To the person that stole my change...

...you're welcome. To the person that whatever has happened in your life that made you creep up my street in the dark, trying door handles until you found one belonging to the person that, just this once, was distracted going into the house last night and, just this once, forgot to grab her wallet... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that life has produced in you someone that creeps, someone that doesn't understand boundaries, that didn't consider how hard people work for what they have in this basic, run of the mill suburban neighborhood. This neighborhood is filled with houses built in the late 70's/early 80's, with a few scattered here and there built within the last five years, to replace homes destroyed by a tornado. Not that I ever condone stealing, but if you're a thief, stealing from a neighborhood that is obviously one in which people work hard for what they have somehow feels worse.

I used to be terrible about locking my car. I used to be terrible about leaving my purse in my unlocked car. As a result, I've had my purse stolen six or seven times out of my car, and have lost some important items that held dear value to me over the years. I accept full responsibility for this, what kind of idiot never remembers to take her purse in or lock her car? She's got two thumbs, and she's *this* girl. However, I learned my lesson... and on this night, I rushed into my house, on a phone call, distracted. I forgot to lock the car, and I forgot that my wallet was in the car because, just this once, I didn't have it in my purse (which was securely hanging from the door knob in my house.)

All of that being said, if the person that took the $16 in quarters and the debit card to a bank account with a balance of $9.27 had asked, I'd have given them all of it. The frustration here is that, due to recent life changes, I'm living a very tight life, tighter than I've ever lived, and that $16 was loose change I had been carefully saving for a specific purpose.

Because I cannot tell that person face to face why this was such a tragic event in my little life, I'm typing it here, where I type all of the things that I don't mind getting lost out on the interwebs, my little point of release that allows me to feel the feelings in words that so often get lost inside.

My last blog was about a big life change I made, one in which I left my husband with nothing but a few bags of clothes, a table, and a few kitchen items.

Since then, my entire life has changed. I've learned a humility I've never known before. I've had hard times, as we all have, but this is different. I struck out on my own, started from nothing, and now, through generosity, creativity, and sheer dumb luck, my house is fully furnished, including decor, and things are starting to look a little more promising. But having gone into a situation with not a lot of income flow right now, I've learned the value of a dollar.

Being that this is an open letter to the person that stole my $16 in loose change and my debit card for a bank account with a balance of $9.27, I'm going to say the things I wish I could say to your face. You, dear stranger, have a story I don't know. That $16 could have changed your life for the better... maybe you're a teenager with a single mother working three jobs and she needed $16 to get the electricity turned back on so that she can properly care for your three younger siblings. Maybe your father is ill and he needed $16 for a prescription that would take away the pain he so often lives with. Maybe... And if this is the case, had you asked... had you knocked and asked for any spare change, for any reason at all... I'd have given you everything I had, and made you dinner and given you good conversation to boot.

But more than likely, you had no need. More than likely, you think it's fun to creep up the street in the dead of night, checking car doors until you find one open, justifying your actions by reminding yourself that someone stupid enough to leave their doors unlocked deserves what's coming to them. You may be right, I may deserve this to serve as a reminder to lock my doors because people like you exist in the world.

But here's my little story. It isn't much... I don't have cancer, I'm not a widowed mother with six kids at home, starving to death in the dark. But it's a story, all the same, and hearing my story, or anyone's story (because we all have one) may give you that second thought necessary to stop you from stealing in the future. Why? Because I doubt seriously you're a bad person. I doubt you're someone that doesn't care, you just didn't stop to consider my story.

As a woman who recently left her husband, my finances are tight and my relationship with my children is spread thin. It's holding on by threads, and I'm working diligently to wind those threads into a rope with which I can reign back in my relationships. I work in an office, and in my spare time, I bake to make extra money on top of the little bit I make during the day. My bills come in the mail in the form of cutoff notices these days, and I'm constantly pushing dates and dimes and limits trying to find a way to make it all come together. This is a common story, so in no way am I trying to single myself out from the crowd... But you, stranger, probably empathize with this, even if just a little bit.

In winding those threaded strings of relationship with my kids, I have purchased two tickets to see a movie premiere that my son and I have been waiting a very long time to see, a date that we set a year ago and have been waiting patiently for ever since. I don't like my children to know my struggles, but they do at least know that money is tight. I already have the tickets, but the gas to drive the 160 miles round trip in order to take him to this movie is not easy to come by. I saved change for the gas to make this trip, and today is the day we have been waiting for. I got up, put on my geeky t-shirt commemorating the movie premiere, and set off for work, thrilled that I get to spend a few hours with my son doing something we both love, something that will strengthen that bond that's been weakening over the last several months. I got into my car and discovered that you, dear stranger, took my change, leaving me empty and unable to make that drive. If I had given you my story, stranger, if I had said to you in as many words, "I need this change, I have nothing. I need my kids. I worked hard to make this happen, as simple as it may sound." then, I do think, you'd have skipped over my car. That single moment of connection with someone you care nothing about may have been enough that you understood, that you also know what it's like to have nothing, and for every penny to mean something, for $16 to be all you have.

I do hope that my $16 helped you somehow, that you are able to get what you need in order to feel full and satisfied this close to the holidays, and I wish you the best.

Just know that when you take things, you're taking a lot more. You're taking life, and work, and effort, and hope in humanity. Just please remember the value, maybe it'll mean more to you as you spend it knowing that someone else needed it just as much.

What Comes After...

I've lived a life filled with passion and void of consistency. If being inconsistent is a consistency, then maybe I'm the most consistent person I've ever met.

Okay... that's a reach. I'm comfortable in my inability to commit to one passion and see it through, it's a flaw in my character that has remained a failsafe my entire life, and I'm sure it's not going to change in Year 33 (33?!) so I'll just own it for what it is.

But here I am, yet again, back on the warpath, myself against... well... myself. There is one clear difference this time, one I haven't approached publicly. But if I've learned anything over the last few months, it's that I'm never going to fix my outside without first working on what lies within. So with heavy hands and a heavy heart, I've set out to do just that. Transparency with myself is the first step.

My husband and I met when we were babies. Not literal babies, but emotional children all the same. Both 20, both having just survived our own set of family tragedies, both vulnerable, both in a personal state of chaos, he quickly became my best friend and confidante and everything I needed. We found out we were pregnant before we were ready but we faced it head-on together as a team, and that became the general approach for the next twelve and a half years. It didn't work every time, as is true in every relationship, but we both tried.

As we grew as people, parts of us grew together and parts of us grew apart. We remained best friends, confidantes, and partners in life. But there came a point where my personal growth and his became different, and eventually it reached an impasse. Without delving into the depths of our personal life, we'll suffice it to say that it just wasn't going to work any longer, and something had to change. So I made a choice... a carefully thought out but imperfectly carried out choice. I left.

I moved back to my hometown, back to my safe haven, leaving behind my partner and best friend and it's still not okay. It will be in time, but for now, it's still a raw wound for everyone involved. I'm blessed with the courtesy and understanding and unconditionality of a family on all sides that has been accepting and loving regardless of the situation, and I admit... there was no manual for this. I was ill prepared on all fronts. 

I had to do a lot of soul searching and I realized that I've never been alone. I've never been an adult without him by my side, and I'm learning every day what that entails. I've had to face insecurities and fears I've never even known I had, and the hardest part has been the two children we raise together.

I left without them. I thought, and still think, that the best thing is for them to be somewhere with consistency until this is our new normal and I realize that isn't in the middle of two parents learning how to live apart. They have family and friends and school and life where they're at, and leaving them is the single hardest thing I've ever done because it meant understanding that in doing so, I was sacrificing the ability to be the one that wakes them every day and the one that kisses them asleep at night. They've had a great summer filled with water parks and swimming pools, hotels and friends... and I'm so glad they've had that. But they've had it sans me, and explaining to my children that this space is so they don't see the hurt is impossible and inappropriate for their psyche and emotional growth. 

I write this for a reason... Not only to clear my soul of some of the clouds that have been gathering (or to "clean my window" as my son and I say) but also because I need this outlet... I need to empty myself of everything I can, lay it on out on the table and look at what's there and sort it into tidy piles of emotions that I can see with a clear perspective in order to move forward. 

So here I sit, at 10:53 pm on a Monday night, searching my soul for answers to questions I never thought I'd have. I still don't have the answers but I know that some knowledge can only come from time rather than Google. I think I've nailed down a few things, and I know the rest will follow suit. Not today, and probably not tomorrow. But next year, or in ten years, or someday far off into the distance, and if I'm anything, I'm patient.

Here's what I know now...

1. Leaving doesn't mean you stop loving. 

I have no idea how to put into words the love I have for my husband. It has morphed and changed and become something different over the years, and it's not something I can embrace for what it is while living in the same house but the love will never die. It can't, and it shouldn't. He is the father of my two greatest successes, and he knows me better than anyone ever has and probably ever will. He's the man that bought me the final Harry Potter at midnight on release day while I slept, and the man that understood my fears and failures, and the one that made me laugh until I cried countless times over so many years. He's the man I grew with, and despite living separately, that history with him will never change. I don't know if he understands that but showing him over time is the only way I know, and I hope that's enough.

2. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices. 

I've solidly taken on the role of being the "bad guy" and I do so with gusto and full responsibility. I made the choice to leave, I moved out, I handed over my wedding ring, and I broke my family's heart. I own that with every ounce of my being and I'm not ever going to try to place that blame elsewhere. But it's the hardest thing to come to terms with, and I know it's not something anyone will understand. I left because my children were becoming accustomed to our arguing, and despite our best efforts to conceal our adult imperfections, you can't live in the same house with two intelligent beings and expect said beings to not be aware that things are awry. So I knew that in order to restore their joy and allow them their childhood as uninterrupted as possible, they needed to spend the summer with their grandparents and all of the happiness that comes with the entire grandparent concept. And of course, when school starts, the routine of having time with each of us, separately, will become the norm. But, oh... how I miss them. I miss getting them ready in the mornings, and I miss singing to them at night, and I miss long drives and long talks and long baths and long yawns and everything that I took for granted as a day-to-day married mother coming home every day to the same house and family, and that's something any divorced or separated parent will understand. I know there will be a routine, and they'll have time with me and time with their dad and eventually this will even out into something stable but right now it's terrifying and lonely.

3. Team work makes the dream work. 

I don't know how you feuding families do it. Maybe you're stronger than I am or maybe you just prefer it that way, but if it weren't for the constant conversations with my in-laws and our ability to work together to get through this, I have no idea where I'd be. It doesn't have to be all court battles and this-is-mine-you-can't-have-it... I know you know what I mean. Of course there are times we hurt and things we don't understand, but I'm so grateful for the chances to have conversations openly about this with them, and I welcome their advice and thoughts, because I care about them as if they were my own and I always will.

4. Sometimes space is exactly what you need. 

Being away from my husband, I like him more than I've liked him in years. There's anger and resentment and whatever emotions come from a newly changed relationship, of course, but it's fading so quickly into a position that feels reasonable rather than growing and spiraling out of control as it was in the same house. I hope it continues, and we can be friends. He's still the same person, and so am I, and I still like hearing about his day and asking for his advice, and I hope in time he feels the same way. 

5. Starting over is hard. 

I left everything behind, aside from a few kitchen items and couple of bags of clothes, and one console table. I left my car, all of the furniture (sans that one table,) and everything in between. I've never felt more love and care from the people in my life, and I'll never know how to thank and repay them. From every corner, I felt love and warmth in what has been the hardest time of my life, and sitting now on this different couch, eating at a different table in this different house, getting ready to do my workout that will play on a different TV before going to bed in a different bed, every single one of those things, and so much more, is in this house because of people that I'll never be able to accurately thank. I have big plans to try and show my gratitude, but nothing can ever compare to the sheer weight lifted off my shoulders as my house filled with the necessities of a home at the grace and selflessness of other people.

6. This, too, shall pass.

Our hardships are temporary. Every time we're faced with what feels like the world collapsing in, if we can just hold on for a few more moments, inevitably we will always see that it wasn't a lifetime, it was just a moment. Life is full of moments. Some are great and some are terrible but most are somewhere in the middle. Time heals all things, it's been said so often and it rings true every time. My family will heal, and we will always remain a family because we are linked together and family extends so far beyond four walls, you just have to open your eyes and your heart to see the big picture.

So there it is, all on the table... Well, not all of it but enough that I feel comfortable with my internal progress today. I'm going to go to bed tonight and I'm (probably) going to wake up tomorrow and so it goes, day in and day out. Each day is a new opportunity to do better, and I'm going to do just that, with everything I have and everything I am. I'm going to do it alone, and I'm going to do it with others. But this time one thing is different. I'm going to work on my soul first, and then my body will follow suit. 

Chicken Veggie Chili

Well, I had my heart set on making some delicious spinach quinoa patties for dinner tonight, but not having any quinoa in the kitchen would have meant putting back on a bra and real pants to go to the store so obviously that was out of the question. Oh well, another day perhaps.

In the meantime, I made one of my favorites out of ingredients I already had on hand... Chicken chili. It's super adaptable and can be made in so many different ways, so it's a staple for dinner for me.

This is the basic recipe, including the veggies I had in the fridge today, although it's also delicious with zucchini and yellow squash, diced chilies, and black beans thrown in. You can also substitute ground turkey. Like I said, adaptable.

Chicken Veggie Chili

1 lb ground chicken

1 can organic diced tomatoes

1 cup water

1/2 yellow onion, chopped

1/2 cup carrots, chopped

1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper

1 cup baby spinach

2 tsp garlic powder

1 1/2 tsp salt

3 Tbsp chili powder

2 1/2 Tbsp cumin

2 tsp dried cilantro

1/4 c whole wheat flour

- all of the seasonings are more or less to taste

Cook the ground chicken and spices until chicken is cooked through. Pour in can of tomatoes and water, along with all vegetables except the spinach. Bring to a boil, and adjust seasonings to taste, adding more if necessary. Cover and simmer 30 minutes. Stir in the spinach and let wilt. Spoon out some of the fluid and mix it with flour until a paste is formed, then stir paste into chili. Simmer five more minutes until well incorporated and slightly thickened. 

I love this chili topped with anything from a sprinkling of sharp cheddar to raw diced onions, but today I went with a few avocado slices and they really hit the spot. And it's a great filling dinner on a cold night that comes together quickly, and less than 300 calories a serving!

Random Motivation

Today, I feel like a rock star. I could rule the world.

I feel strong, and guided, and ready for whatever comes my way. I'm recording this here because I do know this high will run out at some point, and I'll feel bored and hungry and cake-y and whatever other negative thing that we feel on our journeys at different points, and posting how amazing I feel today will only serve as a future reminder that any of these negative, and positive, emotions are temporary and will pass. I say this because journeys are never straight and narrow, they curve and bend and follow a course of rough terrain that changes, and since I'm living a lifestyle instead of "dieting," it only seems fair to acknowledge that this journey, this lifestyle, will face the same challenges. 

But no deterrence can phase me as long as I remember that of all the things that are out of my control, the weather, the actions of those around me, the obstacles life will inevitably throw my way... I am in control of me. I choose this. I choose to change myself for the better. Not because I'm unhappy with who I am, but exactly the opposite. I love who I am, and I deserve a body that matches the whimsical soul it houses, a body that can travel and run and jump and ski through life and arrive at the end battered and bruised and well lived. 

It's time for the outside to match the inside. I'll just leave this reminder right here so I can find it when I need it... 

Which may be tomorrow. But that's half the fun.

Happy New Year!

WOW... time flies and I'm a TERRIBLE blog poster. But that's all going to change... I've turned over a new leaf and I'm going to be the blog postingest, go getterest, most over-motivated BeachBody slimmer downer you've ever seen. Also, I made up most of those words. And also, probably you can find someone in the seven billion more motivated and potentially even more go getterest than I... However, you'll be hard pressed.

So today started with a bang. Not literally, this isn't Fifty Shades of Lindsay... But it did start with a highly motivated me climbing out of bed at 4 am to spend three hours pumping iron and kicking some T25 booty.

Just kidding. Actually, Chad took the kids to school while yours truly lay in bed moaning about a backache and grappling for the energy to get up to let the dog out. Just being honest.

Actually though, I did find my motivation, thanks to Julie the Coach (my omnipresent social media BeachBody guru and resident smokin' blonde bombshell) texting me and reminding me unintentionally just what I've laid out for myself for 2015... Which is a LOT. I'm dead set on changing things, finishing my weight loss, succeeding in building a new business while doing so, and a smorgasbord of other, more private sentiments regarding family and finding myself that even Julie can't help me with.

Luckily, I've learned that I'm totally capable of accepting and embracing change, and this time next year you guys are going to laugh alongside me as I toss my sexy mane of hair over my slim tan shoulder and look back at the beginning, before it all transpired.

Hopefully.

In the meantime, I intended to do T25 this morning, and ended up taking Olaf to the vet for a horrible flaky allergic reaction thing that has overwhelmed his wrinkly bulldog face (no worries, he's going to be fine.) I'm about to do it right this minute and wanted to drop a blogline out there first, assuming I'll be consumed by exhaustion when I'm finished and unable to move my thumbs to type.

Wish me luck, and keep me motivated with all of your stories of inspiration and transformation!

Here are some gorgeous Christmas portraits of my kids, including Olaf, seeing as how I have no other pictures to grace your eyes with for this totally random and oddly nonsensical blog post. You're welcome.

Dear Tom Felton...

Yesterday, my son and I attended the Wizard World Comic Con in Tulsa. We had only been walking around for about fifteen minutes when a familiar face approached us unexpectedly... It was you, Tom Felton, Draco Malfoy, the person we were so anxious to see.

You asked my son what brought him to comic con, and he paused, unsure how to answer, and like all overbearing mothers, I stepped in and responded for him. 

"You. We saw that you were going to be here and knew we had to make it happen."

Instantly, this 31 year old married mother of two was reduced to the same 15 year old girl that first opened the cover of her first copy of Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone. We didn't exchange many more words with you, my son told you that he was obsessed with Harry Potter... The books, the movies, and that his mom had introduced him to them. I was filled with pride, and so much was weighted in those simple words that didn't come across to you. 

My mom was a teacher, and there was talk of Harry Potter being banned from her school library.  She was against book censorship, so, of course, we decided to read them together. We were instantly enthralled with Harry's world... The magic, the wonder, the passion with which the story was written. We read through them together, and made it through The Goblet of Fire as a team. 

Unfortunately, she passed away before the release of Order of the Phoenix, so I finished the series on my own, with the bittersweet longing for her to get to know how the story ended. 

When my son was old enough to have his passion for reading ignited, it blazed with a fire stronger than I could have hoped for, and the second those books were in his hands, they became as beloved to him as they ever were to my mother and I, and we shared them over and over again, having movie marathons that brought our imaginations to life in our living room together, over popcorn and hot cocoa, reading to each other, even visiting the Wizarding World in Orlando this past summer.

So when you asked what brought us to Tulsa to see you, this is the long-winded answer that was behind our response...

Our family has been brought together through these stories and movies... Your portrayal of Draco Malfoy has affected our lives in ways that seem trivial but are only the surface of a deeper relationship that started when I was a teen and carried through my life into my own children, and allowed me to share my own mother's legacy with them even after she was gone, and when I'm gone, I'm positive my son will share the same passions for them with his children.

It's so much more than just a book or movie when it becomes part of your life.

And that is what brings "people like us" to Comic Con. Your interest in the subject of fandom and passion in your fans created a five minute memory that will last a lifetime and bring true a dream for my son, and myself, that neither of us will ever forget. Thank you for letting him know that it matters on the other side of the screen too.

Sincerely,

A true fan.

Dining Out

So yesterday was one of those days you wish you could just erase altogether and redo a different way. Which is fine, because it's already over and today is a fantastic day.

However, I bring up yesterday because my family decided to go to Olive Garden for lunch after a serious failure at the doctor's office that resulted in my son not receiving the procedure he'd initially gone in for and some heated words from yours truly to the doctor, an embarrassed husband and son, and an all around negative connotation to the morning. My son needed Olive Garden. He needed his grandma and papa that met us there, and he needed to do this on a day when my daughter was still in school so that the attention was focused on him.

I needed it about as much as I need a kick to the face with steel toe boots.

The menu called out to me, the creamy goodness of the never-ending pasta drenched in rich Alfredo sauce, the salty-satisfying pull of a soft and warm breadstick (or 5) that just begged to be dipped into the tart perfection that is Olive Garden house salad dressing, the rich smoothness of a piece of pumpkin cheesecake... I should work for their ad campaign. I'm a walking billboard.

In the past, I've obviously gone straight for the fettucine alfredo, and have indulged in however many breadsticks my body could physically contain in one sitting.

Yesterday, I texted my challenge coach, Julie, for backup on the way there and went prepared to order from the Lighter Fare menu, sans breadsticks, plus a small crouton-less plate of salad. 

I ended up with a steaming plate of ravioli di portobello in front of me, and my only lunchtime fail was that I did indeed succumb to the breadstick. One. Which was still 140 calories! (sorry, Julie...)

So here is a breakdown of how dining at Olive Garden can build up to be your one weekly "happy" meal, even when you order from the Lighter Fare menu:

The ravioli was amazing, although of course I could have happily eaten three plates of it and still licked the plate clean... which totally goes against the purpose of ordering Lighter Fare.

One plate of Ravioli di Portobello:   570 calories
One Olive Garden breadstick:          140 calories
One cup House salad:                       150 calories
Total:                                                 860 calories

Even faring lightly but enjoyably, this was still a huge blow to my daily intake, considering the cup of Southwest Chicken Soup I could have had instead at home was only 134 calories! However, here's a breakdown of how I *usually* eat at Olive Garden...

One plate of Fettucine Alfredo:        1090 calories
Three breadsticks:                             420 calories
Two cups House salad:                     300 calories
One glass Moscato d'asti:                 200 calories
Total:                                               2010 calories

Honestly, that's a massive difference. And I also adjusted the rest of my day around that meal and still I think my daily intake was between 1300-1400 calories.

Also... make sure when you eat out, you check the nutrition info straight from the restaurant website. I added my meal to My Fitness Pal and was pleased to see that my lunch was only 450 calories, only to discover upon researching this blog post that it wasn't the correct number. Now I'll be able to go back and change my numbers, but when you're using an app or website to track and journal your food and water intake, it's important to be as accurate as possible.

So the moral of the story, folks, is do your best to eat at home. It's so hard to control what goes into your body when you have no control over what goes into your food. Once in a while is fine but honestly... I'm glad that today everything I take in will be coming from my own kitchen.

I might also add that self control is easier at home. I nearly cried turning down the Andes mints the waiter carelessly dropped right in front of me at the end of the meal, and I lost complete control over my inhibitions when that bread basket was within arm's reach.  If you do have an occasion to go out to eat, research the establishment first and try to stick with local restaurants that have working relationships with local food sources and natural, fresh vegetables instead of the previously frozen and shipped meals that are so common in chain restaurants.  Happy eating!