Sometimes I just have to walk away from this blog.  Which is hard because what I would love more then anything is to come here and just spend twenty minutes unloading my brain in an open and honest blog. That is impossible when the people you know in real life read your stories though.  I have a bad habit of reaching a breaking point and just spending thirty seconds unloading every single thought in my head and then four seconds later regretting 90% of them because they will either cause a shit storm of a response or people will thing I'm insane.

I hate this time of year.  Let's just get this out of the way now.  I hate Christmas.  A lot. I loathe Christmas carols. I hate Christmas shopping.  I hate the planned dinners and the exchanging of gifts.  I don't like that this holiday has become about money and presents and not love.  I don't mind shopping for the kids, but shopping for adults and friends stresses me out beyond belief.  I change the channel the second a Christmas song comes on.  I basically dislike every holiday from September up until Easter.  I enjoy buying "just because" gifts all year long. I do not enjoy buying Valentines gifts, or Mothers day gifts, etc because it's not a surprise, it's expected. It's forced.  I don't like receiving them either.  But "just because" gifts, I love that shit

Easter is beautiful it smells like fresh cut grass and happiness.  I love Easter.  That is usually right around the time I come out of this cloud of doom where every day is a challenge.  I don't like winter. I hate the snow.  I hate the cold.  I do not like wet feet.  I'm miserable until the sun comes back.

I try everything in my power to self sabotage during this season.  I push everyone away, I overeat, I don't take care of myself.  This is the first year in probably ten years I've stuck with the gym during the winter and it is seriously only because I have this amazing trainer who rides so many miles to work every day just to train his clients that I think if he can do that I can get my lazy ass up off my couch and go to the gym.

I stop cooking during the winter.  Or I cook but I don't cook my amazing gourmet meals.  I just lose the love, and love is a huge ingredient in my cooking.

I want to be better at blogging. I'm trying.  I'm throwing myself into the gym as hard as I can because it's the healthiest way to push myself right now. I'm trying so hard to keep up the appearance that I'm normal and functioning for my kids this time around.  It feels like I have moments of thinking I'm handling this all so well and then moments where the whole world is looking at me like I'm failing. 

I'm not giving up though.  I can beat this shit. Let's start a count down to spring.

The most NOPE I've ever seen.  This is NOT what Anastasia looks like.  This is not what Christian looks like. Ana did not have bangs or stupid ugly red lipstick.  Nope nope nope.  The people the cast as supporting actors are all wrong.  I'm sad.  They have destroyed this movie for me.  Maybe one day when it's on Netflix and I've watched every possible episode of Sons of Anarchy will I think of watching this. 

Fail.

Dinner tonight can be found here

Brandon turned eight in August.  He weighs about 76 pounds.  He is approximately ten feet tall (as judged by my very scientific mom eye).  The law in Nevada says that kids have to be in a booster seat until they are six years old or sixty pounds.  However, the RECOMMENDED limit is eight or eighty pounds. I've kept Brandon in a booster seat until two weeks ago.

You guys seriously, this has made me the least cool mom on the planet.  Not just with my child but with other parents. You cannot believe how many parents have been annoyed when I told them if they wanted to drive my kid somewhere he needed a booster seat.  Not to mention the fights that have happened when their kid wants to sit in the back seat and they ask Brandon to sit up front and he replies, "no I'm not allowed to sit up front until I am twelve."  Because you know, that is an actual real live law here.  This poses a few problems.  First being that parents who don't keep their (much much smaller kids) in a booster seat automatically feel awkward in front of me because I do, as if they think I am judging them (I am). Second is that when other kids ride in my car and their parents tell me they do not need a booster seat this A: Makes me feel uncomfortable and B: Leads that other asshole kid to make fun of my kid for being in a booster seat.

I don't understand any of this.  It's a safety thing.  Booster seats aren't difficult.  They don't take up any space in your car.  They don't require you to buckle them in (at this point Brandon was out of the 5-point harness, and into the kind that uses the seatbelt). I don't understand why parents would not use something that is proven to be safer for your child.  Especially the children who might be eight years old but who are smaller then my six year old. 

I resisted letting Brandon out of his booster seat until I spoke to his pediatrician about it.  I actually made an appointment and went in there.  He was impressed.  He measured Brandon, and told me where the seat belt needs to fit for him to safely ride without a booster seat and then he gave me the seal of approval to remove Brandon from his booster.  I still waited another week.

I don't care how uncool that seat was, I think it's way cooler then being dead right?

Moving onto Codi.  Codi turned six in November.  He weighs about forty pounds.  He is maybe three feet tall.  Legally I could take him out of the booster seat because he is six.  I refuse to take him out because he is not sixty pounds.  He is still in a 5-point harness type seat.  All of his little kindergarten six year old friends have of course already come out of their 5-point harness AND their booster seat.  Again, I have become the uncool mom who makes her child ride in a safety seat. I did not take Brandon out of his 5-point harness until I think second grade.  I told Codi that until he is sixty pounds I won't even entertain the option.  I also explained why.  He was actually totally okay with it.  Codi is small.  I don't care what age he is, he weighs nothing and is as tall as a preschooler, why on earth would I take him out of something made to protect him? 

This has been very frustrating.  I watch kids smaller then Codi get into cars without even having a booster seat and I cringe.  Then I realize that I'm in the minority though and I just shut my mouth.  Tell me, when did you move your kids from a 5-point harness, and then when did you eliminate all booster seats all together?  Am I alone in wanting my kids to be as safe as possible or are their other parents out there who care about this?  I am feeling really lame and lonely in this car seat crusade. 

When I couldn't get pregnant we spent a ton of money with a fertility specialist.  We did two IUI treatments and nothing happened.  At my annual pap with my OBGYN I mentioned it to him.  He quickly prescribed me a medicine to clear up some bacteria that was attacking the sperm, and within 3 weeks I was pregnant. 

Then I started having high cholesterol.  The doctor wanted to put me on all kinds of medications that I would remain on for life.  At my yearly annual with the OBGYN they noticed my lab work, noticed my cholesterol and instead told me to take some herbal remedies.  Within 5 months my cholesterol dropped 56 points.

I've recently been going through a lot of issues with my stomach.  Swelling, pain, and multiple problems. I had a CT scan a few months ago and my stomach doctors read it and told me all was normal.  While I was at this years annual my OBGYN looked at the CT scan and noticed that the radiologist had noted that my uterus was healthy.  Only problem is I haven't had a uterus for about 3 years. He was pretty pissed off that the stomach doctors had missed that.  He asked about my colonoscopy.  I told him the stomach doctors hadn't ordered one.  He was appalled, I've been seeking treatment for a year and never once had anyone ordered a colonoscopy.  He ordered one and said he had a gut feeling that from all of my surgeries there was a good chance that scar tissue had caused my bowels to be blocked and that if we found that out it could easily be repaired with a small incision.  

I just spent almost 72 hours being pumped full of laxatives and on a strict Gatorade and broth diet only.  I lost over 6 lbs in fluid weight.  Every time I stood up I saw white and got dizzy.  I finally arrived today for my colonoscopy.  The stomach doctor got less then a third of the way in and hit a block.  She tried changing positions, tried shooting water in to clear it, tried everything.  Nothing worked.  I have a blocked bowel.  This could have been discovered a year ago if the first doctor I saw had concentrated on the symptoms instead of my weight, and if the second doctor had listened to what the X rays had said, and what I was saying.  I'm so frustrated.  It bothers me that doctors can just brush someone off so easily.  It bothers me that every time I've been fixed it was by a damn OBGYN AFTER I had paid specialists a bunch of money.

So now we schedule the surgery.  They do the small incision, find the blockage, and repair it.  I should be good as new after that.  I really hope I don't have to go through another 72 hours cleanse though.  I'm not sure I can handle that again.

On Sunday my cell phone rang.  I didn't know the number but I answered it anyway.  This is what I heard:

Young girl (YG): Who's this?

Me: Shannon, who are you?

YG: Daisy

Me: Hi Daisy.  What can I do for you

YG: *Giggling*

Me: Daisy, do you know who you are calling?

YG: I'm calling Codi, can I talk to Codi?

HOLD UP WHAT!

I looked at my husband and whispered, "A girl is calling our six year old."

I called Codi into the room and told him Daisy was on the phone for him. This is what followed.

Codi: *Blushing* Hi

YG: Hiiiii Codi this is Daisy

Codi: Hi (in a totally nonchalant kinda way)

YG: Whatcha doin?

Codi: Playing my new Wii game.

YG: Cool.  How are you

Codi: Good

YG: Do you know what 3+3 is

Codi: 6

YG: Oh yeah well do you know what 5+5 is?

Codi: *sighs* 10

YG: What about 100+100

Codi: 200

At this point I break in and tell Codi to maybe ask Daisy how she is doing so they can stop talking about math.

Codi: What are you doing Daisy

YG: Nothing, do you know what 500+500 is?

I told Codi to tell Daisy thank you for calling and to say goodbye and go back to play with the friend he had over that day.  They said their goodbyes and Codi went to play in the other room.

Yesterday he came home with a folded up piece of paper.  I opened it and the girl had written her name and her phone number in 6 year old chicken scratch and had passed it to Codi in class. I'm keeping that forever.  Codi said, "you know mom, so you can maybe set up a play date or something."

The whole thing was very cute.  I have to admit though, I wasn't expecting girls to start calling the house until middle school, and if we are being honest I expected his older brother to get he first phone call.  I had passed out birthday invitations two weeks prior so I'm thinking that is how the girl got my phone number.

I'm thinking of laminating the piece of paper since she wrote it in pencil.  I want to keep it forever.  I wanted to post a picture of it, because the writing, and the name is all so cute but I can't post a picture of someone elses phone number on here. 

Either way it was very cute.

I encountered something new this weekend.

Someone gave me their business card.  Only….it was a play date card.  Their husband handed me their card first, it listed his company, his job and his contact info.  Then his wife handed me her card.  I looked down and her company was listed as, "mom to Sally and Joey." 

I.  What?  This is a thing?  I Google'd it and it's a real live thing.  Women are really handing out business cards just to score play dates.  I don't even know how to handle this without laughing in someones face.  Don't take this out of context, I'm not making fun of stay at home moms.  I think they are awesome and if I could be a stay at home mom I would be in a heart beat.  However, if someone asked me for my phone number I would just verbally give them my number.  Or perhaps jot it down on a piece of paper.  But to spend money on an actual business card that just lists my kids name and my phone number.  WHY?

It's weird. It felt like a cry for help.  It almost came of as if the lady was ashamed of her life.  As though she had no big job with a business card to hand out so she made her own.  Either that or it was a desperate cry for attention and friendship.

I realize I sound like a bitch, which is fine.  This is my blog and I can be a bitch.  Any of you reading me for any amount of time know that I'm a totally opinionated asshole.  I'm okay with that.  I'm fine with someone leaving me nasty comments about how they have a play date business card and it's so cool and who am I to judge them.  But I am.  I am totally judging you.  Why does everything have to be so over designed now?  In this age of Pinterest is nothing sacred anymore?  Can a woman not just grab a scrap of paper and write her name down?  Better yet since we almost all have smart phones, can one mom not simply program another moms phone number in her phone?  Is it all a competition now?  Whose play date card is fancier, what grade paper did they use, is it recycled, what company did they order from, etc.  Is there nothing that we won't turn into an overly done Pinterest craft?  Where does it stop? 

No one sends out paper invites anymore (I do), it's all E-vites or Facebook messages.  No one writes letters anymore (I still mail my grandma and friends hand written letters).  No one says Happy Birthday in person any more (my grandma and I always do), birthday's are only acknowledged via text or Facebook now.  Nothing is personal anymore. I feel like taking the verbal exchange out of trading phone numbers is just going to far.  Is it really too hard to speak words to another persons face?

I'm so bothered by this shit. 

For those of you who read this post, you are aware I was a huge champion of Charlie Hunnam being cast as Christian in 50 Shades of Grey.

Charlie has dropped out of the movie.  I am devastated.  You guys, seriously, he is so ridiculously sexy and I was so happy that I would get to see him all naked and naughty.  I cannot believe he dropped out. 

Okay, that's not true, I can believe it.  Doesn't mean I'm not destroyed over it.  I think I would have dropped out also if production tried to force me into a fictional romance with this Dakota Johnson chick.  I'm sorry but she is just not Ana.  She isn't pretty enough to be Ana. She isn't innocent enough to be Ana.  We are supposed to believe that Ana is a 20 something virgin.  There is no part of me that looks at that tore up Dakota chick and believes she is a virgin.  Nope. 

Either way I'm sad.  They are going to have to find someone supremely delicious to fill Charlies shoes.  Someone as bad, and naughty, and scary as Jax was.  Those are big shoes to fill.  I'm glad I still have Sons of Anarchy to watch but it is not the same.  I was so excited to see Jax Teller naked.  Beyond excited.  More excited then I should even admit publicly. Shit though, he's so fucking incredible in that show, I would let him handcuff me and play Christian any time he wants.

I would love if they recast Ana.  I am struggling so hard with Dakota as Ana.  It's just wrong.  She should have left the movie, not Charlie.

Here you go. I think this is a pretty current photo of all of my ink to date.

Because my mother loves to take unflattering pictures of me I'm able to show you how I looked in 2012.  I was fat.  I stayed fat for another year.  Or maybe longer.  Then in March of 2013 I decided it was time to change.

I didn't want to be this girl anymore.

I didn't want to have to constantly crop my photos to hide my fat. 

I didn't want to be the girl who looked this fat in a tank top.  I didn't want to stand next to my husband and look like we didn't belong together anymore. This time I knew I had to do it differently though.  I had to lose weight right.  Exercise and eating right.  I also had to accept that this was going to take time.  It still is going to take time.  I have a long road ahead of me. 

The photo on the left was when I started losing weight.  The photo on the right is me today.

My jeans are two sizes smaller today.  I ordered them last week.  When they came in the mail I hid them because I didn't think there was anyway they would fit.  But they did.  They fit.  The photo on the left is a size 16.  The photo on the right is a size 12.  The jeans in the very top photo are a size 18. You probably don't see much difference in the two photos but I do.  My arms are smaller.  I have more shape in my waist.  AND MY JEANS ARE TWO SIZES SMALLER!

I work out hard.  I try and go three times a week.

I wear a Polar watch to track my calorie burn.  I don't leave the gym until I hit a certain burn.  I have also started paying for a trainer once a week.  This way I know I am accountable to someone.  He knows if I don't show up during the week and he questions me.

I've also tried to start dressing a little bit cuter.  I'm trying to dress for my body.  I've discovered if I look good, and feel good then I want to look better and feel better.  Dressing up encourages me to go to the gym because it reminds me of all the other cute clothes I want to wear.

I've started taking it a little easier on myself.  I wanted a tan body this year.  You cannot be tan in a one piece.  I decided this year that I'm 31.  I am married and I have my kids.  I don't need to impress anyone.  I don't need to hide myself.  I don't care what everyone else at the pool thinks.  I went out and bought myself a bikini this year.  I wore that bikini. I wore it in front of skinny girls, I wore it to the lake and to the water park.  You know what? I was happy.  I was tan and I was happy.  I never hid, I didn't wear a cover up, I just rocked that bikini and reminded myself that by next year I would be rocking a smaller size bikini. 

I'm finally seeing the changes in my body.  Clothes fit different.  I have some curves.  That little bit of fat between my ass and thighs that made it look like I had a second ass is gone.  My ass is lifting. My arms are getting smaller.  I have some muscles.  My legs are a little bit nicer.  Boots that didn't used to zip up, now zip up.

I've changed how I eat.  This time though, I didn't cut out any foods.  I start the day off with a protein shake, some oatmeal and coffee.  I have an apple for snack.  Lunch is sometimes healthy and sometimes it's Taco Bell.  Dinner is whatever we are eating, but in a reasonable portion.  I recognized that making food off limits just made me binge on it when I was having a bad day.  I also realized that if I am going to keep this up for life I have to be realistic.  I will never quit Taco Bell.  I will never quit chocolate.  I will never quit french fries.  So the idea that I should give up all of those foods entirely was just silly. Giving them up just made them something I suddenly felt like I "needed." I would obsess over the food I couldn't have and then next thing I knew I was in a food coma surrounded by fast food wrappers and candy bars.

The key to what I'm doing is to see the changes.  I could easily look in the mirror and tell myself I'm still fat.  Which I would be lying if I said I never do, but I do it less now.  I've concentrated on photos. I take photos often and compare them to remind myself.

I notice a huge difference between these two girls.

When I do look in the mirror and feel sorry for myself I just pull out an old picture and remind myself I've come a long way.  Photos are key to recognizing weight loss.  I also take photos weekly in my bra and undies which I won't post here, but they have helped me a ton in seeing the changes.  Every time I get out of the shower and start feeling sorry for how I look I snap a new picture and then put it side by side with my starting picture and suddenly I'm okay again.  A lot of people have commented that my phone sure is full of pictures of myself.  They don't know why though.  They don't understand that sometimes you need to see the proof in front of your face to believe the change that has taken place.  The day I wore that little denim dress I was feeling unsure of myself. Wondering if I was small enough to show off that much leg and arm.  But then I pulled up that picture of me in the purple dress and realized that compared to that I was totally rocking that denim dress.  I hope that a year from now I can use that denim dress as inspiration to wear another smaller size dress.

I still fuck up.  I still have a bad weekend and eat whole candy bars, ramen and french fries.  That is okay. I get back on my horse, go to the gym and work it off.  I am honest with my trainer and I tell him when I cheat.  I'm a work in progress.  I am doing this the hard way.  No fad diets, no food restrictions, no pills or potions.  Just hard work and dedication.  There are faster ways to do this I'm sure, but they don't last.  Losing weight the hard way will last.  Because it just becomes a life style.  This is my life now.  Gym, healthy foods, and cute clothes.  I'm not living a life on a fad diet, or a pill thinking that when I get to X weight then I can stop. I cannot stop this.  The gym is just going to have to be a way of life now.  Eating healthy 80% of the time is just a way of life.  There is no end point.  No date when I get to stop.  It's the hardest thing I've ever done.

This is me right now.  In my smaller jeans.  I'm so happy with myself today.

After those smaller jeans fit I was so happy.  I had a little league board meeting yesterday that ran until 7:30 at night.  That is far later then I normally work out.  But I left that meeting and drove right to the gym.  I kicked my ass at the gym because I knew I had smaller jeans at home that I needed to wear today.  I knew that I wanted the jean size to keep going down and not go back up.  I worked myself until I knew I would be sore again today.  I have a long way to go.  I would like to lose about 15 more pounds.  I don't have any unrealistic expectations.  I will never be 120 pounds again.  I don't want to be something I'm not. I don't want to give up butter, and parmesan cheese and warm baked bread.  I would be happy at about 150 pounds.  I would be happy to fit into the jeans I bought 6 years ago that were size 10 Lucky jeans.  I don't need to be a size 4.  I just need to be healthy for my kids.  I want some muscles.  I want to stand next to my husband and his rocking body and not feel out of place.  I turn 32 in a week, and I have to say for the first time in years I'm really happy at how I will be starting this new year.