Can You Imagine?

Can you imagine?

News of your loved ones missing traveling across the globe.

Over two hundred of them.

Missing.

Women.

Children.

Infants.

Babies. 

BABIES.

Grandmothers.

Grandfathers.

Can you imagine?

As the news travels people ask more questions.

And more.

And more.

What happened?

What do you mean they're missing?

We don't believe that.

What women?

What children?

What babies?

Can you imagine?

It's propaganda! 

They shout.

Cursing as they tear down the photos our people have worked so painstakingly hard to share.

There were no babies!

They scream.

As they take knives and scissors to the tape. To the photos. To scratch out their faces.

Can you imagine?

Professors.

Students.

Americans.

Immigrants.

Shouting. Screaming. Calling for the end of you, your missing loved ones, and anyone like you.

Can you imagine?

Walking down a city street and being told by someone to 'go back to your country' when you were born here and they were not.

When they don't want you to have an actual country.

When they believe the land that you identify as your homeland should be wiped clean of people like you.

Just as was done on October 7th.

To thousands of people.

Women. Men.

Children. Infants. Babies.

Grandmothers. Grandfathers.

Israelis. Americans. 

On their homeland. Or just visiting.

Lives cut down in an instant.

Can you imagine?

And those who remain missing.

All held captive.

Over one month since they were taken.

It's propaganda! 

They shout.

As they call.

For the extermination.

Of all Jewish people.

Can you imagine?

I never thought I could.

But now.

I can.

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Where Can We Go?

It's the guns.

A shopping mall.

It's the guns.

Kids playing hide and seek.

It's the guns.

Ringing the wrong doorbell.

It's the guns.

Turning around in someone's driveway.

And again. 

One neighbor asking another to consider their sleeping baby.

Still.

Playing basketball in our own yard.

Yet again.

Accidentally opening the door to a car that isn't ours.

Every.

The grocery store.

Single.

Our schools.

Time.

Churches. Synagogues. Mosques.

It's the guns.

Where can we go?

Is anywhere safe?

What's the possibility of someone we love not returning home?

How can we do anything anymore while living in this fear our elected officials do nothing about? 

The heart breaks. 

But anger prevails. 

Vote them out.

We. Must.

Vote them out. 

Because it's the guns.

Always. The. Guns. 

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Feel All The Things.

Good day, internet friends, and happy holidays.

'Tis the season for love, laughter, baking, drinking, eating, happiness! And, of course, decorating alllll the things.

But it is also the season for pain. Grief. Loss. Reminders.

And. Of course. Tears.

Allow yourself these tears.

Whether you realize it or not, you need them.

Tears are a catharsis of sorts for the body.

I'm not a doctor and I don't play one on TV, but I know that a good cry is healing for us all.

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We Need Each Other.

Do you talk about mental health with the people in your life?

Do you tell them if you're struggling?

Do you ask them if THEY are struggling?

Mental health matters. It matters to me. It should matter to you.

Over the years it has been so easy to use words like nuts, crazy, whacko, insane.

I used to use them. I shouldn't have - but I did.

That isn't to say that I never do. I still describe myself as a little crazy now and then.

What is a little crazy, anyway?

Do we really know?

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We Move Forward.

When?

When will it end?

How many lives need to be cut short before we see change?

How many people need to check in with their loved ones to report that they are safe?

That they were 'far from' the latest incident of domestic terror?

That's what this all is, you know?

Domestic.

Terrorism.

What do we do?

We move forward.

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Figuring Things Out

I'm still not quite sure where I stand.

I'm finding my way.

Figuring things out.

It's so so very difficult.

My emotions bubble to the surface.

I feel them. Fight them. Let them rise. Allow them to overflow.

All the while - figuring things out.

I don't quite know what the rest of this year will bring.

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Ten Truths About Mental Health

Source: pixabay... /en/consulting-mental-health-health-1739639/

If you've been a regular reader of my blog you're bound to already know how important the topic of mental health is to me.

As a licensed clinical social worker, it's a given that this topic is not just a part of my professional world - but basically IS my professional world. And when it comes to personal discussions, you already know that I speak freely about how important it is to take care of your mental health.

For mental health awareness month, I'm participating in an effort with some other bloggers, coordinated by Brittany of Clumps of Mascara, to normalize the discussion about mental health.

And in doing so I've decided to share some truths about mental health - for those who might know nothing about what it's like to get help - or what it's like to struggle with mental illness - or - well - pretty much anything I can share I'm going to share here. Because for those out there struggling, it's helpful to hear these things (or read them, as the case may be here), and for those who aren't? It's important to those who are that YOU read them, too. And hear them. And know what your friends and loved ones are experiencing. So please - even if this doesn't apply to you - read on. You just might be able to better understand someone in your life who needs you to.

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5 Reasons You Haven't Been Writing and What To Do Next

It can be hard to be a blogger these days.

We write because we love to write. We write because we want to write.

And then, well, we write for so many other reasons.

And sometimes we just don't write at all.

Here are five reasons you (fine, maybe *I*) haven't been writing and how to take them on.

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5 Steps To Protect Your Mental Health In Today's Political Climate

Everyone knows we have a new President.

Now, whether or not you're a fan of his, you're bound to find yourself wrapped up in so much political discussion pretty much every-freaking-where you look.

Social media? Yes.

Turn on the television? Yep.

Online news sources? Mmmmn-hmmmn.

So. What to do to protect yourself from all of this exposure, coverage and chatter?

Take these steps. They won't guarantee you clarity, peace of mind, or give you all the answers, but they will help you find some quiet and give you moments of thoughts that are less rushed, less stressed and just, simply, less.

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Where I'm at.

I wrote this last night and posted it on Facebook before I went to bed. I put it on my personal page, but made it public so people would share it. 

And then I decided to share it here. Just because. 

Because every.single.year I remember. And every.single.year I write. And this year I wanted to remind others that there are people like me out there, who - when they see images of the towers falling - want to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

Not just people like me, who actually SAW what happened. Smelled it. Felt it. Felt the earth moving as the world changed forever. Not just me. Because some people sat quietly in their corner of the world. And they didn't know they were losing loved ones. And that sucks just as bad. No - worse - honestly. 

But please. Take a few minutes to read. And consider what I am saying. For everyone. 

* I know it is late and I have no idea how many people will see this, but I am saying it anyway. I hope it does not trigger anyone, because that is what I am truly trying to avoid. I am being proactive to protect myself and many friends here.

September 11th is rapidly approaching. I know that loads of posts will go live on that day remembering the loss of many years ago. But I have to ask one really important and somewhat critical favor. Please don't post pictures of the towers in flames.

Believe me, I get it, you are trying to find the right way to recognize the anniversary. I know. I do it every year, too. But please think it over. Last year someone posted that image and it destroyed me for the entire day. I couldn't get past it. It's true that this was a news story we couldn't believe, but for many others it was something we saw happening with our own eyes. We never need to see it again. Please. Share this. You have no idea how many people you might inadvertently trigger with those images. I ask you respectfully not to share them. And if you do, obviously it is your choice and freedom of speech and all. But don't be shocked if I hide you. Because I am pretty sure that I will. *

So, what say you? Do you get it? Do you know why these images don't need to be shared a zillion times over to remember the day? We get it. WE remember. All of us do. I promise. 

We'll never forget. But we don't need to *see* it happen to remember. The news, they'll surely show it enough for all of us. You watch if you want. You make the choice. I just ask that you give me that same choice as you choose NOT to share these pictures. They tear my heart out. They crush me. They hurt and trigger so many. 

Don't share them. There's no need. 

Protect your fellow men and women. Do it for yourself, too. You don't need to look at that shit. It's not going to change anything. The images don't change. Ever. They won't. So do yourself a favor. Stop it. 

For you. For me. For our friends and loved ones. For that mom you don't know who lost her son. The woman who lost her fiancé. The man and kids whose wife and mother won't ever come home. The firehouse down the street from my old office who look at the faces of those lost and missing forever every single day. The people who hold onto recordings of their loved ones for one last chance to hear their voices. 

Do it for them. For me. For you. 

For everyone.

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Slow down? Sure. But not for five minutes.

Five minutes. Free writing. But timed.

Guess what day it is?



And ... GO!

I'm so tired this morning. The child woke up after 4AM and it was rough going for a bit. She's been dealing with some tummy issues, so I thought it was that, then she said her head hurt. Then it was her face. Then it was a nightmare? The trying to get her back to sleep was rough.

Eventually it happened. I lay beside her for a bit. It worked.

But me? Not so much. Exhausted, I went onto the iPad and putzed around. Checked Twitter and noticed how many people use things like Triberr and Tweet old post or something like that, and other apps and buffer and programs to tweet out for them while they're sleeping. It's weird. It's like there's nobody to talk to unless you want to check their links. Very off. I meant to write odd, but it's off, too.

Two minutes in.

The husband is at Caribou this AM, smartly so, and is bringing home an iced latte for me. I need coffee, stat. If I'm going to make it through the day, anyway.

Today will consist of grocery shopping and some other stff. Not sure if he's up for boating, but it might be nice to hit the water and feel the breeze.

Stuff. Not stff. Not supposed to fix typoes here. But I do. Don't tell Jana. Who would have been Hana if I didn't fix that. Ha! Or Fadra, it was her meme from the get go and her rule. I think she'd be okay with it though.

Anyway, I leave for vacation on Weds night. I get to see my college friends for a good long weekend. I could cry with the joy of it. I have not seen them in years. Ah, fun.

I'll miss my child, my husband, I'll miss a few of her camp days. But it'll be okay. Good for us all, I am guessing and hoping.

Anyone else get that pit in their stomach when they're going to fly by themselves? Or is it just me?

I think I have about a half a minute to go, so I'll stop now. Oh, also? At 4:30 AM or so? I bought a book on B&N. About slowing down the family. Stopping and smelling the roses. I read about it on Hands-Free Mama. She wrote a post about slowing down to her child's pace. Sometimes we need that reminder.

Happy Sunday, y'all!

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The Internet is interesting.

So I'm watching all the people talking about all the conferences.

And it's interesting to me.

I'll tell you why.

Last year I went to BlogHer in New York City.

As you all know, New York is my home. I had to go home. And with the conference being there I was excited about the possibilities.

Post-conference I was a little let down. Don't get me wrong, I loved some parts of it.

Like the people. The people you connect with at blogging conferences are incredible. Last year at BlogHer I found myself meeting people I'd been speaking with online for some time. I found my friends. It made me happy.

I connected with some of my favorite people in the world. Some new friends, some not-as-new, and some that felt like home.

So this year BlogHer is in Chicago. Y'all know I live in NC. Chicago isn't quite a hop and a skip from here. So I won't be going. And I'm okay with that. And then I see some of my peeps talking about it and I feel a twang (yes, a twang - it's not quite a pang, as I'm still okay with not going, but it's there, so twang it is.) of sadness. Not envy, really, more like, dang, I wish I was able to see this person and meet that person and actually spend some quality time with so-and-so after meeting at Bloggy Boot Camp in Charlotte this past May.

And here I am, tossing around links and making it seem like I'm the conference goer. I'm the one who knows what conferences are like. But seriously, people? I'm just me. I'm just a person, a blogger, who goes when I can go and is excited about going for whatever reasons make it important to me.

BlogHer is huge. It was a little too huge for me last year because I went in with the mindset of a Type-A Parent Conference. I expected to sail around and in and out of sessions and learn and meet people and damn, it was huge. So I know many people got what they expected out of it, and I know many people were underwhelmed, or overwhelmed. And the team at BlogHer busts their humps in a huge way to get this thing going. And damn, if they don't do a kick-ass job with it. But you have to remember it might not be for you.

It's okay if you're going and you're feeling afraid. Nervous. Anxious.

You wouldn't be human if you weren't.

But I see so many people apologizing for feeling a little scared. And so many people telling them it will be fine. Myself often included sometimes. And I apologize for that. Because it WILL be fine and you WILL "survive," for lack of a less dramatic word. But it might be a lot for you to handle. You might want to go for a walk alone. Or hide out in your hotel room for a few hours to decompress.

Or you might want to skip a certain part of the Expo Hall because it's freakin' huge.

And that's okay.

You don't HAVE to do it all. You don't have to want to, even.

Just go. Be you. If you were brave enough to purchase a ticket you obviously want to be there. Enjoy it. Don't stress. And don't let yourself be disappointed. I did that a little bit and was cranky with myself for it. But I also did that for a bit at Type-A last year because after my first year it was in a different place and I was not sure what the other differences were but it felt different and I was trying to find my way. (Can I say different one more time?)

And then I got home and reflected and damn, if I didn't have an amazing time and meet some incredible people. So, yeah. Go with it. Get out of your own head. It'll be fine.

Make it what you want it to be.

Be nervous. Stressed. Anxious. But let that go when you walk up to someone you know you know and say, OMG! HEY! It's YOU!! It's ME!! And HUG. Because you'll probably be shocked at how many people you hug that weekend.

As for me? I'll be in Atlantic City with my college peeps. Catching up on years of girls' weekends I've missed. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Though I will miss meeting some of you. But hey, there's always Type-A ...

* This post is not in any way affiliated officially with either BlogHer, Bloggy Boot Camp or Type-A Parent Conference. I am simply using my own experiences to reflect on my thoughts with respect to conferences in general for bloggers. 

** I wrote this post yesterday (Thurs) but did not hit publish as I had a book review scheduled. It appears that at this time of the year there are LOADS of people posting about the conference of conferences and the like. I don't want to seem bandwagon-y, I just wanted to say what I wanted to say. If you know me, you know that and are cool with it. If you don't, no worries, it's all good. 

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Will run for wine ...

Competition. What a perfect choice of topic for today. It's like Jana reads my mind sometimes.

This morning I slept in. I woke up late and caught someone's facebook status talking about their overnight breakfast disaster.

SHOOT!

I ran downstairs like a maniac reminded of my own.

Overnight Crockpot Oatmeal.

Slop. Glop. FLOP.

My husband worked at the garage - he has been for days - there's only so much I, at my height, can do, but I try anyway.

My daughter is in the way. I bring her inside and we work at baking a cake. Well, it's bread, but it's filled with chocolate swirl and I plopped it in my bundt pan, so it may as well be a cake, right?

She's in again. She's been asking me to go scootering for the past - well - HOURS. OH SO MANY HOURS.

In the midst of baking she starts sorting through one of my utensil drawers. She's creating a statue of wine corks.

SHe's pulling things out, piling them on the counter. She looks too cute. She's got her helmet on all freakin' day. Her knee pads, too. I'm not kidding. I instagrammed a pic of her. I'll share it here, too. Sigh.

Back to baking - I flopped - no typo there - i flipped. Flipped out on her. I lost it. I gave her the WHY!?! WHY!?! WHY!?! shout. You know the kind. I did that. I caved into my wall.

She's a good kid. I know it. I feel it. And yet she battles us constantly. SOmetimes just because. Other times because she is a kid who likes to do that. She likes to grind things to the bone. Do all kids do that? I don't know. I think they do and sometimes I think they don't.

And yet ...

Who am I competing with here?

Other mothers? My husband? The perfect mom? My child? Most often these things are not really the case. I know who I'm competing with here.

MYSELF.

I battle myself every single day. My mind. My heart. The way things are. Could be. Should be. It's forever a competition, isn't it?

The way we want and hope things will be and the way they often are?

I think my five minutes went over but the husband and child just came in to tell me that they found a black widow in the garage. Remind me to STOP going out there barefoot or just in socks, would you please?

And remind me to have that drink tonight. I bought three bottles of fun liquor last night. And sometimes I just deserve a cheers! And if she asks me one more time "Can we go scootering?" I might just bust into one NOW. It's 5 O'clock somewhere, right?

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It's wine o'clock somewhere.

Well, this post has been brewing in various versions in my mind, and has come to a head this fine Wednesday morning. Thanks to Shell for timing her weekly Pour Your Heart Out link-up to meet my needs. Love that girl.

So, where should I begin?

Should I start with my first week of being gluten-free being done and my putting back 2-1/2 pounds that I happily shed over the past few weeks? Damned if I do, damned if I don't, it seems.

Or should I remind you all that I walked the Heart Walk with a very dear friend (find her here at Trials of my life) and felt inspired, motivated and loved?

Maybe I'll tell you how I'm a stay-at-home-mom who has one child who happens to be IN school. So now I am a stay-at-home-what?

I won't even touch on turning 40 in a few weeks. Because honestly that's not gnawing at me the way one would think. Or maybe it is. Maybe it's the base of all of the emotions surfing around my head and my heart. I suppose it could be. I'm always emotional around my birthday. I share my birthday with my maternal grandparents - who celebrated their anniversary on that same date. They're long gone from my life and my birthday has always been a time for me to miss those I've lost.

Maybe this year I think beyond those loved ones who have passed on, and focus a bit on the friendships that have sailed in and out of my soul. I can reflect on my Sweet 16, and the friends I thought, SWORE, I'd have forever. The ones -- the ONE -- who stayed are (is?) incredible. The ones who are gone? Well, they're gone - right? I'm not talking about the crush. Or the random friend invited because of so-and-so and so-and-so. I'm talking about the ones I laid side-by-side with, talking and feeling dreams of tomorrow and years to come.

Maybe I'm missing my family. New York is always going to be home to me, though I don't foresee us heading back there in any near future. Who knows? Life can surprise us, right?

Is it a mid-life crisis when you're not quite 40? *smh* I don't know. (I almost pictured myself saying "I whip my hair back and forth" but GAWD I hate that song. Or maybe I resent Willow Smith? But mostly it's just the song ...)

I'm home now. I'm an unemployed social worker and mother who sits at home. My house is not perfect. My body is not quite as fit as I'd like and dinner is not coming out of a warm oven or crockpot at 5pm as my husband walks through the door and my daughter finishes her homework.

Mostly because my husband is rarely home before six and homework, while easily done, is quick and semi-painless, whereas writing down the books she has read could take hours.

Another serenade of Chicka-Chicka-Boom-Boom.

She's actually READING it. She's got it memorized, but somehow she's READING it. I didn't do that, though. It took school to get her there. It's a little depressing.

I should probably focus on the way her teacher asked me if she went to preschool at all, and while I braced to hear what would come after I said no the look of pleasant surprise on her face made me quickly exhale. I didn't ruin her by keeping her home with me. She's still smart. Still learning. Thank you, G-d.

Now, let's get that talking under control, shall we?

Wonder where she gets that from ... Are you looking at me? 

Looks like I need a refill ... better run.

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Conference Recap, Part 2

Yes, here I go again. Talking about BlogHer12.

I feel like I need to give more of a recap, and I am quite sure many of you are tired of reading about it, hearing about it, etc. I'm okay with that. After all, blogging is for me as much as it is for you, so it's all good.

The first session I attended at BlogHer12 was titled Blogging for the Love of it.

This is me. I'm not all focused on blogging for money. I want to get my voice out there and be heard. I want to write. I love to write. I write because I absolutely must.

And yet - I love my audience. I feel good when people comment that they have read what I have written.

I've come to understand the change in blogging audiences. I myself am one of those members. One who reads a blog post and comments back on twitter or Facebook. It's different than it used to be. It's changing and growing. It's slowing down. And yet it's a way of communicating with each other - through the blogging world.

I didn't necessarily gain all of this knowledge through BlogHer, but it was certainly discussed and touched upon. And therefore tangents with my thought process, I suppose. It kind of is how it goes, with respect to writing just to write, writing for other reasons, looking for a future in blogging and your audience.

So many of us find it meshing together. So many of us balance the love of writing and the hopes and dreams of turning it into something that helps us thrive. Whether it be professionally, or financially, or in a way that is beyond the rush we experience when we take pen to paper, or as in most, fingers to the keyboards.

Another session I attended I truly loved. It was about pricing yourself with respect to those looking to work with you. I sadly had to leave that session early because I had an appointment to learn about Media Kits. A critical requirement if you want to work with brands, companies, etc. So while the women of the session were telling me I MUST have a media kit, I slipped out somewhat gracefully to attend that private Geek Bar session.

Sadly, the remainder of the sessions didn't work for me. I either didn't make them for timing reasoning, or because they were or seemed so crowded that it just wasn't anything I could make happen.

BlogHer is serious. It's intense. It's real.

It's not for everyone, and it may or may not be for you.

It was for me this year, as it was held in NYC, my hometown. I knew coming home would work for me to attend, and I wouldn't have missed it. I can't say that in the future I will go back. I think it is too soon to tell.

I may have had issues with a lot of the experience, but I also loved the opportunity to meet so many people I would not have had a chance to connect with. My blogging friends from across the interwebs I had the chance to chat with up close and personal. As you can tell from a previous post, that matters most. For now, I think I'll stick with smaller conferences, as I prefer an easier way of connecting. Will I stay away forever? I don't know. Maybe if I approach the conference with a different way of thinking it won't disappoint. After all - I did get to listen to President Obama address us all, AND watch as the women of BlogHer interviewed Katie Couric (which was pretty awesome). I missed out on Martha Stewart as it was too jam-packed, but I survived and was smarter the next day with an early arrival to catch Katie!

Also, I took this shot of a beautiful piece of artwork by the incredible Robin Plemmons at the Come As You Are Party.

It was quite possibly the first time all weekend that I felt this AT a party there. The other parties were fun. I found time to connect with friends like Lora from fever and my sweet roommate Amy from Somebody's Parents, but I also felt a little bit lost in the mix of it all. This party grounded me. I wish it had happened earlier in the weekend, honestly. I needed it!

I'm sure I have more to say, but in the meantime I have lots of friends who have written about their own experience, and you know me, I like to share and promote my peeps. So check 'em out!

Robyn of Robyn's Online World

Jen of Jen has a Pen

Erin (one of my fabulous roommates!) of A Parenting Production ... you can read more from her here, too.

That's just a sampling of the bloggy love I have to give post-conference. I'm sure I'll hit you all with more soon. In the meantime, mwah! Chat atcha later.

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Trying to breathe

My house is closing in on me.

Whenever I think I'm catching up I notice that I'm totally not.

I know I should step away from the computer and clear yet another surface, but when I look at them - coming back to life with new clutter - day after day after day - I just wonder why I bother.

And then my child.

The child I love SO very much.

G-d, I love my daughter. I'm sitting here fighting tears as they approach the surface.

Because I hate how frustrated I get with her sometimes.

She's non-stop. She doesn't stop talking. Moving. Acting and reacting.

And I'm blessed. I know I am. I feel I am. I AM.

But dear G-d, sometimes I am SO freakin' tired. So ready to go to bed. And then I realize I haven't taken a single minute for myself yet today. Or yesterday. And yet, I have spent some time online. Diving in, beyond the surface, to the place where my friends live.

Am I doing it to avoid my child? Some days it feels like that. Like today, maybe. And it's wrong. I shouldn't do it. But I am normal. I'm a mom and I do.

I've spent almost every.single.day of my child's 5+ years with her. At home. Entertaining her. Engaging her. Finding ways to keep her busy, happy, motivated. Excited. Enthused. Less than bored.

And I'm tired. I'm kind of finding myself ready for her to go to school.

Is that wrong of me? Maybe.

Are there people who probably sit, shaking their heads, offering nothing more than an 'I knew that would happen,' when what they really want to say is that they told me so - but they bit their tongues well enough that they didn't ACTUALLY tell me so. Ya know? Those people? They're out there. They're not quite wrong.

I suppose in some ways I did this to myself. I am truly lucky to have had the opportunity to make the choice that enabled me to stay at home with my child. She is very well-adjusted, interacts well with others, she's had loads of playdates, groups, classes and the like. She's friendly, fun and sweet. She's mine and I adore her.

But add her clingy and neediness in with the hoarder-lite mode I'm trying to bust out of these days and I feel like I'm trapped in a bubble. One that I need out of and can't seem to break through.

But this weekend I get some time away. I'm looking forward to it - and I know that's normal. And yet I know I'll be sad to leave her - and that's normal, too.

So I'm torn.

I'm all out of faith,
This is how I feel.
I'm cold and I'm ashamed ...
lying naked on the floor. 

Deep inside I'm torn. 

Totally butchered those lyrics. With apologies to natalie imbruglia.




** Important note ... I wrote this last night. I was drained. Exhausted. Battling a child who didn't want to sleep. This morning is a new day. I came downstairs, my house isn't as horrible as it was in the dark of night, it's amazing how nighttime hits me like that and I want to go on a cleaning frenzy but am too damned tired to do so. And how the exhaustion creeps in and the day fills my body, mind and soul, and my child fights closing her eyes and the frustrations escalate and ... well ... you get the picture. But today I move forward. Finding positives and love and more. I hope you do, too.

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I don't even know what to title this post.

So we noticed a water spot on our kitchen ceiling the other day. It seemed to appear over night. It sure felt like it did. And I looked at it and it was brownish/blackish definitely mold-ish.

Fast forward to yesterday when we had a friend who is a contractor come out, and he did a quick assessment and told us what the next steps would be.

So after he left I called a plumber - they were out in a few hours. Guy cuts a square hole in our ceiling, pulls out the drywall and it's so nasty you wouldn't want to see it on TV. Ew.

Determines the leak is definitely from our upstairs toilet (in our master bath). Great. Takes up our toilet, wax seal is like shredded or something. Well, there you go. It appears that the toilet has been removed before, and there's a definite leak on at least one side. It's really gross, but the leak is fixed so we're done with step one, at least.

He recommends we call a mold guy. Mold guy is in the area and comes out a few hours later. Checks kitchen ceiling. It's definitely mold. He's going to have to cut more out of the ceiling. Probably do a mold treatment. Did I mention yesterday was our 10yr anniversary? Happy anniversary to us!

Checks the ceiling and it's bad, but it's not like the whole ceiling, which is great news, thank goodness. We don't have to move to a hotel, kennel the dogs and hide the cats. ;) We DO have to live with a loud fan and a plastic wrapped section of our kitchen. I'll live. It's all good. No dishwasher? I won't cook. We're all set.

BUT.

He goes upstairs to cut up some of the bathroom floor and it is so freakin' gross there are NO WORDS. NO WORDS, people. It's nasty. It's rotted. It's a Stage 3 or whatever that means. It's likely that the bottom of the toilet has been leaking into the bathroom floor forEVER. Probably since before we bought our house 5 years ago. WTH? How is that even possible?

Note to self, and to everyone you know in this world ... if you ever buy a house (first house, second, again and again), make sure you have a water detector person come and check all your bathrooms, walls, floors, and laundry room, too, while you're at it. Heck, throw in the kitchen to be safe.  There was so much moisture and water in the bathroom floor that it was off the charts. Ew.

So right now we have our upstairs bath cordoned off. It's a biohazard. Seriously. The plumber had to come back out and take our toilet off again and it's in our master bathtub. What? Yes. That is my life right now.

My daughter even drew a picture of it.

Toilet - meet bathtub. Redneck much?

Happy anniversary to us. Oy.

On a positive note, we're getting a new bathroom floor. And have to paint the kitchen ceiling. Maybe I'll go yellow or something. That could be fun. Or cheesy. Or both. We'll see.

Thanks for listening. I wish you a household-stress-free-weekend ahead.

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Before noon...

It's not even eleven AM on Saturday, and although I slept in (til after eight/closer to nine - which for me isn't truly sleeping in - when I need it I could go til eleven. Which is nothing compared to what I used to do ... but I digress!) I have actually had a productive morning.

Which means I worked out already. C25K Week 4. I had some rough going during the second 5 minute run. Between my exhaustion, my allergies and the heat I was creeping along. But I finished. I did it. I should be in Week 5, honestly, but I have been slowly getting through Week 4, a second time now, so I'll hold off til I feel I can make it.

Anyway, while the early morning workout is something that rarely happens, there are a few things that led me to doing so. And they are as follows ...

Last night the kiddo had a total meltdown. It was horrible and I'm pretty sure my husband and I are still recovering. Honest. That's a post for another day, though, as rehashing it hurts my head and my heart, and so right now I'll choose not to.

Because of that I did not work out. I spent much of the night dealing with her, addressing her behavior and talking her down. Through it. It hurt. It drained me. Physically and emotionally. My body tensed, ached and hurt. Like hell.

After the incident and all that happened, and the ordeal of getting her to sleep, I came downstairs, even after brushing my teeth, and ate ice cream. This was not a good thing for me. It was comfort. It was emotional eating. It wasn't horribly over my calories for the day, but I was already over. I shouldn't have given in. But I wanted to and so I did. But I knew that it would make me angry with myself. I knew it the first time I went downstairs and went back up without giving in. I knew I should have stayed up there. I knew it as I took each step on my way back down. And I did it anyway.

And honestly, I went to bed thinking ...

When I weighed in this AM, I was up a bit. Just .8 of a pound. I shouldn't flip out, I know. And I'm kind of not, but I also kind of am a little cranky about it, too. So while I know it's not just the ice cream that did it. It's my slowing down. My motivation is still there - but I've slowed my C25K workouts a bit, and I feel it. I don't like it. I've switched to Zumba, which I like, but 20 minutes isn't enough for me. It's not intense enough or whatever you want to call it. I need to do more and keep at it. I need to not wait a week before running, because when I pick it back up it basically kicks my ass.

I wasn't not expecting it, but I felt like I had an okay week. Sort of. My calories were mostly low. But then I realized. I ate mints this week. A revelation, no? But seriously. I skipped documenting them, because they're just CVS brand wintergreen mints. I mean, really. How bad could they be?

But then what happens after that? What else do I forget to write down/log in my phone?

It's not who I want to be. I don't want to be that person sneaking or conveniently forgetting. I won't be her. She's GONE. I've already locked her in the closet and I'm not letting her out. This is the way I am going to be - this is the way I am. I'm 39 years old and I'm living healthy. I'm not just talking the talk. I'm walking the walk and I'm running the run.  Because I want to and because I CAN.

Also? I need to stop being this chick during the week. No matter how tired I am.

She's cute and all - and she made me giggle - but I also want to tell her to go away. She can't come over anymore. I'm too strong and motivated to play games with myself that way. I won't do it. I can't.

I need to stop bs-ing myself and (as Nike says), JUST DO IT.

I'll check back in next week and hopefully (there's no hope in motivation, I WILL) have done so. Done it. Whatever IT is. Whatever it takes.

Peace out and thanks for listening.

*images obtained via my motivate me! board on Pinterest*

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