Tuesday, September 30, 2014

At least I didn't hit her with my car: A morning tale.

I washed my hair this morning. Rolled out of bed at 5:15 and decided that it was time.

Most days I feel like I am in a constant state of almost freaking out. Dirty hair adds to my psychosis and if I cant manage that, then I cant manage anything else.

Unmade beds, piled laundry, Lucky Charms smashed into the carpet, remnants  of the morning left in trails down the hallway.

I feel as if I am constantly bending over to pick something up, collecting deflated balloons and broken crayons, trying to feed myself while arguing with a tiny human that fruit snacks are not an acceptable breakfast, and I know that one time I let you but NO! Not this morning!

Sometimes I fear their tears more than my own.
Their tears infuriate me, tears over fruit snacks or brushed hair or one of them turned the TV off and it was the other's turn.

Their tears make me feel as if I could collapse into a pile on the floor.
Or pull myself into a cabinet and hide.

This morning we all cried together and it was straight out of a scene in J's worst nightmare. All three of us were clawing at the nearest human for comfort -and I just didn't have enough patience or hands to hold everyone.

Sophia crying over being pushed, Allie crying over pushing her, and me a hormonal mess, burnt the crap out of my hand trying to make breakfast.

If I could have thrown up my hands and shouted "DO OVER!" I would have.

Just as soon as they were dispersed to their respected destinations -I felt unsettled.

Sure I should have explained to Allie that we don't get out of a moving car in the car pool lane- I definitely should not have screamed at her in front of God and half the school.
And I am sure yelling at her to STOP CRYING, was super helpful.

I would like to mention here that as I was pulling along the car pool, I shouted out the window at my beautiful puffy eyed snot running five year old, "Smile nice for your school pictures!- I love you!"
She wiped her eyes and gave me her best my mom almost hit me with her car smile.


Monday, September 29, 2014

Taken from my Journal Circa 2008- The Origin of Dear Allie...

August 11th 2008

Dear Allie or "Boy Name"
We don't know if you are a boy or a girl yet, though today Daddy and I heard your heart beating for the first time- a steady 168 beats per minute. It's such a gift to be your mom and I can't wait to meet you. October 8th we will find out who you are and I am literally counting down the days. Some people can wait, but I can't. I took a pregnancy test at 3am and woke up your Dad- I was NEVER patient and if you find that today as you read this that I am a huge worrier, well I have always been since the second I knew I would be a mom.

I worry about everything- but I hope that you are understanding and have your Dad's patience. I just want you to know sweet heart that I love you so much even though you are an inch long. I promise to keep doing everything to keep you safe and healthy.
I love you.

11.22.08 7:01 PM

Dear Allessandra,
I am sorry that we are starting here. Almost 25 weeks and you are in there kicking away, we even have a picture of you smiling. I hope that you are one of those babies that smile and giggle all the time. I hope that even now as you read this that you are happy. I don't know how our relationship is right now but I hope that you know how much I love you. You were my gift-when I was so sad you came into my life with such promise of hope.
I miss your Grandpa and Uncle so much sometimes I forget to breathe. Like if I stop breathing the pain will go away- But that's not how it works. Breathing through the pain is the only way. Know this 
Allie, your Grandfather knows you. Before I knew you were a girl I had a dream of him rocking a baby in a pink blanket.

 I am certain that you were with him. He lives in your heart along with Uncle Jonah. Your uncle, my goodness would have jumped for joy at the thought of you. He loved your mommy very much and he was very important to me. 
He lives in your heart and is always with you.
You might wonder why I am writing to you now- its simple.
Someday, this will be important to you. Maybe not now or in five years- But someday.

I am so confident that you are a beautiful, smart independent girl that is adored by everyone she meets. And I am ALREADY so proud of you and I love you. I can't wait to meet you.

*Found my journal hidden away in a drawer. Full of letters to Jonah and these two letters I wrote to the little girl in my belly* Turns out I was pretty dead on about my oldest daughter..except for her patience, she gets hers from me.

Friday, September 26, 2014

On Writing a book.

When you put yourself out there, especially on a public forum its a lot like stepping out on stage in lace panties while your entire Mormon family is camped out in the front row.

Why would you put yourself out there like that? Why would you air all your dirty laundry for the world to see. Why would you talk about how your husband wants you to write  Erotic fiction  as your new medium. Or how he thinks doing that would be super easy and comfortable because of all the kinky, hot, beating the shit out of each other 50 Shades type shenanigans that I am not doing.

"Hiiiiii Mormons!" *waves frantically.*

Writing a book is intriguing. In fact as soon as I decided that I was going to do it, I did four loads of laundry, made my bed, baked a cauliflower pizza crust made three cups of coffee and a bag of popcorn.

Then I sat down to construct this useless blog post. So by all accounts, total productive day.

If I wrote a book people would have to to be SUPER comfy with swear words, genitals and calling my kids douches.

As a matter of fact, douching and all things douche related may be an ENTIRE chapter. So you will have to be on board with that.

I am a little bit bi polar so this book may also be sad and or angry, a lot like this blog.

One minute you may be running with me through a field of daisies in your underwear and then next you may have inadvertently murdered someone and you need to hide a body.

Wait, if you didn't mean to kill someone you probably should tell someone.

There is your Self Help tip of the day, you're welcome.

I am slightly crazy and thrive on that most weeks, I like cupcakes and Sour patch kids and usually eat both with a glass of dessert wine. Given that I am a personal trainer by day, my habits, quirks and addictions may surprise you and change your perception of who you think I am. Are you OK with that?

I don't mind that putting myself out there makes me vulnerable, because pulling people into my life makes the emptiness feel a little less.

So now that I have written a blog post about a book...what do you think?

Would you read it?
Would you buy it?


I can't sleep.

This has been the normal for me ever since I started writing again.

Some nights I listen to J snore and I think of all the ways I could "accidentally" punch him in the face.

But sometimes, I swear he is in a coma and even a swift kick to the shin does not shake him.

Snoring makes me want to stab things.

Specifically him.

So I am up...thinking and typing.

Just a few hours ago we had Allie's parent teacher conference.

I felt extremely put together. This is rare in my everyday life so I was upset that the conference was legit five minutes. I wasted clean, brushed hair on five minutes of outside the house time. AND I wasn't wearing yoga pants.

The teacher was fifteen minutes late.

She sat us down, told us our kid was smart, looked at the clock, gave us two thumbs up and was all, "your kid is sweet." and then told us she was going home to take cough medicine.

Like, those actual words came out of her mouth.

Sensing zero cold or flu in the air, I could only assume that she told us she was going home to get high.

I hate to say it, but this made me like her just a little bit more.

Thursday, September 25, 2014


Ted Bundy fascinates me. 

I once wrote a paper about his serial killer ness in college. I know all about his victims and his ability to charm everyone that he comes into contact with. 
Yet, when I think about it, Ted doesn't bother me as much as his victims do.

 Women that stopped what they were doing to help a seemingly helpless man.

Broken arm, leg, "please help me move my boat."

Time after time, Ted was successful in manipulating his victims because he preyed on the fact that women are for the most part nurturing.

I am notorious for feeling sorry for my abusers. 

For years and years I have survived by pleasing people. Being overly caring and falling over myself to pick up broken pieces, turning the other cheek and smiling through pain.

Since I was three years old I have felt sorry for people who hurt me. Tried to be kind and say nice things, protect them. 

When they should have been protecting me.

I am that woman who runs to help, puts myself out there and should by all accounts be someone's lamp shade by now.

I  am 31 and I still feel like I need to protect my abuser.

There are a million things I want to say to you, things that I say when I dream, and it always ends with "Goodbye FOREVER"

I am tired of cleaning up messes and making excuses, just because you don't physically swing a club at my face, doesn't make your words hurt any less.

For years. I have sat back and kept my mouth shut. 

I'm done now. 

I'll be the woman that ignores that struggling man and I will not feel sorry for you either.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

The Birthday Post

Dear Sophia,

Today you are three years old.

You have known all week that one of these days it would be the day and cake would cap off the celebration, and possibly balloons, wait, scratch that, definitely  balloons.

Incredibly enough you now understand that we share today, and it finally has all the magic it promised three years ago.

"Mama have cho co late and Sophia hab banilla."

That's right, split that Elmo cake right in half.

"Mama, Happy burbday! Sophia Happy burbday!" 

Oh my little Sophia, how can I possibly get all the things I want to say crammed in to this  page.

You are my shining light, my cuddle bug, my favorite person that steals my food.
You love to sing and dance, and when "All about that bass" streams through the car speakers, you loudly declare, "THAT MY SONG!" and we shake it shake it together..and all is right in the world.

You know the difference between a plain pumpkin and a jack 'o lantern -which given that we share the same birthday and half DNA makes total sense.
You are my free spirit, my reason for dancing crazy around the kitchen.
You eat asparagus and chicken and love showing me that you can do squats and push ups. You balance on one foot and without a second thought jump head first into a pile of pillows.

This year you received your first set of stitches. Six in total, in your mouth, and you handled it like a mother effing champ. I mean...if they wrapped me up in a baby straight jacket and put a needle in my face, you bet your ass I would have screamed.....but you didn't.
You just looked at me, with one eye peering out of the sheet covering your face.
I put my mouth to your ear and whispered the "Five little monkeys." being distracted from all the sewing of your face, I left the chorus hanging there, unfinished. The moment the Doctor took his hand away from your mouth, you shouted, "NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!" Only you said it with a deep southern accent, which, naturally is as adorable as it sounds.

You are deeply caring, you understand when your sister or I am in pain. You demand, "WHO HURT YOU?" then start listing names, starting with "DID CANDY CANE HURT YOU?" - the cat will forever be blamed for every aliment in this house.

You hate to sleep, but love to put your babies to bed. You love trucks and ninja turtles and insist that you are "Batman."

At any given moment you could be pretending to shoot web out of your finger tips, or hushing a baby doll.

Lets not forget the fact that you worked on a MOVIE this year. You excelled in places where I feel awkward and unworthy. You charmed every single person that you met, and for that I am in awe.

I know that whatever you want to do in this world you are going to do magnificently.
  Happy birthday my sweet, crazy, marvelous Sophia Kathleen.

Your very proud Mama.

Thursday, September 18, 2014


Jonah and I didn't need anyone, it was very much a you jump, I jump type of relationship.

The foundation that held us together was the fact that we shared the same mother and the same father. We shared the loss of both of them, and we shared the confusion and the pain that followed.

If I close my eyes I remember knees and black and hands and tears and black. I remember seeing my mother laid out and the confusion that a two year old would surely have, given the circumstances. But Jonah was my constant, my North, my knight in shining Armour, I leaned on him and dug my fingers into his arm, expecting protection.

It wasn't until months, maybe years into being adopted that Jonah stepped down as sole provider, and let our new Mom and Dad take over. Being five or six the amount of struggle it must have been to take care of a two year is both mind boggling and down right tragic. 
Sometimes I think that no one truly understands what it feels like to lose someone like that. To lose someone who would have, without a second thought given their life for you.

We were like the same person, and I think that in September especially that feeling of loss is much clearer.

 We shared  September birthdays and at one point we shared September with our mother.
When Sophia was born on my birthday, I felt this immediate sense of familiarity. When the nurse first handed her to me, she opened her eyes briefly to look at me and nuzzled herself deeper into the crook of my arm, as if she already knew who I was.

Allessandra as well, took to her sister as if she always knew they would be together. That's how Jonah and I used to understand it. We started out together, He went first, and then I came later to join him. 

There are theories that our souls are in Heaven together before we choose our parents, at that age when Jonah and I were discussing our innate connection this is what we absolutely believed to be true.
The Bible says, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you," Does this also mean that we knew each other?

I believe in purpose, and paths and do not buy in to coincidences.

Saying I "miss" my brother is too trite and simple. The way I feel about it can never be explained in a blog post. When he died, something in my soul died too. I have written in previous posts about feeling as if I lost an organ or a limb, this remains true today.
Most days I feel inadequate to foster their relationship, I know that it will take years for them to fully understand the power of their SISTERness. And just when I feel like I am failing at it, I look at what they do on their own, without my intervention.

My girls love unconditionally, they look for one another in crowds, they invite each other to their birthday parties, and they take pride in sharing their fruit snacks. They fight constantly and forgive just as fiercely. They share space on the couch, and cover one another with their blankets.
When I miss my brother, I find him in fits of giggles, tickle fights and squeals of happiness.
He is here with me until I can see him again, and that is one thing I can count on.

Monday, September 15, 2014

I love you because...

I said "I love you." to Josh last night, "Happy Anniversary, I love you more today then I did yesterday." He laughs, as expected, but he always comes back with, "You love me now, in a week I'll be the worst husband ever and you will want a divorce."
It's true, I am at least, adorably consistent.

Seven years.

We celebrated by going out to Dinner, grocery shopping without the girls and being passed out by nine. Since today is our ACTUAL Anniversary I wrote  ten reasons why I love Josh.

I love that when I express my fears about serial killers and elevators you only half roll your eyes.

I love that you know I would totally call you first if my plane was hijacked , and you pretend to give a shit when I divulge this information at 4 am.

I love that you never tell me I am acting bat shit insane when it comes to the children, but you instead wear your crazy right out there on your sleeve like I do.

I love that you left work to meet me at the ER when Sophia got her stitches.

I love that you bought me pumpkin coffee and fixed the Keurig because you know I would give my life for that coffee machine.

I love that you screamed while trying to "protect me" from the praying mantis.

I love that we often think the same things

I love that if I had asked you to come to the half marathon you would have gone.

I love that you have the ability to forgive.

I love how much you love your kids.

7 years and 90 different hair colors ago

Friday, September 12, 2014

"I put my face in a urinal."
She turns to look at me, "Oh yeah? So it went that well, huh?"

"I put my face in a urinal which caused me to come in under 3 hours by like sixty seconds...which really pissed me off, because it wasn't even a nice urinal."

"What exactly is a nice urinal?"

"Oh I dunno, I don't frequent visits to men's bathrooms but I am assuming the Ritz probably has like golden urinals that smell like roses. I wouldn't have minded so much shoving my face into one of those while trying to pee without touching anything."

"Sounds like you had a great time."

"I wouldn't say great, it was more like going through labor without drugs, but you don't get a baby and sleep deprivation at the end..."

She sets her coffee on the table and gives me a strange look, "you didn't go through labor.."

"Fuck you I didn't go through labor! I was in active labor for nineteen fun filled hours and THEN ended with them cutting me open, don't talk to me like I don't know my own vagina."

She snorts back a laugh and almost spits coffee all over her white shirt, "OK so, are you done? Do you have any deep crazy thoughts about doing another race?"

I pick up my fork and stab my pumpkin muffin, "Josh has me on video saying that I will never do another race, and its a terrible video one where the beginning shot is like freeze framed where I am making a ridiculous face, and every time he looks at it he laughs...like a lot, and we all know that it takes a lot for Josh to laugh." 

"Ohmygod,why don't you just delete it?"

I tilt my head to the side, contemplating for a moment, "You know, the other day I was busy deleting unflattering pictures of myself off his phone, and I thought about it..but I really think it would break Josh's heart to see that extremely unflattering video vanish from his phone. However, if its not there then it didn't really happen."

Taking a sip from my ice water, "Like the pint of Ben & Jerry's I ate in bed with ice packs all over my body."

"You ate a pint of Ben & Jerry's?"

I motion for her to shut her mouth, "Don't you dare judge me, I burned like three thousand calories out there, if there had been salt on the ground I would have licked it, there was candy bar ice cream in my house, I ate it."

"Sounds legit."

"The worst part about this, is every time I am at my EDA meetings, I want to say something, like a confession or something, but they would probably link it back to the fact that I felt sad for having to pee with my face in a urinal...which in one case is true, but mostly I was just hungry. Plus they don't approve of me running races or doing much that causes me to be competitive, which is just stupid because I compete with Josh over who is better in all activities of life, (spoiler alert, I am)."

She pushes plate away from her and looks at me, "You have some major issues, but that's why I love you."

Thursday, September 11, 2014


Seventh grade.

 Looking back at it I will forever remember hot prickly sweat along my lower back. Sitting at the lunch room, chewing food that resembled something close to sawdust.

Walking that fine line of trying to fit in while not being noticed. Just hover enough above the eye line of everyone so that they might leave you alone.

Pick on someone else. Notice someone else.
Not me. Not me. Please not me. 

Sucking in my stomach, pulling on my clothes, pushing my hair behind my ears, wearing the same clothes at they did, keeping my eyes adverted, just walk to class, just sit and do your work.

Something happened though. The day I went to the dentist early, two girls who I thought were my friends told a boy that had dumped me that I had made an elaborate story of me dating a ninth grader. They told this boy in a hushed voice that this "ninth grader" was my cousin and I made up this story so that he would like me again and regret dumping me.

Dumping me... isn't that funny? I was thirteen. I had just like five seconds ago started my first period, I was wearing a training bra, I had no idea about anything. This boy who I thought I liked told everyone our conversations and  divulged that he "dumped me" because I was too tight. Translation: I was terrified of kissing and he wanted me to give him a hand job.
The fuck was a hand job to a seventh grader?

In the matter of seconds everyone was talking and no one wanted to be associated with me. Everyone was just so friggen happy that they were not the target.

I remember one day they were whispering loudly to each other that I didn't have any friends and I should probably go home and kill myself.

In those weeks that followed, I kept quiet. I started cutting myself. I thought about suicide. I ate lunch in the bathroom.

I was thirteen.

I never let on to my parents that things were that bad. I just shoved it all down and tried to forget about it. (I paid for that.) I wish I had gone home and felt comfortable enough to ask for help. I wish I didn't feel so humiliated.

Growing up I had my time to be the bully and I was horrible. I was mean and rude and downright hateful ...but I know that it came from jealously -pure jealousy..so in those moments of extreme hurt, where I just sat there and took it I thought that maybe I deserved it, this was pay back.

I think it got better...I think. I remember eight grade being significantly different, because I could sing and scored a lead in the school musical. (Take that fuckers)

This morning I stood with my five year old at the bus stop, we were in a rush because of my own inability to get my SHIT together. She calmly ate her breakfast while I tried to put her hair up. The boys at the bus stop began whispering about her and laughing. I cant even describe the shivers that raced down my spine.

I know that most kids have gone through both experiences. I get it. I know that I can't fight my kid's battles for her, HOWEVER, Allie is five years old and was totally oblivious to their snide remarks.
She thinks they are her friends, she waves to them when they show up in the morning, she tries to make conversation...and here they were pointing and laughing together in a group..WHILE THE PARENT IS STANDING RIGHT THERE.

I am horrified. I am pissed off. I am scared to death of the coming years.

Ill write more when we figure it all out.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

I am a superhero, obviously.

Lightening struck something in my backyard last night, loud enough to make me scream. Like a noise that came out of my mouth that I have never heard before.
It was the loudest most obnoxious noise EVER and OF COURSE I was alone with the girls. So it went like this:
Lights go out
Girls start crying
I make my way like a freaking superhero to their rooms -gather them into my arms and shuffle our way back to my bed.

Mind you I somehow managed to avoid all the ax murders that OBVIOUSLY appear in my house when J is not home and the FUCKING LIGHTS GO OUT.

Sophia's eyes were as big as her entire face and she kept asking to put her coat on, I could tell by the way she was choking me that she was clearly concerned with the amount of serial killers that were in the house.
Allie curled up under my armpit and began yammering about "precipitation" and the way thunder works or something.

Because she is like her father, I knew she was calmly and rationally trying to explain why the whole house was shaking, and I was all "OMFG I DONT WANT TO DIE"

"Mom, the clouds get too full of water and then it rains...and sometimes.."

Allie just stop. Please. Mommy doesn't want to learn Earth science right now, she wants to figure out how to get the butcher knife from the kitchen for protection. 

The storm went on for a while, J finally came home when the lights came back on. (FIGURES) found us in bed watching Curious George and he was all "great..no one is asleep and everyone is on my side of the bed" - which, obviously they are on his side of the bed- he knows damn well that I don't like to be touched while I am sleeping.

It irritates me that he did not congratulate me on being a grown up and surviving a tornado/thunderstorm/serial killer encounter. But instead made himself a sandwich and ate it without  pants.

I hardly slept last night, I kept checking to see if the lights worked, checking my phone, rolling around restless.

This morning three cups of coffee deep, Allie is at school, Sophia is at school, and I managed to do both tasks with my pants inside out.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014


Holy shit I'm tired.
I was at work at 5am, riding a Sudafed high. I legit have no recollection of getting ready for work, eating breakfast or the conversations I had this morning.

I didn't even make coffee.....I mean....who forgets coffee on a 5 am shift?

Anyways...shift ended at 9 then off to train clients then trained myself and my ass and hamstrings are DESTROYED from yesterdays impromptu spin class. I for real need to take the rest of the week off to gear up for Saturday's shit show  Diva half marathon.

I read a lot of runner's blogs...which is funny to me, because I WISH I was a cute runner. Seriously, I wish I had cute running skirts that didn't get shoved up my vagina...I wish my thighs did not rub together, I wish I did not feel like death, I wish I didn't think about stopping and taking a nap 99.9% of the time.

I hate running. and yet...I REALLY like finishing.

I digress.
After working out a friend and I met for lunch.

Defiantly the best post workout meal I could have eaten.
Went home after to find my new running shoes waiting for me...which in one case (YEY!) and other case...(NAY!) cause they clearly were sized and made for a tiny Christmas elf. They like fit over my toes.
I guess I did not want to run in new shoes anyways.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Healthy Shit

7:19 at the Bus stop

I went to a spin class this morning, thought it was 30 min...turned out it was an hour. I pretty much almost died. Plus, I did legs this morning...soooooo everything is sore. 

I am trying to do new things at the gym...group fitness to be specific. Spinning, Ballet barre, centergy, things that sound some what "fun" I am going to attempt. 

I tend to despise cardio but do it once in a while in a binge like manner. (Running half marathon on Saturday..with like no training)  so when my post on Sunday is from the ER then you will likely know why. 
On that note, J made me say on camera that this race is the last race I am ever going to do.
I am praying that I make it through without seriously harming myself. 

Anyways, after class the instructor and I went to Starbucks for tea. Sounds random but she's a friend, and I like tea.

Then we spent a good hour walking around the "health" section of Kroger touching stuff. I bought a ridiculous amount of weird shit...but its fun trying new things.
Ill do another post this week about all that other non fun stuff.."recovery" shit and why I am no longer competing in fitness competitions...but that is for a different day.

Until then!

Monday, September 1, 2014

Back to 1

It was suppose to thunder here today. Very anticlimactic.

I want to update everyone (maybe two of you..possibly none) but I can't even think of anything exciting. I think the last time I wrote was in May.....
Allessandra started Kindergarten, she rides the bus, which is just slightly horrifying for me.
I decided that I despise other people's kids...still....and really cant figure out the proper edict on how to say "your kid is a super douche" without getting punched.

J and my parenting skills are satisfactory at best, and we continue to be surprised at how smart and adjusted our kids are.
Can't really believe that its September, Sophia will be three...and myself 31...shocking right?
Soph is at this awesome age where most of the time she is an asshole but sometimes she cool and can be reasoned with.

I am still training at the gym and have stopped temporarily from moonlighting as an ass double/stunt double/extra...
While it is nice to have some "stability" with work and kid wrangling..I of course miss the excitement of it all...that is of course until I am getting four hours of sleep and driving from Atlanta at 3 am (worst drive of MY LIFE by the way)

I do want to get back to updating ..I miss writing.