I see the sun...

And it is such a beautiful thing. Waking up to light streaming in the windows on any other day would probably make me groan and shove my head under the covers, but today? Today I can't get enough. We finally have clear skies, for at least two days, so they say. We are so saturated with rain and the creeks and rivers are near to bursting, but today it just feels like seeing the sun makes everything okay.

My family and community were fortunate enough to be spared by the violent storms that took control of the mid-South over the past two days. Still, fear took me so strongly - it wasn't really until midnight last night, when the last watch expired, that I felt fear's grip loosen around my heart and I could finally breathe normally. Although I am filled with relief that the storms had spared us, my heart is heavy for those who have lost loved ones this week. Communities have been obliterated, devastation is great. I have heard from all of my friends in Alabama and Georgia, and felt tears of joy that they were spared. I know the impact a tornado can have on a community, and I can still hear the freight train whistle in my mind. I hope that the residents of the affected areas can find peace and the strength to rebuild what was lost.

Fuck you, Mother Nature.

Your behavior is absolutely unacceptable. Striking fear in the hearts of people is not okay. Dropping tornadoes in the middle of the night? Not okay. Having a shit ton of tornadoes in an area where people live whose homes have been hit before by your fucking bi-polar mood swings? DEFINITELY not okay. I don't know if you need an enema, hormone therapy, or your ass kicked, but this bullshit? I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

Perspective.

Lately, I've been feeling pretty darned sorry for myself. My kids were a wreck, my house was a wreck, I was a wreck... and just like always, slowly, but surely, we got our proverbial crap together. It is Easter weekend, and I completely meant to post this yesterday, but like usual when I plan to do something, life tends to rearrange my to-do list.

I realized yesterday (again) that although life right now isn't easy, it isn't supposed to be. Life with Loyd at home isn't easy, either. It isn't supposed to be. When I'm trying to type and Quinn comes over and starts pulling at the laptop or my hands, he's telling me that he needs me, not just being an obnoxious toddler. When Violet is acting out, or talks incessantly, something is bothering her or I need to engage more with her. Just being in the room with my kids isn't enough. Soon the day will come where Quinn won't run over for snuggles or to watch Dinosaur Train in my lap. Soon the day will come where Violet won't want to giggle over hand puppets in the car. I need to eat up these moments with joy, not push them away with frustration. I need to make a better effort to experience life, not constantly pick up clutter. The living room can wait, my kids can't.

Speaking of life being hard, as a Christian, I know that the ultimate sacrifice was given on Good Friday. And here I am complaining about hyper toddlers and obnoxious tweens. Good Friday not only gives me something to think about, it is the most amazing opportunity to talk to my kids about the relationship Jesus had with his Father, and what he did without asking why. I'm not saying that I am no longer allowed to complain, but I should probably think really hard about whether or not it's worth it before I do.

Have a blessed Easter, everyone.

"It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ And having said this he breathed his last.” Luke 23:44-46

Blog entry names are hard. And tornadoes suck. And really, there's an e in tornadoes?

Soooo, drum roll please...... As of today, I am down 11 lbs. I am so ridiculously excited, I can't even tell you. In 9 days, down 11 lbs. It just blows my mind. I can't wait until my clothes don't fit and I have to spend money I don't have on new stuff. I'm actually 1.6 pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight. I was way below, went way up, and now I'm almost back down. Yay! Seeing such results really helps when I want to eat a Reese's egg the size of Montana.

The storms last night were scary. I don't get scared too often, but last night I was really scared. Sitting in the coat closet with my kids and Roxie, it solidified the fact that I am a bona fide grown up. I'm kind of in denial about that. It was such a surreal experience to know that I would put myself in danger to protect my babies. It's not the first time we've been in the closet, but the first time I had to take them in there alone that the storm was wicked. The last time, I even had my friend's two little ones with me, but the storm didn't even materialize. This time, my lawn furniture hurdled my deck railing and parked it in the yard. I prayed so hard, and over and over and over again. Lord, please protect my babies...Lord, please protect my babies. I would shut my eyes and see both of the kids getting sucked out a window reaching for me and I couldn't get to them. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much last night, so I'm going to bed early tonight. Times like these, I really miss my parents and being the kid.

A glimpse of the future. And I cried.

Of course I cried. I cry a LOT. These days, anyway. And like Truvy, laughter through tears is my favorite emotion. Man, I love that movie. Except I cry. Every. Damned. Time.

Quinnie was sitting in the recliner, by the window, the sun streaming in on his little self, and I could see through his rat's nest of baby curls the outline of his head. It showed me what he'll look like when we finally give this kid his long overdue first haircut, and I cried. He's growing up entirely too fast for my liking, and oh, man. The next thing I know it's going to be kindergarten round-up, and then he might as well get a job and get married. And give me grandbabies. WHOAnow... Remember when I said I tend to put the cart in front of the horse? Yeah. Anyway, I got my laughter out of my tears, because he then started doing his "drop it like it's hot" dance to the theme song from Elmo's World while screeching with glee at the top of his lungs.

Oh dear Lord, let me never forget these moments.

A sphincter says what? WHAT?!

Oh Monday, I'm actually glad to see you today. This weekend was rough. Quinn is definitely in the terrible twos, and I'm pretty sure Violet is diving into puberty in front of my very eyes. Oh, the drama in this house yesterday would have definitely been fodder for a new Bravo show.

School started last Monday. I may have overestimated my super powers. My assignments were late. This week should be a little bit better, provided the drama slows down to a dull hum around here. Sorry, professor who has nothing to do but grade papers and nag, parenting my kids will always come first. And sleep probably will too. Unless you want my assignments to be a bunch of blibberty jibberish. Anyway, late or not, she said I was off to a great start, so that's promising. I just have to make better use of my down time. But for now, a little boy wants snuggled, so that's definitely top priority.

I go weigh in later today... I'll share the news when I get back. I also have to go to the dreaded circle of hell known as Walmart, to get the rest of the crap I forgot when I was there Saturday, swing by the post office, take the dog to the groomer... Maybe I take back that I was looking forward to Monday.

I'm an asshole. Kinda. Maybe not.

Sweet sweet Violet hasn't been so sweet lately. Trying to get her to spill her guts is like pulling teeth, so I'll let her have 24 hours to be a complete ass and then it's time to get to business. Yesterday, the 24 hours was up. After a considerable amount of tooth pulling, and not the good kind - there was no novacaine, little girl finally told me what has been making her heart so heavy. I don't know why I didn't see this coming. I had the information prior. I am the asshole this time.

Violet's class is split into two sections, and they have two teachers. So one half of the class is with teacher a, the other with teacher b, and at lunch time, they switch. One of Violet's friends is in the opposite group. Her daddy was killed in combat late last year. Why oh why didn't I connect the dots?! Fear has been driving my girl for weeks and I didn't see it. Didn't even look for it. Violet is so concerned and worried for this girl, which she has verbalized to me, but has been stuffing her fear that her daddy is going to die in Afghanistan.

What do you say to a 10 year old who fears for her father's life? I had no answer but to hold her and cry with her and tell her that I'm scared too. Because I am. Not a moment goes by where it isn't in my face that he's not here and that he's there. (Not that Afghanistan is a horrible, hellish place, I'm sure there is beauty, but right now, she has my husband and she might not give him back.) I certainly have not given this child nearly as much credit as she deserves, even though I desperately wish she would tell me how she's feeling before she turns into "Buttface Violet" and destroys her friendships and makes home life miserable.

After we had cried enough tears to fill a bucket, I asked her if she thought Daddy would want us to worry like this, to make ourselves miserable and sick like this. She sat for a minute, and decided no, he wouldn't. So I asked her what Daddy would want us to do instead, and she said, "to have fun and go to school." Excellent. Then came the big question that I'm still not sure that I should have asked, but my mouth wasn't paying attention to my brain: "Violet, if something did happen to Daddy, what do you think he would want us to do?" She sat for a long time, as I was thinking "Oh shiiiiiit, what did you DO, Kelly!!!???", and she said, "He would still want me to go to school and have fun, and not be sad, because he would be in Heaven with Jesus." Absolutely, kiddo. Absolutely. Maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit this time....maybe I am doing right by her after all.

Yawn.

I am beat. A day of chasing after a 4 year old, a 2 year old, and Quinn, and then getting Violet from school and heading to the park because the weather says YOU HAVE TO... I'm old. I'm tired enough that the bubble bath I had planned for tonight is getting pushed back to tomorrow because I don't want to fall asleep and drown.

I weighed in today when I got my shot... I'm down three pounds! WOOT! I know it's mostly water weight, but dang if that doesn't give you the incentive to keep going and to tell the demons to STFU. I even successfully got the kids burritos from Taco Bell and didn't sneak bites. Lord knows I wanted to. I love me some TB. Not tuberculosis. I'm not sure why I felt the need to clarify. The only downside to this plan is tonight would be PERFECT to sit on the deck with a beer. :(

I'm not going anywhere tomorrow except the post office. And that's only after Violet gets home from school, because for some reason, the post office is a huge trigger for a meltdown for dear son. And if there's a line, fuggetabowtit, unless there are old ladies to goo and gaa over him. He digs that. I love days where I don't have to go anywhere. That might make me sound a little on the hermit side, but it's true. I like my house and the stuff inside it, and if I don't need to leave, I don't much.

I have a couple of crafty projects lined up that I hope to get accomplished this weekend, but homework first. I did NONE today. Shame on me, for reals. Get your shit together, Rhoades.

Completely amazed.

Turns out that I'm anemic. And deficient in B12. No wonder I'm bitchy. Anyhoo, it's probably a good thing that I'm doing this HCG diet because they give me B12 supplements along with it, and promote a mostly protein and vegetable eating plan. AND, I didn't feel like yelling or pulling my hair out today, not even once. WIN.

Speaking of eating, I'm only allowed 600 calories a day. Now, before you go freaking out, this is why. The HCG basically liquifies your fat, turning it into fuel. That's about as sciency as I get, it sounds completely weird, but hey, if it works, I don't care if they tell me the shot releases little aliens into my body to consume my fat. I need to drink three quarts of water a day, and keep to the 600 calories (give or take 15), and really, that's the quick and dirty version. I've decided to supplement with frozen meals so that I don't burn out, but I stocked my freezer today with turkey burgers, chicken breasts, and veggies.

This is what I had today (no worries, I'm not going to put my food log here daily, I was just amazed what all I ate today and still have room for more):

Breakfast:

a cup of coffee, black (boo, I be lovin' some belgian chocolate toffee creamer)

Lunch:

chicken breast (I had a rotisserie chicken in the fridge; I sliced off the breast and nuked it a little)

a can of green beans with pepper only

Supper:

An Amy's Tamale Pie

an ENTIRE bag of Green Giant steamed "healthy color" veggies

ALL of that only added up to 495 calories today. I have strawberries in the fridge that I am waiting until Violet goes to bed to eat. *insert evil giggle* I will probably have some yogurt too, since I doubt I'm going to eat 100 calories worth of strawberries. That's kind of a lot. The most amazing thing is that I'm eating a fraction of what I used to, and I wasn't hungry today. Except for once, and I drank some water, and it was enough to satisfy me.

Today showed me that I can do this. Because to be quite honest, y'all, I wasn't so sure that I wasn't going to cave. Especially when there's mini Reese's cups in the cabinet. ::sigh::

Another completely amazing thing that happened today is Quinn slept for more than an hour AND went to bed tonight without a fight. Hmm. Didn't want to yell at Violet, he slept, I didn't eat chocolate and drank all my water... I'd better write this down. Oh wait, just did.

Every. Single. Time.

It seems as though whenever I have plans or an appointment or something, one of the kids comes up with a way to sabotage, I mean screw it up, I mean get a fever or barf. My appointment to get my first shot was this afternoon at 3. Really, how long does it take to get a shot? 4.783 seconds, right? Well, I figured it wouldn't be a big deal to take Q with me, even though he was a hot, hot mess AND it was pouring outside. Like wipers on high pouring. I had no idea that today would consist of picture taking (I'm sure I looked like a fat drowned rat), measurements (I'm probably really glad I didn't read the sheet), weighing, and meal plan consultation. Mr. Feverish Meltdown lasted about five minutes. I was there for 45. It. Was. Painful.

Luckily, the staff there is great, and laughed it off. The 45 minutes was the quick and dirty version, but Wednesday I won't need to be there for nearly as long. Doc told me to go ahead and eat what I wanted to tonight, but to not be surprised if I gained on Wednesday. Y'all - this stuff works. Violet wanted pizza, and I ate two pieces and wanted to throw up I was so full.

Anyway, I'm going to go ahead and start tomorrow, even though I don't have everything I need to get started, like lemon juice. But that's a post for another day. EYE GAWT HOAMWERK TEW DEW!

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow...?

Ooooh, tomorrow's gonna be crazy. CRAZY. I start my doctorate. My DOCTORATE, y'all. It still sounds weird. Probably because part of me still feels like I just moved out to the local community college and I should go home and do my laundry every weekend. It's online, so like the commercial says, "get on your pjs, and get to class!" Barf. I might be in my pjs, but it will be during naptime and and after the kids are in bed. In fact, I should be an overachiever and read ahead; the syllabus is posted, after all, but I think I'm going to bed. This weekend has sucked hairy donkey balls, and we all know how pleasant those are.

Actually, before I go to bed, I'm going to have one last sinful snack. Probably loaded with chocolate and trans fat. I get to start my shots tomorrow! I really thought I was going to have to wait, but I'm not. My mom, bless her, is making me start. She's putting the money in our joint account to use if by chance President Obama doesn't sign off on the budget next week. We'll be paid on Friday, but it's the paycheck on the first that's in question now. Cross your fingers and your toes, because I like to pay my bills and feed my family. And Rox Box sure likes treats. I don't even want to talk about that whole debacle last week because it still infuriates me. Whoa, topic jump much? ANYWAY... tomorrow, 3 pm, I'm getting poked with a needle that will make my body consume my own fat. GENIUS. It also means that I need to take a "before" picture. I might barf right after, but I'm going to do it. I'm also going to stand on that thing, that is in my bathroom, what do you call it? I avoid it at all costs. Oh yeah, the scale. *dun dun dunnnnnnn*

Tomorrow is a scary day for me. On so many levels. School I'll be able to handle. Not being the self-deprecating fat girl? What will I do with my time?

ps... I just saw Tim Tebow in a Jockey commercial, and while I didn't mind seeing him half naked, I'm not real sure why they felt they needed to have him talk.

Pity party, table of one...

I try really hard not to throw these shindigs for myself. However, I'm smack in the middle of one. I always feel like a jackass when I'm over whatever it is that consumes me and makes me feel sorry for myself. I'm not over it yet, but I do kind of feel like a jackass, so I guess that's a start.

I fell in love with a soldier. No, I fell in love with a man who happened to be a soldier as his career. Was that a mistake? Nope. He's a wonderful. Hilarious, caring, goofy, stubborn, oblivious, loving. He's my baby daddy. He's the Clyde to my Bonnie. But damn if this life isn't difficult. And I chose it. I remind myself that every time darling daughter talks back, every time dear son throws a temper tantrum, every night that I spend alone - I chose this. I also remind myself every time Quinn does something new or masters something and every time Violet succeeds in school that he's missing this. And it makes my heart ache. He's missing it, and I'm witnessing it. Violet's mother isn't experiencing it - I am. And it feels wrong.

Of course, they don't get the whining, crying, pouting, backtalking, hot mess of a preteen I had today, either. Loyd doesn't get to turn on his broken record to keep Quinn out of the trash, the pantry, the laundry, (boy does that kid love to turn the washer and dryer off and on), to keep him from pushing the tv and dishwasher buttons and rearranging the shelves on the fridge that he can reach. They don't have to cancel plans with the only friends in town they have because they know their kids are not able to think straight, much less behave in public.

Does this make me a stronger person? Eh, some might say so. But there are single moms/dads doing this every day. Does it make me wallow? Yeah. I wallow in my loneliness occasionally, like tonight. Is it fair for me to call everyone I know and interrupt their family time? Not really. Do I want to? Oh yes. Will I? No. I know how precious those moments are and how I yearn for them right now. I just don't know why I can't sit back with a beer and watch my dvr'd shows and enjoy not having to check the score or listen to Call of Duty/Gran Turismo 5. I guess as much as that annoys me when he's home, I sure miss it when he's gone.

Would you like the bad news or the good news? Or the other bad news?

Well, Bio-Matrix called this afternoon, and my bloodwork shows that I am a candidate for their program! So thrilled! I'll get back to this in a second, it's time to explain what they do. But first, let me fill you in on the bad news. Newses? Newsi? Whatever the hell the plural of news is.

1. Our government has stalled long enough that Loyd's leave and earnings statement (LES) shows that on the 15th, we'll be receiving a "half" paycheck. We will only be getting paid for work completed from 1 April through today. If a budget isn't approved and passed by the 15th, our paycheck on the 30th will be zero. I'm pretty matter-of-fact about this because I am out of emotion at this point. I don't think I could cry if I tried. Insomnia has kicked in, and I'm running on adrenaline. How I've managed not to snap at my kids today is a mystery.

2. Because of number 1 - I will not be able to carry on with my weight loss plan at this time. Now, my mom thinks otherwise, because she has offered to foot the bill. But I'm not going to let her. I have no idea when our backpay will be returned to us, and I owe enough bills that aren't going to get paid this month the way it is. I'll just put this on hold and try not to emotional eat myself into the next pants size.

For those of you interested, the plan that I was going to start Monday (and will, just not as soon as I wanted to) can be found here: http://biomatrixweightloss.com/.

Hopefully the next time we get together I'll be in a much happier mood. If I've learned anything from this, it's this: I have a voice. I have the right to use it. And by God, I'm gonna.

ETA: this might all be changing. I'll update when I know more. WTF - can I not have anything in my life be consistent?

Conflicted.

I'm PROUD to be an American, but watching my government in action today is embarrassing, infuriating, and scary. I feel like a pawn on a chess board.

Bleh.

Nighttime is the worst part of deployment. My husband is gone, the kids are asleep, the house is quiet, and all I want to do is eat. I emotional eat like you wouldn't believe. And as much as it fucking pisses me off that I do, do I stop? Hell naw. It's one habit I'm really looking forward to breaking. I'm trying to drink some water, but who wants water when there's queso in the fridge? Why do I even make it? Why do I sabotage myself? When did food become a refuge? I guess I can look at it that once I start the plan (and I pray my bloodwork comes out fine so I can start) I am not allowed to eat junk (or much of anything, actually, but more on that later). Right now, there's nothing stopping me. Pretty soon it will be my checkbook, and my determination. But loneliness is kind of kicking determination's ass tonight.

All these different feelings, emotions, facets of me are pulling in different directions, and it is exhausting. It is 8:53 and I'm ready for bed. I never used to even think about going out until 11:00. I'm tired of being tired.

Parenting my...parents?

Seriously folks, you'd think that after years of drilling into my head that it is common courtesy to call someone when you're running late, or plans change, etc. that my parents would call me for important family events. Examples of past family events where I wasn't immediately notified include the death of my favorite grandmother and the birth of my first niece. You're kidding me! you say??? So not kidding. My parents had what seemed to them amazing reasons for not letting me know right away, but the fact remains is that they didn't call me. Obviously, this pisses me off beyond belief, and being the petty bitch that I can be sometimes when my mom and I are at each other's throats, I throw it in her face. Which I did today, when no one answered the damned phone at their house this morning. Usually not a big deal, except today was the day that my dad was having his heart looked at to see what is wrong with it. As in being cut open. As in could be not a big deal but could be huge. All I wanted to do was tell my dad that it was going to be okay and that I wish I could have been there, and I love you. Fast forward to cell phones finally being turned on, my dad in his hospital gown waiting to be taken to the meat locker of the operating room, and he answers his cell phone. I told him what I wanted to tell him, and also told him that I wished that I could have told him while he was still at home. My dad is either the most oblivious man alive or the coolest cucumber, I can't tell which, and he was fine. Then............my mom called. FANTASTIC. At this point, I don't even want to talk to her. Of course, I started crying and read her the riot act about not answering the phone, bla bla bla...and I realized that I was talking to her like she was my child. And then it hit me that I do this often. Am I transitioning into that time of life where my parents start to need to be taken care of, at least emotionally? I'm so not ready for that. I think that's why this relatively routine procedure freaked me out so bad - I'M still supposed to be the kid, not the other way around. Sure, I'm in my 30s. Sure, I have a husband and kids of my own. But to have my parents need me like that? No... it's just not possible. Is it?

In other news, Quinn brought me a book to read while I was in the bathroom today. How considerate! See, he's taking care of me already. Lord have mercy. He also had his first pizza tonight and proceeded to run around the house like the spawn of the Tasmanian Devil. He came to a screeching halt when he noticed that I was putting the guards on the cable box, DVD player, and the tv buttons. Just wait until he sees the toilet lock. Mom - 1, toddler - 0. I love winning.

Hi.

Welcome to my semi-charmed life. :) I say semi-charmed, even though I know I am an incredibly blessed woman, because there are some big ol' speed bumps out there that I've driven over, and many more waiting to knock my car out of alignment. Maybe it's my bad habit of not paying attention to road signs, or my gps keeps telling me to make a legal u-turn, or I need an eye exam, or maybe because just when I think life is becoming predictable and I know what's around the next corner, I realize I have no frickin' clue about anything. And I have my wonderful husband, children, and of course, MYSELF to thank for that. If you know anyone, shouldn't it be you? You'd think. Not so much in my case. I know that we should and do constantly evolve, but dammit, I'm tired. I'm in my mid-30s *gasp* and I really should have shit figured out by now. I'm a mother, for Pete's sake! But life still has me guessing constantly.

I'm a stay at home mom, something I never thought I'd be, and until I stared into the blue eyes of my beautiful boy, I had no intentions of doing so. April 11th I start working on my doctorate in Social Work. My husband is deployed. My stepdaughter is in the 4th grade (and I struggle helping her with her homework). I have a dog who I love and loathe at the same time. I love my life, but struggle loving myself. I'm about to embark on a weight loss adventure that I can't wait to start and I'm terrified to start at the same time. Who am I if I'm not the fat funny girl? Well, I'm about to find out.

Disclaimer: Even though my journey to a skinnier me is what sparked my interest in blogging, I have no intentions of that being the entire focus. Thanks for coming along - I'm sure we'll have some laughs along the way.