Out Of Words

Sometimes, despite my best intentions, life doesn't go the way I plan at all.

Sometimes, I let everything around me get me down.

Sometimes, I don't have anyone to talk to about it.

And the people I do talk to take it all so PERSONALLY.

Eye.roll.

I have so many things to say.

But I've stopped talking.

Mostly because I don't have the words to say it without hurting or offending people.

So I've been keeping alot inside.

Like my discouragement at not being able to lose that last 5 lbs.

Like my disgust at how little social time I have.

Like my frustration at feeling unappreciated and alone.

Like my sadness at realizing how busy everyone is.

And my frustration for how hard it is to maintain friendships.

Not to mention my self loathing for my own self-pity.

I keep thinking, I can't write this stuff - no one wants to read this stuff!

People want to read about happy times.

People want to read things that make them smile.

And laugh.

And yet, if I keep it in much longer, I may lose my mind.

So, my apologies.

For the record, I have had some really great days since my last post.

Last week was actually really great once I realized that I could go outside during naptime and sit in the sun for a an hour or two all by myself.

But this week, it has rained every single day.

{I think I have seasonal depression a vitamin D deficiency.}

But seriously.

To make things even worse, social media is totally ruining my life.

I mean, seriously.

It's all "vote for Gay marriage"  or "God hates the gays"

And "don't you want to order bags/jewelry/candles/beauty products from my stay-at-home-mom friend?  You'll regret it if you don't...."

And 2 million pastel pictures depicting people in turn of the century attire with condescending comments.

Seriously, people, other than my occasional Wal-Mart run, this is my only connection with the outside world.

And it SUCKS.

THIS IS WHAT YOU PEOPLE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT?!

Politics and Home Merchandising?

Is it any wonder I'm feeling a little...bereft?

So today, in between reading about your happy lives, I'll be trying to find a way to make my mundane magical.

Because that's what mommy's do.

And that's all I have time for these days.

Making Up Is Hard to Do

Allow me a moment to whine.

Sometimes life gets busy.

Sometimes life gets hard.

Sometimes life gets lonely.

And dark.

And the last few weeks have been that for me.

I don't know why.

I don't know how.

I just know I'm in a dark place.

A lonely place.

A place of isolation and despair and...selfishness.

I said it.

I'm feeling very sorry for myself right now.

Very...ALONE.

But for me, blogging has always been extremely therapeutic.

So, ya know, that's where I'm at.

I might need a cat.

I may need a HOUSE FULL OF CATS.*

I definitely need a Jesus moment.

So, now, I pray.

And I blog.

Of course, I've dropped off the blogging map.

So, I have, like 2 people to be accountable to.

But if you 2 could try to keep me typing, that would really be great.

And pardon my lack of humor during this time.


*dear heavens, I just completely justified cat ladies.  If that's not a cry for help, I don't know what is!

Time for Your Checkup!

As you may recall, about 4 weeks ago, I decided to "give up on" my goals of getting back to my pre-baby weight in favor of just getting healthier and stronger.

A group of my friends and I agreed to do 4 weeks of Jillian Michaels' Ripped in 30 workout.

And I figured you were all waiting on pins and needles to find out the results about this little experiment.

Good news.

I'm here to spill the beans.

Week 1 wasn't so bad.

But I will admit that by day 3, I could barely lift my arms over my shoulders.

Week 2...

Well...

In a nutshell - it's a killer.

I may have cried.

But it's not insanity, so....

And it's only 25 minutes long...

I can do ANYTHING for 25 minutes....

So I kept at it.

Week 3 came and went.

At some point during week 3, I am pretty sure my legs stopped functioning properly.

But it's all good.

Eventually, I hit week 4.

And thought, there is no way I can do this.

But I did.

Week 4 is officially over.

And as for the final outcome???

Well, as it turns out, I did lose almost 1 lb. in the last month.

Technically a total of .8, but it's my lowest weight to date...

Putting me only 5.6 from my pre-pregnancy weight.

But more importantly, I really feel like I can see alot of improvement in my body in the last month.

Muscles are getting firmer, I'm seeing more tone and less flab...

And more importantly, my clothes are fitting better every day.

To be honest, I don't think you can visually see alot of difference in the last 4 weeks.

But I feel it.

So moving forward, I am going to continue the same strain of workout dedication.

I will be continuing at least another month with Ripped - maybe interchangeably with other workouts, but definitely more often than not.

And maybe somewhere down the line, I'll get brave enough and/or strong enough to try Insanity or P90x, but for now, I'm excited about the change that the last month has given me and I'm more excited about the motivation it has given me.

Here's to the next 4 weeks and seeing where it takes me!

Recent Reads: Requiem

Let me ask you a question...

When was the last time you read a book that you day dreamed about when you put it down?

When was the last time you read a book that sucked you in more deeply than Real Housewives drama.

While we're talking about it, considering last night's RHOBH season finale, it's a wonder I have ANYTHING else to talk about today....

But that's how good this book is.

Seriously, people.

If you haven't followed my advice, and picked up the Delirium series, stop what you are doing and go get it.

This month, Lauren Oliver finally released the final book in this series.

Credit

And let me just say, this book is amazing.

The story is exciting.

There is romance, there is intensity, there is excitement.

You will fall in love - more than once...

Your heart will be broken - more than once...

The characters are beautiful and endearing and completely well rounded.

And for the most part, there is a reasonably happy acceptable ending for everyone.

In a nutshell, you should read it.

You can thank me later!

Now, please excuse me while I get back to my regularly scheduled programming (read: Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion - I should really live tweet this amazingness!)

The Good Wife

This post is based solely upon my last waking thoughts before bed last night.

You should be afraid.

But, for the sake of full disclosure, Here goes:

I am not a good wife all the time.  

Don't be shocked.  

Put down your paper bag - I'm going to explain....

Sometimes, I don't want to be a good wife.

Sometimes, I even make the conscious decision not to be a good wife.

Sometimes, I am pmsing and I've been around 2 little tyrants who scream their demands at me while I am trying to clean up their poop.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I choose to be the wife that nags and whines and pouts.

Admittedly, on occasion, it's involuntary.

But most of the time, I choose it.

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep listening to my husband, who was still working at 11 pm, talking on his phone next to me, this was the fight I battled.

It had been a particularly long day.

After a particularly long week.

I honestly hadn't said more than a sentence or 2 to him all day.

And at the end of the day, I just wanted a few minutes of his attention.

If you know me, you might know my passive aggressive drill.  (Sarah, you'll recognize this IMMEDIATELY)

1. I sigh, ALOT.

Usually very loudly.

You know that sound your dog makes when he sees a squirrel?  My sighs are a little like that.

Very deep, in the back of my throat.  Just aggressive enough to let everyone around you know that you want something.

Dramatic, right?

And yet subtle at the same time.

2. Then, I make my presence known.

Usually by stomping or banging something.

Think Teresa Guidice.

Think almost, but not really, subtle.

Think, I may have flipped a table in my time...

3. Finally, I play the martyr.

Think Cinderella complex.

Think not at all the strong, independent Drew Barrymore version.

Think "woe-is-me" Disney version.

Usually I start by saying things like, "Do you want anything to eat or drink before I go to bed, sweetheart?"

Usually, DRIPPING with sarcasm.

And last night was pretty much classic Leah-at-her-passive-aggressive-best.

I may or may not have even succumbed to prancing around in lingerie.

Because nothing is as passive aggressive, as a lingerie clad wife who has no intentions of putting out.

But as I climbed in bed, I clicked over to Facebook.

Admittedly, not typically the wisest decision for someone in woe-is-me-passive-aggressive-mode. 

As it typically only leads to more wallowing...

But last night, I saw this...

Credit

Le, sigh.

Cue sucker punch to the lacey nighty.

Cue epiphany.

As much as it may have behooved me last night to say it, I have a fantastic husband.

Who works very hard for our family.

To the extreme of working long days and late nights while the rest of us are sleeping. 

It's not my job to love him when he's paying attention to me.

It's not my job to love him on good days.

It's not my job to love him when life is easy and we see eye to eye on every little thing.

It's my job to respect him for who he is and to love him for it.

So, for today, that's where I'm at.

Because that's what love is all about.

Now, excuse me while I go pack my Teresa Guidice angry face away for a while....

It's Almost like "The Pianist" But It's Not

Imagine with me.

You are a mommy.

Now for you men out there, this may be a stretch.

Just go with it.

You are a mommy.

You spent your entire life trying to cover everything up.

You got married.

And discovered you married a nudist.

And then you had a baby.

With boy parts.

And he followed his daddy around and did everything his daddy did.

And then one night you went in his room to tuck him in for bed and find him - your BABY BOY - completely naked - snoring.

People.

I'm raising a nudist.

Be warned.

The Story Of My Life

This is going to be an emotional post.

Because, dude, that's how I roll.

I can't be funny all the time!!!

But, if that's what you are here for, do I have a story for you!

Meanwhile.

In the emotional roller coaster that is my life.

These last few days, I have been thinking alot about my life.

Our lives.

How we got here.

Where we came from.

And I have been reminded of some really dark times for me.

I've talked a little about it before...

But when we were first married, I was going through some really tough times.

I was homesick.

My only friends worked all the time or were full time college students.

My mother-in-law was very sick and required constant attention.

My mom was going through alot of craziness.

And life was just...

For lack of a better word...

HARD.

Michael Scott would be dying right now.

But seriously.

I cried alot.

I was very heavy.

And a little lot discontent with my life.

I remember there being days that I would say things like, "Why me?".

And the occasional, "I didn't sign up for this!"

On one particular night, I had had enough.

We were on our way to a concert 2 hours away.

And I picked a fight.

Have you ever done that???

I'm sure you haven't.

You are all saints aren't you?

Well, sometimes, I fall off the pedestal a little.

Don't be so shocked.

I'm still sporting a halo 99.9% of the time.

But this one time, it fell a little bit.

And yes, I picked a knock down, drag out, good-old-fashioned-screaming-match-fight in a car where Techy and I were both trapped for several more hours/minutes.

I went through every range of emotion there was.

Anger.  Why am I going through so much crap?

Discontentment. Why do I have to deal with all this?

Loneliness.  Why am I all alone?

Guilt.  I shouldn't be feeling this way, but....

Homesickness.  At the heart of it all, I just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

And I bottled up all those feelings, and spit them all out in one extremely hurtful statement -

"I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!"

And not just from the concert...

After which, we sat in stony silence for the rest of the trip.

We pulled into the parking lot, and we tried to pull it all together.

Act like we liked each other....

To make matters worse, we were late to the concert.

We were both miserable.

We got out of the car, made our apologies, and put our game faces on.

But as we walked into the outdoor arena where the music was blaring over the loudspeakers, my emotions were ROLLING.

And then I heard it.

I think, we all know that music speaks to me....

And this was no exception.

Because the first words I heard as we walked into that concert were:

"Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this city"

Not at home.

Not in my comfort zone.

Not where I wanted to be.

But right where I was.

And that was the day that I realized something.

Contentment is not about being where you want to be.

Contentment is about being where you are supposed to be.

That night I made a commitment.

A commitment to love the place where I was at for as long as God had me there.

And for the next 4.5 years, I did just that.

I committed to that place.

Until the day that God moved us.

And some days I still long for that place.

Because after 6.5 years, it was comfortable.

It was home.

It was normal.

And now, some people look at us and think we are the craziest people in the world.

Some people look at what we've been through in the last year and a half and think, why on earth would you ever do that?

Why would you leave everything you have established together and move 800 miles away to something you don't know?

But that night changed alot for me.

It shook me to my core.

Because that night was the night that I learned that joy is tied to contentment.

Not happiness.

For any of you who may be wondering through your own darkness, I feel your pain.

I've been there.

You aren't alone.

And just so you know...greater things have yet to come!

Believe it with me.