A Brain Cloud in Progress

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Aug 222010

I’ve got these great ideas for blog posts. I think them up all the time.

When I’m brushing my teeth or giving Buttercup a bath.

When I’m driving.

When I’m knee-deep in a three week hell-cation and am aware that aside from, like, 2 friends, no one I actually know reads my blog (yet).

These moments happen all the time. You know the kind. Where you look up from whatever you are doing like Twist on The Fresh Beat Band and suddenly have a bright idea animate itself right next to your quirky little smile? Those moments are awesome…sometimes a blog post even writes itself. And when I’m in the habit of writing everyday, I can hold on to these mind pictures long enough to get through an entire day (including a story and bed time) before finding myself with enough free time to sit down and peck at the keyboard.

But I’m not in practice right now. Instead, I’m grasping at straws with no idea what I was thinking about five minutes ago because I am:

*simultaneously reading Eat, Pray, Love and Julie and Julia on my nook and calling it Baby F(Ph)at research while I continue to plod my way through the #agentsearch.

*bitching cuz I never found the time to get my sport length acrylics redone (read: filled and filed way the hell down) after BlogHer and am now hating life as I type because I still have a few BlogHer posts to write and at this point I’d really rather just not.

*ignoring and being mutually ignored by BFF Mel as our marathon-online-window shopping Skype session has surpassed the point of conversation, the interest of The Husband and Mr. @Bobherz, and has morphed into a nonversation. I’m writing a blog post and she’s trying to find the perfect accessories for her new nook and every 10 minutes or so one of us will ask the other how it’s going, the other will give a noncommittal “s’ alright” before resuming our BFF-y shared silence. Well shit…I think she just hung up on me. It’s cool. Not like we weren’t talking for three hours.

*recovering from 20 days away from home, even if home isn’t the home I still own 2,500 miles away because The Husband took a job 2,500 miles thissa way, and realizing that after this time on our own—with no real family or friends out here—I much rather prefer my own brand of crazy than the kind forced on me by competing personalities and agendas…even if it means scorpions and tarantulas because it’s legal to drown them in bug spray.

*thankful that the, like, 2 friends I have who read this blog won’t be mentioning this blog or the contents of this post to any of the little faces I may be imagining on said scorpions or tarantulas in the weeks to come.

*hoping that the little faces think I’m talking about other little faces should they ever come across this blog post when I’m at the top of the New York Times Best Seller List on a day that they got bored and decided to troll for a reason to start an argument because the laundry is done and the kids are in school and really, what else do we do right now?

*munching on Buttercup’s Gerber Graduates Mild Cheddar Lil Crunchies because I knowingly and willingly jumped so far off the wagon while away that I’m now resorting to pilfering my daughter’s cheesy snacks because it’s almost midnight and I’m not even looking at a spinach leaf until Monday morning after I wake up, not before I go to0 bed and oh hell yes is this an important distinction.

*wondering if I should break up with my Blackberry gently or just tell it like it is…

*also wondering if I’d get more blog comments if I gave the two friends who are reading it a cute group nickname, like pranksters but not, cuz that one’s already taken.

*wondering also if I’d already be a famous writer with book deals and “Now a Major Motion Picture” stickers on my book covers if I had started out not actually wanting to grow up to be a famous writer.

*thinking that the idea of Catherine the Great peeing on me whenever it rains is one of the sweetest ways to bring a smile to my face when I might be having a particularly shitty day.

*am surprised you are still reading thi…never mind.

No Room for Good Intentions

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Aug 102010

You may recall that I may have mentioned something about possibly squeezing in a workout during the Craziness For Which I Was Not Prepared at BlogHer.

And, like, i totally meant to! I really did. I even packed gym shoes and workout clothes in that practically empty suitcase the day before heading out to New York. I really totally meant to when I saw Mamavation Queen Leah in person for the first time at The People’s Party and realized how absolutely adorable she is in person. I may have even told her that I was going to make good on last week’s blog post and sweat my booty off BlogHer style. She said something about thinking I was adorable, too, and I walked away hoping to got she was drinking enough to forget about my promise to be good and motivated.

I may have been able to make it to the gym during expo hall hours, but that would have meant that I missed out on chasing down Elmo like a mother posessed for a chance at a photo and solidifying my place as the Best Mother in the World upon my triumphant return home with this photographic tropy. And really, I’m thinking you would have done the same in my position.

Normally, I’m just getting revved up when the rest of the world is starting to relax for the evening. I get my best work done at night and as soon as Buttercup is asleep for the night, I’m ready to write, blog, clean house, and find a way to get a good work out in between 9 p.m. and midnight. Of course, my suitcase didn’t have any room let over for good intentions, what with all that swag, and all, so I spent my evenings in New York fan-girling with the best of them while acosting innocent little Bloggesses like Jenny just because she was sweet enough to punch out poetry for her minions while The Voices of the Year Gala raged on a few rooms over. Luckily, I convinced Her Blogessness to drop the stalker charges with promises of self-mockery and photos of my pretty up-do un-done in its Mexi-fro glory for the world to see. (You know, because it wasn’t embarassing enough the first time around Stay tuned on round 2. It’s coming.)

I did have a few hours in the afternoon when I could have stolen away and gotten myself good and sweaty, but I spent that little segment of time in a shuttle and at a luncheon at BLT Fish where I had my Yo Gabba Gabba moment when I was presented with a plate of fish. It was either eat the salmon and tuna I’d been avoiding since I was pregnant and my taste buds mutinied on me (Try it! You’ll like it!) or starve while I learned about the importance of seafood intake during pregnancy (ironic, I know). So I dined on this…

 

and I actually liked it. DJ Lance would be so proud.

And I’m plenty sure I could have made time to work out to my heart’s content while traipsing around the big city in an attempt to keep up with my TBFF, writing partner, and roomate, Juliette, on her multiple mad dashes to see Time’s Square and shop at Macy’s and take a bike taxi and get whiplash in a taxi. But well, by that time I had whiplash and how smart would it have been to work out?

So I had pizza instead before getting my minimum 2 hours of sleep before hopping on a plane away from the crazy and back to the slightly less (but not much less) crazy that I’m like, totally used to.

The Aftermath

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Aug 092010

While the title might have led you to belive this was going to be a blog post about BlogHer10, it was written two weeks ago and cut and pasted into my files so I could look smart and update the blog whileI was living it up in NYC.

As you can see, I kinda fell off the grid when The Big Apple kicked my ass. (It also doesn’t help that instead of flying home and recovering in my own bed, I’m trying to stay sane after flying into Detroit to hang with the family for two weeks. I can’t say “blog” too loud without being offered a tissue.)

So until I get my head squared back on my shoulders, have fun with more elevator music. I’m off to pretend I don’t care Buttercup is watching Burn Notice with her daddy.

My sister couldn’t believe that this meal…

…caused this mess. And frankly, neither could I. There was a super yum black bean burger and some surprisingly tasty smashed potatoes on my plate (recipes from Tosca Reno’s Eat Clean Diet, Recharged) and I seriously enjoyed every single bite. But I couldn’t help but laugh at the mountain of dishes in my sink.

Back in the day when I didn’t give a damn and nuked prepacked food more often than I bought fresh, dishes were not a major concern. It’s not much work to throw away a cardboard box and wash off a fork, now is it? But boiling potatoes and parsnip and steaming cauliflower? Then straining all of it in a colander? And smashing it all up in another bowl? And don’t even get me started on the bean burger. I’ve made them a few times already and already know this is a new staple recipe for me, but holy hell, people.

Eating clean and healthy isn’t exactly a dishwasher’s dream come true.

(But it is totally worth the mess.)

**This post originally appeared on Bookieboo!

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?

Holding out

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Jul 142010

I recently read a BlogHer post by Renee J. Ross that got me thinking. She talks in depth about her public weight loss, the struggle, and the light at the end of the tunnel. She’s successfully lost quite a bit of weight and I applaud her.

She’s not the only one. There are countless women I could name, including Leah Segedie, Bookieboo.com founder and Mamavation Grand Mistress (that’s my title for her). The site and twitter hashtag are a source of support for moms trying to get fit and Leah is a great example. She’s lost a crazy amount of weight and uses her story to inspire others.

So where’s that leave me? Not on the winning side of the scale, but that’s a different blog post. Or maybe a chapter in my book.

And therein lies the dilema.

I started the blog the same day I started my book. I’ve wanted to write a book for an insanely long time and have had plenty of time to research the ins and outs of going about the business that comes with getting that dream off the ground. And I went in knowing that traditional publishers aren’t exactly going to do the happy dance when/if they get to reading your manuscript and find the entire thing plastered all over your blog.

So the plan from the beginning was to make the book the story of my weight loss attempt journey and the blog my mama-writer journey. I put a few snippets up here and there—little bits of the book—to give you an idea of what isn’t going on the blog, but for the most part I am doing my damnedest to make sure I don’t make my life harder whenever I get to the agent/editor/publisher portion of this little pipe dream.

Now, if this had gone another way and I had just started a blog first, gotten the attention of an agent, and had the Great Oz make all the rest of my dreams come true, too, this all may have gone a bit differently. I might be sharing more on Bookieboo. I might have gotten past the “Should I or Shouldn’t I?” and tried to win a spot in her Mamavation campaign. I may have vlogged more about my results for more accountability. I may have reached out for more support.

I maybe should have lost the weight first. And then written the book.

But then I remind myself that my goal from the beginning wasn’t to flash a number at The End and call it a day. It was to reach out, connect, and show anyone who picks up the finished product that success on the scale isn’t the only prize to be sought. Yes, it is an important goal. And one that we should continue to strive for. But the continuing to try part? Despite the craziness and obligations of motherhood? The getting up every morning after a hellacious day before and a hellacious day to come? I want moms to read my book and know that trying is a reason enough to feel good about themselves.

I know I could share more. But I really shouldn’t. And it’s not that I’m holding out. I’m just saving the juicy bits for the book.

And I can say that on my blog without blurring too many lines.

So I will.

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