30 by 30 (Part Deux)

I'm now less than five days away from my 30th birthday, and so I figured I might as well get this end of the "30 by 30" challenge report out of the way.

Short of a miracle and liposuction, coupled with a full-limb amputation, I will not meet my goal. Since July, I have lost approximately 10 pounds (give or take a few ounces, depending on whether or not I had pizza the night before), not the 30 I would have hoped for. Bummer.

What happened?

Holidays. Birthdays. Tuesdays. Taco Bell. I have no good excuse, I just didn't pull it off.

BUT, as mentioned in a previous blog, I'm focusing on the lovely. And you know what? I think I look lovelier than I did 10 pounds ago.

Furthermore, that 10 pounds is on top of the 30 pounds I had already lost when I began this challenge. And 40-some pounds was enough to prompt a genuine "I'm proud of you" from my doctor at my last annual appointment. That felt pretty darn good.

I'm also coming to grips with the fact that 30 is not a magical age where I immediately begin the transition toward death. Sure, I've sprouted a crazy amount of gray hairs over the past couple of weeks, but I think that's more related to stress than impending elderly-ness.

30 is not the end of me being young, and it's certainly not the end of my quest to achieving a healthier weight. I'm still hoping to rock (maybe easy listening is a better analogy?) a new, smaller-but-still-one-piece swimsuit this summer as I float around whatever lazy river I can find.

There's really no change at 30 -- except that I can FINALLY remove that ridicules countdown calculator from the sidebar that's been haunting me for the past six months.

That, my friends, is something worth celebrating.

Whatever is lovely

hello blog. it's been a while.

have i been avoiding you? yes. because of the 30 under 30? mostly. (we'll talk about that some other day)

so how do you welcome me back from my long absence? by suddenly making my shift key stop working so that i can't capitalize any letters. okay, i suppose i deserve that.

anyway, it's been a long day. a reaaaaaaaallllyyyy long day.

there have been a lot of those lately. days where i have more places to go than i can possibly go. more things to do than i can possibly do. more people to see than, well... you get the picture.

in fact, it's been downright discouraging.

i've dwelled on it for far too long, and have finally decided that what i really need is a paradigm shift. afterall, the frustrations, the stress, etc. are not going to disappear anytime soon.

so... i'm repurposeing this blog, dedicating my posts to the embodiment of of philippians 4:8.

'finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things.'

i won't be able to post every day. maybe not every week. maybe not even every month. but i will try to post something pure, lovely or admirable on here from time to time, if for no other reason than to remind myself that life is good, and god (with a capital g) is definitely good.

so here's my lovely thing for today...

i took emma to dance class tonight, which she loves, loves, loves. she looks forward to it every week and gets downright giddy about wearing her pretty pink leotard with matching pink tights and ballet slippers.

she also loves the fact that there is a heartily stocked candy store in the mall, directly beside the dance studio. emma knows that if she is a good girl and listens to everything her teacher says, mommy will take her to to the candy store after class and let her pick out whatever candy she wants.

tonight, after we left dance class and picked out our candy, i walked across the parking lot toward our van holding emma's thick-mittened hand. it was a quiet night with no one around, so we chatted uninhibited along the way.

i asked emma, 'do you like your dance class?'

'yes, mommy,' she replied.

she returned my question with a question. 'do you know what i like even more?'

i smiled knowing she was thinking of the long, gummy snake i was carrying in the brown paper bag in my right hand.

'what do you like even more?' i humored her.

'i like you and daddy more.'

in my humble estimation, that's about as lovely as it gets.

The wit and charm of Emma Day

Well, it's been a while since I posted. I blame it on Caravans which is consuming my every non-working hour.

When she asked me to consider taking over, last year's director told me, "All you have to do is order badges."

Not that I'm bitter. In my heart, I knew better than to trust the person who was trying to find her replacement so she could quit. And actually, as busy as it's kept me, I'm enjoying every bit of it. Strange, I know.

At any rate, I figured I'd use my lunch time to post some of the funny things Emma's said lately.

If you don't find childish banter amusing, a) what's your problem? and b) come back next time where I will resume discussing nonsensical topics with no profound meaning.

THE ALL ENCOMPASSING EXCUSE

Lately, my daughter has begun applying a universal excuse to getting out of anything she doesn't want to do.

I say, "Emma, finish your vegetables." She replies, "I can't, because my throat hurts."

Or if I say, "Emma, say that you are sorry." She replies, "I can't because my throat hurts."

Or I say, "Emma, go pick up your bedroom." She replies, "I can't because my throat hurts."

You get the picture.

I really don't think she was ever sick to begin with, or if she was, that it has persistantly plagued her throat for 4 1/2 weeks.

MUSIC TO HER EARS

The other day Robert passed gas in front of Emma. (Apologies to my husband for telling this story.)

Emma says, "Daddy, you tooted."

"Yes, I did."

She replies, "It was a beautiful toot."

HOLE IN ONE

We've been helping my sister, Deanna, paint and repair her new home. In the process, the house has been less-than-kid friendly.

So Emma walks into the bathroom and proceeds to fall into a vent where the cover had been removed for paintng. Not baby Jessica style. She just stuck her foot into it, and as she pulled it out, clipped the back of her heel.

Weeping and gnashing of teeth ensued.

Later, Emma had pooped in her pull-up (which gives you an indication of how well potty training is progressing) and so I laid her on the bathroom floor to change her.

She notices the still uncovered vent, and then look up at me with deep concern.

"I hope you don't throw me in that hole."

I didn't know how to reply except to tell her, "I hope I don't either."

---

Well, there's been plenty of other things Emma has said to make us chuckle, but alas, my lunch hour is over. I'll resume bragging about her wit and charm some other day.

Thought you'd like to know

Right now, I'm sitting in my office eating a Smart Ones Three Cheese Baked Ziti Marinara meal. It's like, my favorite frozen meal ever. Seriously.

It takes 4 1/2 minutes to cook it to cheesy perfection in our office microwave. Three minutes. Stir. Put back in for 1 1/2 minutes more.

In general, I hate standing idle, so after I hit the initial 3-o-0 on the microwave, I decided to walk down the hall to use the restroom.

I walked down the length of second floor Burke, exchanged pleasantries with Roy and stopped by Deb's desk to evaluate whether or not she had any candy worth taking. Nope, not at the moment.

I walked into the restroom, did my business, washed my hands.

On the way back, I exchanged a second round of pleasantries with Roy who was still in the hall and said "hello" to a girl I assume to be his granddaughter.

I stopped to fix my shoe and then walked into the break room to retrieve my ziti.

There were still 28 seconds on the clock.

Impressed? I was.

Side note: I came one click away from accidently posting this on Olivet's official blog, because I didn't realize what account I was logged in under. Whew! That would have been fun.

30 by 30

I am hereby declairing my weight loss intentions publicly: I intend to lose approximately 30 more pounds by January 31, 2010.

You see, to this point, I have lost 30 pounds by using an online weight loss program. Check older posts if you're curious about which one. They're not paying me to advertise. ; )

However, about a month ago I plateaued. Not because the program quit working, but because I quit working. I haven't gained anything back, but I've also not lost any more. I got lazy about it.

On January 31, 2010, I will turn 30 years old. I'd like to celebrate this momentous occassion at my goal weight (technically, 31 more pounds, but "30 by 30" is catchier) and in the best shape of my life.

So I'm declaring my intentions publicly to give myself the extra dose of motivation I need. I hate losing and I really hate letting people down. (I know you probably don't care, but humor me.)

In order to do reach my goal, I will stay within my weekly allotted food intake, and I will exercise moderately for at least 30 minutes, at least three times each week.

I will keep myself accountable to the blogging world with a tally of weight loss in the right hand column, which I will update every Monday. And should I exceed my caloric intake OR neglect to exercise, I will post this information, as well.

Gulp. This is really scary.

But I can, AND WILL, do it!

29 reasons I can't dispute the result

I just took another Facebook quiz, and the results have cut straight to the heart.

Just when I was getting used to the idea of turning 30 (start planning your over-the-hill themed presents now; you've still got about 6 months), I find out that I'm actually much older.

According to Facebook, I act like I'm 43. Wow. That's rough.

Of course, I mean no offense to any 40-somethings who may be reading this. It's just that ... well ... would you want to be accused of acting 14 years older than you really are? I didn't think so.

What's worse is that I think it might be right. In honor of my biological age, here's 29 reasons why I may, in fact, be confused with a middle-aged woman:

1. I drive a mini-van


2. And I think it's cool.


3. I'm routinely plucking grey hairs from the top of my head


4. And from my face.


5. I have, on multiple occassions, scheduled my evening around the late night show.


6. That is, on the few occasions where I was up past 10 p.m.


7. I recently bought a hideous pair of shorts, with an elastic waistband, because they were $6.


8. Then I wore them in public.


9. I own a swimsuit with a built-in skirt.


10. And the only reason I quit wearing it was because I'd had it so long it was becoming see-through.


11. I buy underwear based on practicality.


12. It's been at least six months since I've seen the end of a movie without falling asleep.


13. I've used the term "blouse" in the last week.


14. I refer to college students as kids.


15. And I don't understand what the kids are in to.


16. I can count the texts I've sent -- ever -- on my fingers.


17. I eat Fiber One bars for breakfast (They're REALLY good).


18. I gripe about commercials being too loud.


19. I do not know, nor do I care, who Lady Gaga is.


20. But I do crank up the radio when Phillips, Craig and Dean are singing.


21. Or when a Mr. Big song comes on


22. Or Lionel Ritchie


23. Or Aerosmith


24. Or D.C. Talk


25. Or practically any hair band from the early 90s.


26. The last time I saw Zach Effron, my first thought was, "Why doesn't that boy cut his hair?"


27. My purse is large enough to house a small family of rodents.


28. I have no desire to read or see Twilight. It's not a moral stance. It just seems absurd to me.


29. My favorite attraction at Disney World was the Hall of Presidents.

Wow, when I put this all together, I realize I'm even lamer than I thought.

Perhaps I'm more like 73.

The beginning of letting go

This morning began with incredible news. As of 4:35 a.m. today, our good friends Frank and Mary are the proud parents of a new baby girl, Macy Elizabeth.

Wow! Of course we’ve known this was coming for months, but there’s just something about new life. It always catches you off guard in the most wonderfully exciting way.

Therefore, we’ve also known for months that we needed to make alternate arrangements for childcare, since Mary watches Emma during the day. And we did. After checking out local day care options, we decided on a center that was a good fit for Emma and relatively affordable (in a “we’re already going into debt anyway” sort of way).

In other words, I was technically prepared.

But for whatever reason, I wasn’t mentally prepared to send Emma to daycare today. Maybe it’s because her free “trial” day wasn’t scheduled until this Thursday. I don’t know. All I know is that I was a nervous wreck all morning.

I pictured my precious little girl scared in the care of strangers, confused by why her mommy and daddy had abandoned her.

That’s partly why I got ready at record speed this morning; so that I would have time to give her lots and lots of extra attention. I also wanted to allow ample time to introduce her to her teacher and to make her feel comfortable with the new routine.

We shared breakfast in the living room, so that she could watch Dora, her favorite cartoon. Then when she requested a pink, butterfly clip for her hair – a clip I hadn’t seen for weeks – I hunted through the back of the drawer as if my life depended on it. Phew! I found it.

By the time we pulled out of our driveway, my nerves were shot to the point of nausea. For a split second, I contemplated, “How I will ever survive the first day of kindergarten if this is what pre-school does to me?”

We arrived at the center, and I psyched myself up for what was sure to be a difficult goodbye. I could already anticipate the guilt I’d feel as she’d tearfully beg me to stay. But we walked in anyway.

The greeter efficiently welcomed me, and then she ushered us to Emma’s new home away from home.

That’s when it all fell apart.

It only took one look at all the toys and kids in the room, and a huge smile broke out on Emma’s face. I asked, “Are you excited?” and she literally started jumping up and down.

Emma gave me a quick hug around my legs, mostly to humor me, and then she was off. Off to explore and play without as much as a look back in my direction.

Seriously?! How could she do that to me? She didn’t even know these people! How could she abandon me like that?!

Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it: I needed a longer, drawn out hug to assure me everything was going to be okay.

Before heading out the door, I asked if it would be alright if I called around lunch time to see how she was adjusting. Clearly used to nervous parents, the kind woman told me, “Yes, you can call as often as you like.”

So just after noon, I called for a progress report. They told me she’d eaten almost all of her lunch (which she doesn’t do at home) and that she had just closed her eyes for a nap (which she also won’t do at home).

The woman asked for my e-mail address to send me pictures of Emma’s first day, and the pictures corroborated her testimony. Emma was having a ball.

Sigh.

I suppose I should be grateful that I’m raising a confident girl. She knows the mommy who dropped her off at daycare will also be there to pick her up.

I should also be happy that she can roll with the punches. That she can, as her name means, “embrace everything” that life throws her, seeing it as an opportunity for adventure.

But at the moment, I’m just not feeling it. Not one bit.

Instead I find myself a little sad. Suddenly I realize, this is just the beginning of a lifetime of learning to let go.