From my other blog, I'll Have a Cupcake, and French Fries for Dessert.
Knocked up. :) That is what has kept me from my weight loss efforts. And since the focus of this blog was on weight loss, I haven't felt much to blog about. Sorry for the absence, and I hope I haven't lost too many readers.
Pregnancy is not for wimps, by any means. I wasn't in the greatest shape when I got pregnant, but I don't know how those women who maintain their workouts throughout pregnancy do it. I guess they must be the ones who aren't cursed with wretched 1st trimester nausea and food aversions. Because, it was all I could do for the first 16 weeks of my pregnancy to just get out of bed and eat something that wasn't macaroni and cheese or mashed potatoes. Anything else made me want to yak.
They say you can safely maintain your current level of activity during pregnancy, but what if I abandoned my current level of activity due to nausea? I didn't feel comfortable picking back up at 20 weeks with my pre-pregnancy 2 mile jogs. . .
So I've walked and done some water exercises. I'm not any where near being as fit as I would like to be by the time delivery rolls around, and I don't feel comfortable increasing my activity level at this point, 30 weeks. I guess I'll have to just do the best I can.
However, apparently my weight is an issue. Grr. I thought this was the one time in my life I shouldn't have to worry about my weight every day.
I was about 25 pounds over my ideal weight when I got pregnant. Not the ideal situation, but not a situation I thought I couldn't live with. Pregnancy was not an accident. I had just decided that if I wait until I get to an ideal weight to get pregnant, just to turn around and have to lose it all again, I would probably never have children. And I feel like, at 30 weeks, my cumulative weight gain of 24 pounds is not horrendous. Again, not ideal, since I was shooting to only gain 25 the entire pregnancy, but still not unmanageable.
My doctor disagrees.
I've worked pretty hard at controlling my eating to try to keep my weight gain to a healthy minimum. I had one bad month, where I ate out of stress and indulged more than I should have. But I left that month's appointment feeling like the biggest cow ever. And the following month's appointment, where I gained half of what I had gained the previous month, was no better. No "this was much better. You still need to watch it, but much better." Just, "do I really need to lecture you about your weight again?"
Let me tell you, as someone who has stressed over her weight for 10 years now: this was not what I needed to hear.
I now obsess over every bite I put in my mouth. If I give in and eat a doughnut on a Friday, I cry after. I beg people to buy a pack of Zingers and let me have a half of one. (I wish I could say I had made that up. I've done it twice.)
And if I have to eat another apple today, which I don't particularly like in the first place, I'm going to scream.
So, that's what has been keeping me from this blog for so long. Since my weight has now become an issue during the one time in my life I thought maybe it wouldn't have to be, I will probably blog more now.
Until next time. . . anyone have any Zingers?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Things I’ve Learned From my Dogs, Part 2.
This will probably be the last installment of Things I've Learned from my Dogs. Neglected, but not Forgotten, I've accepted that my dogs aren't quite the philosophical force I wanted them to be, and I struggled to come up with these last few things. I'm sure I will learn more from them in the future, but I will probably just post those things on Twitter/Facebook.
1. Let the other guy win now and then. Then, when you really want to win, his guard will be down
2. There is nothing better for itchy eyes than someone’s brand new pants. Especially if the person is wearing them and about to walk out the door.
3. Always watch eagerly for family and friends to arrive at your home. It makes them feel doubly welcome.
4. A squeaky wheel may get grease, but a yippy, high-pitched bark will get one let inside much faster.
5. If you can make a person laugh, they will probably give you anything you want.
6. Chin down, eyes up. Look pathetic.
7. Bark softly, and carry a big toy.
1. Let the other guy win now and then. Then, when you really want to win, his guard will be down
2. There is nothing better for itchy eyes than someone’s brand new pants. Especially if the person is wearing them and about to walk out the door.
3. Always watch eagerly for family and friends to arrive at your home. It makes them feel doubly welcome.
4. A squeaky wheel may get grease, but a yippy, high-pitched bark will get one let inside much faster.
5. If you can make a person laugh, they will probably give you anything you want.
6. Chin down, eyes up. Look pathetic.
7. Bark softly, and carry a big toy.
The Conclusion of La Saga del Arroz . . . Loosely Translated to "Rice Drama."
I confess to being the worst blogger, ever. It's not that I haven't wanted to, it's just that I haven't really had anything I felt worthy of posting (read: that anyone would want to read.) Most of the eventful happenings lately have been sufficiently summed up in 140 characters or less, and therefore posted on Facebook and Twitter.
However, I am not starting my second week of vacation, and with a nightmarish amount of housecleaning and several trips to stores for exchanges ahead of me, I suddenly want to blog more than anything else.
So, the update/conclusion of the Saga of the Rice. (You can find the back story here: A White Girl's Mexican Fiesta and here: How to Make Rice, Courtesy of Facebook)
The Saga del Arroz continued on well past the September attempt. I tried my microwave rice cooker multiple times. It's crap. I got a bagful of boil in bag rice, microwave rice, Minute Rice, etc. for my birthday from a wonderful friend. (And a really great smelling candle!) Not that the rice wasn't appreciated, and it has in fact all been used up. But it just doesn't taste the same. Plus, this was far beyond just making rice for me. Oh, yes, this was now about my pride! I mean, really, is rice really that hard? (Yes.) Who can't make rice? (Lots of people, I keep telling myself.) I refused to be owned by that tiny little grain! (Though deep down, I knew I ultimately would be.)
The microwave rice cooker has been tossed in the trash. I guess I could have kept it to steam vegetables with, but they make microwave bags for that. And unlike rice, they do taste the same! I now have a shiny new plug in rice cooker, courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law. I'm sure the motivation was purely genuine, though I'm sure a little ironic snickering went on, too. (You guys know I'm right!)
So today, I pulled it out, cleaned it and tried it for the first time. Followed the instructions EXACTLY. (Not that I hadn't the times before, but. . . well. . . ) Measured the rice with the little cup that came with the cooker (really, World, why can't we just all get on the same measuring system?) (Did you know there are even different Metric Systems??? No lie. Click here and scroll down if you don't believe me.)
Rinsed and soaked my rice (I used brown), plugged it in and waited. When I walked by 30 minutes later and it was done, I panicked. I always had to cook brown rice on the stove top for an hour, and it STILL came out undercooked! But I waited 5 more minutes because the directions said to (and I wasn't sure exactly when it finished cooking) and I texted my sister and my friend to tell them that in 5 minutes I would either be eating perfect rice, or posting yet another failure story in which I admit complete and utter defeat, resigning myself to Minute Rice for the rest of my life. (Which is fine, but we like to fry rice, and Minute Rice just doesn't hold up as well.)
I opened the cooker, and BOO-YAH!!! PERFECT RICE!! PERFECT RICE!! PERRRRRRRRRFEEEEEEEECT RIIIIIIIIIIICE!!!!!!!!!! YOU'VE BEEN OWNED, RICE!! BY ME!! BY ME!! HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL, TO BE OWNED BY THE WORST COOK EVERRRRRRRRRRR!!!
Crap. Now what am I going to write about?
However, I am not starting my second week of vacation, and with a nightmarish amount of housecleaning and several trips to stores for exchanges ahead of me, I suddenly want to blog more than anything else.
So, the update/conclusion of the Saga of the Rice. (You can find the back story here: A White Girl's Mexican Fiesta and here: How to Make Rice, Courtesy of Facebook)
The Saga del Arroz continued on well past the September attempt. I tried my microwave rice cooker multiple times. It's crap. I got a bagful of boil in bag rice, microwave rice, Minute Rice, etc. for my birthday from a wonderful friend. (And a really great smelling candle!) Not that the rice wasn't appreciated, and it has in fact all been used up. But it just doesn't taste the same. Plus, this was far beyond just making rice for me. Oh, yes, this was now about my pride! I mean, really, is rice really that hard? (Yes.) Who can't make rice? (Lots of people, I keep telling myself.) I refused to be owned by that tiny little grain! (Though deep down, I knew I ultimately would be.)
The microwave rice cooker has been tossed in the trash. I guess I could have kept it to steam vegetables with, but they make microwave bags for that. And unlike rice, they do taste the same! I now have a shiny new plug in rice cooker, courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law. I'm sure the motivation was purely genuine, though I'm sure a little ironic snickering went on, too. (You guys know I'm right!)
So today, I pulled it out, cleaned it and tried it for the first time. Followed the instructions EXACTLY. (Not that I hadn't the times before, but. . . well. . . ) Measured the rice with the little cup that came with the cooker (really, World, why can't we just all get on the same measuring system?) (Did you know there are even different Metric Systems??? No lie. Click here and scroll down if you don't believe me.)
Rinsed and soaked my rice (I used brown), plugged it in and waited. When I walked by 30 minutes later and it was done, I panicked. I always had to cook brown rice on the stove top for an hour, and it STILL came out undercooked! But I waited 5 more minutes because the directions said to (and I wasn't sure exactly when it finished cooking) and I texted my sister and my friend to tell them that in 5 minutes I would either be eating perfect rice, or posting yet another failure story in which I admit complete and utter defeat, resigning myself to Minute Rice for the rest of my life. (Which is fine, but we like to fry rice, and Minute Rice just doesn't hold up as well.)
I opened the cooker, and BOO-YAH!!! PERFECT RICE!! PERFECT RICE!! PERRRRRRRRRFEEEEEEEECT RIIIIIIIIIIICE!!!!!!!!!! YOU'VE BEEN OWNED, RICE!! BY ME!! BY ME!! HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL, TO BE OWNED BY THE WORST COOK EVERRRRRRRRRRR!!!
Crap. Now what am I going to write about?
How to Make Rice, According to Facebook. . .
I am about to actually write a blog post for the first time in half a year, but some people may need the back story behind it. Since not all of my readers are Facebook users (and since my profile is private, they wouldn't be able to see the exchange), I am posting the back story below. (The format is a little off. I haven't figured out how to capture a screenshot of a scrolling window on my Mac, so Cut and Paste had to do.)
(Cut and Paste wound up being a bigger pain than I thought, as I still had to go back, out of courtesy for my friends and family, and delete last names and other identifying info, such as photos.)
For the back-back-story, click here: A White Girl's Mexican Fiesta
(Cut and Paste wound up being a bigger pain than I thought, as I still had to go back, out of courtesy for my friends and family, and delete last names and other identifying info, such as photos.)
For the back-back-story, click here: A White Girl's Mexican Fiesta
September 13 at 5:16pm · Custom: loading... · ·
Phouvanh Do you have a rice cooker? If you don't than use a regular pot. How ever much rice you want to cook make sure filled about 1/2 or 3/4 inches of water above the rice. Use your pointing finger to measure. If the water is between 1st and 2nd line of your finger than it should be good. When the rice absort all the water then low the heat and keep the pot covered at all time so the steam cook the rice. Make sure you check it often to see if the rice is cooked to your satisfaction.
September 13 at 5:32pm ·
Leslie ClarkMarc- two steps (glasses) ahead of you. :)
Emily- I'm out and we are broke until Wednesday. I failed in "planning ahead." ;)
Wanh- I love the thought of coming and getting it from you. I know you haven't been my Facebook friend long, but ...my stories about failed attempts at rice (and pretty much any cooking) are legendary. I'll try again with your tips. I have one of those microwave rice cookers, but I bet you are talking about the really cool ones that plug in, aren't you? my stories about failed attempts at rice (and pretty much any cooking) are legendary. I'll try again with your tips. I have one of those microwave rice cookers, but I bet you are talking about the really cool ones that plug in, aren't you?
September 13 at 5:39pm ·
Leslie Clark Ummm. . . does Pei Wei qualify as actual Asian? I didn't know they would sell just rice. Of course, being 2 days before payday, I can't do that, either. That's why I'm stuck with the regular bag rice. . . all we have left!!
September 13 at 6:18pm ·
Leslie Clark Tosha, rice is my holy Grail. There is no way I will go to my grave having failed to ever cook it properly. Though it seems to be coming out ok so far. I'll let you know!
September 13 at 6:34pm ·
Leslie ClarkWell, it definitely is my best effort yet! The problem is that the husband didn't believe the steam would cook it and kept turning the stove off when I wasn't looking. He thought it was going to burn. But it cooked evenly (never had that... happen) and was still edible, if a little al dente. :)
Wanh- here are my questions for next time: 1- do you ever stir the rice? 2- Is it possible to boil too much of the water out before you turn the heat down? Or do I want the water pretty much gone?
Audrey- It was literally a last minute decision. I had been planning to make potatoes before I discovered they had gone bad! But I am for sure going to try again this week.
September 13 at 7:30pm ·
Audrey well, let me know and I will come over.
September 13 at 7:33pm ·- Tosha Ill have to try those tricks...I only tried rice once and it was awful..the hubby was nice enough to lie and tell me it was good...but i thought it was terrible.
September 13 at 7:35pm ·
Monday, June 28, 2010
Health and Fitness Blog
I mentioned months ago that I was starting a 2nd blog devoted solely to my efforts to be fit and healthy again. That blog is not linked to my Facebook as this one is, but I thought I would post the link to the latest post to my 2nd blog here to share: http://frenchfryloveaffair.blogspot.com/2010/06/new-plan-of-attack.html
Monday, June 14, 2010
Just Random Thoughts. . .
I FINALLY shook a chest cold I've been fighting since April and got to head out in my new running shoes. I HATE having to start from scratch with exercise, but I sure felt better, even though my stats weren't very good according to my standards. I jogged one mile, and then wogged (walk+jog- thanks Audrey!) the mile back. Took me 26 minutes. Again, not very impressive according to my standards for myself, but 2 more miles than I have walked or jogged in one set period in a long time. I'm sure part of the problem over the last two months is that I would wait until I almost felt well enough to run, go ahead and run, and then end up sick again.
Forcing myself to start off slowly has been the hardest part. Being a former athlete, I still have a hard time ridding myself of that "nothing less than 110%" attitude that coaches force down your throat. It is hard to learn as I get older that my body's 110% isn't the same now as it was 15 years ago, or even 8 months ago, so every time I start an activity I have to force myself to go slower than I think I should.
Of course, I was pumped to get up this morning and discover a high of 77, meaning I could actually go for an afternoon, outdoor run. (My motivation issues include not liking to run on a treadmill, and being a dreadfully NON-morning person.) When I started my run, it was clouded over and sprinkling, and I was STOKED! Of course, about 1 minute and 6 houses into my run, the clouds passed over and the rain stopped, leaving the sun to beat down on my for the rest of my session. But still FAR, FAR better than 97 degrees in direct sun.
Now I just have to remember to EASE back into this so I don't end up sick again.
Forcing myself to start off slowly has been the hardest part. Being a former athlete, I still have a hard time ridding myself of that "nothing less than 110%" attitude that coaches force down your throat. It is hard to learn as I get older that my body's 110% isn't the same now as it was 15 years ago, or even 8 months ago, so every time I start an activity I have to force myself to go slower than I think I should.
Of course, I was pumped to get up this morning and discover a high of 77, meaning I could actually go for an afternoon, outdoor run. (My motivation issues include not liking to run on a treadmill, and being a dreadfully NON-morning person.) When I started my run, it was clouded over and sprinkling, and I was STOKED! Of course, about 1 minute and 6 houses into my run, the clouds passed over and the rain stopped, leaving the sun to beat down on my for the rest of my session. But still FAR, FAR better than 97 degrees in direct sun.
Now I just have to remember to EASE back into this so I don't end up sick again.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
A White Girl's Mexican Fiesta. . .
All weekend I have been looking forward to my dinner plans for tonight.
I had planned to make an authentic Mexican dinner: homemade tortillas, homemade Mexican rice, homemade salsa, and tacos, all of which I have done before, just not usually in one evening. (Let's not get carried away. . . I buy Old El Paso taco seasoning in the big shaker jar.)
So I come straight home from work and begin the process. I will skip the boring details and just tell you that it is now 8:15, I've still had no dinner, and Mexicans everywhere are shaking their heads at me.
The tortillas are useless. I rolled them too thin which caused them to cook way to fast. They taste good, but are more like chips than tortillas. Not very conducive for tacos.
The salsa either has too much of something or is missing something. Not sure which.
I should never be allowed to cook any kind of rice other than Minute Rice. When I try to use "real" rice, I screw it up every single time. Somehow, I always manage to get half of it cooked, but then I run out of moisture before the other half cooks. The weird thing is that when I say "half," I don't mean "left/right" half, or "top/bottom" half. It is all mixed together, as in if you put a spoonful in your mouth, half of it will be cooked and half of it will still be hard. If anyone can figure out how I do this, I welcome tips.
The final straw was the taco meat. At 7:50 I discovered, much to my dismay, that we are out of Old El Paso taco seasoning. I am unsure how that happened. That is a staple I always make sure we have. Anyway, I scrambled to my computer and found a mix of seasonings for tacos that was rated 5 stars out of 5 by over 1600 people. As I'm happily stirring my spices into the meat, thinking I have for sure found something WAY better than taco seasoning, I taste it and discover it is not even close.
0 for 4. And the husband is getting us tacos from Rosa's. :(
So, there you go. My yearly attempt to cook. See you next March!
I had planned to make an authentic Mexican dinner: homemade tortillas, homemade Mexican rice, homemade salsa, and tacos, all of which I have done before, just not usually in one evening. (Let's not get carried away. . . I buy Old El Paso taco seasoning in the big shaker jar.)
So I come straight home from work and begin the process. I will skip the boring details and just tell you that it is now 8:15, I've still had no dinner, and Mexicans everywhere are shaking their heads at me.
The tortillas are useless. I rolled them too thin which caused them to cook way to fast. They taste good, but are more like chips than tortillas. Not very conducive for tacos.
The salsa either has too much of something or is missing something. Not sure which.
I should never be allowed to cook any kind of rice other than Minute Rice. When I try to use "real" rice, I screw it up every single time. Somehow, I always manage to get half of it cooked, but then I run out of moisture before the other half cooks. The weird thing is that when I say "half," I don't mean "left/right" half, or "top/bottom" half. It is all mixed together, as in if you put a spoonful in your mouth, half of it will be cooked and half of it will still be hard. If anyone can figure out how I do this, I welcome tips.
The final straw was the taco meat. At 7:50 I discovered, much to my dismay, that we are out of Old El Paso taco seasoning. I am unsure how that happened. That is a staple I always make sure we have. Anyway, I scrambled to my computer and found a mix of seasonings for tacos that was rated 5 stars out of 5 by over 1600 people. As I'm happily stirring my spices into the meat, thinking I have for sure found something WAY better than taco seasoning, I taste it and discover it is not even close.
0 for 4. And the husband is getting us tacos from Rosa's. :(
So, there you go. My yearly attempt to cook. See you next March!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Adventures of Closet Dog. . .
I swear, this dog. . . She is going to be the end of me. She better be glad that I find her so funny, and that she is so lovable when she isn't being a neurotic head case, because I know a lot of people that would have kicked her to the curb by now.
This dog used to beat me down to get outside. If she heard me so much as touch the doorknob to the back door, she came running, and lord help me if I was in her way. Then, for some reason a year and a half ago, she just wouldn't go anymore. I opened the back door and cleared out of the way for her and she came running like always, but came to a dead halt at the door way, looked at me, and started backing up. It was so strange!
Ever since then, she will not go outside unless either: a- one of us goes with her. b- we throw her out.
But the dog LOVES to be outside! If we go with her, she romps and plays and chases squirrels and barks at the runners across the street just like she used to. And we figured out that if we can get her out and then leave the door cracked, she knows we aren't leaving and she will do the same. But if she thinks we are leaving. . . oh, you would think we were trying to trap her in a room full of fire breathing, razor backed horses or something.
In the mornings, we have to LITERALLY throw her out. Now, this dog is small framed for a German shepherd, but she still weights a good 65 pounds. So this is the process we have to go through. I walk outside with her while Bill waits at the door. There is no chance of me beating her back in the house. (Trust me, I have tried every way possible.) So when I walk toward the door, Bill is there to catch her and not let her back in. The trick is getting her far enough away from the door that we can get the door closed without closing it on her. This is not easy, as she is the fastest large dog I have ever seen. (She caught a mouse once. Another story.) So what happens is he holds her while I get in the house around her. Then one of us takes her by the chest and shoves her slightly up and out so that she backs up on her hind legs, and is off balance enough that we can get the door shut, and all she can do is give us the, "Why do you hate me?" look.
Now if you ever see this look, don't let it fool you. As soon as she sees us heading out the door, she runs and plays. She didn't hear me come back in the house one morning when I forgot something because she was chasing a bird. Uh-huh. I've busted her act.
So anyway, when it is time to go out in the mornings, now, she hides. Yes, she hides. It used to be in pretty obvious places, like on her bed in the back bedroom or in the bathroom. One morning, though, I checked all of the normal places and she wasn't in any of them. I called her but she wouldn't come. I finally found her in the back bedroom closet. Of course she rolled over on her back and went all limp when I tried to haul her out.
You should see Bill try to carry a 65 pound German shepherd who has gone completely limp like a 5 year old.
I think if dogs could roll their eyes, Abbey would be every morning.
This dog used to beat me down to get outside. If she heard me so much as touch the doorknob to the back door, she came running, and lord help me if I was in her way. Then, for some reason a year and a half ago, she just wouldn't go anymore. I opened the back door and cleared out of the way for her and she came running like always, but came to a dead halt at the door way, looked at me, and started backing up. It was so strange!
Ever since then, she will not go outside unless either: a- one of us goes with her. b- we throw her out.
But the dog LOVES to be outside! If we go with her, she romps and plays and chases squirrels and barks at the runners across the street just like she used to. And we figured out that if we can get her out and then leave the door cracked, she knows we aren't leaving and she will do the same. But if she thinks we are leaving. . . oh, you would think we were trying to trap her in a room full of fire breathing, razor backed horses or something.
In the mornings, we have to LITERALLY throw her out. Now, this dog is small framed for a German shepherd, but she still weights a good 65 pounds. So this is the process we have to go through. I walk outside with her while Bill waits at the door. There is no chance of me beating her back in the house. (Trust me, I have tried every way possible.) So when I walk toward the door, Bill is there to catch her and not let her back in. The trick is getting her far enough away from the door that we can get the door closed without closing it on her. This is not easy, as she is the fastest large dog I have ever seen. (She caught a mouse once. Another story.) So what happens is he holds her while I get in the house around her. Then one of us takes her by the chest and shoves her slightly up and out so that she backs up on her hind legs, and is off balance enough that we can get the door shut, and all she can do is give us the, "Why do you hate me?" look.
Now if you ever see this look, don't let it fool you. As soon as she sees us heading out the door, she runs and plays. She didn't hear me come back in the house one morning when I forgot something because she was chasing a bird. Uh-huh. I've busted her act.
So anyway, when it is time to go out in the mornings, now, she hides. Yes, she hides. It used to be in pretty obvious places, like on her bed in the back bedroom or in the bathroom. One morning, though, I checked all of the normal places and she wasn't in any of them. I called her but she wouldn't come. I finally found her in the back bedroom closet. Of course she rolled over on her back and went all limp when I tried to haul her out.
You should see Bill try to carry a 65 pound German shepherd who has gone completely limp like a 5 year old.
I think if dogs could roll their eyes, Abbey would be every morning.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
2010. . . Whatever.
For the link to my actual blog: http://ldclark12.blogspot.com
Well, here I am again, writing the third annual Leslie Clark Year-in-Review. I don't know what spurred me to begin this tradition, but now I feel obligated to keep it up. It is interesting to go back and look over how things have changed.
10 years ago today I was halfway to college graduation, partying in with college friends with no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
5 years ago today I was preparing to be engaged, 4 years into my teaching my career, and already questioning whether I would be able to continue teaching until retirement.
2 years ago today I had begun a Master's degree fully preparing to leave education.
Today I have a Master's degree that I am not using, I'm still in education, and I still don't know what I want to do with my life. All I know is that I have great family and great friends.
I think I want to be a Yoga or Pilates instructor. But that's another blog post.
There really isn't much to reflect on this year. Other than one major event, it has been a very quiet year. It has been a year of healing, however, and a year of learning to let go, of learning that I don't have to have all of the answers, even if I think I do. It has been a year of great disillusionment as I've seen many things that aren't as they appear to be, or how I think they should be. It has been a year of wondering and questioning and doubting. "The year of the Mustard Seed," I like to call it.
It doesn't even really feel like a new year is about to roll over. It just feels like I am in this place of waiting, the place Dr. Seuss warned us all about. I have no idea what I'm really waiting for. Well, waiting for someone to show up and spontaneously clean my house, of course. Who isn't? But also waiting for something else. Something big.
Last year I made a pledge to take a great big step out in faith. Well, I did, and it wound up being the most painful think I have ever had to endure. I'm sure I will take the same step this new year when the time comes, but I don't know if I will be able to take it as eagerly as I did before.
It is also the time for making a bunch of promises to myself I probably won't keep. Really, whose bright idea was the "New Year's Resolution?" So in order to make myself feel less guilty when these promises fall on their respective faces, I will not be making a list of "New Year's Resolutions" this year. Instead, I will be making a list of "New Year's Intentions."
1. I intend to get myself back in shape, in shape enough that I can run 10 miles without stopping. Not in any specific time, but just do it. I discovered this year that I would rather just run and run and run rather than try to finish a set distance or run for a set amount of time. So the number 10 is arbitrary, but I feel like I have to put a number in the intention somewhere.
2. I intend to renew my relationship with God. I spent the better part of 2009 being mad at him, but I know I need him. Some will call me weak for this, and that's ok.
3. I intend to find a way to work with children, whether it be volunteering somewhere, getting back into a classroom, or SOMETHING. I MISS KIDS.
I think I'm going to stop with just those three right now. But I've also been thinking about things I would like to do before I die. Don't really know why I've been thinking these things. Probably just bored with vacation. No, that can't be it. . . but here are some of the things I've come up with:
1. Get my dogs trained and certified for Love on a Leash. (Claire and Chelsey, you can stop laughing anytime now.)
2. Sit in the live audience of Saturday Night Live.
3. Go to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.
4. Go to Spain, Italy, Austrailia, and Ireland.
5. Live ANYWHERE but here. At least for awhile!
6. Own a Wrangler/ Rubicon again. (I miss mine so much!!)
7. Be debt free.
8. Backpack from coast to coast.
9. Go back to Vegas and ride EVERY roller coaster.
10. Go to Walt Disney World.
11. Go to Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks.
That's it so far. I think there were others, but I can't remember them. That's what I get for not writing them down!
Thank you to those who choose to share in my narcissistic blogging about all things me. :) I hope you all have a wonderful, safe, and reflective New Year's Eve, and a Happy New Year's Day. May your new year be filled with blessings, and may it not take you until April to stop dating things 2009. :)
Here's to 2010. . . Whatever.
Peace,
Leslie
Well, here I am again, writing the third annual Leslie Clark Year-in-Review. I don't know what spurred me to begin this tradition, but now I feel obligated to keep it up. It is interesting to go back and look over how things have changed.
10 years ago today I was halfway to college graduation, partying in with college friends with no idea what I wanted to do with my life.
5 years ago today I was preparing to be engaged, 4 years into my teaching my career, and already questioning whether I would be able to continue teaching until retirement.
2 years ago today I had begun a Master's degree fully preparing to leave education.
Today I have a Master's degree that I am not using, I'm still in education, and I still don't know what I want to do with my life. All I know is that I have great family and great friends.
I think I want to be a Yoga or Pilates instructor. But that's another blog post.
There really isn't much to reflect on this year. Other than one major event, it has been a very quiet year. It has been a year of healing, however, and a year of learning to let go, of learning that I don't have to have all of the answers, even if I think I do. It has been a year of great disillusionment as I've seen many things that aren't as they appear to be, or how I think they should be. It has been a year of wondering and questioning and doubting. "The year of the Mustard Seed," I like to call it.
It doesn't even really feel like a new year is about to roll over. It just feels like I am in this place of waiting, the place Dr. Seuss warned us all about. I have no idea what I'm really waiting for. Well, waiting for someone to show up and spontaneously clean my house, of course. Who isn't? But also waiting for something else. Something big.
Last year I made a pledge to take a great big step out in faith. Well, I did, and it wound up being the most painful think I have ever had to endure. I'm sure I will take the same step this new year when the time comes, but I don't know if I will be able to take it as eagerly as I did before.
It is also the time for making a bunch of promises to myself I probably won't keep. Really, whose bright idea was the "New Year's Resolution?" So in order to make myself feel less guilty when these promises fall on their respective faces, I will not be making a list of "New Year's Resolutions" this year. Instead, I will be making a list of "New Year's Intentions."
1. I intend to get myself back in shape, in shape enough that I can run 10 miles without stopping. Not in any specific time, but just do it. I discovered this year that I would rather just run and run and run rather than try to finish a set distance or run for a set amount of time. So the number 10 is arbitrary, but I feel like I have to put a number in the intention somewhere.
2. I intend to renew my relationship with God. I spent the better part of 2009 being mad at him, but I know I need him. Some will call me weak for this, and that's ok.
3. I intend to find a way to work with children, whether it be volunteering somewhere, getting back into a classroom, or SOMETHING. I MISS KIDS.
I think I'm going to stop with just those three right now. But I've also been thinking about things I would like to do before I die. Don't really know why I've been thinking these things. Probably just bored with vacation. No, that can't be it. . . but here are some of the things I've come up with:
1. Get my dogs trained and certified for Love on a Leash. (Claire and Chelsey, you can stop laughing anytime now.)
2. Sit in the live audience of Saturday Night Live.
3. Go to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.
4. Go to Spain, Italy, Austrailia, and Ireland.
5. Live ANYWHERE but here. At least for awhile!
6. Own a Wrangler/ Rubicon again. (I miss mine so much!!)
7. Be debt free.
8. Backpack from coast to coast.
9. Go back to Vegas and ride EVERY roller coaster.
10. Go to Walt Disney World.
11. Go to Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks.
That's it so far. I think there were others, but I can't remember them. That's what I get for not writing them down!
Thank you to those who choose to share in my narcissistic blogging about all things me. :) I hope you all have a wonderful, safe, and reflective New Year's Eve, and a Happy New Year's Day. May your new year be filled with blessings, and may it not take you until April to stop dating things 2009. :)
Here's to 2010. . . Whatever.
Peace,
Leslie
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Christmas Wisdom. . .
Always take the time to stare at your tree with the lights off.
A brightly lit tree is a symbolic, philosophical thing. Standing in the corner of a room, quiet, beautiful, wanting nothing more than to be admired.
But the true wisdom is in a dark Christmas tree. For it is only when gazing upon a dark tree, do you see exactly how uneven your ornaments are.
Peace!
A brightly lit tree is a symbolic, philosophical thing. Standing in the corner of a room, quiet, beautiful, wanting nothing more than to be admired.
But the true wisdom is in a dark Christmas tree. For it is only when gazing upon a dark tree, do you see exactly how uneven your ornaments are.
Peace!
Monday, November 23, 2009
I'm a Mac. . . ?
I got a Mac for my birthday. (I love you, Bill!) And I love it very very much. At the same time, I often feel like I am too stupid to operate it.
I miss the "Home" and "End" keys. I miss having both a "Backspace" and a "Delete" key. The Control Key is really the Function Key, while the Command Key is really the Control Key, and both are in the wrong places! I can't figure out how to crop a photo or edit a video. I have a hard time moving video projects back and forth between home and work. (Seriously, Apple, you open every Microsoft formatted document out there, but you won't open a .wmv or .wma? Come on!)
But I L-O-V-E LOVE the fact that it has not slowed down, frozen, or crashed on me at all. I love how pretty it is. (Yes, I'm still a girl.) I love that everything in our house, from our computers to our iTunes to our TV to our printer to our phones works seamlessly. I love how much freaking FASTER it is because it doesn't load 20 programs into the system tray.
Yep. I think I am a Mac.
I miss the "Home" and "End" keys. I miss having both a "Backspace" and a "Delete" key. The Control Key is really the Function Key, while the Command Key is really the Control Key, and both are in the wrong places! I can't figure out how to crop a photo or edit a video. I have a hard time moving video projects back and forth between home and work. (Seriously, Apple, you open every Microsoft formatted document out there, but you won't open a .wmv or .wma? Come on!)
But I L-O-V-E LOVE the fact that it has not slowed down, frozen, or crashed on me at all. I love how pretty it is. (Yes, I'm still a girl.) I love that everything in our house, from our computers to our iTunes to our TV to our printer to our phones works seamlessly. I love how much freaking FASTER it is because it doesn't load 20 programs into the system tray.
Yep. I think I am a Mac.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Bloggers Anonymous. . .
Hello. My name is Leslie. And I have too many blogs.
And how do I deal with it? I start another one!
I have begun another blog that will document my weight loss journey that I began, once again and hopefully for all, last week. Although I am going to give you the link in this post, and anyone is welcome to read it, the new blog will not feed directly into Facebook the way this one does.
I will still maintain this one as my outlet for venting and for attempting to amuse people with silly anecdotes from my life. But I feel my fitness/nutrition/weight loss blog will be much more personal than my typical blog posts, and should only be read by people who want to, and not clogging up space on people's Facebook Newsfeed.
So here you go. I invite anyone who wants to walk this journey with me to follow along, whether it is from the sidelines as an encourager, or in the trenches with me. Feel free to bookmark the site, read and comment.
My new blog will be found at: http://frenchfryloveaffair.blogspot.com/
Peace,
Leslie
And how do I deal with it? I start another one!
I have begun another blog that will document my weight loss journey that I began, once again and hopefully for all, last week. Although I am going to give you the link in this post, and anyone is welcome to read it, the new blog will not feed directly into Facebook the way this one does.
I will still maintain this one as my outlet for venting and for attempting to amuse people with silly anecdotes from my life. But I feel my fitness/nutrition/weight loss blog will be much more personal than my typical blog posts, and should only be read by people who want to, and not clogging up space on people's Facebook Newsfeed.
So here you go. I invite anyone who wants to walk this journey with me to follow along, whether it is from the sidelines as an encourager, or in the trenches with me. Feel free to bookmark the site, read and comment.
My new blog will be found at: http://frenchfryloveaffair.blogspot.com/
Peace,
Leslie
Monday, November 9, 2009
Randomness. . .
So, I haven't written in awhile. No excuse, other than that I haven't really had anything interesting to write about. I still don't, but at the request of my loyal reader, here is some of the nothingness going on in my life. :)
I just completed assembling my first slow cooker recipe other than throwing a hunk of brisket in, dumping in a can of coke and turning it on. (I always over cook them. Why is that?) Of course, we won't be eating the concoction tonight. The book I bought of slow cooker recipes does not publish a total cooking time on the page. So I learned today that we must not stop when it says "cook on low for 2 1/2 hours," but we must continue reading, and look for phrases such as, "then add the ground beef and cook for two more hours." Then the basic math comes in, etc., etc.
So the meal, which I thought would be ready around 7, is not going to be ready until 9. No way I am waiting that late to eat, so it will be cereal tonight and an update on how the meal turned out tomorrow night. :) (Plus, I will disclose the recipe if it was any good.)
I joined Weight Watchers again today. Not just the online version, either. I'm going the whole way this time, baby. Because even though online worked the first time, it didn't so much the second time. So here we go. I am quite annoyed with myself that I have to pay money as motivation to not sit around eating Zingers all day, but hey. You do what you've gotta do, right?
And here is a piece of randomness for you. In perusing the Internet earlier today looking for Pilates classes, I found a site where you can become a certified Pilates instructor. I am a big fan of Pilates, though I have yet to find a decent class that doesn't charge a whole bunch of money, so I looked through the information. I've decided that I would like to be an Pilates instructor. The problem is that the closest place I could find that teaches the certification classes is in Dallas. They are weekend classes, so I could do it this summer, but you have to have 20 hours of Mat Pilates classes taken before they will even look at you. And, so, I continue my search for a decent Pilates class in Amarillo. (I don't even know if any class will count or not. I guess if I really want to do this I will find out.)
Quote for the day: "Maturity means knowing you are crazy but being able to hide it."
Peace!
I just completed assembling my first slow cooker recipe other than throwing a hunk of brisket in, dumping in a can of coke and turning it on. (I always over cook them. Why is that?) Of course, we won't be eating the concoction tonight. The book I bought of slow cooker recipes does not publish a total cooking time on the page. So I learned today that we must not stop when it says "cook on low for 2 1/2 hours," but we must continue reading, and look for phrases such as, "then add the ground beef and cook for two more hours." Then the basic math comes in, etc., etc.
So the meal, which I thought would be ready around 7, is not going to be ready until 9. No way I am waiting that late to eat, so it will be cereal tonight and an update on how the meal turned out tomorrow night. :) (Plus, I will disclose the recipe if it was any good.)
I joined Weight Watchers again today. Not just the online version, either. I'm going the whole way this time, baby. Because even though online worked the first time, it didn't so much the second time. So here we go. I am quite annoyed with myself that I have to pay money as motivation to not sit around eating Zingers all day, but hey. You do what you've gotta do, right?
And here is a piece of randomness for you. In perusing the Internet earlier today looking for Pilates classes, I found a site where you can become a certified Pilates instructor. I am a big fan of Pilates, though I have yet to find a decent class that doesn't charge a whole bunch of money, so I looked through the information. I've decided that I would like to be an Pilates instructor. The problem is that the closest place I could find that teaches the certification classes is in Dallas. They are weekend classes, so I could do it this summer, but you have to have 20 hours of Mat Pilates classes taken before they will even look at you. And, so, I continue my search for a decent Pilates class in Amarillo. (I don't even know if any class will count or not. I guess if I really want to do this I will find out.)
Quote for the day: "Maturity means knowing you are crazy but being able to hide it."
Peace!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Quotes and Exchanges from a Weekend with the Nephews. . .
Rather than bore you with the synopsis of the weekend, I am just going to share some witty little tidbits of conversation between my 7 year old and 10 year old nephews and Bill and I from last weekend. The only particular order these are in is the order in which I remember them.
Leslie: "Do you know what I will do if you spill that drink in my car?"
Connor (7): "Take me in the bathroom, turn me upside down, and give me a 'twirlie?'"
***************
Sean (10): "Can we go to Logan's for dinner?"
***************
After Connor has been quizzing me about his church for awhile, asking questions such as "Do we have a flat screen?" and "Do we have video games?" --
Sean: "The answer to every question you ask her is yes!"
Connor: "Do we have a camel that kicks you as you walk in?"
***************
Leslie: "Since Sean picked where we are going for lunch, Connor, you can pick what we get for dessert."
. . . after lunch . . .
Connor: "I'm full. I don't want dessert."
Leslie: "Ok. Sean, what do you want for dessert."
Connor: "But you said I could pick!"
Leslie: "But you aren't going to eat any. . ."
Connor: "But you said I could pick."
Sean: "He's right. You said he could pick."
***************
At the pool, where Sean has been standing on top of the water slide for 15 minutes and is still dry:
Leslie: "Are you ok?"
Sean: "Yes."
Leslie: "Are you going to slide down, or are you going to hang out up there and work on your tan all day?"
Sean: "There's no lifeguard up here." (Mind you, there are 5 life guards on duty and only about 20 kids in the entire pool. Just no lifeguard at the top of the slide that only 3 kids are using.)
Leslie: "So?"
Sean: "Well, somebody's got to be in charge! These people don't know how to read!"
***************
Sean: "Can we eat at Logan's?"
***************
Leslie, in a text to Bill: "Gold Star for you Uncle Bill. You let one nephew snow you into renting video games that are for the PS3, which coincidentally, has only one controller."
Bill: "Don't let him fool you. One of those is for the Wii." (which has multiple controllers.)
Leslie: "My bad. I asked the other nephew why he wasn't playing, and he told me they were both for the PS3. I wonder who he got that idea from????"
***************
Here's one especially for those of you that know about the drama that ensues everytime I have to put my dogs outside--
Connor: "Abbey and Zoey wanted in so I let them in."
Leslie: "But I just put them out. And we are about to leave!"
***************
Leslie: "So, Sean, do you not like to swim and jump off of the diving board anymore?"
Sean: "Not really."
Leslie: " Then what do you do when you go to the pool?"
Sean: "Work on my tan, watch people, and push girls in the pool."
Leslie: "You push girls in the pool, or you watch people push girls in the pool?"
Sean: "Both."
***************
Sean: "Can we go eat at Logan's?"
***************
I truly may never be ready to be a parent. I adore my nephews and am even a little sad that I didn't get my 14 year old one for the weekend. But I would be lying if I said I did not relish in the utter silence that consumed my house that night. :)
Leslie: "Do you know what I will do if you spill that drink in my car?"
Connor (7): "Take me in the bathroom, turn me upside down, and give me a 'twirlie?'"
***************
Sean (10): "Can we go to Logan's for dinner?"
***************
After Connor has been quizzing me about his church for awhile, asking questions such as "Do we have a flat screen?" and "Do we have video games?" --
Sean: "The answer to every question you ask her is yes!"
Connor: "Do we have a camel that kicks you as you walk in?"
***************
Leslie: "Since Sean picked where we are going for lunch, Connor, you can pick what we get for dessert."
. . . after lunch . . .
Connor: "I'm full. I don't want dessert."
Leslie: "Ok. Sean, what do you want for dessert."
Connor: "But you said I could pick!"
Leslie: "But you aren't going to eat any. . ."
Connor: "But you said I could pick."
Sean: "He's right. You said he could pick."
***************
At the pool, where Sean has been standing on top of the water slide for 15 minutes and is still dry:
Leslie: "Are you ok?"
Sean: "Yes."
Leslie: "Are you going to slide down, or are you going to hang out up there and work on your tan all day?"
Sean: "There's no lifeguard up here." (Mind you, there are 5 life guards on duty and only about 20 kids in the entire pool. Just no lifeguard at the top of the slide that only 3 kids are using.)
Leslie: "So?"
Sean: "Well, somebody's got to be in charge! These people don't know how to read!"
***************
Sean: "Can we eat at Logan's?"
***************
Leslie, in a text to Bill: "Gold Star for you Uncle Bill. You let one nephew snow you into renting video games that are for the PS3, which coincidentally, has only one controller."
Bill: "Don't let him fool you. One of those is for the Wii." (which has multiple controllers.)
Leslie: "My bad. I asked the other nephew why he wasn't playing, and he told me they were both for the PS3. I wonder who he got that idea from????"
***************
Here's one especially for those of you that know about the drama that ensues everytime I have to put my dogs outside--
Connor: "Abbey and Zoey wanted in so I let them in."
Leslie: "But I just put them out. And we are about to leave!"
***************
Leslie: "So, Sean, do you not like to swim and jump off of the diving board anymore?"
Sean: "Not really."
Leslie: " Then what do you do when you go to the pool?"
Sean: "Work on my tan, watch people, and push girls in the pool."
Leslie: "You push girls in the pool, or you watch people push girls in the pool?"
Sean: "Both."
***************
Sean: "Can we go eat at Logan's?"
***************
I truly may never be ready to be a parent. I adore my nephews and am even a little sad that I didn't get my 14 year old one for the weekend. But I would be lying if I said I did not relish in the utter silence that consumed my house that night. :)
Saturday, July 18, 2009
The First Installment of "Things My Dogs Have Taught Me About Life."
I believe that dogs are hands down the happiest species in the world. As humans, being generally discontented most of the time with what we do or do not have, I think we can learn from dogs. This is what I have come up with so far. I'm sure they will teach me more. These are all written from my dogs' perspectives. I'll leave you to draw your own parallels.
1. Protect what you love with everything you have.
2. Yes, we make mistakes and sometimes get mad at each other. But, really, we should all be just a belly scratch and a Milk Bone away from forgiveness.
3. For optimal functionality, 16 hours of sleep daily is a must.
4. The outside world is a scary place. Never go alone.
5. Love everyone, but know who feeds you, who scratches your belly, and who sneaks you food from the table. These are your true friends.
6. If the ones you love feel threatened by someone, there is probably a reason for it. Be prepared to bite that someone on their behalf.
7. If you don't take time to check out/ sniff EVERYTHING everytime you go out, how will you know if someone new has been in your vicinity?
8. Old toys that haven't been played with for a long time are just as good as new toys.
9. Find time to curl up in your favorite spot and just sit.
10. Times will come when the one you love is upset and you just can't understand why. But even though you can't say anything to help, often just nuzzling her with your nose, licking her face, and letting her cry into your fur makes it all better.
And Now for the First Episode of "Maybe I Should Have Thought This Through a Little More. . . "
1. "I'm wearing black pants and a black shirt. I think I'll brush my dogs now."
2. "Look! Our margaritas came with extra shots! Do you want yours?"
3. "The rule plainly states, 'Liquor before beer, you're in the clear.' I don't think the amount of each has any relevance at all."
4. "I'm giving all of my summer clothes to Goodwill. I'll have lost 15 pounds by next summer, anyway."
5. "No, thanks. I think I can evenly spread sun block on my own back without missing any spots."
2. "Look! Our margaritas came with extra shots! Do you want yours?"
3. "The rule plainly states, 'Liquor before beer, you're in the clear.' I don't think the amount of each has any relevance at all."
4. "I'm giving all of my summer clothes to Goodwill. I'll have lost 15 pounds by next summer, anyway."
5. "No, thanks. I think I can evenly spread sun block on my own back without missing any spots."
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Yes, There is a Peace that Surpasses all Understanding. . .
************************************************************************************
Note: my blog feeds into Facebook, and this entry is an emotional rant that those of you who do not know me well may not care to read. Please know that I take no offense should you stop reading part way through, or choose not to read at all. Also, please know that this entry is more for my own healing, and though your comments and encouragement are welcome, do not feel the need to comment.
I know that there are some of you that will be taken by surprise by what you read. Please send questions to my Inbox, but understand that it may be awhile before I reply.
************************************************************************************
Never did I dream I would have to face the nightmare I am facing now.
Some would argue the source of my grief. Some would claim that I did not really lose a child, that what happened to us is no where near the same as losing a living, breathing child.
But I gave birth to him. I held him. I counted his fingers and toes and fell in love with his tiny tiny body. And even though he never got to breathe a single breath of air, and he never got to feel us hold him, he still existed. He was my son, and he was beautiful. And I loved him very much.
I do not claim to come anywhere close to understanding the grief and pain of parents who had the chance to know their child, to hear him cry, to know what made her happy or sad. I do not claim to understand how it feels to lose someone who was being raised and taught, but never got the chance to apply those lessons in his or her adult life. And at the same time, those parents will never understand my grief in never having that chance.
Once upon a time, some friends of mine and I formed the "Men Suck" club. (No offense, guys. We were immature college girls who were tired of being at the mercy of immature college guys.) One of the quotations we held so dearly was this:
"What do you do when the only one who can dry your tears is the one who made you cry?"
Never in my life did I even dream that the day would come when this quotation would apply to my Lord, my God.
What do you do when you are inconsolable, and the only one who can comfort you, the only one who can possibly understand your agony, is the one who caused it to happen in the first place? What do you do when the one whom you sought comfort from for years, in every situation, from break ups to work issues to problems with friends, is the one who took your son, who stilled his heart without any warning. Who allowed you to walk into a routine appointment more worried that you were going to be lectured for coloring your hair than about hearing a heartbeat that was there the two times before?
What do you do when the only one who can dry your tears is the one who made you cry?
I took psychology classes. I know the whole "Stages of Grief" business . . . shock/denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. . . though I thought there used to be some fear in there somewhere, and some guilt, too. I have definitely experienced both of those, even if they are no longer official "stages." I always thought those were supposed to be experienced in order, not all at once. The shock wore off pretty quickly. Anger, fear, guilt and sadness have pretty much been taking their shots at me simultaneously. It's a roll of the dice which one I'm going to wake up with. And where is complete numbness in the process? And does everyone bargain? I have nothing to bargain with. I did everything I was supposed to, or so I thought.
On Thursday, in two days, we are supposed to find out what caused my son's heart to stop beating. . . that is if they can even find the cause. I have had every scenario in the world, ranging from possible to impossible, rational to irrational, go through my head. My second greatest fear is that I will hear on Thursday that I did something to cause this. My greatest fear is that I will hear that my body is just incapable of carrying a child. And it is this fear that nearly had me crippled most of the day yesterday. And at the end of the day, I finally had to break my silent treatment toward God.
We hadn't been on speaking terms for quite a while. Well, I hadn't been on speaking terms with Him, anyway. I'm sure he was trying to talk to me, and I just wouldn't listen. I sure didn't want to ask God for anything. I'd spent the last 16 weeks praying that I would be a good mother, that I would be able to bring up my child in such a way that teaches him to love the Lord. Little did I know what the Lord had coming for me. That's what gets me the most. God knew the whole time, before Ethan was even conceived that he was going to take him away from us.
But when a friend of mine awoke from a bursting aneurysm this week, I really had to at least thank him. People don't always wake up from those. But as far as anything to do with me, I had no desire to speak to him. I wasn't rejecting him, and I never rejected my salvation, but He took my son from me after letting me hear his heartbeat, and I was angry. Who does that? Why not take him before there was a chance to hear the heartbeat, like the first time?
I can carry anger for a very long time. I can give you some names to ask, if you don't believe me. Fear, however, is another story. I don't handle fear well. It paralyzes me. Bugs, loud noises when I'm home alone at night, major life changes. . . it doesn't matter. The fear suffocates me, causes me to be unable to move. . . and the fear of possibly never being able to have children was no different. And no one can help me deal with that fear. I finally had to turn to the Lord.
I cried to him. I yelled at him. I begged him. I thanked him for filling my life with friends who love me and who are there for me to lean on. I thanked him for my husband, who has not a clue how to help me but has just been there for me. I thanked him for my sister, who has been my greatest prayer warrior. And then I yelled and cried some more.
And when I was finished, I slept. Hard. I was exhausted. I don't think I budged the entire night.
And when I woke up this morning, I felt somewhat numb, with a strange sense of peace over me.
I am still scared of what I will hear Thursday morning. But I'm not paralyzed.
I still feel guilty, like this was somehow my fault, and that the better I start to feel, the more I am losing what little connection I had with my son.
I still hurt so much, because I want Ethan back so badly, but, for today anyway, the pain doesn't cripple me.
For today, I had peace. I never understood the concept of "peace that transcends all understanding", but now I do. For today, I had peace, and I do not understand why. But maybe if God is willing to grant me peace, then he will be willing to give us a child.
Day by day,
Leslie
Philippians 4:6-7
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Note: my blog feeds into Facebook, and this entry is an emotional rant that those of you who do not know me well may not care to read. Please know that I take no offense should you stop reading part way through, or choose not to read at all. Also, please know that this entry is more for my own healing, and though your comments and encouragement are welcome, do not feel the need to comment.
I know that there are some of you that will be taken by surprise by what you read. Please send questions to my Inbox, but understand that it may be awhile before I reply.
************************************************************************************
Never did I dream I would have to face the nightmare I am facing now.
Some would argue the source of my grief. Some would claim that I did not really lose a child, that what happened to us is no where near the same as losing a living, breathing child.
But I gave birth to him. I held him. I counted his fingers and toes and fell in love with his tiny tiny body. And even though he never got to breathe a single breath of air, and he never got to feel us hold him, he still existed. He was my son, and he was beautiful. And I loved him very much.
I do not claim to come anywhere close to understanding the grief and pain of parents who had the chance to know their child, to hear him cry, to know what made her happy or sad. I do not claim to understand how it feels to lose someone who was being raised and taught, but never got the chance to apply those lessons in his or her adult life. And at the same time, those parents will never understand my grief in never having that chance.
Once upon a time, some friends of mine and I formed the "Men Suck" club. (No offense, guys. We were immature college girls who were tired of being at the mercy of immature college guys.) One of the quotations we held so dearly was this:
"What do you do when the only one who can dry your tears is the one who made you cry?"
Never in my life did I even dream that the day would come when this quotation would apply to my Lord, my God.
What do you do when you are inconsolable, and the only one who can comfort you, the only one who can possibly understand your agony, is the one who caused it to happen in the first place? What do you do when the one whom you sought comfort from for years, in every situation, from break ups to work issues to problems with friends, is the one who took your son, who stilled his heart without any warning. Who allowed you to walk into a routine appointment more worried that you were going to be lectured for coloring your hair than about hearing a heartbeat that was there the two times before?
What do you do when the only one who can dry your tears is the one who made you cry?
I took psychology classes. I know the whole "Stages of Grief" business . . . shock/denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. . . though I thought there used to be some fear in there somewhere, and some guilt, too. I have definitely experienced both of those, even if they are no longer official "stages." I always thought those were supposed to be experienced in order, not all at once. The shock wore off pretty quickly. Anger, fear, guilt and sadness have pretty much been taking their shots at me simultaneously. It's a roll of the dice which one I'm going to wake up with. And where is complete numbness in the process? And does everyone bargain? I have nothing to bargain with. I did everything I was supposed to, or so I thought.
On Thursday, in two days, we are supposed to find out what caused my son's heart to stop beating. . . that is if they can even find the cause. I have had every scenario in the world, ranging from possible to impossible, rational to irrational, go through my head. My second greatest fear is that I will hear on Thursday that I did something to cause this. My greatest fear is that I will hear that my body is just incapable of carrying a child. And it is this fear that nearly had me crippled most of the day yesterday. And at the end of the day, I finally had to break my silent treatment toward God.
We hadn't been on speaking terms for quite a while. Well, I hadn't been on speaking terms with Him, anyway. I'm sure he was trying to talk to me, and I just wouldn't listen. I sure didn't want to ask God for anything. I'd spent the last 16 weeks praying that I would be a good mother, that I would be able to bring up my child in such a way that teaches him to love the Lord. Little did I know what the Lord had coming for me. That's what gets me the most. God knew the whole time, before Ethan was even conceived that he was going to take him away from us.
But when a friend of mine awoke from a bursting aneurysm this week, I really had to at least thank him. People don't always wake up from those. But as far as anything to do with me, I had no desire to speak to him. I wasn't rejecting him, and I never rejected my salvation, but He took my son from me after letting me hear his heartbeat, and I was angry. Who does that? Why not take him before there was a chance to hear the heartbeat, like the first time?
I can carry anger for a very long time. I can give you some names to ask, if you don't believe me. Fear, however, is another story. I don't handle fear well. It paralyzes me. Bugs, loud noises when I'm home alone at night, major life changes. . . it doesn't matter. The fear suffocates me, causes me to be unable to move. . . and the fear of possibly never being able to have children was no different. And no one can help me deal with that fear. I finally had to turn to the Lord.
I cried to him. I yelled at him. I begged him. I thanked him for filling my life with friends who love me and who are there for me to lean on. I thanked him for my husband, who has not a clue how to help me but has just been there for me. I thanked him for my sister, who has been my greatest prayer warrior. And then I yelled and cried some more.
And when I was finished, I slept. Hard. I was exhausted. I don't think I budged the entire night.
And when I woke up this morning, I felt somewhat numb, with a strange sense of peace over me.
I am still scared of what I will hear Thursday morning. But I'm not paralyzed.
I still feel guilty, like this was somehow my fault, and that the better I start to feel, the more I am losing what little connection I had with my son.
I still hurt so much, because I want Ethan back so badly, but, for today anyway, the pain doesn't cripple me.
For today, I had peace. I never understood the concept of "peace that transcends all understanding", but now I do. For today, I had peace, and I do not understand why. But maybe if God is willing to grant me peace, then he will be willing to give us a child.
Day by day,
Leslie
Philippians 4:6-7
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Friday, May 29, 2009
A Gut-Wrenchingly Happy Moment. . .
As we released the kids from class today for the last time this year, of course all of the staff is following behind them, yelling at them to get off campus amidst crying, hugging girls (I really don't get this. . . they are going to see each other on mySpace tonight, and at the mall tomorrow.)
I report to my duty station out in the parking lot (I got stuck guarding our cars from water balloons. Really. What exactly am I supposed to do about it?)
I see a man walking up in military cammies. I asked him if I could help him, and he said he was there to pick up his daughter. So I left him and went about shoo-ing kids and yelling at loiterers.
When the girl came out of the building and caught sight of him, she ran to him and jumped into his arms, at which time the realization hit us: he had just come home, and she was not expecting him. As 3 other teachers and myself looked on, goosebumps on our arms and tears in our eyes, he swung her around and just held her. We then saw mom, about 30 feet away, sitting in the car, tears in her own eyes, letting them have their moment. One teacher took pictures with her phone.
When he put her down after what seemed like forever, we walked over to talk to him. He has been in Iraq for the last year. One of our teachers hugged him herself. :) All I could do was stand there, listen, fight the giant lump in my throat, and then thank him when he was finished telling us his brief story before collecting his daughter and joining his wife in the car.
I know that image will stay with me for the rest of my life. I know so many people who are serving or whom have served to protect our freedoms, and there is no thank you big enough that the rest of us can offer up.
It brings to mind the saying: "Only two people have died for you: Jesus, and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom."
Thank you all so much.
I report to my duty station out in the parking lot (I got stuck guarding our cars from water balloons. Really. What exactly am I supposed to do about it?)
I see a man walking up in military cammies. I asked him if I could help him, and he said he was there to pick up his daughter. So I left him and went about shoo-ing kids and yelling at loiterers.
When the girl came out of the building and caught sight of him, she ran to him and jumped into his arms, at which time the realization hit us: he had just come home, and she was not expecting him. As 3 other teachers and myself looked on, goosebumps on our arms and tears in our eyes, he swung her around and just held her. We then saw mom, about 30 feet away, sitting in the car, tears in her own eyes, letting them have their moment. One teacher took pictures with her phone.
When he put her down after what seemed like forever, we walked over to talk to him. He has been in Iraq for the last year. One of our teachers hugged him herself. :) All I could do was stand there, listen, fight the giant lump in my throat, and then thank him when he was finished telling us his brief story before collecting his daughter and joining his wife in the car.
I know that image will stay with me for the rest of my life. I know so many people who are serving or whom have served to protect our freedoms, and there is no thank you big enough that the rest of us can offer up.
It brings to mind the saying: "Only two people have died for you: Jesus, and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your freedom."
Thank you all so much.
Monday, May 4, 2009
I'm a loser. . .
So, at the request of one of my two loyal followers, it is time to update my blog! I apologize for how long it has been, and I apologize for the length of this entry. A lot has gone on since January!
First, the conclusion of the washer saga. After the third wash tub arrived and was installed, we discovered a hairline crack. In other words, a crack so small we couldn't see it before installing it. How did we find the crack, you ask? Well, we found it when I walked into the kitchen after running a load and found myself up to my ankles in water.
So we called Home Warranty again, and they sent out a totally different company, and God bless this sweet man, he took one look at the washer and said, "Those are crap. I'm just going to tell them it can't be repaired."
And so we are now the home to a brand new Maytag washer. The funny thing is that it was the only option we were given that was not the same brand as the old washer, and it is Crimson. Goes well with our blue dryer. We are nothing if we aren't patriotic. (Well, I guess we are pretty funny, too. But that's about it. Funny and Patriotic.)
I finished my grad work last week, and I graduate on Saturday. (If they don't cancel it due to the flu outbreak. Damn Miss Piggy and her kissing all over people.) I have some issues over my grades in a couple of my final classes, but deep down, I don't really give a flying flip, because I am FINISHED!!!! Somebody slap the fire out of me if I ever talk about going back to school again. So I am soon to be a Master of Education in Instructional Design and Technology. (I'll explain that later. That's a blog post all it's own.)
And the final news is that I'm pregnant! 12 weeks today, to be exact. (Although I'm pretty sure all two of you knew that.) So far things are off to a much better start than last time. We heard a heartbeat at 9 weeks. So I'm sure most of my future posts will consist of updates about that.
I do believe it is time for a nap. I'm playing hooky today, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it. Until next time!
Peace,
Leslie
First, the conclusion of the washer saga. After the third wash tub arrived and was installed, we discovered a hairline crack. In other words, a crack so small we couldn't see it before installing it. How did we find the crack, you ask? Well, we found it when I walked into the kitchen after running a load and found myself up to my ankles in water.
So we called Home Warranty again, and they sent out a totally different company, and God bless this sweet man, he took one look at the washer and said, "Those are crap. I'm just going to tell them it can't be repaired."
And so we are now the home to a brand new Maytag washer. The funny thing is that it was the only option we were given that was not the same brand as the old washer, and it is Crimson. Goes well with our blue dryer. We are nothing if we aren't patriotic. (Well, I guess we are pretty funny, too. But that's about it. Funny and Patriotic.)
I finished my grad work last week, and I graduate on Saturday. (If they don't cancel it due to the flu outbreak. Damn Miss Piggy and her kissing all over people.) I have some issues over my grades in a couple of my final classes, but deep down, I don't really give a flying flip, because I am FINISHED!!!! Somebody slap the fire out of me if I ever talk about going back to school again. So I am soon to be a Master of Education in Instructional Design and Technology. (I'll explain that later. That's a blog post all it's own.)
And the final news is that I'm pregnant! 12 weeks today, to be exact. (Although I'm pretty sure all two of you knew that.) So far things are off to a much better start than last time. We heard a heartbeat at 9 weeks. So I'm sure most of my future posts will consist of updates about that.
I do believe it is time for a nap. I'm playing hooky today, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it. Until next time!
Peace,
Leslie
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Washing Machine-- a Story of Love, Hate, and Violence
When we moved in we got this really great (I thought) washer and dryer set. Kenmore Oasis 4.5 cubic ft. It washes 3 times what my old washer did. I loved this thing! We bought the set 2 years ago. About a year ago (conveniently after the warranty expired) we started getting an error code, but we figured out that if we just keep restarting the washer, we can eventually get around it.
Well, back in October we couldn't get around it anymore. So we called the Home Warranty people (finally this "insurance" is going to pay for itself!) and had someone come out and take a look.
Oh, if only it had been so simple.
The first time the guy came out, he replaced the computer and went on about his merry way. We tried a load and got a NEW error code. Called the Warranty people again, and two weeks later he is back out. He tries some trick with the drain hose and leaves. I get another, different error code. This time it says the washer is over loaded. Funny, I was running an empty washer at the time. Call again, and two weeks later he comes out for the 3rd time. He decides we need to replace the inner tubs, so he orders parts. He tells us that when the parts arrive at our house to call and he would come back and put them in. So a week later the parts arrive and 2 weeks later he comes back out.
He opens the box.
The outer tub is busted.
Now I am a pretty patient person, but at this point I am about to cry. You see, by this point I have been carting laundry back and forth to my mom's twice a week. I love my mom, but this is just exhausting.
So he orders the parts again, and for the 5th time a guy comes out yesterday. This is a different guy from the first four times, but we like him better. He didn't have to call tech support once!
We had opened the box when it arrived and the tub seemed ok. So we leave the guy to his devices. I take the dogs with me to go get coffee. When I come back, Bill is in the back yard with the dogs and I hear a strange sound from the garage. I thought the guy was calling Bill so I walked out there. Here is how the conversation transpired:
"Are your dogs put up?"
"Yes," I say. (This didn't surprise me. The last guy was afraid of our dogs.)
"Ok, so are you a violent person?" (He is smiling like he is joking, but my stomach is starting to drop.)
I reply, "Well, I swear a lot, and I tend to throw things, but I have never been known to physically harm a person." (I, too, am smiling, but he knows I am only partially joking.)
He says, "Ok. Then I should probably tell you that this outer tub is also busted."
"What?" I say. I can't possibly have heard him correctly.
He just points to the tub, which sure enough is busted. You see, since the other tub was busted on the top, it simply didn't occur to us to pull the blessed thing out of the box and check the bottom.
"Un-f-ing-believable," I say. And I start to laugh. Uncontrollably. Because after all of the drama with this washer and all of the sorry luck last week when Bill and I tried to go ski, all I can do is laugh.
FYI- I will NEVER IN MY LIFE buy another washer that is a "new design."
Also FYI- if you ever need to rent a washer, go to the RAC at the 2100 block of Georgia. The one at 34th and Georgia is worthless, and Aaron's Rent to Own requires a minimum of 3 months. (Dear Heaven, I hope our washer is fixed within 3 months!!!)
If anyone wants a free washer that they think they can fix, I will be dropping one off of a cliff at PD Canyon at the end of the month if it is not fixed. At least Home Warranty is footing the bill.
Ah. The peaceful start to the New Year I was hoping for!!!! :P
Peace go with you!
Well, back in October we couldn't get around it anymore. So we called the Home Warranty people (finally this "insurance" is going to pay for itself!) and had someone come out and take a look.
Oh, if only it had been so simple.
The first time the guy came out, he replaced the computer and went on about his merry way. We tried a load and got a NEW error code. Called the Warranty people again, and two weeks later he is back out. He tries some trick with the drain hose and leaves. I get another, different error code. This time it says the washer is over loaded. Funny, I was running an empty washer at the time. Call again, and two weeks later he comes out for the 3rd time. He decides we need to replace the inner tubs, so he orders parts. He tells us that when the parts arrive at our house to call and he would come back and put them in. So a week later the parts arrive and 2 weeks later he comes back out.
He opens the box.
The outer tub is busted.
Now I am a pretty patient person, but at this point I am about to cry. You see, by this point I have been carting laundry back and forth to my mom's twice a week. I love my mom, but this is just exhausting.
So he orders the parts again, and for the 5th time a guy comes out yesterday. This is a different guy from the first four times, but we like him better. He didn't have to call tech support once!
We had opened the box when it arrived and the tub seemed ok. So we leave the guy to his devices. I take the dogs with me to go get coffee. When I come back, Bill is in the back yard with the dogs and I hear a strange sound from the garage. I thought the guy was calling Bill so I walked out there. Here is how the conversation transpired:
"Are your dogs put up?"
"Yes," I say. (This didn't surprise me. The last guy was afraid of our dogs.)
"Ok, so are you a violent person?" (He is smiling like he is joking, but my stomach is starting to drop.)
I reply, "Well, I swear a lot, and I tend to throw things, but I have never been known to physically harm a person." (I, too, am smiling, but he knows I am only partially joking.)
He says, "Ok. Then I should probably tell you that this outer tub is also busted."
"What?" I say. I can't possibly have heard him correctly.
He just points to the tub, which sure enough is busted. You see, since the other tub was busted on the top, it simply didn't occur to us to pull the blessed thing out of the box and check the bottom.
"Un-f-ing-believable," I say. And I start to laugh. Uncontrollably. Because after all of the drama with this washer and all of the sorry luck last week when Bill and I tried to go ski, all I can do is laugh.
FYI- I will NEVER IN MY LIFE buy another washer that is a "new design."
Also FYI- if you ever need to rent a washer, go to the RAC at the 2100 block of Georgia. The one at 34th and Georgia is worthless, and Aaron's Rent to Own requires a minimum of 3 months. (Dear Heaven, I hope our washer is fixed within 3 months!!!)
If anyone wants a free washer that they think they can fix, I will be dropping one off of a cliff at PD Canyon at the end of the month if it is not fixed. At least Home Warranty is footing the bill.
Ah. The peaceful start to the New Year I was hoping for!!!! :P
Peace go with you!
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