Mommy, Do I Need To Go On A Diet?

Delaney First CommunionThe question felt a bit out of left field.  But as the mother of a child, of a little girl, I suppose I shouldn’t ever really be surprised, right?

She is eight-going-on-twenty-eight, after all. And this growing up business is happening right in front of my eyes. This IS the child who, at 48 inches and not quite 50 pounds told me last year that she wouldn’t wear a First Communion dress with a crinoline under it because, in her words, ‘it would make me look fat’.

Fat. It is a word she has never once heard me say about myself or anyone else. Not even as a joke.

Not, “I’m having a fat day.”

Not, “I feel fat in this.”

Not, “Does my butt look fat in these jeans?”

I don’t even insinuate it.

Not, “Another one of these brownies and I won’t be able to button my clothes.”

Healthy, active living.  That’s what I have always wanted to promote to my small people.  I know they are surrounded by words, by images, of what people – especially women *should* look like and ever since they’ve been little, I have worked to shield them from any notion of *should*.

The only thing they *should* do is PLAY and eat a variety of foods.  Yes, cookies are fine.  But there are plenty of fruits and vegetables in their world.  There is Gatorade and water and lots of Milk. There is cheese and bread and pasta and fish and chicken.

So, the other day, when my small girl turned those big brown eyes on me, lifted her shirt, patted her stomach and said, “Mommy, do I need to go on a diet?”, my heart hurt. I felt sick.

But I knew it was time for a talk.  ”Aren’t you on a diet, Mommy?”

Amazing how they watch everything you do, even when you don’t say a word, yes?  I wasn’t on a diet, but I was making some changes to how I was eating. For a few days, I had focused almost entirely on fresh fruits, vegetables and vitamins in an effort to ‘reset’ my system after a few months of poor eating, little exercise and staying up too late while working on my latest book. I wanted to purge my body of the ‘unnatural’ and focus strictly on fresh, healthy foods.

But, my small girl saw ‘diet’. I realized I needed to explain how I typically make food choices for myself and for our family. And why I had been making a few healthier changes to take care of myself.

The key for us is three-fold: fresh foods, the items with the largest number of ‘healthy’ ingredients and anything else in moderation.

Fresh foods are easy to explain: fruits, vegetables, and proteins like chicken and fish

Delaney Raisin BranFor food staples, I walked to the pantry and pulled out two boxes of food: one candy and Kellogg’s Raisin Bran. I wanted to share an option that had ingredients we recognized and could pronounce: Raisin Bran lists in order: Whole grain wheat, raisins, wheat bran, sugar, brown sugar syrup, 2% or less of salt and malt flavor. We aren’t purists, so it wasn’t difficult to find an option that included unhealthy ingredients. It was a box of candy and the ingredient list included partially hydrogenated palm kernel oil, sodium bicarbonate, resinous glaze and artificial flavor (among other options).

The point of this exercise with my daughter (and at this point, both  my son and husband as well) was to explain that 1) the first ingredients listed are the most dominant – so if sugar or salt come first, we might want to look elsewhere for a different option and 2) our goal is to put food into our bodies that includes ingredients we can actually recognize and pronounce – in other words – real food.

So….whole grain wheat and raisins? Good. Resinous glaze? Not so good.

This isn’t to say, as I mentioned before, that our home or food choices are perfect.  We do eat some cookies and cakes.  Sugar isn’t banned and I know you could find items that have some unpronounceable items in their ingredient list.  But we are a work in progress.  And I’d say 70% of what we eat is fresh and healthy, so I’m ok with the knowledge that we aren’t perfect.

I’m also ok knowing I can and do have these conversations with my small people.  And they know I don’t tolerate ‘fat’ – not hearing they believe it of themselves or of other people.  And this is a lifestyle we have to live, not one we can simply talk about and hope sinks in.

How do you promote a healthy lifestyle in your home?

Disclosure: I do have a regular working relationship with Kellogg’s though all thoughts and opinions I share in this post and throughout this site are mine and mine alone.  I chose to use Raisin Bran as an example because it is a regular healthy breakfast staple in our home.

 

 

All Dogs Go To Heaven

A few weeks ago, I sat in my office, broken-hearted from missing my grandmother’s 100th birthday.  It couldn’t be helped.  The flu had attacked the small dude the very day we were supposed to board our flight and it was only days before my small girl and then my small dude again were bed-ridden with an entirely different intestinal virus.

Naturally, my parents, though understanding (what can you do about the flu??), were devastated to miss us – especially their grandchildren.  Living on the left coast with us in the middle of the country isn’t easy.  Somehow, Delaney and Cooper seem to grow inches and lose teeth between every sighting. Because he masquerades as a real dad, but truly lives life as a Superhero, my sweet husband suggested a last minute trip to San Diego for Easter to visit my parents.

My parents did mental handstands.  The small people did real ones.  Jeff dusted off his cape and went back to work.  I felt peaceful for the first time in two weeks.

MumMurphy

Until last night.

My parents have two dogs and seeing them when we visit is an incredible highlight for my sweet ones.  I cry now as I type.  Murphy, their lovely black lab, who has been with them for more than a dozen years, has been living with a tumor pushing on her bladder for the past two years.  She took a terrible turn on Friday night.  She can no longer walk. Her kidneys are failing.  Today is to be her last day.  My poor mom is heart-broken.

My parents took their pup out in the sunshine, to Shelter Island in San Diego – where she is normally greeted by dozens of other dogs.  But not today.  Today she was approached by only one: Haley.  Another dog seeing the sunshine, the outside, for the last time. You have to figure that Haley knows she will be seeing Murphy again tomorrow, right?  Why not make a friend now that you’ll be soon seeing in heaven.

That’s where all dogs go, you know.

Skype Mum Dad MurphySeeing my mom with her girl hurt my heart. Telling my small people? Oh, this motherhood gig is a bear.  Delaney’s eyes watered, she asked questions and she hugged me.  But Cooper?  Well, I used the phrase, ‘put her to sleep’…. so naturally, my six year old asked, “Well, ok, Mommy, but how long will she have to be asleep?” I don’t know that I could describe his look of shock and anguish when I explained that she was actually going to die because she is so sick.

He covered his face, put his head in my lap and cried.

Through the miracle of technology we spoke to my parents via skype tonight – Murphy snuggled up between them – exactly as she will be until tomorrow.  It was a bittersweet conversation.  We made it *almost* to the end without tears.  My heart hurts for my mom who will miss her companion, the one who greeted her at the door as she came home every day, who rested her head in her lap as she watched TV and who begged for carrots as a ‘treat’.  I hurt for my small people who are being touched by death in even the smallest of ways.

All dogs go to heaven, but does Murphy have to go right now?  The question my small people can’t seem to comprehend….

 

I Cry

I’m stunned.  I first saw the news reports a few hours ago.  Then, it was vague, and there was hope – if there can be such a thing with a horrific tragedy like this – that the final reports would tally ‘wounded’ and not ‘dead’.

I want to rewind the clock.  I want to go back to the moments before this happened… when I was writing about the ‘magic’ of the holiday season.

Before the news updates started to roll in.  Before my stomach began to tighten one knot at a time and the pressure in my brain began to build.  As I sit now on my couch, the numbers keep rising.

And I cry.

And cry.

Good GOD, for the sweet babies.

Oh my heart….for the parents, the families that stood outside waiting for children that didn’t come…receiving the very worst news of their lives.

For the pure loss of the innocence: The children at the school, lost.   All of the families who will forever have a gaping hole where the love of their children once lived. The teachers and staff – gone and their families who can’t be the same. The surviving children. The community of Sandy Hook School.

The city of Newtown, Connecticut.

And once again, all of the rest of us who watch from near and far wishing so deep in our souls that our tears, our anger could change the course of this tragedy.

For all of it – my prayers, my love, the aches in my heart.

I fought the urge to run to my children’s school to pick them up, comforted by the knowledge that they are (I say as I take the deepest of grateful breaths) safe and don’t need to be exposed to my horror and  sadness.  I need this time to collect myself, to process the hurt in my soul and to prepare in case they have heard and have questions.

If they don’t know, I won’t be sharing.

I will spend the next hour pulling myself together so I don’t frighten my small people with the extra tight hugs they will receive when they walk in.

And praying.

Mother to mother…. I can’t fathom their pain, and I don’t have the words to make it even an ounce better…. but I can hurt with you.

And I can pray.

I Feared Today, But It Was Beautiful

Photo by Gina Kelly - One of the first she took for us....

I have to admit it, I was worried about today.  I woke myself up last night preparing, already feeling the tightening as it wrapped around my heart.  I knew today was coming, and I wanted it to be here, but I didn’t. You know those little hurdles you must jump after you lose someone you love?  The ones that are just part of living to everyone else, but to you….  they feel like a sledgehammer to the gut?

That’s what I feared of today.

But instead it was extraordinary.  I laughed instead of sobbed.  I will admit to a few tears, but they were sweet and surrounded by hugs.

Today, we took family pictures.

Sounds like a simple, non-threatening event, yes?  Except the person who has taken our family pictures for the past nine years, my sweet, beautiful, kind-hearted friend, Gina Kelly died earlier this year.  Her death punched a hole in my soul.  I was robbed of years of her friendship, her family was robbed of years of her love and presence and the photography community – St. Louis and beyond – was robbed of her talents.  The thief, as it often is: Cancer.

Gina’s work decorates my home and always will.  She is responsible for some of the most beautiful memories I have of my small people.  Knowing that photos, snapshots of my family in time, are important to me, knowing that my children have always had a special bond with Gina, and believing that this first experience without her would be incredibly painful, it was crucial to me that the photographer we chose embody the same love and spirit as Gina.

I couldn’t have chosen a better person, a better soul, a better photographer to spend today with my family.  Joanna Kleine is someone I have known for years.  I have always admired her immense talent. Beyond that, she knew Gina. She loved Gina as I did.  And I simply sensed she would ‘get me’, would understand my family, and would appreciate the quirkiness of my small people.

She did.

The spot Joanna chose for our pictures was one of the first places Gina ever took us for a family shoot…. I worried my emotions would get the better of me. But I sensed Gina’s love in every one of Joanna’s smiles. I was able to focus entirely on ‘the moment’ with my family and with Joanna.  I didn’t dwell on the loss of Gina – I knew she was there with us – in my growing friendship with Joanna, in the bursts of sunshine and gusts of wind.

Joanna and I shared a moment, a memory of Gina and a hug. What beauty to feel buoyed by her gifts even when I can’t sit down with her face to face anymore.

Today wasn’t actually hard at all – it was glorious. I’m grateful.  And I cannot wait to see the pictures.

 

I Believe: The Love Of A Child Can Heal Anything

“Are you Ok, Mommy?”….  my small girl has asked me every single day for the past week.

She has reached out to hug me, wrapping her tiny arms around me, pulling my head, not to hers, but to her chest, so that she might pet my hair….a comforting gesture I would like to think she has learned from me.

She has let me cry.  Correction:  She has encouraged me to cry.  She hasn’t run away, wounded, frightened, that something in me is clearly broken at the loss of my friend… but instead, she is concerned, wise beyond her years, I suspect.  She tilts her head in concern, her eyes locked on mine each time she asks, “Mommy, are you sure you are ok?”

We sat in church last Thursday night… Holy Thursday. The first strains of this song played…. followed by the first words, “How Beautiful“…. and the tears came. The song was sung at my wedding…. and the words reminded me instantly of my sweet friend. The grief continues to flow in waves…. leaving me at once secure in the strength of a cried-out soul and next teary-eyes wrapped in the arms of my littlest. My sweet small people didn’t panic…. their little grips on my hands tightened and Cooper reached up to wipe my face, “It’s ok, Mommy….”

At one point in the Mass, they prayed for “the sick, the lonely and the broken-hearted”….  Delaney’s hand squeezed mine once…twice…three times….our sign for “I love you” and she whispered, “Mommy…. they are talking about you”.

My sweet, sweet girl… at only seven, can see that a piece of my heart is broken and yet somehow knows that it is the comfort of her touch and her love that will help me to heal.

I never imagined myself on the receiving end of healing love from my children. I have always pictured myself, cape tucked firmly around my neck, ‘S’ for Supermom painted proudly on my chest swooping in to save their day and wipe their tears.  Little did I know that their presence, their comfort could save me and dry mine.

I believe the love of your children can heal anything.

My Heart Is Aching, But Heaven Is One Star Brighter

It always happens.

The morning after.

You wake after a night of crying, a day of loss, and you have one moment…one beautiful, solitary moment when everything is right in the world.  Because THAT is the moment before the moment when reality crashes into you like a semi truck in the wrong lane speeding at you in a nightmare.

And you are suddenly awake and without air.

It is close to impossible to breathe because you remember.  And of all things you know in the world at that moment – you don’t want to remember.

My friend Gina died on Monday.

I started to write about her yesterday, but found myself at such a loss.

My heart physically hurts.  When I found out, I was, in fact, unable to breathe. My poor small girl was sitting next to me and ran for my husband.  She told him I couldn’t breathe.  And she was right.  I doubled over, barely able to say her name.  But, that was all he needed to hear.

Gina had cancer.  It took less than a year to steal her away from everyone who loved her.

For 36 hours, I’ve been struggling to find the right words to describe my friend – to tell you about her, to explain why this loss is so tragic.  And, I can’t seem to find them. Any death of someone so young is a tremendous loss, I know.

Gina was special. Dare I say extraordinary….

How do I describe the most selfless person I know? How do I explain the multitude of ways she made me better, or how she never missed an opportunity to encourage me, tell me she loved me or supported what I was doing? How do I begin to recount the dozens of organizations she helped, the people she inspired, the lives she touched? This is a woman who donated her time and talents to the Pujols Foundation multiple times a year, for free, because she felt called to do so.  She photographed Proms and special events, even traveling with them to the Dominican Republic.

“How can I help you?”  I can’t be the only person who heard Gina say those words over and over again – no expectation of anything in return. To call her a ‘giver’ doesn’t do her justice.  Giving was simply part of her nature, a portion of her soul.  I came across this article I wrote about her three years ago – she has always been extraordinary.

Gina was a mother, a sister, a friend, a woman of faith, a defender of those in need, a fighter, a brilliant, talented photographer and someone I can honestly say made me better.

I wandered my house today… Gina is present in nearly every room.  She has been taking photographs of my family for years.  She started before Cooper was born. If you have received a Christmas card from us in the last 5 or 6 years (with the exception of this year) our smiles had Gina’s fingerprints all over them.


She had a special way with my small people…. treating them with such kindness, as though time with them was a gift.  So for Ms. Gina?  They always gave their best smiles, their goofiest silly faces, their biggest jumps, their best ‘leaf throwing’, their biggest hugs.  And she never missed an opportunity to tell me how much she adored them.  If we made a lunch date?  She *wanted* them to come…..

You know… Gina is the photographer who took our ‘stolen photo’ that ended up in Prague, right?  (up there in the middle of that first collage?) We laughed about it even when we talked last week.

When. We. Talked. Last. Week.

This is one of the things that is comforting me right now.  I didn’t see her, as I’d hoped.  But we talked, we laughed…. she sounded like she was in such good spirits, though she did tell me she was heading to Tulsa because her situation had worsened. I guess I didn’t want to believe what ‘worse’ really meant.

I still have the texts on my phone she sent during a trivia night in her honor (she was too sick to attend)…. I’ve been looking back at the messages she sent me on Facebook.  Even faced with such an extreme challenge, her faith and will to fight never waivered.  She was fighting for her life…. fighting for her family.

She leaves behind a lot of people who loved her – including a daughter and son, both who considered her their best friend.  If that doesn’t mean something special, I don’t know what does.

You were a treasure, my friend.

When I last wrote about Gina, it inspired poetry from a stranger.  That’s the kind of soul stirring she motivated.

She was THAT good.

I am better for having known this beautiful soul.  I will always miss her.

Ice Cream Melts The “I Miss You’s”

I could barely hear him over our poor connection.

He whispered from the backseat of the car… trying to keep his big sister from hearing him, “Mommy, last night…. when I was in the shower…. I cried because I missed you.”

And my heart plummeted to my knees.

And the air was sucked from my end of the phone to his.

I wasn’t home. And he missed me. And I miss him. And it is simply so hard to be away.

Usually, this role is reserved for his big sister. My small dude typically acts like it doesn’t phase him when I’m gone.

When we were done talking, my mother-in-law assured me she had seen no sign of tears and was surprised to overhear his whispers. Sure, I like to hear THAT, but still, SOMETHING made him say it, right?

*sigh*

I’m home now. And yesterday was a glorious day of hugging and snugging and wait for it… ice cream.

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I think Spring arrived early just so we could share some time together.

I offered to play ball with him outside.  To be clear, I volunteered to pitch to him, to kick soccer balls so he could practice his goal-keeping AND I offered to play basketball.  He turned me down with a quick shake of the head and a, ‘nah’ each time.  One of two things entered my mind: either he is afraid he will hurt me playing sports (quite possibly) OR he really did just want to sit on my lap outside and read (which we did as we waited for the ice cream truck).

I’m hoping for number two.

It is so good to be home.