Love after all of these years

July 13

Almost 30 years since I first met Bert, so many things have changed yet the love I feel for her remains.  Somtimes quiet, sometimes loud, somtimes angry, somtimes parental but always love.  We were at a kid park the other day riding a train and by train I mean a small barrel on wheels.  We were riding on the back with the rest of my family in front of us.  it was the most romantic moment we had in the last few months.  No grand gestures just the two of us on a moving barrel and I was reminded life is made up of moments.  Each moment is important and it only takes a moment to change a life time.  The moment I saw her standing in front of the church changed the next 30 years.  One phone call made me a mom, one shot took my dad, one train ride made me fall in love again.  What moment will change you this week?

May 9, 2011

I can’t believe it has been 6 weeks since my last post.  I guess it’s true what they say, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  I have intended to write but just haven’t gotten around to it.  In the process, I also haven’t gotten around to keeping on a healthy eating schedule.  My amazing sister in law came to visit and brought See’s candy.  That’s the equivalent of giving a meth addict a new pipe!  It started with the See’s, moved to the pie store and ended up with ice cream from Snow Goose.  Now those of you from this area or who have visited in the summer know that Snow Goose is the home of the 1 pound ice cream cone, literally they weigh one pound.  I think that’s where one of pounds came from.  I have gained 3 pounds since I last wrote.  What’s that?  I can’t hear you over the snorting pig noises in the back ground.  Seriously, I made it through lent giving up sugar (except for the weekend, one does want to be balanced) and then came the crack candy and the food addict in me threw caution to the wind.  Now it is not her fault, how would my sister in law know that a simple gesture of candy would send me spiraling down the staircase to hell?  After all she is thin, beautiful and short of a fascination for Dr Pepper and scones with lemon curd, she can handle anything.  I, however, can’t be trusted with an entire box of candy.  It starts out with I can handle this, I’ll just have one and then moves into well, she is visiting and I wouldn’t want to be rude and not take her for ice-cream and somehow it ends up with a feed bag on the end of my nose thinking OMG, what have I done.  Well, the good news is I caught it at three pounds, not 20 and today I am back on track.  With a little luck, a whole lot of prayer and the house purged of all things chocolate, I’ll lose those three pounds by the end of the week.  Wish me luck!

March 26, 2011

There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something that was born before the elements and owes no homage to the sun.

Sir Thomas Browne

A piece of divinity in each of us…  That feels like a profound statement to me.  Today as I sit at my desk and feel the warmth of the sun on my back, I am reminded that a piece of the Divine is in me and it gives me a sense of purpose and belonging. Spring has sprung in the Pacific Northwest. Birds are singing, the sun is shining (some of the time) the trees are in bloom and all is well.  There is something special about living in a part of the country where there are true seasons.  As soon as spring hits, weather its sunny or not, people are more alive, friendlier.  All of the plant stands are full and people are roaming around with a smile on their face.  In Bellingham you know its spring because the musicians have hit the streets and the Farmers Market opens.  I am reminded how little financial wealth really matters.  It’s really about how much joy do you have in your life and joy, in its many forms, is free.  So take a minute to think about what brings you joy, where is your peace and then you will find the piece of divinity that is in all of us.

March 3, 2011

And when your children’s children think themselves alone in the silence of the pathless wood, they will not be alone.  At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent, and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land.  You will never be alone. Chief Seattle

I have always liked this quote.  It illustrates beautifully a sense of history and makes me think that we are all connected and there is something greater than ourselves working in the universe.

Last night, this quote had a new meaning for me.  My daughter is amazing.  She is funny, sweet, loving she is also a tad needy.  After being home for a few days with Chicken Pox she had a hard time adjusting to her sleep schedule again.  1:00 am I feel a small hand reach out and touch me.  Mama, I miss you, (when your children’s children think themselves alone in the silence of the pathless wood, they will not be alone) I want to sleep with you.  This always causes a conflict for me.  On one hand my sweet little girl needs her mama on the hand my devoted spouse needs her sleep and for some reason, can’t do that with a forty pound pole digging into her back.  I say that because my daughter refuses to sleep in the same direction as the rest of the people in the bed.  She also digs her feet into you and slaps you in the face with her tiny flailing hands.  So, I get up and put her back in her bed, 15 minutes later, I hear I really need you, can I please, please, please sleep with you (You will never be alone)? So, I pick her up and lay her next to me on the opposite side of my partner.  Just as I start to drift off, smack a direct hit to the nose! OK, let’s try this again.  It’s now 2:00 am and we all have to wake up in a few hours.  I carry her to her bed, secure her stuffed animals to her side and cover her up with the appropriate bedding (flannel sheets, soft fuzzy blanket grandma made, princess comforter and fleece blanket) for a house where the heat is set at 60.  That’s another story for another day. Mama, says a small sweet voice, can you sleep with me in my bed for awhile?  For goodness sake, shoot me now!  Its 2:30 am I am wide awake and I need to get up and go to work in 3 hours.  Sure honey.  I move the animals, get under the blankets and try to be still and send sleep vibes her way.  3:00 am, success!  She is asleep.  I tip toe into my room trying not to wake my other bed buddy, and lay there awake for another 30 minutes.  It amazes me what you can think about in the wee hours of the morning.  All of that being said, I am so thankful I am her Mama!

Day 41

When we were going through the process of adopting our kids we learned an interesting phenomenon that happens to people around trauma or loss.  Somewhere, deep inside us there is something in the brain that acknowledges loss.  For example, Justin was taken from his birth mothers home and placed with his grandmother on the 15^th of the month, we also took him from Iowa around the middle of the month.  When he first came to live with us he would turn into a different child the middle of each month.  You could almost set your clock by it.  He would act up, become defiant, and unmanageable.  He did this EVERY month for the first year two years and still acts out in the same way every few months, during the middle of the month.  We spoke with the social worker and she said it was very common for children to do this and adults do this as well.  You don’t really know why Aprils a bad month for you, but it always has been, or why the first day of school is really tuff or ….the list goes on.  But somewhere, inside of our subconscious, there is memory that runs so deep that it is part of our DNA.  Well, that’s what happened today.  I was so sad and weepy, I couldn’t figure out what was going on with me. I don’t usually feel despair and that’s exactly what I felt.  Then I saw something that reminded me, today is the day my dad died.  Died is the polite way of saying committed suicide.  My brave cop, funny, fashion forward, lover of all the finer things, often politically incorrect father took a gun to his head and shot himself.  I can’t even begin to convey how shocking that was.  I had just spoken with him the week before, he was ranting on and on about President Obama.  He was doing his best to get a rise out of me as he often did.  Ever since I was a small child my good hearted dad would wax on about the supremacy of white people.  I don’t think he really believed it, I think it was his way.  Bob Malone, underneath the cigarettes, the swearing, and the racial slurs was all heart.  A good man who after arresting illegal immigrants, would take the cash they had on them and wire it to their family in Mexico because he knew the boarder guards would take it from them.  He was so funny he could make you snort, cry and pee your pants all at the same time.  He was also a little crazy, he taught me things like don’t ever start a fight but if someone starts a fight with you, you better win it.  He taught me how to slam my fist up someone’s nose to render them helpless.  He taught me never to get in a car with someone who was going to hurt me, because when we arrived at the destination, they would kill me so it was better to take my chances on the outside.  Not the usual things a father teaches a daughter, but it was his way of keeping me safe. He was an eye for an eye kind of guy, and sadly there is a piece of that in me that I struggle with sometimes, especially if you hurt someone I love. He also took me camping and fishing, taught me how to ride a horse, and how to be a MALONE (that can go either wayJ).  If you have seen All My Children, this will make sense to you, Erica Cane always refers to herself as Erica Cane, as though she is a force to be reckoned with. That’s how it was for my father, you’re a MALONE.  And even now, when I am really scared, I can hear his voice, “You’re a Malone damn it.” All in all in the clearest pictures I have in my heart of my dad is of him laughing, holding pinkies as we walked together, seeing him cry like his heart was breaking when my mom left him, and the tears he shed when I went away to college.  He was my hero, my toughest critic, fiercely protective and…my daddy.

Day 30

I have a dilemma, what to do about people with bad breath.  I get paid to tell people how not to be stinky, well that’s not what I get paid to do but over the course of many years dealing with folks who need housing or employment it has been my job to offer guidance.  Sometimes that guidance includes telling people to brush their teeth and wear deodorant.  It’s not a problem for me and thankfully, I don’t offend people. (Well at least not in that way.)  Today, for example, we had a woman come in with tattooed polka dots for eyebrows. She also had a bone in her nose and skull stiletto heels with torn jeans.  I had a conversation with her asking her what her goals were and she said kindergarten teacher.  REALLY?!  So then we had a conversation about her “look” and she agreed that perhaps, we could make some changes. No fuss no muss.  That’s not my dilemma. My question is what to do with the woman at … who is lovely in every way except she has bad breath and she wants to kiss me (on the cheek) each week when she sees me.  Now, we all have the occasional halitosis, I know that.  I have my share of nightmares where it’s me speaking to people while smelling of yesterdays garlic pizza.  But how do you pull away without offending or hurting the person?  Do you say something?  Trust me, if you can smell my breath, I would want to know.  Maybe my issue is with the kissing.  I am uncomfortable with people I don’t know well kissing me.  What if I bob and they weave and our lips meet?  UGH!  Any ideas are welcome. Bad breath busters, should you ever need them…Altoids, sip some water, and apparently eating an apple works well.  Random kissing is a little more difficult.  Europe perhaps.

Day 31

Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead."- Louisa May Alcott

Well let me tell you today has been like that, far away, there in the sunshine, I have aspirations of healthy eating and a slimmer me.  However, here, in the rain shadow, I see visions of french fries dancing in my head!  I can smell them, literally taste them and their warm salty goodness.  Why does that happen to us?   We have the best intensions of doing something perfectly,  for just one day and then somehow we find ourselves with our heads in a chip bag licking crumbs.  Oh well, there is always tomorrow. 

Day 25

What is it about some people?  Everything is a fight, nothing is quite good enough unless their fingers have touched it somehow and heaven forbid you should try something new.  Relinquishing power is a dance, which if done well, can actually bring balance to your life and a sense of calm.  Some people live in a stormy sea and can’t wait to take the rest of us down with them!  I want to pull my hair out.  Now, let it be said, I know I am a control freak and my trust is not easily won.  However, there are those among us that make me look like a 4 year old who needs her mommy and today I had to deal with her…A LOT!  She is one of those people that just the opening of her mouth makes every eye in the room roll.  One of those people you try not to invite to a meeting because everything will take twice as long and nothing will be resolved.  You know they type, I think this idea is better because its mine and the rest of you hate it, that type.  What to do with her????

Day 28

“Our poverty damages our dignity." Cesar Chavez

I was leading a workshop today and as I looked around the room at the faces of each person in the room I was reminded of this quote.  Each person was on TANF, (welfare) and each of them looked so dejected. It is shameful in this country, even in this economy, to be a person living on the “system”.  One woman said to me last week, “I have had to get food stamps many times but I never had to take the check until now.”  Somehow taking the check is one of the lowest places we can go.  The only other place that is lower is being homeless and many of these folks are.  You see it written on them like a scarlet letter, WELFARE RECIEPIENT.  They have no dignity and when you have no dignity you can’t figure a way out, a way to make it stop.  I firmly believe this is what causes generational poverty.  Somehow in an attempt to live with the shame of collecting that check, folks normalize it and when that happens, children see it as a way to live.  I have seen this for the last 13 years.  The only way I have been able to cope with it has been to do my best to educate around it.  Show them there is a better way, offer education, tools to be successful, ask them if this is they life they want for their children.  Inevitably the answer is no, so I then ask them to tell me their dreams and once they can see a little freedom, we can move mountains.  It’s a process.  Then I began to think of other ways poverty can appear and I thought of my own life.  Poverty of health.  I am so fat, that sometimes I think I will never get out of this hole.  I have shame surrounding my weight and I fear I am passing that on to my children.  I don’t want them to be ashamed to have me come to their school or meet their friends. I have been fat for so long that I have normalized it.  I found a way to live with it.  Well I don’t want to anymore!  I sometimes feel like my life is always going to be like this and I can’t see a way out.  So, today, I decided to take my own advice and write down my dreams.  I hope the glimpse of good health that I saw will be enough to carry me through the next few days.  I have gained 2 of the 8 pounds I had lost and I really feel like see, you will ALWAYS be fat.  I really need to believe the dream to get to the other side. I always get to this point and then throw in the towel.  At 46, I need to keep moving forward or dig a grave. Here is to the dream

Day 18

Well it has finally happened.  Our family has become a TV show.  I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to find the best school for our kids.  Not just any school, a school where they will have every opportunity to discover themselves and learn THE most interesting things.  We have our eye set on a brand new school, in a district far, far away.  It’s a magical place where the principal knows every child’s name and wants to meet the parents of each student before they enroll in school.  Not only that but they begin to teach Mandarin in kindergarten.  That’s right, Mandarin.  This school is so special that 25% of the students are from a different district and there is a lottery that’s done to select which student has the privilege of attending.  Let me tell you I will do whatever it takes to get them enrolled.  I don’t care how elitist it sounds, they are offering a solid education and yes, some pretty great perks and my kids are going!  Thankfully, one of the moms who already has a child safely tucked into the walls of this “Harvard” of elementary schools, has given me some tips.  I plan to drop names and offer my grant writing skills ANYTHING to get them in.  A few years ago, I laughed at these parents, mocked them in fact.  I would see them on the TV screen fighting to get their kids into a special program and wonder if there were really people in the world that would act like that.  Well there are people like that and I am (not so) proud to say I am one of them!

Day 19 and 20

Where there is hope, there can be faith, where there is faith, miracles can occur.

That is a pretty profound statement.  The sort of thing you would find in an inspirational book.  Words you may want to pass on to a dear friend who finds they are struggling with a particular issue.  Do you know where I found it?  On the bottle of a face cream. It was on Oprah’s big giveaway. They gave away Philosophy’s “Hope” in a jar.  That’s what it’s called, Hope in a jar.  On the front of the jar is a picture of Oprah when she was little and the statement, Where there is hope, there can be faith, where there is faith, miracles can occur.   Considering it’s a face cream, I find it poignant when it says miracles can occur. What are they implying?? Goodness knows I want a miracle when I look in the mirror and see an older face with wrinkles and strange hairs poking from my chin, looking back at me. I am not sure when it happened.  I certainly don’t feel older well, not most days.  Most days I feel like my 30 year old self.  I want to laugh and play and try something new. I want to be loud and bawdy. I want to make love in the back seat, you know, kid stuff!  Why does that have to stop when you become middle aged?  My grandmother used to say the secret they never tell you about getting older is that you still feel young on the inside.  It’s just that damn mirror that tricks us into believing were old. Why do we cling to youth with one hand and say with our mouths I would never want to live through my 20’s again? Why don’t we embrace the wisdom we gain with age and not judge someone or ourselves by the wrinkles we see?  My daughter is convinced that white hair means you are really smart. That’s because her other mom told her that and she believes it.  She told me the other day that I was getting smarter everyday because my hair has more gray in it!  In America we spend over 12.5 billion dollars each year on beauty products. This number does not include plastic surgery.  Seriously, what are we afraid of?  Mind you, I want to look my best and feel my best, thus the reason I am on this journey.  But 12.5 BILLION dollars?  I see these women who have had things lifted and tucked.  Who have had botchalism injected into their faces, or had a school of hungry fish eat the dead skin of their toes and fingers. Some even use cow urine to keep young and beautiful.  How much do we spend on well written literature, beautiful art, or inspiring music? My little girl says listening to Susan Boyle makes her tummy feel like she is going down a hill.  Profound for a 5 year old.  Maybe the key to true beauty is to listen to something, do something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

Days 13-17

Life has been life for the last few days. Joy, laughter, insecurity, parental drama you know the things weeks are made of.  I lost 4 pounds during the last week.  7 pounds in two weeks, not too bad.  I feel like I am accomplishing something and I feel good that i have been able to stick with this for two weeks.  Slow and steady as my grandmother used to say.  My grandmother was an amazing woman.  Funny and loving.  She was able to listen and she knew things about you before you ever knew them about yourself.  I miss her so much and wish she could see my kids and see that I am happy.  It was my grandmother who knew I should be involved with local government and that writing would be something I would enjoy. It was my grandmother who accepted me unconditionally and it was my grandmother who instilled in me a deep love of food.  Not for food sake but for the joy it would bring people.  My mother has that ability as well.  We have a deep sense of tradition in our family and it all ties into food.  Its something i am passing on to my daughter.  we have already planned Valentines breakfast.  Heart shaped pancakes and sausage.  She says we will be famous cookers one day.  I would like it if she would actually eat all the food she helps me create but that's a conversation for a different day.  To day I am home from work, so no matter how I feel the house needs to be special when they all come home.  I made granola, so simple.

2 cups of regular oats
1 cup of coconut
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup  cashews
1/2 cup almonds
1/4 cup oil
1/2 cup honey
1 tsp vanilla  Combine everything in a bowl, heat oven to 400, place granola on a pan lined with parchment, (or foil if you're in a pinch)bake 12 minutes stir, bake 7 minutes stir, bake 4 minutes, remove from oven and let it cool.  Store in an air tight container for up to 4 weeks.

I will also make a nice dinner.  I want everyone to feel loved and I think its a good way to show them that I care.  I remember coming home from school and my Gram would have homemade pie or bread and the house would smell amazing.  You felt like the house hugged you when you came in the door.  I want my family to have the same sense of warmth and peace when they come home.  Yesterday was Martin Luther King Day.  What a great man, not a perfect man but a man that had a passion to see the world be better than it was.  We were telling the kids about him and how he wanted the world to be a place of acceptance for all people.  We also told them about Coretta Scott King and how she fought for the rights of gay and lesbian people.  She felt it was the natural extension of Dr. Kings legacy.  I also told them about Cesar Chavez.  So many people don't know who he is however,, if you grew up in a farming community like Arizona is, you know who Cesar Chavez is.  He believed as Dr King in peaceful demonstrations and he stood for the rights of  farm workers.  He believed in equal pay, humane treatment and safe housing for the folks that put food on our table everyday.  We explained to our kids and reminded ourselves that it is our job to stand up against injustice in our world.  For my children it means treating children with respect, and speaking up when they see someone bullying another child.  For us, it means treating people with respect and speaking up when we see someone being bullied.  Perhaps we really do learn everything we need to know in kindergarten. Here's the challenge, be brave enough to make a difference in your world.

Day 11

Is caring what other people think genetic?  Last night before we went to bed my little girl told me she couldn’t go to school in the morning.  She then went on to say she didn’t like her rain boots, they have cracks in them, and the snow gets in and makes my feet wet.  That seemed reasonable enough, not the school part but the boot part.  I told her I didn’t know her boots had cracks and I would buy her a new pair and bring them to school.  She then began to cry…uncontrollably.  She then wailed, “All of my friends have snow boots, and I don’t have snow boots and I am NOT going to school tomorrow!” I had no idea snow boots were such a big deal. I tried to console her and tell her we could look for snow boots over the weekend, no she cried.  Marti and Teah and Abby have snow boots and I need them RIGHT NOW!  Seriously?!  I would be totally on board if she wanted them because her boots had cracks in them, I would go immediately to the store if they didn’t fit her or they were uncomfortable, but you NEED them RIGHT NOW because your friends have them?  I am not so inclined.  So, here I am trying to have a rational conversation with a 5 year old about how we all need to do what we think is important.  We should like or do or wear what we like and not care so much about what other people think.  You know, the exact opposite conversation that your mother had with you.  It wasn’t working, I could see it on her face, sure mom, whatever, give me the boots!  As I left her room that night I was amazed that a 5 year old really cared so much about what other children thought.  I really want to raise my kids to be independent thinkers.  I have blared the Mamas and Papas, “Sing Your Own Special Song”, in the car since we’ve adopted them and encouraged their own unique sense of style (or lack thereof).  The last thing I want for them is to be consumed with concern about what people think. Shortly after she went to bed, I picked up People magazine, that’s right I read it on a regular basis.  There were three articles, one about an anorexic model who just died, the second about Johnny Weir and his unique style, and the third about an actress who suffered from bulimia.  All of these folks were in the public eye, they had their own ideas of beauty and then they allowed outside influences control them into thinking they weren’t good enough unless…Thankfully, the actress and the skater were able to shake the need to make others happy and focus on what they felt was important.  The model, however, didn’t fare so well.  At 28 she is dead.  Why?  Who really knows. In part, it’s because of the way we look at beauty.  Fat is held in disdain, we should do anything, throw up, take pills, deny our body nutrients, anything just don’t be fat.  My son went to school the other day and some kid made a comment about his mom being fat.  Why is that OK?  And what does that say about society as a whole?  An 8 year old has the message that fat is bad, so bad in fact, it’s a way to tease a kid.  Where does that come from?  I doubt the parents of that child would say they were bigoted.  I doubt they would say they are raising their child to hate certain groups of people.  BUT somehow it has happened.  Perhaps images in books, perhaps the way we speak about fat people when we see them and think no one can hear us, perhaps the comments made in “jest”.  I am not sure how it happens, only that it does happen.  Fat people aren’t bad people, we aren’t evil or stupid or lazy.  We are just fat, like some people have dimples, or blonde hair, or large breasts.  It’s just fat.

Day 12

Crazy day today and I needed a quick dinner.  This one is called Pantry Soup, because most of these things exist, in some fashion, in your fridge and pantry.  You should be able to knock this out in just a few minutes!

Pantry Soup

1 diced carrot – add more if you like carrots

1-2 cloves garlic

½ small onion diced – the world won’t end if you don’t have it (brown with uncooked meat or in a little oil)

¼ pound of cooked meat- I use chorizo, hamburger or chicken, left over is just fine or you don’t need to use meat at all

1 can of white beans

1/2 jar of green salsa- I use Trader Joes

1 can of spicy stewed tomatoes like Rotel, I use Haggen brand

2 cups of water with a bouillon cube or 1 can of chicken or beef stock

Salt, pepper, chili powder, cumin, coriander to taste

Simmer for about 30 minutes. YUM!

You can add ANYTHING to this left over beans, rice, salsa, peppers, pasta, beer, etc

You can also substitute anything you don’t like heat, regular tomatoes, make it Italian and remove chili powder etc and add oregano and Italian sausage

You can’t mess this up!  I wish life was this easy.

Day 7

Uneventful

Day 8

John Wooden says, “Make each day your masterpiece” inspirational words that often help me refocus my day.  Such was not the case today.  My day resembled a preschool art project gone bad.  It started off with my son, to his defense his love of self is genetic.  He comes from a long line of ego centric men and one very confident woman. We called his grandfather to see how he was doing after surgery.  I explained that Papa would need to hear some kind words and we needed to let him know that we loved him.  My son gets their answering machine and starts rambling on about the toys he got for Christmas, and how he was getting a cold and blah, blah, blah, me, me, me.  Then his sister starts yelling, let me talk to Papa, and then my partner comes in to see what’s going on and I try to explain and she walks out of the room in disgust.  I know she is thinking, we have been up for 40 minutes and IT has already begun.  Not only had IT begun, IT didn’t end until their sweet little heads hit their pillows.  I don’t remember having days like this before I had kids.  I don’t remember thinking on a regular basis, here we go again.  I don’t remember wanting to run screaming from the building before I had kids.  At one point I remember thinking, OK let’s try and turn this around.  I began to tease them and rough house, thinking this will get everyone laughing.  Everyone was laughing and I thought we had made it through the roughest part of the day.   My little girl asked me to “pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and spank her bum-not too hard-“.  So, I did as requested.  She was laughing and then there was a silence and then a smell.  A smell that only a mother knows.  The smell of freshly puked milk.  That’s right, she threw up all down my back 5 minutes before salvation came knocking on my door.  Our good friend was coming to dinner and then, I foolishly thought, I had a chance of catching a break. Well, there always other days. The problem with days like this, besides the obvious, is that they catch me off guard and my resolve to eat healthier goes right out the window. All I can think is give me food and give it to me right now!!!!!! Its then I realize my love affair with food is sometimes more than that.  It is an addiction.  When I was younger I drank a lot.  I was out of control and unmanageable.  If I started to drink, I could not stop until I was a complete mess.  Something switched in my brain, literally like a light switch, and I went from sipping a cocktail to downing shots. God in His great mercy put an end to that for me.  In fact, I can have a drink and never worry about over doing.  Food however, is not the same thing.  If I am upset and begin to snack (or should I say shovel), I lose all sense of control.  Literally that switch is flipped and I drop food in my mouth as quickly as I can.  It takes over, and when reason starts to ring in my ears, I realize what I have done and then I feel like a total failure which only adds to the horror of the day.

 

Day 9

All is calm, all is bright.  Well I am happy to report we are not having a repeat of yesterday.  Because it was a horrible, no good, bad day!  I am also so very thankful that days like that are few and far between.  We checked out a new church today.  It’s an “Open and Confirming Congregation” which means they openly affirm folks like me.  What a concept, a CHURCH that openly accepts all people.  You wouldn’t think that would be unusual since it was the cornerstone of Jesus’ teaching but alas, it is quite unusual for a church that teaches about Jesus to accept folks like me.  There is a passage in the Bible that says “whosoever believes in the name of the Lord shall be saved”.  Last time I checked I counted as a whosoever. It’s interesting this debate about who is acceptable in the eyes of God and who isn’t. We are made in the image of God, man and woman each one says the bible.  And if you believe the bible to be the word of God as many of the haters do, then this should be simple.  God does not see our flesh.  God sees our hearts and each one of us are made in the image of God, which means God has male and female attributes.  Does this make sense so far?  If that be true, then how does God hate a person who loves someone of the same gender if God is both genders and God only sees our hearts?  I am not a scholar of the Word, and it seems that is a good thing, because simple minded me just believes, actually I know beyond a shadow of doubt, that God gets me and that Jesus never said a word about who I love, only how I love.  Question of the day : How do you love?  My prayer for each of you is that you love deeply, without fear and that you are loved by someone deeply.

 

Day 5

Germs. I am just going to say it.  I am a germ phoebe.  I don’t like to touch grocery cart handles, I really hate using the community pen at the grocery store every time you write a check and if someone coughs or sneezes on me, forget about it.  I do my best not to read things that have to do with germs or bacteria or kootties of any kind however, there are those articles that the radio station gets a hold of and they feel compelled to share the information with the rest of us.  For example, never sit your purse on your desk or table because there are every kind of make you violently ill or kill your germs on the bottom.  I hear that at 5:00, on the ride home and then Aunt Millie ( a made up name to protect the innocent) comes over and sets her contaminated Coach bag on my dining room table.  REALLY?! Then it’s all I can do not to knock the thing off the table and scream, “For the love of god, what are you doing?!!”  Sadly, my phobias can cause embarrassment for my family.  If you have germ issues, please skip down to Day 6 because this will rock you to your very foundation.  3D eye glasses, that are given out at the movie theaters, brand new from the package, have been known to cause pink eye. That’s right, PINK EYE.  Again, this was reported on by the news media and I could not escape hearing this information.  So, I have a solution.  Hand sanitizer.  I rub hand sanitizer on each pair of glasses before anyone is allowed to put them on.  My children are so used to this that they hand them over before each 3D movie.  They wonder why other Mama’s aren’t doing this. My daughter says, “Their Mamas must not care if they get germs in their eyes.”  (Talk about future counseling bills) and still, I cannot stop myself.  I feel compelled to share this information with everyone in the theater within ear shot.  Often I am greeted with an icy stare, but on occasion, there is a “good” mama who will opt to use my sanitizer.  At that moment, I know why I am here on this earth.  It is to make everyone’s world just a little safer. J

Day 6

I went upstairs this morning to get breakfast ready for everyone.  On the counter, my daughter saw the latest People magazine.  What, I like the articles. It was the first of the year look at people who lost a lot of weight.  It dawns on me, the process of losing weight successfully must really be an enigma.  Otherwise why would they prance a few people out every year to tell their stories?  If everybody could do it, it wouldn’t be news. Anyway, she sees the photo of an emaciated woman above the picture of her formally round self and says to me, “Mama, I don’t want you to lose your fat.” so sweet.  It’s wonderful to know that someone in the world accepts you just as you are.  I explain to her Mama has to lose weight to be healthy.  No, she says, I want you fat.  Why, I ask.  Because I like to put my head on your big bum and dance around.  Oh that the world would view fat people in that light.  Don’t get me wrong, I know my weight has become unmanageable and it is not healthy to be at least 100 pounds overweight but, to see her face as she runs up to me and smashes into my body, sheer joy.  Somewhere inside myself, deep inside myself, there is a voice that says that’s how God sees me.  He is unable to look beyond the sagging boobs and cellulite to the person that cries at Hallmark commercials.  I have never been thin, size 9 lasted for about a year at the age of 13.  I was at my healthiest when I was a size 13 and that’s where I want to go again.  I remember an incident from a few years ago, my mom sent me a photo of myself and the caption read, “Remember this pretty girl?” I thought yes I do, that’s the size I was when you told me how fat I was.  Thus began the journey of never quite good enough.  What did she mean, remember that pretty girl?  Am I not pretty now?  I wasn’t pretty then either to hear her tell it.  Somehow, the fatter I got the size 13, 18 pictures became pretty?  I was a size 13 when that picture was taken.  I ran every day, played sports, had thin friends (which was very important), got straight A’s despite being a bit of an excessive talker, what was wrong with me?  What is wrong with me?  Weight is something that everyone feels they have right to discuss with you.  People feel it’s acceptable to stare or make comments.  Most don’t take the time to look beyond the shell and most feel uncomfortable to be seen with you.  I listened to a radio talk show the other day and they were talking about this new TV show called Mike and Molly.  They went on and on about how disgusting it was.  How they had to turn their heads when Mike and Molly kissed because they almost threw up.  Adults, on public radio talking freely about how gross this show was, other adults calling in and agreeing that it was worse than seeing bloody organs on the medical shows, not one person called in to say anything positive.  I thought to myself, what kind of show is this?  How did it get to be on TV?  I should check this horrible show out and see for myself.  So I did.  The most disgusting show on TV, the show that garnered such disdain, Mike and Molly. Mike and Molly are fat people who date.  They show them kissing and in bed together. That’s it and that is the most disgusting thing that people have seen on TV.  REALLY?  So, if that is THE MOST DISGUSTING show on TV, what does that make me in real life? Now I don’t feel disgusting (most days) and my partner makes me feel beautiful and sexy, and my daughter loves my big bum and God loves my fat lesbian self, you would think it would be enough, but it’s not.  Because every day I have to go into the real world and see those stares and hear those words.  I have to work twice as hard to feel OK about me, forget good about me.  At the end of this year, no matter what happens, I want to feel GREAT about me.

Ramblings of a Fat Lesbian Housewife a journey of weight loss and introspection

Day 1

Well, the New Year has begun and I kicked it off in a particularly unusual way.  I did the Polar Bear Plunge.  Let me tell you, I felt like a Polar Bear.  I believe I was the only one standing on the beach in a lavender sweat shirt and long black sweats.  Does that bring a particular vision to mind?  Well let’s just try to erase it, shall we?  I have to say even though I was a “vision”, and looked different from most of the others, I felt included somehow in the frivolity.  A young woman from my work came with me to offer support and experience a new beginning of her own. I am thankful to her because I doubt I would have really moved my fat ass, across the frozen tundra, without her.  OK it wasn’t frozen tundra, but it was cold, 28 degrees.  You will find by reading my thoughts and sharing my life, I have a flare for the dramatic.  Sometimes it serves me well and sometimes it bites me but never the less, it is who I am.  Doing the plunge was my way of kick starting the year, something so new and foreign to me that I would be motivated to lose 100 pounds, and become physically active once again. I have become a giant couch potato and at 46, I really do not have an excuse.  Wait, give me a minute, I may be able to think of one.  No, nothing comes to mind.  Thus the reason I have to take a long hard look at myself and get going.  I was watching Oprah the other day (please, don’t act like you are above it) and she said that you must get to the root of why you eat before you can be successful.  Well, let me tell you, I have been digging for some time and I don’t have anything.  I really can’t explain why I weigh what I do.  In fact, when I look at what I eat, I don’t think it’s that much or that bad.  I mean I have seen people on talk shows that are fat and they say things like, “I ate 3 Big Macs for lunch every day and washed it down with a large strawberry shake and fries, followed by a diet coke.”  For some reason there is always diet coke involved with what fat people eat.  I don’t get it, it’s not like they don’t like sugar. I can honestly say, I have never eaten three of anything in one sitting, and yet still fat.  So, this is where I begin, accepting the fact that I am fat and praying to God that there is truth to the theory of muscle memory!  I used to run, I used to walk and jump and...let’s hope those little muscles can dig deep and find a way to move again.  

Day 2 and 3

Well, let’s just say old habits die hard.  Before you think I caved in and ate the handmade, chocolate covered, turtle from the best candy store in La Conner WA, let me just say I didn’t.  But I wanted to.  Day 2 was fairly uneventful.  I kept track of all the food that went in my mouth, I drank the appropriate amount of water, I snacked liked a civilized human being etc.  Day 3 however, had its own challenges.  My partner is out of town on business.  I had the kids all to myself and for whatever reason they decided they hated me!  It wasn’t pretty.  My day at worked sucked and all I could think about was that chocolate covered turtle.  Maybe a little bite wouldn’t hurt, knowing all the while if I gave in to that I would become a whirling dervish of sugar inhaling destruction.  You know, the moment that all reason goes out the window and whatever food that is in your path will get consumed.  That moment when you lie to yourself and say “I’ll just do this and then tomorrow will be a new day” Been there, done that. That day has turned into years and I can’t waste anymore time. It did make me think about a few things though.  My work, for example:  Have you ever been in a place where you know you make a difference and your supervisors are so unknowing of anything you do, that they think they had the success?  Or have you have ever been in a meeting, excited about a project, and then shared all of your wisdom really believing that people are engaged and listening?  Then, two weeks later, the boss who sat there staring at you, nodding her head emails you and asks, “Have you ever heard about…?”  Yes, it was the damn thing I spent an hour explaining to you two weeks ago!!!!  I hate that kind of crap!  It makes me feel invisible and I think that’s the worse feeling in the entire world.  Most of us want to be seen, really seen.  The other day I was driving through a new coffee stand.  The girl gave me my coffee, I gave her a tip and thanked her, and as I drove off I realized she never looked at me nor did I look at her.  It was a meaningless interaction that took up about 5 minutes of my day.  Then I wondered, how many of those do I have a day.  Pretty soon you begin to realize that your day could easily be sprinkled with meaningless interactions that leave you feeling, well, meaningless.  Take a minute to look someone in the eye and smile.  Take a minute to stop and really notice what is going on around you.  That’s my goal this week, to take the mundane and make it MEANINGFUL.  In my job I see or hear about 60-75 low income people each day.  These are folks that for the most part have failed in life.  No education, abusive relationships, drugs, jail, etc. and the one thing that is common amongst all of them, is their need to be seen.  I can’t tell you the number of times someone has said to me, “You are the first person who has looked me in the eye.”  You would think in social services that wouldn’t be the case, but sadly, it is.  We get too busy directing people.  We have seen “this” before and we know how to handle it.  What we can forget is each person is different and will react to “this” in a different way.  It reminds me of when AIDS first hit, they guys said they missed human touch.  Well, that’s where I am in the world.  I miss being seen.  When you’re fat, you are often overlooked.  Not that you aren’t looked at, just not seen for the YOU, that is amazing under the fat.

Day 4

This is called the Ramblings of a Fat Lesbian Housewife for a reason.  Can someone please explain to me why it’s easier to get prescription narcotics and anti depressants from a doctor than it is to get a kid an antibiotic?  The 10 day near death rule, as I like to call it, has increased to 12-14 days.  For those of you that don’t have children or haven’t had children for many years, when apparently antibiotics were given out like candy and we lived to tell the story, if your child is clearly ill you cannot get an antibiotic for 10 -14 days.  Seriously?  If you get a bladder infection, they give you narcotics. If you get emotional, not crazy, emotional before your period, you can have an anti depressant. I know, it was offered to me. If your child has thick green paste coming from her nose, a fever of 103 and a cough that keeps her (and you) awake all night…ride it out and use steam.  Or my favorite quip from DR. Feel Good, it’s a virus and the antibiotic won’t help it anyway.  Interestingly enough, EVERY time we can pry one from the doctor’s grasp of steel, she is better in 24 hours.  Go figure.