  You hope you'll have a heart attack while you sleep.  You just want the pain you feel to end.
     In my case, I had been told I wouldn't feel better until I found the right medications which always meant months of dealing with unknown side effects as we tried to see if the prescription even worked, all while trying to take care of my kids.  That's the hardest part.  How honest can you be?  How much can you say to your Dr. without risking losing your kids?  They are the biggest reason you are trying so hard to go on every day, yet if you seem like you can't handle taking care of them they will be taken from you, only adding to your stress.  At the same time, if you put on a happy face and faked happiness as well as you could, people didn't take you seriously when you really did need help.  Even my own husband sometimes didn't know how terrible I was feeling because I was trying so hard to feel better, even though I was really dying inside.  When it came down to it (I knew from friends who had had neighbors go into mental health institutions and my own friends) you could often only stay in treatment like that for a few days and then you were right back in your everyday situation.  With a hefty new bill to pay.  Since financial stress had been the biggest trigger for my depression and with no family close by to help, all-day therapy never felt like a real option.
     So I dealt with it.  My husband did.  My kids did.  But we all suffered.  Really.  We tried our best to have fun.  That was how I got through day to day, by having fun, but it was not a cure.
     I now realize (thanks to an INCREDIBLE book I read, Behind The Veil of Depression: Finding The Power Within, which I will write more about later) that a lot of the counseling I received was a BIG waste of time that just prolonged my depression. :)  I'm smiling because I don't have hard feelings.  I know the counselors were doing the best they could with the resources they had.  I am not against counseling.  Counseling is how we learn tools.  But you have to learn the RIGHT tools.  I know now I don't HAVE to be depressed while my circumstances are like this.  I CAN BE HAPPY during ANY circumstance.  I don't HAVE to be depressed because of my genetics.  I don't HAVE to be on meds my entire life.  I can be in control of my own life and mental state.
     And that is SO FREEING!!!!  By believing (like I had been taught by professionals) that my financial situation had made me depressed, or that it was part of my genetic make-up, or that my mental attitude was decided by how I was raised or treated now as a mother, by agreeing that it was because of everything and everyone else, I GAVE AWAY THE POWER TO HEAL.  If it's genetic's fault, I'm stuck.  How depressing is that?  If it's my situation's fault then I can't feel happy until our financial situation is better...another depressing thought when credit and employment positions take years to improve.  But I always knew that many people living in much greater poverty and much more difficult circumstances were still happy.  So why couldn't I be?
     If I had kept believing what I had been taught I would still be grossly depressed.  I would still be suicidal.  I would still have no hope.  I had hope on the surface before, but now it is in my core, my soul and I feel so alive and grateful!
     I am really excited to be writing more about this transformation.  The first step was recognizing that it was MY OWN THINKING PATTERN that brought on my depression.  Basically, I GAVE MYSELF DEPRESSION.  That's going to sound strange and foreign, because we don't usually think of it that way, but it's true.  By thinking negative thoughts over and over again we affect our subconscious, we reset our body into accepting this sad, depressed condition through which we experience everything.  By accepting that it was my own repetitive negativity, I take responsibility and gain the power to change it.  I can change my thought patterns and change how I feel.  I don't have to feel sad forever.  I don't have to feel hopeless until our circumstances change.  I can start feeling better immediately, and I did...by believing ultimately in God's plan for me.
     That's all I can write now.  I want to keep sharing hopeful insights, and pictures and my journey of emotional and physical healing, I'm just not sure where. LOL  I might split up the info between a few blogs...I'm not sure how to organize it since this was meant to be my "professional" blog for whenever I get back into writing fiction.  I don't know that I want to saturate it with personal photos which I will be sharing a lot more as part of my positive thoughts.  However it all works out though, I am SO excited to BE EXCITED AGAIN, from my heart and soul about everything this process can bring.  Thank you for reading!  This life IS WORTH LIVING!! :)  Luv, Eva

The Cycle of Grief and Gratitude: Mourning and Celebrating the Art of Fatherhood

I started crying tonight, over model car paint.  You know, the craft kind, for painting miniature model cars and airplanes.  At first they were "happy tears."  I saw the small paint jars there on the coffee table as my husband prepared to work on a project, and I had a flashback. 

I could see the same set of paints there on our kitchen table in our old house on "M" street, in Davis, where I grew up.  It's strange saying that because I am far from grown up.

Daddy sits behind the table, a paintbrush in hand, holding something up to his face, his green eyes squinting behind his glasses as he carefully, with such patience and detail works on his projects.  He is an engineer by profession, but a historian and artist at heart.  Every project has a connection to history.  Airplanes, my favorite a bright blue and orange model, like a sunrise hanging on the wall in his bedroom.  Little animal figurines, painted a rainbow of colors, each chosen with care, gifts for his daughters. 

He painted our family Nativity Scene.  Each Wise Man's cloak matching the animal's on which he rode, purple, red or blue.  There's a shepherd boy holding a lamb.  Mary in red.  Joseph in blue.  All with an additional antique glaze.  And of course, that little ceramic baby Jesus, lying in a manger, his hands outstretched and his eyes looking towards heaven.

We painted our California mission model together.  Science fair projects.  Civil War figurines.  My mind reels at how many little jars of paint he held and spread onto wood, ceramics and metal.  And now, those hands that so patiently created art...now they carefully, one key at a time, type two sentence emails to me.  And that is a great accomplishment.

But then those happy tears turn into tears of sadness- what a crude understatement. 

They flow freely since the children are in bed and my tear's true natures make a pit in my stomach too hollow to fill.  They are tears of pain, anger, longing.

I miss that Father.  I miss that Dad that stayed up late working on projects, who was excited to have me work alongside him.  I stare at tha box of paints and I miss hearing his jokes and seeing him stand.  And all the while I feel guilty, so shamefully guilty for missing those things.  He's still alive isn't he?  I should be grateful.  I shouldn't want more than that.  And yet, there are moments I do.

I don't want him to just be a picture to my children, like my great-grandmother was to me.  Whenever we turned to that page in our family album, the one with a picture of me sitting beside her on a cream couch wearing corduroy overalls holding a book who's name I can't remember...whenever we turned to that page Daddy would ask me if I remembered her.  And I would say I would, a little, creating a memory in my mind from the picture, willing it to be real.  But it wasn't. 

I don't want him to become a forced memory to my children.  Then again, maybe he already has to me.

The hardest part (again I feel guilty just thinking this) is mourning again and again and again.  I mourn each loss of him during this deteriorating illness.  I've probably written this before, yet I must again.  Each time a part of him is gone, an ability disappears, it's another death of him.  But there's no funeral yet.  Not that I want there to be!  Again the guilt for thinking that!  Still there are moments like these where I just feel like a lot of open wounds with nothing but more time for more pain.

I find myself forgetting how he used to be, how he used to smile, speak, stand and run.  I remember moments- him riding his bike down a hill with a sister riding on back in the UC Davis arbouretum- but is that a created memory too?  A moving version of pictures I've seen in albums?  I don't think so, but who knows?  It feels like someone else's life...a younger, more free version of myself, without the cares of a mother and adult daughter with aging parents.

Then I mourn the things I can't remember too, whatever they are, I miss them.  I miss what might have been because of course everything would have been different if he just hadn't got sick.

Everything.


I take a deep breath.  I wipe the tears from my eyes, my cheeks, my chin.  There's no eyeliner or mascara streaks to clean-up because I never got around to getting made-up today.  The moment of weakness has passed. 

I look closer at the little paint jars.  They aren't exactly the same a Daddy's.  These are a different brand.  Somehow, that makes things better too.

Another deep breath and I'm able to feel grateful again.  I'm grateful for every ceramic we have that was painted by his patient hands.  I'm thankful for every picture I have of him with me, my mother and sisters and my children.  I'm glad for every single letter and punctuation mark he delicately types.  They are more valuable to me than any of the editing he did on textbooks, notes he took on graduate courses or hundred page engineer reports he wrote.  They are the art he, with the determination of a caring father, continues to create.

Then I remeber I haven't emailed him yet today.  I send him a funny picture via Facebook.  And I'm grateful, even for those little jars of paint.  They reminded me of him today and that is a wonderful thing.  So I smile freely as I watch my husband, the father of our children, create something new...and paint.

A New Year, A New Look...On Life! :)

As you may have noticed (or may not have- I tend to obsess about details...), my blog has a new look and a new name.  Usually I go with bright colors for my design but I loved this image of a bird flying out of it's cage and being FREE!  Even though the textures were distressed and the colors were dark, that really made the beauty of the little bird's freedom even greater.  (Yes, I really do read this deeply into the symbolism of blog templates LOL)

I really felt like that little birdy represented me.  I am very open about the fact that my life has put me in some very dark places.  God challenges and tests all of us to our most fragile extremeties.  If you haven't been there yet, you will.  If you have or are there right now, you are not alone.  I went from happy-Homecoming-Queen-full-ride-scolarship-3.98-GPA-cheerleader-girl to...anorexic-bullemic-on foodstamps-sobbing-and-calling-her-husband-everyday-at-work-suicidal-mother-of-3.  Crazy, huh?  Especially when alcohol and drugs WEREN'T EVEN INVOLVED!!!  And I have an incredibly supportive family!!  But it can happen to anyone.

This life is meant to be a test, a challenge to stretch us farther than we thought possible or even wanted to go.  And I can honestly say now, being on the other side of things, I AM SO GRATEFUL for those experiences.  I know it sounds cliche, but it's true.  I do feel like I can love others more deeply now.  I more empathetic.  I appreciate what I have mroe.  I have greater patience and charity for others, especially those in similar cirumstances.  And I freely express that I think I got off easy, so many people endure daily much more than I had to.

My new outlook on life this year it this- don't expect everything to be perfect before you do what matters most to you.  If  I had waited till I felt this depression-free to really kiss and express love to my husband, he would have been waiting 8 years!  He probably wouldn't have still been around, I don't think I would have.  But through it all, we still were loving and enjoyed the good days as fully as we could, even if that just meant watching a show together on our lumpy couch. :)

I'm so glad I apologized each time I yelled at my kids and read them stories and tucked them in when I felt well enough too.  There were nights mommy put herself on time-out and couldn't last till bedtime with a smile on her face, but I didn't wallow.  Ten minutes later were a new ten minutes that could still hold an I-Love-You for my kids that we all needed.  Things weren't perfect, but they didn't need to be to share love.

"When Life Gets Dark I Look For Stars" is a title I wanted to use for a self-help book with all my stories.  I DO NOT have time energy to be trying to write a book right now (not with 2 home business in the works!) but I am not waiting for that "some day" anymore to share what's helped me physically and emotionally.  I'm not waiting for so-called "perfect" scenarios in which to exercise, cook, clean, write books, write symphonies or anything else!  I'm just going for it now and living now the best way I can, with no regrets, free. 

I may never write a full book, but at least I'll have kept a blog.  I may never perform in a musical again, but at least I'll perform for my kids (BTW if you want to videos of us dancing LOL make sure you are my friend on facebook!) I may never run a marathon, but all the miles I've walked in my living room while watching My Fair Wedding have been great.  I may never have a CD for sale on itunes, but my songs can be on YouTube and that can still help others and be a fun, creative outlet for me.  In other words STOP waiting, and START LIVING!

The only person that can cage you up is you.  But you are also the one that has the key to set you free.

Luv <3 eva="eva" p="p">

Footprints In The Snow

I was looking outside my kitchen window yesterday and feeling a little down.  On Wednesday, the 2nd!, I had already had my official first meltdown of the year.  Ugh.  It felt like no matter how much I tried or how much I taught, demonstrated, lectured, laughed patiently, or explained "punching isn't nice" in a variety of tones, my children were just not learning ANYTHING!

The bedrooms were a mess and any mere suggestion at picking up a dirty sock was met with whines of protest.  The living room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane only there would be no rescue team to help clean up the disaster because they weren't "done finishing their game."  Homework?!  But they just endured 20 minutes of that torture yesterday!  I was starting to feel like a failure as a mother...

And of course all of this was as I ws trying to leave and enjoy my first evening as a Young Women's leader in our church.  I finally got in the car, saying a mental prayer and hoping I could change my mental attitude in the 2 minute drive over...

I must be a terrible mother and teacher because they are not learning anything.

I corrected my thought a little.

I must be a bad teacher because they are not learning very fast.

I corrected it a little more.

I'm teaching them but they are just not learning as fast as I want them to.
But they are only 6 and 5...

And even more.

They are learning little by little and you are doing the best you can.  It's going to be ok.

Fastforward to yesterday.  Looking outside my window I could see little footprints in the snow. 

Most likely they are from our two kittens that must of been tigers in another life.  I had no idea they had bolted and ran in so many places!  Our yard is over an acre and I could see these cute little pairs of prints tracked in loops, zig-zagging through and under play-equipment all over the yard.

I started thinking.  If I could really see my "emotional footprints" or the "developmental footprints" of my kids, I would be AMAZED at the journey we've made so far. 

It's hard to keep track of that progress visually.  Like with our kittens, I don't usually know how much ground those little cats cover.  But with the fresh fallen snow to make prints in their path was clear.  And as I whispered a little prayer of love to my Heavenly Father it was clear to me that my family and I have come along way too.  I felt an overwhelming warmth in my soul, and I knew I could be proud of the efforts I was making as a mother.  I fel calmed, grateful and happy, oh so very happy to be at this place in my life.

A few minutes later snowflakes began to fall again, covering any evidence of footprints with a blanket of white.  And just as quckly, that swell of love in my heart dwindled down to embers again, still burning but just a memory of what they had been. 

Still, I am grateful for that memory and witness that the work I am doing is worth it.  And someday, maybe not in this life but definitely in the next, we will see or own "footprints in the snow."

My Downhill Slide... :( And Uphill Climb!

This week was hard.

It started with the hotdogs and chips they were giving out for free after the 5K.  I knew there would be food, and hotdogs, but I thought there would be some healthy options too.  I also thought one hotdog wouldn't hurt too much if there weren't other healthy options.

So I ate it.  And the chips.  My first mistakes.

Then I had to run errands and only had some granola bars in my purse- good ones, but still a packaged, convenience food that doesn't make my tummy very happy.  My stomach felt worse.

Then I got home to a house of stressed out, whining people.  The contrast from the high-spirited, inspiring event I had just left was drastic and depressing.  But there was a birthday party to get ready for, so it was rush, rush and more food, food, food.  It was easy to think, "I've already had some junk today and ran a lot, so I'm just going to let today be a day off."  A huge slice of cake, bite of cookie, scoop of ice cream and glass of punch later...I felt awful.

I used to be able to eat this and feel fine.  Yes, I was larger but I felt fine.  But my body cannot handle it now.  It had been weeks since I'd been uncomfortably full and now I had felt that way after several meals.  So you'd think I'd start the next day off great, right?

No, I woke up physically ill.  When I didn't eat I was nauseated and when I did eat I still was nauseated.

Monday, the same and another celebration to be part of.  I got my favorite fresh salsa and cucumbers to eat it with and was checking out when BAM!  I saw a sale!  Tortilla chips, Gluten Free, two bags for $3.  I grabbed a couple so other people could enjoy the salsa too.  Of course, I ended up eating most of the first bag.

Leslie Sansone (yes, from the cheezy DVDS where you can walk miles in your living room) says "One good decision leads to another."  I totally believe that!  You eat a good breakfast and you want to eat a good lunch.  You get a good workout and you want to fill yourself with healthy fuel.

But it's important for me to remember the converse of this too.  For me, One bad decision leads to another.  Do you think I wanted to exercise on the days I ate poorly and the days after when I felt sick?  No way.  The only thing that kept me kind of going was remembering that my Dad would want me to make the most of each day I have with my body and if he had the chance he would take the walk.

So my weigh in wasn't a gain...

But it wasn't much of a loss either.

Still, I took that small loss as a blessing and moved forward with it.  My family (kids and hubby and sometimes dogs) and I have taken walks four evenings this past week.  I took a morning walk wearing Sam on my back and pushing Michael in the stroller and saw goats!  Then we had to do the walk again so the whole family could see goats! 

 We've played at the park and stayed active and I'm grateful for that. 

But I am going to remember Jillian Michael's quote more:  Self-control is overrated.

On the show The Biggest Loser there's an episode where they're at a restaurant.  When she see's what someone on her team ordered she dumps an entire salt shaker on his plate so he can't eat it.  Well, I know now that if I have it around me I will take that one bite to "give it a try" or "just have a little and not be too healthy", and then I will take one bite more and then another and another.

Lab rats in experiments have proven it!  They will walk across hot metal plates to get to sweet and salty foods even when they aren't hungry, while the starving rats won't walk across those same hot plates for bland food.  The level of dedication to get that processed sweet or salty food was almost as high as the addicted rats trying to get to their cocaine (from The End Of Overeating.)  Our bodies are programed to want that flavor and the best way I've found to avoid it is to AVOID IT! :)

So here I am avoiding it...  That other bag of tortilla chips is going to be part of my work out as I jump rope on top of it and crush it to pieces. :)

More about the Angel Walk tomorrow!  Happy Friday!  If you're eating out try Subway or Blimpies like Chad and I did tonight  and "Eat Fresh"! LOL   Love, Eva

Messes? Stress? Kids? Exercise ANYWAY...

I can recall severall times, just in the past few weeks, when I've tried making a healthy choice and something else has gone wrong.

On my first early morning run it was FREEZING outside. I ran back in my house to find something to bundle up with quickly because I only had 20 minutes before my husband left for work around 6:15 AM and I wanted to get in a decent jog. I grabbed the first warm things I could find: my son's Lighting McQueen beanie and my daughte's bright magenta, glittery scarf. Throw in my husband's hoodie which I was already wearing and I looked like a candidate for What Not To Wear. Good thing it was pitch black. But because it was pitch black (there wasn't street lighting on country roads) I could only jog as far as our floodlight on the driveway and back over and over again. On the second lap I woke up our dogs who wouldn't stop barking at me. Not my finest exercise hour. :) But I still did it!

Other times, while safely exercising inside to a DVD I've had to deal with my youngest (who is crawling) overturning a trashcan that had been left out and emptying and playing with the insides of an entire brand new box of Cheerios. On that second one I let him have at it while I finished my workout. And I am getting stronger.

Last night I sat to type and found out after blogging that a plate with ketchup had landed face down on the carpet. My kids had decided to keep watching their show and not tell me about it until I walked in the room. By then Sam (my crawler) had found it and had given most of the mess a good rub down with his shirt, pants and face. Not my finest mommying hour. But I was happy I posted and we cleaned it up and learned together.

There have also been great times. On Saturday as I jogged with my 4 year-old in the stroller he was thrilled to hear "Beat It" and then "Everybody Dance Now" on Pandora (definitely earning me some points on the mommy-coolness scale.) He danced and I danced while I pushed him. Good times!

Another day I was jumping on and off my exercise step. My daughter faced me while standing on the other side of it and jumped on too every time I jumped off. I didn't even ask her too but she was there for me. Her grin kept me going for WAY more jumps than I would have gone on my own.

My point is there are going to be challenges. There are going to be days that we want to give up. Even just writing this post I've been interrupted and have had to stop three times to take care of my family. The day that Michael and I heard those songs when we were jogging I almost didn't go out because I was feeling so sad and just didn't want to. But I knew inside that I wouldn't regret it, because I'VE NEVER REGRETTED A WORKOUT. But I have regretted missing one.

That same jog ended with him grumpy because I told him to not ram his toy sword into the front wheel of the stroller and he didn't like that... :) But I exercised anyway and I have at least one good memory from it. Even if I hadn't, I would know that I had done something for my health and my family which is more important than if I'm enjoying it. So exercise anyway! Eat healthy anyway! Keep trying anyway because you may not get where you want to as fast as you'd like to, but at least you are still on the journey...

I heard this song for the first time years ago, but it still gets to me so I thought I would share it with you. Make it a great week! I love you for reading and keeping me going! Gotta go be Mommy now. :) Love, Eva

http://www.vevo.com/watch/martina-mcbride/anyway/USRV50700009

Feeling The NEED For SPEED and Health...

So, it's been a while since I've written. That's because it's been a while since I've done anything. In the last week I think I've managed just 2 partial-credit-workouts because I am SICK. Even in writing these few sentences I've already had to get up once to grab a tissue.

I have been SO SUPER SICK, it's not even funny. My dirty laundry pile is starting to creep and extend out of the laundry room, and is threatening to take over my kitchen. I smell worse than I look, if that's possible... My husband watched the kids so I could nap yesterday and I was out cold from 2 to 7! Which is crazy since taking naps is usually very difficult for me. But I knew I needed to take the opportunity to rest and try to recooperate. I serioulsy have not even had the energy for these little fingers to dance on the keyboard and write, I've been so out of it.

What's my point? I am so grateful that usually I am healthy enough to exercise. We don't have a gym membership or a lap pool in the backyard, but I have my health, body and enough motivation to get me going (usually.) I'm praying that tomorrow I will be recovered enough to at least enjoy a brisk walk because I am missing the exhilaration of jumping, running, lunging, feeling the burn of a good workout! Our bodies are so incredible! If there's anything I take for granted, it's my general, regular health.

If I can say I'm over this cold tomorrow it would almost be an insult to do a weigh-in, because honestly, I should just be thankful for that. So, if you have the OK from your doctor and you're feeling healthy enough, take advantage of it and enjoy some exercise! It's the best gift you could give yourself today... :)

Just "Not Feeling It" Yesterday...

Sorry I didn't write yesterday. I woke up with a terrible headcold which I blame on all the germs my daughter is bringing back from kindergarten, my midnight (and 2 AM and 5 AM) playdates with Samuel, and running out of my multi-vitamin last week and not replacing it yet. Kmart! Here I come!

I buy my vitamins at Kmart because they have a rewards program. It doesn't give you a whole lot of money back, but at the price vitamins are I figure something is better than nothing. They also carry vitamins with the USP seal which is important. From www.livestrong.com:

U.S. Pharmacopeia, USP, is an organization that provides quality testing and monitoring of dietary supplements. If all tests pass, then the supplement company can display a USP seal of approval on the label, packaging, and marketing materials of that dietary supplement. It also provides you with a quick and easy way to make an informed decision about which supplement brand to choose. All you have to do is look for the USP seal of approval to know if a particular vitamin supplement contains true and accurate information.

Read more: http://www.livestrong.com/article/366173-what-does-usp-mean-on-vitamin-supplements/#ixzz1prFIBiub

I've heard the NSF or CL seals work too, but I haven't researched those. ANYWAY, even though I try to eat a balanced diet I make sure I take a basic Women's multi-vitamin, Super B-Complex and Magnesium/Zinc/Calcium/D to stabilize my mood and it's really been helping. I'm looking forward to adding Omega 3 to my arsenal too! My husband has started taking the Super B-Complex and it's really been helping him too. The pills don't replace a healthy diet, but to me, they help fill in the gaps.

BUT, yesterday was rough. I was annoyed with all the people dropping double-digits on my shows. Everything I wanted to eat was eaither super-acidic and killing my already rug-burned feeling throat(tomato soup, pineapple chuncks, oranges...) or full of carbs (pasta, cookies, muffins...) I tried walking and I felt dizzy because of all the fluids in my head (and the rest of my body- still on my period!) And since my kids are sick too they were ALL home. Lovely.

But by the end of the night I did 20 sittups, push-ups and plank balance exercises, some lunges, leg lifts and other pilates moves that were low-impact. I'm happy that exercising is a habit now. It's not by any means compulsive. I didn't kill myself with my workout because I knew I wasn't feeling well. But I did something, and as my Dad always said as I headed out the door on days I had tests "Something is better than nothing! Take the partial credit!"

So I took the partial credit, feel proud of myself, and you know what? Things really do look better in the morning...I'm excited to see what today brings and what I BRING to TODAY! -Eva