Redefining Self Worth – YOU CAN DO IT! – Ennui Magazine & Network

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Worth is a very subjective thing. Some people say the price of high fashion is insane, while others say the absolutely gorgeous pieces are worth every penny.

But, self worth is even more elusive. It comes and goes based on how our relationships are, how work is, even how we look. What happens when you start to redefine your own worth? What happens when you allow yourself to feel worthy of love, light, and happiness?

I’m starting a new path to answer these questions, and I hope you will too.

My journey described for Ennui, as follows:

http://www.ennuizine.com/2015/07/21/redefining-self-worth-can/

Battle of the Bulge: 21 Day Fix

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I did it! Wait. Let me try again:

I DID IT!!!

I have officially finished my first ever 21 day fix. And although there were moments where I wanted to throw in the sweat soaked towel, I didn’t.  I did the food plan. I used those teeny containers. (Like, wtf Autumn? We’re not squirrels.) I did the 30 minute workouts and tacked on the 10 minute abs.

I used to think that only strong people could do it. Strong physically, and strong mentally. And that’s it, right? It’s all mental. You can look at yourself in the mirror and believe what others have said; you’re too fat, you’re lazy,  you’re dumb, you’re not strong enough. You. Can’t.  Do. This.

Or you can look in the mirror and toss that middle finger up, and show them just how strong and tough you are. And in doing so, you show yourself.

At my biggest, I was a size 16. I had to order clothes online. I would get anxious to go into a store, not knowing if they would even carry my size. I would never ask for help finding my size because I didn’t want to tell some size two girl how big I was. Now? My size 12 pants are too big. Halfway through the fix, I had to get new workout pants because mine were falling down. I got a tank at Lululemon, and it was too big. Too BIG. That has literally never happened before.

And while the numbers aren’t the most important part, I’m amazed by them. In three weeks I lost 5.4 pounds and 17 inches from my body, 4.7 just from my waist. It’s a ton, but that’s all the extra bullshit that’s been stacking on to me, all the extra self hatred and doubt that lead me to eat my feelings.

I think if I can do it, you can do it. And not because of the numbers, but because of your heart and your soul. You deserve to feel proud and strong and loved and amazed by yourself. You got this. I got this.  We got this.

The proof is in the sugar free pudding. Pictures of my progress,  and since I generally don’t walk around in gym shorts and a sports bra, I included clothes.

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If you want to join the same group as me, please contact my coach, Dave Fraser who has had amazing success so far! (www.facebook.com/DaveFraserFitness)

I’m just a fluffy marshmallow

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Have you ever been in your car and looked over and the person next to you was crying? You don’t know why, and you don’t even know them, but you feel like you should do something? You offer a sympathetic smile or wave as you make eye contact before both of you driving off.

Last night, I was the girl in the car crying. I got off the highway and was waiting at a red light, and the tears came. I don’t know what exactly I was crying about, but I became so aware of everyone in the cars around me.

It was not my first car cry. When the girls were in the NICU, sometimes I would get in my car and before I could even start the ignition, I would cry. Total uncontrollable tears that would stream down, and then abruptly stop. It’s almost as if my body can’t hold the emotions in anymore, and just needs to let some out before going on.

When I wrote about my separation, I was flooded with emails, texts, and messages (thank you to those who reached out), and the content was about the same; you are strong, you can do this.

And yes, I can. But strong? That’s what I want you to think. I’m really like a chocolate dipped marshmallow; they look so strong and tough from the outside, but one little crack exposes how fluffy  (and delicious! ) they really are.

I’ve always assumed that if I acted tough and if others thought I was, that it would just start to seep into my skin, deep into my bones, that it would become true. The simple fact is that I’m overwhelmed by emotions and our situation and all the other bullshit that comes with being a parent and an adult. And truth be told, who wouldn’t be? I always see articles about celebrities splitting up and how easy it is and that’s because they have money and a team of people surrounding them and their kids. Most of us regular folks either have to sink or swim. And right now, this marshmallow is going to swim like she never has before.

The Separated Mama

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I’ve pretty much written about everything; my c section, breastfeeding,  my battle with my weight, my fears for Ella. But I haven’t written much about my relationship. For so many reasons, I didn’t, and I really always felt like I was living a lie.

And truth be told, I was. Everyone has assumed things about us, and I just never corrected those beliefs. But the time has come to face the music, and we’ve separated. In fact, we separated before and tried to work it out, only to now separate again.

I have a lot of fear. How in the hell can I be a good mum to three kids on my own? Will I always be lonely? Will I ever  feel love again? I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. Some days are much harder than others. When Buds is crying for his Daddy, mad at me that he’s not there, I’m left feeling guilty and despondent. Just trying to wrap my head around logistics- work, daycare, kids, groceries. But that will eventually sort itself out.

It may seem totally weird that I’m drowning myself in my 21 day fix instead of a pint of Baskin Robbins, but it literally feels like the only thing I have control of right now. I am on a regiment, and kicking its ass. I’m not a size two, but for the first time in a long time I feel good, and I’m hopeful, so hopeful,  that the feelings will find their way to my heart, and will heal that as well.

So many changes are happening, and I hope that I can be strong for my littles;  that I can show them love, patience, and kindness, and in showing them, hopefully I can show myself at the same time.

We’re 18 months!

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18 months! July 7, 2015

18 months! We’re officially at the halfway point to two, which I cannot believe! In January, the girls’ ages will no longer be corrected. Right now, they’re about 15 and a half months corrected.

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Ella Bella, day 544 (July 6)

Ella has improved SO much in such a short time. Our nanny is absolutely amazing and does all kinds of exercises and activities with Ella. What do you expect given she was recommended to me by one of our NICU staff?! But seriously, she has Ella sitting crossed legged and playing, playing on her hands and knees, and even standing by the couch to play. I get pictures texted to me when I’m at work and it’s just amazing.

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Ella in her new bath chair, day 545

Tonight when I was putting her in her jammies, Ella was baring weight on her legs. Normally, she kind of crumbles down. She is getting stronger and more adventurous every day. She is rolling around her crib, playing with her toes and all her stuffed friends, and grabbing at everything. I couldn’t be more proud of her.

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Miss Raegan in the bath, day 545

Raegan is so much better from her breathing incident, thankfully. She is not yet walking by herself, but she’s getting there. The last couple mornings I’ve been home with them and when I get Raegan up, she leans over my shoulder and waves to Ella, saying “hiya!” It’s the sweetest, best thing. This morning she gave Ella one of her raisins. Their bond is undeniable and so amazing to watch from the outside.

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Sleepy Raegan, day 544

Raegan is getting new words and is constantly exploring.  She escapes everything, but still sucks her thumb and twists her hair, it’s too much.

We celebrated the girls turning 18 months by visiting the NICU clinic, so the girls wore their shirts, and though they say they will be mighty, my girls ARE mighty. They’re so strong and smart and beautiful and I know they will do amazing things.

Battle of the Bulge: Who wants a Beachbody?

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As you know, I’ve been struggling with my jelly belly since the girls were born, but you may not know that I’ve really struggled with my body since childhood.

I was always a big kid, and often teased for it. For so long I’ve told myself that I’m just meant to be fat, but I really wasn’t happy with that.

I was pretty successful with Weight Watchers my first go round; I lost 65 pounds on it, which felt amazing. This time, I found I kept stalling on the program, it just wasn’t enough for me. I needed something more.

So many of my friends have been successful doing things like Shakeology, P90X, and 21 day fixes. One of my buddies, and former work hubby, started the 21 day program and looks amazing. He’s done so well that he’s now a coach and pushed me into doing the 21 day fix Beachbody program.

I’ve finished my first week and lost 3.2 pounds and a combined 8.1 inches! IN ONE WEEK. Of course, it’s not the numbers that matter, but that’s awesome, right? !  Yes, it’s fricking hard work. It’s kick ass 30 minute workouts every day with an additional 10 minute abs workout plus a total diet overhaul.

But the thing is, I’ve done it. I’ve done every single exercise, I’ve meal planned carefully,  I’ve upped my water intake. I’m doing it. And in doing so, I’m telling those voices in my head, the ones I’ve let hold me back my whole life to just shut the fuck up.

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Sweat much? After tonight's workout

If you want to join me on the fix, please contact my awesome coach Dave Fraser!! (www.facebook.com/DaveFraserFitness)

The Guilt of the Working Mom – Twiniversity

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As I’ve written before, heading back to work has been a hard journey for all of us, and it seemed natural to write about it for my latest piece on Twiniversity.

It feels great to be back among like-minded adults and to have conversations about things I am passionate about, but the simple truth is, I miss my babies.

We have to make many sacrifices as parents, and though work shouldn’t be a sacrifice, it takes commitment to get the schedules and timing down so that you have some resemblance of a work life balance. Teaching our children about going into careers that are meaningful to us is also important,  so that they recognize how hard we work inside and out of the home and the work we had to put in along the way to get where we are today.

http://twiniversity.com/2015/07/the-guilt-of-the-working-mom/

A little Friday trauma never hurt anybody

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Life is funny. You make plans for the day, week, month and you just expect that things will go your way. Then sometimes something happens that completely derails you.

Friday, I was at work when I got a phone call;

Raegan was having trouble breathing.

I left as fast as my legs would move and came home to find her wheezing and chest and tummy working overtime to catch her breath.

Again, we were back at Sick Kids, though it was with Raegan, not Ella. When they saw how hard it was for her to breathe, we were rushed right in.

Essentially my teeny tiny Itty Bitty girl was having an asthma attack. And  I knew she would be fine, I knew it, but seeing her with a stat probe on her foot and the alarm going off again brought me right back to their time in the NICU.

I knew she would be ok, but when I was sitting in the cafeteria, a place I’ve sat in many times before,  I had to hold back sobs. The thing is, the girls’ time in the NICU left deeper scars than my c-section one did, and sometimes they’re really hard to see, and other times they’re right on the surface, like I just got them.

My little one is doing better, and after a few rounds of inhalers and medication, she was back to her usual feisty self.

That’s the thing about trauma,  you make plans and then something happens, and your world stops. For everyone else, it keeps spinning,  but you’re standing still,  trying to remember to breathe. But, eventually you do, and you remember how to walk again, and if you’re lucky, you have an adorable curly – haired wild child waiting to give you cuddles.

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Playing with the ladybug maze

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Starting to feel better, so bring on the raisins!

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A timbit for the brave girl!

Nope, I really only need one high chair

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Having a child with special needs is really hard, but having twins who have vastly different levels of ability makes it that much harder.

People are constantly asking me if the girls are running circles around me, assuming they can both do the same things. I get it, you don’t assume someone has special needs. But, you know what drives me absolutely crazy? When we go out to eat and I ask for one high chair and I’m asked one hundred times by one hundred different people if I need two high chairs.

Nope. I really just need one, thanks.

This happens every. single. time we go out to eat, even at restaurants where they know us, and it digs into me each time.

Ella still can’t sit up on her own, and even if we filled a high chair with sweaters or blankets, she would just flop over or arch back. I have a special harness chair for her that sometimes she’s okay using, and sometimes she cannot stand. Even when I bring the chair with me out to eat, I still get asked if I need two high chairs, and sometimes as I’m attaching the harness to a chair, they still ask me.

Sometimes people stare at her special pink chair, and I see them out of the corner of my eye, wondering why we don’t just have two high chairs, but I really don’t need two high chairs, I just need two happy girls and their big brother to all be able to be at dinner together, and the rest doesn’t really matter.

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Ella having dinner in her special pink chair

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Raegan and the watermelon

What do you mean you’re not babies anymore?

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The other night both girls were up and frantic, and after the third time of pacing with Raegan, I walked by my full-length mirror and snuck a peek.

Seriously, my baby is gigantic.

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Buds the baby

Let’s be real; Raegan will always be Itty Bitty to me, but seeing her, her body draped across mine, I realized, she’s not a baby anymore. And of course,  if she isn’t,  Ella isn’t either, and Buds definitely isn’t. 

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Buds the preschooler

When did I become a mum of two toddlers and a preschooler? How did that happen?

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Newborn babies!!

When did Braeden stop looking like a baby and start looking like a little boy? When did the girls grow so big that their clothes don’t fit? Why do I have boxes and boxes of used clothes in my basement? When did these toys become for babies?

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Big girls!

I don’t even realize how fast time has gone until I look at baby pictures of them. Ella’s chubby cheeks are thinning. Raegan is twirling her hair absent mindedly.  Braeden uses big people words and is wearing size five clothes. FIVE. As in for five year olds. How did this happen?

And really, the most important question is, how did I manage to not age a day?

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I don't look old. Right?!