Truths! Birthdays, Graduation, and pics

I'm really trying to stay honest, and embrace the truth even when it hurts.  Here's my latest confession - I love butter/ margarine.  This is embarrassing - but I've loved it since I was a child.  My mom tells about me climbing out of my highchair and onto the thanksgiving table to sit down and chew on a stick of butter at my grandmother's while everybody was in the kitchen when I was 15 months old.  I used to stick my finger into the tub of margarine and scoop out a little once in a while as a kid.  As I grew up I grew out of it - or should I say changed things I liked to eat that weren't good for me. 

Since my surgery, really in the last couple months, I have rediscovered my taste for margarine.  That sounds gross doesn't it?  I think part of it is craving fat - which even with a tablespoon or two of margarine a day my consumption stays low (yes, I have been logging it).  That melt-in-your mouth feeling is part of it.  There lies a truth - if it melts in your mouth, it's liquid calories - a BIG NO-NO and major rule breaking.  So, just like I had to make a big change when I realized I was starting to compulsively eat popcorn, I'm going to have to make a big change here.  No more buying tubs of margarine.  I will buy sticks of butter, which I have no craving for, whatsoever.  Logical?  Of course not - it's a crazy psych thing.  Oh the webs our tricky brains weave.  I can use sticks of butter for everything cooking-wise that I use tubs for, and not be tempted.  Yesterday I threw out the tub that was in my fridge.  Wonder what the next thing is my brain will try to tempt me with...

On to a more positive truth - I got my new driver's license!  The truth part is that I actually put my REAL weight on the license for the first time in my life.  Not even my lowest weight, but the pound higher that I was on the day I renewed it.  I thought I needed to renew it by my birthday but it turns out I didn't have to renew it until next year.  Yeah, it was written right on the license, I know... But I decided to renew it early because I don't look like my license anymore.  And I'm 50 pounds lighter than the LIE I had on my old license.  But I took pictures of my old and new license (with all the potential identity theft info blocked out) for memories sake (and this blog). 

 

OK, so that's my old license.  I listed my weight at 190, which was 53 less than I weighed at my highest.  When the picture was taken I might have been 235.  I remember being relatively happy with the picture, because it only showed two chins.  I spent a lot of time on my hair and makeup that day, too. 

... and here's my new one!  I LOVE looking at those two pictures next to each other.  An added bonus is that people will actually believe it's my I.D. when I am asked to show it :) 

I still think that they should just have a digital scale built into the floor at the license bureau.  That way when you step up for your turn it would automatically weigh you and the they wouldn't have to ask your weight.  It's embarrassing for the average person to say their weight out loud to someone, and mortifying for the obese.  Plus, it's not like most people tell the truth!  Heaven forbid something had happened to me two years ago and they found my body.  I can see them saying "Oh, this probably isn't her, she's much heavier than the person we're looking for..." 

My birthday is in two days, and my mom offered to come spend the morning with me for a "girl's day" - something we used to do when I was little, and have tried to make time for occasionally now that I'm a grownup.  I asked my boys (10 and 13) for the birthday present of them watching themselves (without killing and bugging each other) for a few hours for my birthday present.  My mom is going to come and go on a nice long walk with me and my dogs.  Then she's going to come with me to a jewelry store.  All of my rings are WAY to big.  I'm guessing I'm wearing a 6 1/2 now - my old rings are 8 1/2.  I don't feel the need to spend the money to resize everything, but I've been wrapping medical tape around my wedding band and engagement ring for over a year now and want to get that done!  I'm thinking about instead of having several rings resized I would look at combining stones into a new setting.  I have no idea how much that will be, but want to explore options and get a sense of how much money I will have to save up.  Then we might go to a bookstore and browse...aaaah, the luxury of doing that without having the kids interrupt me twenty times.

I got an email this morning inviting me to my Center for Bariatric Surgery graduation!  In our program, if you have met your goal and kept it off for over a year, you are invited to that year's graduation party.  It's a formal event at a really nice hotel, and will be happening in October.  The only sad thing is that my surgeon has left the practice.  So I'm sad that when I walk across the stage with a slide show of my before and after pcitures I won't get to shake Dr. Ben-Meir's hand.  :( But, I'm really excited to be in the graduating class of 2013.  I need to start looking for an AWESOME dress.  Oh, and saving up for it, too. 

Bariatric Betty's races vs. the Boston Marathon

Boston.

Well, everything I wanted to write about pales in comparison to Boston.  I was going to write about ending up winning my age group in the triathlon because I was the ONLY woman in my age group.  To remind us all to try, because you are a winner just for trying - sometimes literally.  I was going to write about feeling proud doing a 5k Sunday where I shaved 3 minutes off my first 5k time, and loving that some of my WLS support group came and did the fun walk, too.  Enough about that.

Instead I would like to talk about inspiration.  Goodness.  Humanity.  Faith.

..."So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear, or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think "the good outnumber you, and we always will." - Patton Oswalt

I had no idea who Patton Oswalt was before yesterday, but right now his thinking about this is right up there to me with Fred Roger's quote:

 "When I was a boy and would see scary things on the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping."

In every horrible accident, or natural disaster, or act of terrorism you can look and see the good.  The people who run to help, who give of what they have to help others.  Who risk their lives.  Who make sacrifices, small and large.  These acts of bravery and humanity inspire me and others.  I love hearing about them and would like to use my blog today to talk about some of the ones I have heard about since the explosions in Boston. 

First - I have heard numerous complements of the first responders: the police, paramedics, and fire fighters. Numerous witnesses have said how quickly and smoothly they seemed to respond.  The policies, drills, and procedures that they and area hospitals have prepared for seem to have paid off. Bravo, and thank you to all first responders.  We are so thankful for your selflessness.

Second - All of the everyday people who ran to help others.  Carlos Arredondo, the father of a fallen soldier who was there to pass out flags ended up pinching an artery of a victim closed while she was evacuated.  The husband who ran into a clothing store and helped make tourniquets for two victims, only one of whom was his wife.  And yet another named "Matt" who did the same for a 17 year old girl.  Another person only known as "Sgt. Tyler" helped move and calm down another victim, showing her his own shrapnel scars to reassure her she could heal.  The little girl who decorated bags that her mom filled with food and toiletries with hopeful messages of love to hand out to people in need.  All the other un-named heroes who picked up and carried the wounded. The restaurant owners who opened their doors, grill, and refrigerators to the runners - not to mention making chargers and phones available so that they could contact their loved ones.  The neighbors along the route who took in runners and people from out of town, providing dry/ warm clothes and other necessities.  The runner and his wife, who upon seeing another racer sobbing on the ground in relief after locating her loved one by phone, asked "Did you finish?" and when she shook her head no, gave her his medal and said "You're a finisher to me".  The runners who continued running to get to the hospital and donate blood.  The Yankee fans who sang for Boston during the game last night. 

We are waiting to hear who is a suspect.  Are they American?  Why did they do this, what could their justification possibly be?  Did they act alone, or was this an attack planned by an organized group?

These are of course, important questions.  But where he or they come from is not as important as knowing that there are far more good people on earth, ready to help a stranger in need, than there are people who want to harm a stranger for whatever demented reason they can imagine. 

Three people have died, and that is a great tragedy.  So is the car bomb in Iraq yesterday that led to five people dying.  What is the difference?  Here in the United States we like to assume that we are safe from random acts of violence.  We have learned the phrase "see something - say something", so we assume that bombs will not explode next to us.  If we have drills, caring staff, and locked doors at our children's schools, we assume that school violence won't happen there.  The reality is that our society can never be 100% safe, no matter how many laws or how many guns there are.  And the bombs in Boston (like the murders in Newtown) shatter the illusion of safety, and require us to face that fact. Something that people in Iraq, Libya, Israel, and countless other countries around the world accepted long ago.  Does that make our tragedy in Boston worse than one in Iraq?  No, but it explains why one dominates our consciousness.

When tragedy occurs, I cling to two things.  One is a concept my husband taught me from computer/ IT security.  No system is impermeable, unhackable, or safe for all eternity.  As soon as you might declare something safe, it issues a challenge to anyone who wants to prove you wrong.  However, you can put up enough protection to block random pings, frustrate amateur hackers by making them jump through hoops and run into dead ends, and alert you to real threats - and that's probably the best thing.  The same thing applies to safety in the real world. 

The other is my faith.  My faith in humanity and kindness.  That people are naturally caring, helpful and responsible.  That for every evil committed there are hundreds if not thousands of kindnesses.  My faith in God means that I accept that I can't understand a reason why a sweet eight year old boy died along with two other innocent women in Boston; to me it doesn't mean that God wanted them to die.  It means that humans are intelligent (and sometimes crazy) beings with free will, which can include the will to commit murder.  But my faith in a higher power leads me to believe that something good will come out of this tragedy, which I may never personally know.  Maybe someone who did survive that horror will contribute to discovering the cure for cancer, or someone who watched the coverage will be inspired and find a way to restart the middle east peace process, or maybe someone will remember Martin Richard when they're driving and keep a close eye out for the kid who darts into the street so they can stop in time.  To me the goodness of humanity and God work together, helping us become better.  Not always good enough, but better.
 

Bariatric Betty's 5K with pics

Yesterday was the big day; 6 months after beginning Couch to 5k I ran my first race!  It was a lot of fun, and I was thrilled to have my 12 y.o. son jog it with me (for the first half anyway, then I left him in the dust because he hadn't trained as much and needed to slow down).  The Jingle Bell Run is for the Arthritis Foundation - an organization I loved supporting because my dear husband has had rheumatoid arthritis since he was 12.  Here's a pic of all of us before the race.

I had a great NSV (non-scale victory) before the race even started - I traded in my pre-ordered Adult Large race shirt for an Adult Medium!  Woo-hoo!

The atmosphere was wonderful - people were decked out in all kinds of holiday gear - I gave in and bought a Santa Hat that said "Jingle Bell Run".  Everybody was given jingle bells to tie through their shoelaces along with their tracker chip, so there was a constant faint bell ringing the entire run.  There was a singing group doing Christmas carols and other upbeat holiday tunes.  Lots of families jogged or walked as a team, and I saw dozens of parents who ran or walked with strollers.  Here's a pic of us at the very start of the race.

The course was a bit of a surprise - from the map we had been given at registration I guessed we would have one hill about halfway through the race, and it would be uphill on the first half, downhill on the way back.  Nope. There were four hills (two repeated ones) on the course and that meant that we had to finish on an incline.  One of my friends ended up running as well, and she told me later "Boy, this was NOT a good race for your first - those hills were killer!"

 I'm happy to say for me it was more a psychological challenge than a physical one.  All my training was definitely more than enough to prepare me for this race - even with the hills.  Who would have guessed???  I jogged the whole thing, running 3.1 miles in just under 36 minutes.  Afterwords I felt really proud and happy, but my body was like "So, that was pretty normal..." How wonderfully unexpected.

This is me crossing the finish line...

I was inspired by many people in the race - there was a whole team of people from the University Hospitals Medical Center running in honor of an 8 y.o. girl named Taylor with Rheumatoid Arthritis. There were people like the mom behind me in the picture above who ran up and down those hills pushing a double stroller!  There was a wonderful 76 year old woman named Jean that I chatted with on the second half.  She runs races every weekend, so she's well known by most of the regulars.  She talked about how she had ANOTHER race today, and I couldn't have been more surpised. "You run two races in one weekend???" "Oh, just when they're small ones like this..."  LOL!  It's good to see things from a different perspective.  She said that so many young people are all impressed when they hear her age.  I told her that they should be impressed with her running all of these races even BEFORE they hear her age and she laughed.  She said she's glad to be able to run when so many people her age can't even walk much, but also confessed she enjoys seeing youngster speed up when they realize she just passed them.  ;) 

My son crossed the finish line just a few minutes after me and I told him I was so proud of him for hanging in there and finishing!  He was exhausted, but said "Mom, we have to start training on HILLS" so I guess he might be willing to do this again.

Doing it again... yeah, probably.  I didn't hurt afterwards (or this morning) so I think I might start looking for maybe a race every month or so.  It's way more fun than just jogging with my dog :)  But I'm not feeling driven to start training for a half marathon or anything.

There was another woman I met that left me with mixed feelings.  She was a friend-of-a-friend and when my friend introduced her she said "She's lost 100 pounds, you know!"  I laughed and clapped for her and then said "Me, too!"(well, rounding up)  We chatted for a little while and I found out that unlike me she didn't have bariatric surgery.  I was very impressed - to be able to lose that much without having the help of a pouch as a tool... that's rare!  She said two years ago she started walking two 5ks every weekend.  Then she started jogging them.  Then she started running half-marthons, and now does marathons as well.  Whoa.  Cool!  Then she explained that she is just working on keeping the weight off, so she has added Zumba a couple of times a week and recently personal training.  OK, so she is running at least two 5k races (if not a marathon) in addition to daily training runs, taking 2-3 Zumba Classes, and having a personal training session every week JUST TO MAINTAIN HER WEIGHT.  Uhhhhh. Great?  For her, it's great.  This is a really good demonstration of what happens to the metabolism of a formerly morbidly obese person.  To lose this much weight, our bodies and metabolisms change a LOT.  In her case, presumming she eats healthy foods in reasonable portion sizes, it means she has to become a fitness machine.  I am all for being active and staying active, but I would never want to dedicate every weekend of my life to running races.  They're fun, but I want to have time with my family doing other things.  I can commit to spending 30 - 60 minutes a day doing cardio for the rest of my life and having a severally restricted diet/ calorie intake.  For her, that wasn't a good choice.  Either way, there is no easy way. 

So I'm looking into doing the "Color Run" sometime this spring, and keeping my eyes open for other fun opportunities.  I heard that Coco Key (a water park in Sandusky, OH)  has a Santa Run that I can imagine the family enjoying this time next year.  Today I'll just be walking my dog a couple of miles and celebrating my father's 70th birthday and other every-day miracles.  Happy Hanukkah to everyone celebrating!
 

Bariatric Betty gets psyched out

The mind is a very powerful weapon, no doubt about it.  This last week was a good reminder of that.

First, I had a moment of clarity on Tuesday.  I went to step on the scale like I usually do most days, and had to turn it right side up first. The kids and dog had flipped it over the night before.  I waited a minute for it to recalibrate and then stepped on.  142.3 pounds!  Whoa.  That meant I had lost over 100 pounds from my highest!  I lost over 100 pounds!  Whoa.  I really didn't expect that.  Especially since I was 146 yesterday... wait.  I was 146 yesterday.  OK, occasionally I have a couple pounds of water weight that come off/ go on in 24 hours, but 4 pounds difference???  I stepped of and let it recalibrate again.  147.2.  Huh.  Recalibrate again.  147.2.  Darn.  So apparently it didn't recalibrate after I turned it over the first time and that was a big ol' "Psych!" from the universe.  But you know what, it wasn't that bad.  I've been telling myself that losing a solid hundred would be cool, but that I'm very happy with my 97 pound lost, and if I lose more it's bonus.  The great thing was, I proved to myself that I'm not selling myself a lie.  I felt proud before I stepped on the scale that morning, and I felt proud after I found out the first reading was wrong.  Slight less excited about blogging this week - that was going to be a fun post title - but I wasn't upset.  Yay!  My head is still screwed on right. 

Wednesday I ran 3.1 miles in the afternoon to continue to prepare for the 5k Jingle Bell Run I will be running December 9th in Cleveland.  I'm so excited about running my first 5k, and feel good that actually jogging the whole thing is something I can handle (barring the unforseen, that is).  I'm jogging at least 3 miles twice a week now, and shorter distances a couple other time a week.  So far my hip/ bursitis isn't bad.

Thursday was a rough day.  My job as a monitor at the elementary school has changed a bit.  I work with an autistic kindergartener one-on-one for the first half now, and then the third grade classes for the second half.  I miss working with the whole group of kindergartners and first graders, but I do enjoy helping my charge.   Most times.  Not Thursday.  Thursday was a full blown tantrum-all-day kind of day.  I really feel for him.  He's very bright - a kindergartner who can read at what I would say is a 1-2 grade level. But he just started speaking a year ago and his articulation/ intelligibilty is pretty poor.  That makes things very frustrating because many times people can't understand him and that can lead to tantrums.  Add to that his sensory integration issues - getting over stimulated by noise, light, textures... the poor guy has a lot to deal with.  His mind is constantly getting in the way of him learning and enjoying his peers.  That doesn't excuse tantrums, but helps me let go of my frustration in dealing with them.  It's my job to help him handle situations so that 1) he can avoid getting so frustrated that he loses control and 2) help him learn how to take control of himself and cope with challenges.  By the end of my time with him I helped him write an apology note to the people he upset throwing things around, and he apologized to me as well.

Thursday night I was working on frosting my famous candy cane cookies.  I started baking them earlier this week and haven't struggled with sneaking cookie dough or anything.  But that night was a different situation.  You see, the candy cane cookies get dipped in a peppermint glaze and then sprinkled with red sugar stripes.  The problem is that when you dip 100 cookies, you get glaze on your fingers over and over again.  And a couple of times I licked my fingers.  And then a couple more.  I finally stopped myself and stopped glazing for the night.  I didn't eat enough to make me dump, but I craved that sugar!  Not good. 

First victory - I stopped glazing when I realized what I was doing.  Second victory - I logged the glaze on my food diary.  For those of you who started reading recently, I had a horrible moment of self-realization back in my pre-op days when I found myself lying on the food diary.  To myself.  Who was the ONLY ONE who would be reading my food log.  Seriously, how warped is that?  I didn't want to say I ate a cookie, so I had recorded 1 apple, 1 biscuit/ roll, and 1 tablespoon of butter.  Lying to myself was a real low.  I had already turned in my food log for approval for surgery, and there was nobody to impress...  It was a real eye-opener of how warped my mind could be.  But not this time.  I logged it! 

Final victory - I told my husband about my poor choice and the next day I finished glazing the cookies without making the same mistakes.  I invited my kids and then my husband to come in the kitchen with me while I did it so I knew I had accountability other than myself.  I needed to talk to my husband anyway - and he was worried about my slipping up the night before and wanting to be supportive, so it worked out well for both of us. 

I'm not perfect - and never will be, but I will continue to succeed because I HAVE TO.  This is a committment I have made to myself and my family.  I will remain healthy.  My kids and husband are willing to live with less (or no) cookies if neccesary, and I am thankful for their support. 

Our mind can be our best defense and our worst enemy.  And for those friends who read this blog and have not had weight loss surgery, that is why those of us who are surgically altered tend to get militant about how we're eating and our routines - because we know that we have tendencies to get out of control, and we've already risked our life to get healthy.  That little bit of sugar made me crave sugar for the next 4 days.  So I won't be sending care packages of cookies to my out of town friends this year because I'm not making as much as I used to.  But I know you love me anyway :) 
 

Bariatric Betty laughs and victories (scale and non-scale)

OK, for everyone who needs a laugh... My "shrinkles" (wrinkles of excess skin) continue to be amusing.  Most recently I found out that when you have goosebumps on top of shrinkles, it can look really bizarre.  Note to the non-WLS patient readers - we get cold, a lot.  Imagine that you had lived most of your life wearing multiple wool sweaters in all weather, and then suddenly they were taken off.  Our thermostat is out of whack, so we tend to get cold easily (and stay cold a long time) just like the elderly.  Anyway, catching site of myself naked while chilled led me to an instant one-phrase description: Pink Seersucker!  That's what my skin looked like.  I was amused enough to consider taking a picture - but not crazy enough to do it.  Pseudonym or not, I don't want naked pictures online!  So after googling pink seersucker online, here's my best representation of what "shrinkled" goose-bumped skin looks like:

The only thing I would add is that the goosebumps appear about 4 times larger than they do on normal skin - I think mostly because the skin is so loose.  It looked a cross between goosebumps and hives!  

During my stall, I've kept looking for NSV's.  The most recent one was I went through the last of the clothes that I purchased 6 months ago (at 5 weeks post-op) at our school district's sale (Budget Bin).  On the last day of the sale, you can purchase a bag for $5, and then fill it with anything!  I chose to buy a lot of clothes that way, since I was still a size 16 in pants, and 2x/1x in tops.   Everything was just on faith that I might fit into them someday.  I got a lot of pants, because I had already discovered during the first 5 weeks of shrinking that while you can wear too-big shirts forever, too-big pants will FALL DOWN.  Of course, it is flattering and emotionally strengthening to wear correct sizes, but during the rapid weight loss phase, you simply can't affort to keep buying new clothes.  So, I got a lot of 14s and 12s, some 10s, and 1 pair of size 8 and one pair of size 6 pants.  I really never expected to go below a size 10.  When I was starving myself to be skinny in high school I wore a size 10 at 112 pounds.  Since I know that wasn't a healthy weight, I knew I would never be that small again, but then there is vanity sizing. 

A size 10 now isn't a size 10 from 25 years ago.  Talking with some neighborhood moms has reinforced my estimation that you can weigh 30-40 pounds more (plus have given birth to children - that means wider hip bones, people) and still fit in the "same size" you used to.   So when I got down to a size 10 I was surprised and pleased, but I knew that it's also a lie they sell us.  Then a little while ago I blogged that I bought some size 8 jeans.  They actually fit.  That was unexpected for me -although not for my mentor Jojo, who has been telling me I would fit in a size 8 or smaller since I was pre-op.  She's smirking right now and thinking "I TOLD you so!".  I had only gotten the size 8 and 6 pairs of pants because they were "free" since I had extra room in my bag, and from upscale shops.  So here's the NSV - the other morning I was getting ready for work and realized the the jeans I was putting on were stained, and everything else that fit was in the laundry already.  I dug through my drawers and found the Size 6 Ann Taylor khakis and thought "Why not try them?" and they FIT.  Well, they fit around my waist and hips - they weren't petite so I had to wear boots with heels so I didn't trip (note to self- never again wear heels to work, walking constantly for 2 1/2 hours in heels is PAINFUL).  Now for the reality check - I also just tried on a 10 petite pair of jeans that I found in the same drawer which I had missed before and other than being highly unflattering - they were snug around my waist.  But still - I'll take the NSV - I fit into a size 6 pant!

The stall has broken!  My second longer stall (about 4 weeks) and the scale started moving again.  This wasn't as hard for me as you might think.  I'm very happy with my success so far, and when the first big stall happened and I started to wonder if I was at the end of my weight loss - and then I came to the conclusion that if it was, I was OK with that.  No longer diabetic, no longer morbidly obese or even obese, able to jog and keep up with my kids... if I was "stuck" there for the rest of my life, how bad would that be?  Totally worth changing my life for.  Four pounds and a month later and I stalled again.  Again, I didn't feel the panic and frustration I felt before surgery during stalls.  Keep working the program, just be happy for where I am... and apparently I'm not done yet!

As of this morning I am under 150 pounds for the first time since college.  This was the most remote possibility I considered in weight loss when I talked about goals with my surgeon.  Despite what BMI charts would lead me to believe, I don't believe I can be a healthy weight below 135.  Being top-heavy with a large chest and broad shoulders, not to mention my excess skin, the range of 113 - 141 for "normal" for average people people my height doesn't translate well.  So I had talked about wanting to get down into the 160's, that I would be thrilled to be in the 150's and I guess the lightest I could imagine being happy and healthy at was the 140's.  And now I'm there.  Whoa. 

So I'm not even 8 months out and I've lost about 95 pounds.  I don't think I need to lose any more (although my vanity would like to be able to say "I lost 100 pounds!").  I would like to exchange some more fat for muscle (around my abdomen, where I have always carried the most fat) - but wouldn't everyone?  We don't get to choose where our fat comes off.  My non-existant rear-end has thinned out further, and my legs which always were one of my best features have enough excess skin hanging on them that when I lift my leg up while laying down, it looks like one of those drippy-candles my mom used to have in old wine bottles.

You know, with the excess wax pooling around in layers at the bottom!  It's weird.  I have the bat wings under my arms, too.  All of this I consider battle scars and a strange source of pride - although I have taken effort to learn how to display the best part of my evolving body.  I will wear sleeveless shirts and dresses, but will keep my arms down and in close to my body most of the time - especially if there are pictures.  I'm most comfortable wearing a swimsuit with a skirt to hid the excess skin folds around my rear.  My chest is actually decreasing in size (YAY!!!) - although with the amount of skin I have it still fills a "D" cup easily.  If I ever have plastic surgery it will be a long-dreamed-of breast reduction - although I now wonder if the excess skin was removed how much additional reducing would be needed.  This is a bonus - even at that too-skinny stage in high school I was a 32DD.  I don't know why my body has decided to let go of some of the volume there now, but I'm not complaining!  So much has changed about my life; my body and health, getting a job, and how I can participate in more things with my friends and family.  But inside I'm still the same person, I just enjoy my life a lot more.
 

Bariatric Betty has an attitude

It's all in the attitude.  How you interpret what happens around you, when you hear bad news, when you hear about something wonderful that someone has done...  Your personal take on everything is shaped by your attitude.

I'm praying for all the families and friends of the victims in Aurora, Colorado.  I'm praying for the family of the shooter.  And while I cringe in horror at the unspeakable violence, I give thanks that more didn't die.  It seems amazing to me that with 70 people shot, the fact that the deaths were limited to 12 very loved people is close to miraculous.  I think about the girl who wasn't injured but stayed in the theater instead of escaping so she could keep pressure on the neck wound of her friend, or the boy who died shielding his girlfriend and I find inspiration.

Does this mean I find the silver lining in everything?  No.  Am I always positive?  Definitely not.  But I try to make a concious choice to react in a positive way as much as I can. 

This morning I was getting ready for couch-2-5-k training, getting ready to finally start week 5 after delaying it in hopes that my sons would catch up.  The thought of jogging 3 5minute 1/2 miles with 3 minute walks in between was stressing me out a bit, and I was nervous on how I would handle it.  I had told the kids that they should jog as long as they could and then walk for a while.  Before we even left for the rec center, my almost 12 year old was complaining.  "I hate training."  "I REALLY hate training days."  "I don't want to train."  "Training is boring."  "It's too hot and humid to train." This last one was funny given that we train inside on an air conditioned track.

Attitude.  You know - I can handle the kids not being able to jog as much as me.  It's disappointing, and I wanted them to be able to run my first race with me, but I'll get over it.  It's more important that they are being active and healthy.  But the attitude...


I repeatedly said "I understand that's how you're feeling, but we're still going.  Please stop complaining."  When we got there, the complaints turned to "Can I do it on the treadmill?  This is so boring.  At least there I can watch TV."  No, start walking the 5 minute warm up.  Immediately he started walking slower and fell behind my 9 year old and I.  I never saw him jog.  He says he did "for a little" before his leg started to hurt. 

I got so frustrated that after I lapped him three time while he was complaining I just tuned him out for the rest of the workout.  When I finished and was tired and sweaty he started making excuses while simultaneously complaining some more.  I told him I didn't want to hear it.  That I would talk to him later, but that if I talked to him right now I was going to yell at him, and I didn't want to yell at him.

How do kids learn that it is the hardest things that bring the most satisfaction when you accomplish your goal?  How do they learn to stick it out, to push themselves, and to not be afraid to fail?  I can tell them to do stuff, I can show them by example, I can cheer them on and express disappointment or give them consequences if they bail.  But how do you get them to start making that choice to endure, to grow, and to surpass themselves?  Whatever the key is, I haven't found it yet. 

I'm going to try to talk to him about it shortly, now that I've had a shower and lunch.  He has dreams that on various days include the NFL, being a computer game designer, a chef, and a police officer.  No matter what your dreams are, to succeed in life you have to keep going when you're bored, or frustrated, or unhappy.  He did Tai Kwan Do for 5 years and earned his black belt when he was 9.  That was when we could drag him to practices and tell him that he HAD to do his best, and he would.  That last year as he tested and prepared for his black belt I thought he got it.  At least for Tai Kwan Do.  I hoped that would carry over into the rest of his life.

I don't need either of my kids to be gold medalists, millionaires, or elected to an office to feel I've succeeded as a parent.  I need them to be able to take care of themselves, work hard, do their best and be able to feel proud of their accomplishments without needing external rewards.  There's a lot of room to grow here.
Since we left the rec he has been making an effort to be helpful and respectful.  He knows he's in trouble.  I hope I can impart more wisdom than anger.  And then he will be helping me with chores for the rest of the day.  After making my morning harder than it needs to be, he can help make my afternoon and evening easier.