The Little Things

Last night John took turns dancing with the girls in the living room while we watched Dancing with the Stars. I danced with Sam too, which at this point is mostly jumping up and down in place. Watching John pick Caroline up and twirl her around and then let Loretta dance on his feet brought back some very fond memories of me dancing with my dad.

There was a restaurant we would go to when staying at our cabin on the Lake of the Ozarks. It wasn’t fancy, not much is in that area, but it did have a REAL dance floor. I use to feel pretty special dancing with my dad out there in front of everyone. Usually, no one else bothered to dance, it was just me and my dad in front of all the other guests and I was still young enough that it didn’t embarrass me at all. I loved the attention. I thought about it today during my run and realized, that memory is clearer to me than so many other wonderful things I experienced growing up. Fishing with May flies, skiing with my feet in front of my dads, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops the size of my head while my mom made a huge French toast, eggs and bacon breakfast for the rest of the family, laying in the hammock, singing at the top of our lungs in the back of the Suburban and jumping off the jumping rocks…those memories are considerably more vivid than the ones associated with really big events like Worlds of Fun and our cross country trip to California. Here I am, almost 37 and I can see that coffee mug tree in my mind so perfectly I could be standing right in front of it.

Loretta and Caroline have been begging to go to Disney World and I’ve been stressing. When can we fit that in, they should go but, if we wait another couple years than Sam might actually remember it too, but will Loretta be too old??? But the more I think about it, I’ve decided I’m not going to stress anymore. We’ll get them there, eventually, and it will be great. But most likely it will be the little things like dancing with their dad and playing at the beach with their cousins and going for ice cream when they visit grandma and grandpa that stick with them for the long run. 

Second Glances

This past week I decided it was time to pull out some of my old clothes. It probably had something to do with the fact that my jeans were falling down all weekend long and I felt like a fool hiking them up over and over. So, I dug through the closet and pulled out a few of my old work slacks. My lovely Anne Taylor size 4’s that I haven’t fit into in at least 2 of my children’s life spans. I held my breath (not to suck in my stomach as much as to make a wish), said a little prayer and pulled them on. My first indication that this might result in a positive experience was that I easily got them up and over my thighs. Then the big test, button and zip…THEY FIT!!! It was thrilling to be back in my “good clothes”. I rarely spent money on nicer brands when I was in larger sizes b/c for some reason it felt like I was accepting that I would remain there. So, I’ve been living off Target clothes (which I love, don’t get me wrong), primarily for the last 5-6 years as I literally gained, lost, gained, lost, gained and lost again a total of about 180lbs.


Now, I admit I had begun to swim in my other clothes. Not terribly, mind you, I wasn’t dressing like a bag lady or wearing muumuus to work, but truth be told my pants were baggy and sagging a little, my shirts far from form fitting. So this week, my first week of wearing my old clothes, surprised me in a way I wasn’t expecting. I’ve gotten second glances all week. Not gross leering glances, but rather subtle appreciative double takes and I have to say it feels pretty damn good! I’m aware of my own changes enough to recognize it’s not only the way I wear my wonderful old clothes, it has as much to do with my attitude and confidence. I promised myself that once I was finished having babies I would reclaim my body and I have. It’s not perfect, I’ve had three c-sections for the love of God! But I’m so very proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish.

I made another promise too. I promised when I finally got to this point I would be happy with myself. I look back at pictures of me in high school and cringe because I had a wonderful physique and the entire time I hated it, wishing for more here, less there. No, my body isn’t perfect, and while I'm happy...I’m not settling in here either.

Meaghan blogged awhile ago about how the body she had obtained hadn't exactly measured up to the body she imagined she would have after accomplishing her fitness goals and I can completely and totally relate.  So, I’m going to keep trying to lose a couple more pounds, firm and tone here and there, but mostly my goals are more centered around accomplishing activities. I hope to run several road races this year, there's my much anticipated rugged maniac and maybe even a triathlon. However, my focus has moved away from the number on the scale and on to these upcoming events and it feels wonderful having the confidence that I can physically do them. I’m strong enough. I’m fit enough. I’m enough.