Mamavation Monday: Let the Hazing Begin

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Sep 062010

I posted this last Monday on Bookieboo, the mom-centric, healthy living site I write for…

I’ve been blogging for Bookieboo for quite a while now and yet…I haven’t exactly been participating fully. Granted, I was writing a book and recently came up for air with a completed manuscript and realized my house had gone to hell in the year I had my head buried in Baby F(Ph)at, but that’s besides the point.

I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe in the message…or want to become a healthier mom…or think Leah was the cutest thing ever. Because I do.

(And she is.)

Frankly, I can’t fathom the idea of losing 170 pounds. The thought is utterly beyond me. And that’s probabably because my body is stubbornly holding on to much much less and my mind is stubbornly ignoring the little bits of Ben & Jerry’s that get beyond the gate here and there and how much that little bit probably isn’t helping…but still. I’m here. I wrote a flippin’ book about it. And I’m still trying.

I don’t plan to stop trying, either.

So here’s the deal—I am officially planning to pledge to become a Mamavation sista. Sure, it might seem a bit backwards, what with already being a Bookieboo editor, and all. But I’m late for everything. The point is that I’m here.

And I’m not going anywhere.

Those of you who have been reading Aspiring Mama and my posts at Bookieboo know that I tell it like it is. If I have a good day, I tell you.

If I have a bad day, I tell you that, too.

Motherhood is not for the weak. my blog isn’t for those who want the sugar-coated side of motherhood and fitness. Like right now? I could tell you that potty training is going great, my house is spotless,and I’m about to kick back and pop some fat-free bon bons or that I’m eating great and working out and sis boom bah but I won’t because I’m not. (Well, I am eating great…but let’s just say that if I had a treadmill in my living room, it would probably be doubling as a coat rack right now.) For me, it’s all about relating. And that means clinking the sippy cup I’m holding for my kid with the moms I pass in the trenches.

It’s another day. I’m ready.

Are you?

And wouldn’t you know it? I got in. I’m a Sista. It’s only been a week, but I can already tell you that this is going to be boatloads more fun than the nightmare of a sorority experience I had in college. So yes, I’m excited. And I can’t wait to see what happens.

Bat(ter) Up!

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Sep 052010

The book is done. Queries are out. My house is almost, kinda, sorta clean.
So this makes for a perfect time for Buttercup to decide to get sick after a preschool tour and me end up on the couch for three hours last night wondering if I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry because of my own tummy ache, too.
Thankfully (or not) I had Billy the Exterminator to keep me company for those three hours…mainly because I didn’t feel like getting up to find the remote. This left me with plenty of time to ponder the deeper meaning behind hairspray and mullets, fashion versus practicality in the areas regarding the removal of bees while wearing enough black to guarantee getting stung way more times than anyone would consider a good time, and if Billy has his shit together when it comes to making me question my mascara.


I might be a bit behind the 8-ball here (and I usually am so don’t look surprised) to learn that the Mullet Master of Louisiana is running around in his Vexcon truck telling his camera man that bat guano has many beneficial uses in today’s society…like the streaking upon of eyelashes by modern women like myself. And I know I’m behind because when I decided I was concerned enough with the absolute maybeness of this statement to get up, turn on my netbook, and do a Google search to find out if I should kick myself or thank myself for even considering anything to be fact when uttered by someone sporting a mullet, I found out that plenty of other eyelash-owning, mascara-wearing Billy the Exterminator viewers of the female persuasion had been concerned enough to do their own investigating. Which put me in some pretty interesting company. (Go ahead...look it up on youtube. I dare you.)
Turns out, Billy is full of shit.
Kind of.
In case you give a damn, guanine is a synthetic derivative of guano (bat doo-doo) made from fish scales, which apparently is the FDA-approved way to go. So if you are a vegan or vegetarian, I’m guessing you don’t use the stuff. I, however, thoroughly enjoy the fact that I don’t have to hunt my meat to eat it, or scale my fish to make me eyes pretty.
I will, however, make sure to have the remote handy the next time I feel sick enough to watch three hours of television in a row.Then again, I got my mind of the queries.

Disclaimer: I got my research info here and here. No actual experts or mullets were contacted in the name of verification.

Reverse Nesting

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Sep 012010

Something strange happened when I finished writing Baby F(Ph)at.

In short, I looked up and realized I suck as a housewife when I’m knee-deep in a manuscript. After a year of getting by with frantic “just throw the extra shit in the closet!” sessions reserved for guests and making sure we had enough clean laundry so no one was wearing anything nasty, I finally saw the house through the eyes of my alter-ego, (Mexican) June Cleaver. And aye…Ward has reasons to question if he’s man enough to stick around when I get to writing that next book.

While it’s true that I finished the book before I left for BlogHer, it’s also true that I was away from home until last week. And after a few days of doing the blissful nothing I demand after 20 days of non-stop family, I blinked…and then it all came into focus.

The dust covered blinds (I wrote my name one one…kinda cool, actually.)

The junk drawer so full of random crap that it wasn’t even closing anymore.

The closet. Which we couldn’t fit the vacuum into. And that’s a problem.

The dust bunnies under the couch (which are now getting their own mail forwarded to my address.)

The linen closets (not just for linen anymore! Holy shit! That’s where that other thing I don’t need went to…)

Needless to say…I have my work cut out for me.  That’s why I started a to-do list with one or two projects to be tackled daily. Like the dusting and the evicting of the dust bunnies. Or the junk drawer and the closet. Or telling The Husband to bite me and to shove it when he tells me I suck as a housewife when I’m writing a book. Or maybe just telling him to fuck off and then laughing because I can’t keep a straight face because he is so totally right.

It’s been about a week since I started my reverse nesting. That’s what I like to call this phase. Moms-to-be nest when a baby is on the way. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Moms who are writers nest after they (I) finish a book and figure out they (I) better haul ass on Operation Clean House before the next project is officially started. (While they (I) are (am) querying.)  Because that’s such a relaxing combination.

And when I type Chapter 1? Again?

It’s house, hell, and hand basket…all over again.

Bring it.

Until then, I’m gonna whistle while I work and rock this happy homemaker thing.

What I Could've Done

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Jul 252010

I wrote a book.

The magnitude of this statement is still not something my mind has wrapped itself around. Maybe it’s because it’s still too foreign of a concept.

I start a lot of things.

I rarely follow through. (Except for the pushing the baby out thing, because by that point, I really kinda didn’t have a choice.) So when I say I wrote a book, I am also saying I could have not, just was easily.

I could have let my Muse run the show, claiming diva-hood and migraines. I could have decided that why yes, I much rather would have watched Castle, Fringe, Bones, Burn Notice, Ghost Hunters, and every other show that I have ignored for the past year while writing during the only time I actually have to myself. I could have slept because really, who needs more than four hours a night? For a year. With a toddler for an alarm clock. a lot more than I have been. I could have not been as pressed for time during the day to get my housework done because it wouldn’t matter if I needed to play catch up on the laundry after Buttercup got into her little toddler bed. I could  have read more for pleasure or enjoyed a movie night or two with the zillions of never seen DVD’s I have sitting on my entertainment center. I could have concentrated too hard on the publishing stats and my chanced and just given up. I could have…I could have…I could have…

But I didn’t.

I wrote a book.

And now?

I’m going to work my ass off to get it published.

On Birthdays and New Beginnings

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Jul 242010

It’s July 24.

It’s a big date for me.

For one, it’s the official start and end date of my year’s Baby F(Ph)at journey. I gave myself a year to lose 40 pounds and while I didn’t make that goal, I made huge strides in changing my outlook, my eating habits, and my understanding of the importance of never putting myself last on my to-do list again. My daughter, my husband, and the responsibilities I have to my family have and always will come first. Screw the bra-burning party. It’s just the way I’m wired. But I’m happy with second place.

I’d call that a success, which is also a big mental step for me. That alone shows me that I have realized my journey doesn’t stop when I type The End on the book.

There’s another reason that July 24 is important to me. My father would have turned 53 today. His number’s still in my cell phone. I used to call it, before my sister inherited his cell, just to hear his voice. But it’s been three years since he died unexpectedly. And I think it’s taken me this long to let go. There isn’t any more lingering guilt when I feel happiness or take a hard-earned moment’s peace to just be. I didn’t realize it until a few days ago, but this entire year has been more of a growing experience than I had ever planned for it to be. I settled into a new house thousands of miles away from my family and friends and brought my mother and one of my sisters with us. Made repeated trips back to the east coast for legal matters surrounding my father’s death, which led to a legal fight with certain (former) family members because my father had died without a will. And while I was gluing my heart back together, life kept moving forward. My dog died.  More pages were written. More steps taken to a happier and healthier me. My grandfather died. Buttercup turned three. And life kept moving on. More pages were written. And more steps taken to a happier and healthier me and in spite of the PCOS, the Insulin Resistance, the hypothyroid, I lost 16 pounds as of my last count. *throws confetti*

It’s been a hell of a year. But I survived. And I’m a better person for it, I think.

Did I realize the importance of this date when I decided to start writing chapter one 365 days ago? Yes and no. Of course I realized it was his birthday, but I didn’t start my book on July 24 intentionally. It just happened. And as the year progressed, I forgot about it…until I looked at the calendar again and realized what day my year’s journey would officially end.

I wrote a book for your birthday, Dad. How’s that for a new beginning?

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