Learnings in Life

Adulting is humbling.

Parenting is humbling.

Life is humbling.

My journey has been humbling.

Despite having what many would describe as a “great life”, I still have felt humiliated, embarrassed, and downright stupid during my 42 years on this planet. Now anyone who knows me (or thinks they do by following the ridiculous amount of social media posts I put out there) is also acutely aware that I’m overly proud at times, vain for sure, perhaps a titch egotistical now and again. But I look in the mirror. I look at the real me. I see what I like. I see what I don’t like. I never avoid mirrors. So I like to think, I balance out the highs and the lows. I actually SEE the highs and lows. I actually share the highs and the lows.

But those lows.

Those moments when you have to think to yourself:

“What the F was I thinking?”

“How am I going to explain this one to my friends? Family? Parents?”

“What in the world am I doing wrong as a mom, that would make my child do _____(fill in the blank with something horribly embarrassing)?”

And despite the many life wins, and precious moments you want to put in a frame and protect from any type of tarnishing… those damn lows are so powerful!

I’ve found that trotting along this long, crumbly, broken-path, and then sometimes having to sprint over the repeated and unexpected obstacles, gets easier when we remove our masks. I once heard this quote at a momma-conference: “You build walls by only sharing your successes, you build bridges by also sharing your failures.” So I’m about to share with you my biggest failures in life. I feel like I am transparent most of the time in my posts and/or human interactions… with my sloppy parenting techniques, my shoddy weight loss efforts, and my repeated relationship stumbles. But I’d like to share more, which will then also release more weight from my tired shoulders. Kind of a “help me, help you” kinda deal.

The most common example of “failure-sharing” that I’ve observed on social media is the before/after pics. People who share those are saying to everyone, “Let me show you my worst.” Now often they show it while also offering their best, which is an attempt to motivate themselves and others that THERE IS IN FACT A WAY to get to the finish-line. but honestly, people who do that are tough. They are humble. They are offering their broken-path-lessons to you all. You should thank them.

So, anywho… onto my humbling moments. Those moments I would’ve preferred never sharing with another human. Those that can still make me cry, make me blush, make me second–guess my character. Some are at the hand of my own poor decision-making, some are just a plot-twist from life where you truly learn your own strength. My most humbling moments:

1) My divorce. Hands down the most embarrassing moment of my life. I’ve explained why many times … see my previous blog on it if you haven’t read it. But essentially, I barely survived that marriage. I had no idea that the divorce would be harder to overcome. He was entirely too young and immature for me. I was a dick and jumped out of the window of our burning marriage as soon as I possibly could gather the strength. End of story.

2) My Academy experience. Again, wrote a previous blog on it. I lost myself for years there… I had behavior and decision-making skills back then, I can’t (and don’t want to) recognize now. I loved the Coast Guard, I loved being part of such an amazing service, but damn… those Academy years almost did me in.

3) My Parenting-abilities. My children are my world. I would give my life right now for either child, but I know I’ve made many mistakes in raising them thus far. I do not have any sort of child-rearing education or experience. I truly don’t know what I’m doing. So my kids act out. They say things they shouldn’t. They do things they shouldn’t. It’s horrifying at times. And sadly, I have babysitters, teachers, friends, family, strangers, etc., inform on my children’s bad behavior over and over. Telling me stuff they’ve done (hitting, biting, stealing, cussing, fighting, kicking, blah, blah, blah) where I want to hide under a stone. I want to disappear. I don’t know how to fix their issues, but I know how to love them. Everyone is so quick to see their blemishes… how they inconvenience people with their mishaps and bad behavior. The whole world is missing my baby-girls’ inner glows. Their power. But I have to parent. I have to correct the problems. So after the yellings, the time-outs, the punishments… I hold them tight trying to fill them with love by osmosis😂 Hoping they know they are my most important parts of life.

4) My father-in-law’s passing. Big surprise, I’ve written a previous blog about this—apparently writing is my therapy for all painful moments in life. I think this one knocked me out for a longer (and harder) than I expected because I didn’t realize how much he was holding my little family together. He was our support system. He was our rock. He was our friend. Way too soon & way too unexpected. Damn-near cracked me and my family in half.

5) The Sibling-Spousal Effect. I had no concept of this being any sort of issue as a child. I thought my brother and sister would always be my closest friends and confidants as we grew up. The impacts of all of our spouses joining the family, and then later on departing our family, affected how our family functioned. Clearly, every grown adult understands that once you are married, your closest friend will become your spouse. It took me a long time to recognize that, and adjust my behavior accordingly. That was humbling.

6) The Big Bad Boss. I was an officer in the military and an operational leader in a manufacturing plant for a total of 20 years. Those roles require certain types of leadership. Every mission is urgent, every deadline is critical, you cannot be meek and survive. You need to make shit happen fast, or you will be passed over or demoted, or even worse—your crew or team would lose faith in your abilities to turn the ship around. So I lived that part—the big, bad, boss. I honestly, loved that part. I loved changing results quickly and building relationships/capability in teams and feeling the camaraderie. But… I was the boss. The boss who had to fire a lot of people. The boss who had to have very straight-forward, sometimes not-so-nice, chats with hundreds of people. It was my job, and I knew how to do it. I like to think I made some amazing relationships with some phenomenal people that I got the pleasure of leading along the way. But the hard part, or humbling part, was that some people on the other side of the table from me hated me. Some hated me for what discipline I had to administer on them. Some hated me for my position-power. Some hated me for disciplining their friends. Some hated me for what they heard I might’ve done… sometime… a few years back… maybe. Some of my peers hated me for moving up faster than them. But, the point is, I have some serious haters out there. For example, one extra-angry-hater, posted a happy post on FB and congratulated the technicians at the plant the moment I announced that I was leaving and changing careers last year. That’s scary-humbling. Try telling your proud parents that one over Christmas dinner.

So there you have it. Me, warts and all. I am not as good as I want to be. But I am a person I love, and a constant project of self-improvement. Most importantly, I am light-years ahead of those folks out there who avoid mirrors.

Time to take a long gaze.

Bernie had so many unexpected and interesting layers to him. All of these layers made him an amazing, interesting, loving, and compassionate human to have as a friend. So, I want to tell you about my perspective of Bernie’s many layers…at least the layers I got to see in the 9 years I knew him.

Bernie was a grouch.

I mean, he could be a crabby old man. He’d shake his head and mumble under his breath at me all the time.

Especially, when he’d see me do something he didn’t understand, like when I used to dress up my dogs for holidays, or when I’d spray Redi-whip directly into my mouth like a 2-year-old.

He really didn’t understand when I bought jeans with holes in them. He’d see me in some distressed jeans, and say, “Looks like you need some new jeans, girl?” That’s when I’d say, “Well these are brand new, Bernie… I paid extra for those holes.” And he’d say, “Well, heck if you were looking for jeans with holes, I coulda just given you a pair of my old jeans for free.” Then he’d walk away shaking his head at me.

And man would he get irritated and give me a hard time for spending too much money or for having yard sale after yard sale? He’d say, “Well, here we go again…why you givin’ this stuff away…just to buy more, I guess?”

In other words, this crabby old man often didn’t understand me… I think I seriously confused him at times.

Bernie was a patient & loving Paca.

For those who don’t know, Bernie got his nickname “Paca” from my 5-year-old Charleigh. When she was little he started to realize that she was always digging into his pocket on his t-shirt, pulling out his can of dip. So, once he knew she would always check that pocket, he started putting things that she loved in there…. like honey-roasted peanuts or candy. So, she started calling him “Pocket” …or at that time it came out as “Paca” …and so that name just stuck.

My girls loved this man.  I truly believe that they saw him more as a childhood buddy, than as an adult.

I saw Bernie diaper baby dolls, get make-up applied to his face, get his hair styled, and sit on the ground for hours playing Barbie.

He’d push the girls on swings, read them books, and put worms on their hooks for hours on end.

He’d practice flash cards constantly,

Help them complete puzzle after puzzle,

Play Candy Land (and let them cheat) time after time,

Play Old Maid over and over… and over.

He never once said no to the girls asking him to play…. well, except getting in the water. I never once saw that man swim. But all other activities were fair game. Anything for his girls.

And he never left the girls without a goodbye kiss, or as he would say, “A smacker”. He’d say, “Girls let me have a smacker before I get outta here.” And then they’d run at full speed straight for his poor old knees to go get one.

Bernie was a tender-heart.

You wouldn’t guess it, but I watched him tear up so many times:

At our wedding,

When I first told him we were pregnant,

When he first saw Charleigh,

When he first saw Chayce.

When I was pregnant with Charleigh, and the doc said we were likely going to have to have an emergency C section and deliver her at 24 weeks, with all sorts of scary birth defects, Bern was there. He stayed and sobbed along with us that day.

Bernie was a helper, meaning he was our tribe.

When I was stuck in the hospital for 3 months on bedrest, right after we bought a new home that needed a lot of work, Bernie spent every day there helping Kevin get it ready. He painted every door and all the trim in the house. He helped paint all the walls. He helped out anywhere he was needed on that home. Making sure that it was ready for me and Charleigh to come home to…

And he babysat. I mean, this old man was a trooper. The first time we trusted him to watch Charleigh alone, she was a few weeks old. Changing diapers for the first time in his life and jumping in with both feet to help. I remember him blushing when we told him he mistakenly put formula on Charleigh’s private area instead of baby powder; shook his confidence for a second on that one.

But from there, he was our go-to babysitter.

Baby’s sick at daycare? Call Bernie.

Babysitter’s sick? Call Bernie.

Need a date night? Call Bernie.

There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for us.

Bernie was a loving coach.

 He never pushed his opinions on us… just watched and laughed … or shook his head and said “I have no idea”… He never wanted to impose or be a burden. You could tell it was so important to him that he helped us grow as a family, by helping where he could to make any part of our life easier.

There was one time before we had kids, where Kevin and I had a pretty good (pretty stupid) fight. I went to Bernie for advice. He listened without judging, gently reassured me that this was normal and that we’d be ok, and then he went to help his son through the argument.

I could tell from any advice or involvement from him, that his own journey had slowly changed his perspective on life, and that he understood what mattered most in life now.

Bernie was stubborn.

I was in a unique position to watch my husband, Brian, and his father grow older together. With Momma-Spahr already in heaven, the Spahr family was run by these three very similar, very tall, very crotchety, stubborn Spahr men. And it was entertaining to watch how they managed leading their pack. They were not good communicators. Better stated—-they were horrible communicators. They grumbled at each other constantly but jumped at the chance to help each other out a couple times each week.

We bought Bernie a cell phone, because he spent a lot of time alone and in the woods and with the girls, so we wanted to be able to get ahold of him if we needed to. But because he was stubborn, he seldom carried that darn thing. And every few weeks, I’d hear Brian and Kevin on the phone with each other because Bernie hadn’t answered one of their calls…”Did you hear from him? No. Did you? No. K, I’m driving out there to check on him, then.”

We asked him to go to Destin with us every year, but he never would go. Said the ocean wasn’t his thing. He didn’t want to be a burden. Stubborn.

We’d constantly ask him to stay for dinner, he almost never would…didn’t want to impose. We “smartened up” and learned to get the girls to ask him to stay, and every blue moon or so we’d win that battle. Stubborn.

With his shoulder surgery causing stress in his life, I sat down with him a month or so ago and asked him to move in with us, that we would love to have him, that the girls would especially love to have him. He said, “Lindsey, that ain’t my bag.” Stubborn.

He had a vision of his life, and that is how he lived it. No one could tell him where to steer his ship. He controlled the speed and the helm.

Bernie was my friend.

During my 3 months of hospitalized bedrest, he visited me at least weekly, usually twice a week, just to sit and chat and keep me company. He was a lifeline for me during that time.

And then later on during my maternity leave times, I think Kevin thought it was funny, that he’d often find me on sunny afternoons out at Bernie’s, in his driveway in a folding chair, just chatting about life while the girls played in the yard. We’d sit there and talk about his sons, his garden, the girls, when I was going back to work, and where the fish were biting.

Sometimes he’d say, “Linds, you wanna beer?”, which I knew really meant that he wanted a beer. So, I’d happily accept, and we’d sit there sipping on Natty in his drive. So peaceful, natural, and calm.

I honestly just really enjoyed spending time with Bernie.

Whether we were fishing together,

Or having country-like fun out on his property

Like mushroom-hunting, squirrel-hunting, frog-gigging, or four-wheeling,

Or if I’d dragged him to the zoo with us for the millionth time,

(which I think he might’ve secretly despised),

He was just our buddy and we always had a ton of fun with him.

Bernie will always be part of our hearts.

So, although this crabby old man never really understood me….

I know he loved me.

And I loved him, dearly.

My girls loved him, fiercely.

And it goes without saying that his boys loved him, unconditionally.

Bernie will be missed.

Bernie, I’m really going to miss you.

I’ll miss hearing you call a couple times a week to ask if you can come over to see the girls.

I’ll miss hearing your distinct knock on the front door, seeing your shape through the front glass, and hearing the girls yell, “Paca’s here!”

I’ll miss how your face crinkled up when you laughed. You had a great laugh.

I’ll miss going on fishing trips with you, Kevin, & the girls.

I’ll miss being on those fishing trips, and hearing you talking in your sleep in the middle of the night.

I’ll miss sitting by you on your driveway drinking beer and just talking to you about life.

I’ll miss watching you play with the girls.

I’ll miss hearing you get bossed around by the girls, and then watching you happily follow their orders.

I’ll miss having you as part of our Christmas mornings.

I’ll miss coming home from church to see your van in our drive.

I’ll miss you always saying, “Here Linds, let me carry that for you.”

I’ll miss you calling to check on the girls when you heard they were sick.

I’ll miss you being our first trick-or-treating stop for the girls.

I’ll miss Kevin having to yell and repeat himself all the time, because you were hard of hearing.

I’ll miss watching the sweet and loving bond between you and the girls.

I’ll miss going to the World’s Fair with you each year, and seeing the girls fight over who got to sit on your lap during the parade.

I’ll miss going to your house and sending the girls in first to wake you, because you liked to nap in your undies.

I’ll miss how when we visited you at your house, you’d always grab a lawn chair and set it up for me, and then do the same for yourself…. just a simple gesture showing your kindness, and your interest in us sitting, chatting, and staying awhile.

I’ll miss having a good friend that I could call and talk to anytime, could ask any favor from, and could pop in at your home without warning knowing I would be genuinely welcomed.

Quite simply, I’ll miss my friend.

Bernie will never be forgotten.

Every maroon van we see, we’ll think of you.

Every Natty Light we drink, we’ll think of you.

Every gray-haired man we see on a tractor, we’ll think of you.

Every man in camo rubber boots that we see, we’ll think of you.

Every time we hear phrases you used, we’ll think of you. Phrases like: “Give me a smacker”, “Hey, shug”, “I have no idea”, “I have no clue”, “Whatever floats your boat”, “Is that so?”

Every grandpa we see holding a baby doll, a pink bow, or a little girl’s hand, we’ll think of you…

And we’ll smile.

Please rest in peace, Bern, knowing that your memory will stay strong in our hearts,

Not at all defined by your death,

But instead defined solely by all of these countless beautiful life moments

That we feel so lucky to have been a part of with you.

 

We love you with all of our hearts, Lindsey

I was THAT kid. The kid who was scared of roller coasters. I bet I didn’t build up enough courage to finally ride one until I was 15 years old. And when you grow up in a little town, solely on the map because Six Flags resides there, the situation of being afraid of roller coasters can come up more than you would think.

I distinctly remember one occasion where I was trying to be brave when my older cousins took me and my older brother to Six Flags for the day. They were in high school and driving, while I was tripping my way through life in 5th grade just trying to learn how to multiply & divide. So, needless to say I was trying to show these girls (whom I looked up to with rose-colored glasses) that I could hang like a teeny-bopper. Now, my brother at that age was truly fearless— riding horses bareback with his hands up in the air, speed on any mode of transportation just wasn’t ever fast enough for him, and there wasn’t a wild animal he couldn’t catch with his bare, little hands (well, small bird- or rodent-like wild animals, anyway). I wanted so badly to be fearless like him. But after waiting in line for the Ninja (aka, at that time, the craziest, fastest, upside-down-looping-est coaster we’d ever seen) for an hour or so with my very cool teenage cousins, I did the unthinkable. Instead of sitting down in my specific seat as I entered the ride, I walked straight through and got out onto the exiting platform. I looked back at my cousins and brother, and they all gave me a look. Well, my brother gave me the, “You are such a little baby, why did we bring you?”-look. My sweet cousins gave me the, “Are you sure honey?… you’re gonna miss out on all the fun!”-look. I skittishly turned on my heel, and slinked my way to the bottom of the hill, to wait for the group to exit the ride shrilling with energy and laughter. And that’s exactly what happened. When my cousins saw me, they gave me a look of pity…. I could read their minds… “oh sweetheart, you would’ve had so much fun….” They didn’t say it though. And I could tell they would’ve loved to ride it again and again, but my cousins didn’t want to leave me sad at the bottom of the hill. So we moved on… to the carousel:) my fave! But I could tell how bummed the whole group was with this “boring” outcome, all because I lacked bravery.

I would love to say that was the only life lesson on fear that I had to encounter, but you all know how our journeys continue. There was many missed chances: solos, dances, dates, speeches, auditions, team tryouts, etc. However, I think each instance of being cowardly or insecure, resulting in me missing out on something amazing, slowly started to mold the human I was becoming—-starting with that embarrassing day at Six Flags.

A lot of my metamorphosis was due to my folks. They encouraged me, they gave me pep talks, and made me feel like there was truly nothing I COULD. NOT. DO. My mom was (and still is) completely in tune with my head— she knew how I always freaked out during the first month of anything new that I tried (a new grade, a new class, a new sport/hobby), and that I’d undoubtedly come home sobbing & second-guessing my bravery. She’d remind me of my strength, that I was just starting out, and that I just needed to breathe. The next day was always better.

And I started to notice a difference. My friends would start making comments to me like, “Oh there is no way I could try out for that choir, that’s too embarrassing…” or “Aren’t you afraid of who will see you do that?” And that was when I realized I had a strong sense of bravery. That’s not supposed to sound cocky either—I’m not THE bravest person. But I have found out through life that I am brave.

I want to be clear on some definitions. I am NOT fearless. I have many, many fears, and insecurities. But I try to face as many as I can possibly withstand— what I would define as bravery. I will do things that scare me, I will say things people are afraid to say, I will address issues where someone is afraid to speak, I will walk away from unhealthy relationships, I will ask questions people are afraid to ask, and I will put myself in situation after situation where my hands are physically shaking. Now, my haters may use other words for some of my bravery: vain, self-centered, big-mouthed, assertive, confrontational. But because I’ve become someone who walks into my fear, I can proudly say I’ve experienced so many amazing aspects in life that I would’ve missed out on had I been that girl on that roller coaster platform. I’ve seen the world, I’ve met amazing and crazy people, I’ve lived all over the US by myself, I’ve given training/speeches in front of 100+ crowds, I’ve experienced amazing love, I’ve had mind-blowing “relations”, I’ve ran amazing marathons in Canada/US, I’ve tried out for the Voice, I’ve written blogs, I’ve written songs, I’ve written books, I’ve put my fat arse on camera/social media/on stage for people to critique & judge, I’ve walked away from good-paying safe jobs for a risk, I’ve walked away from a lifeless marriage for hope, I’ve played & recorded my own music and put it on YouTube for others to view and critique, I’ve stood in front of 200+ people and read my poems or sang my songs for the ones I loved. I’ve done some scary shit. Some amazing shit. Some epic shit.

Now, before you think my head is insanely-gigantic, most of those items I listed didn’t last, ended in failure, or I still enjoy to this day but just suck at (for lack of better words). The important thing for people to hear, is despite the result, every one of those things felt AMAZING. I felt like I had wings after experiencing each. Truly lifted and inspired and motivated to keep flying.

Now here I am in my 40s, just recently switched careers from a very safe-strong-company in search of something better. Hoping for something more aligned with my soul and my purpose. I felt a glimmer of hope, when I read the company motto on my first day—-“Do Epic Shit.” My jaw almost hit the desk. Could I have found my tribe? I found out later that day, that the CEO encourages risks, and actually rewards “the biggest mistake”. This sounds fearless.

Yesterday, one month into the job, I was sent to “Purpose & Passion” Training. The HR leader opened the meeting explaining how this is truly a gift from the company, where we will spend the entire day self-reflecting on our lives thus far. He clarified that this day, if we put our energy into it, could help us uncover why we were born. Some folks reading this may roll their eyes right now, thinking it sounds hokey. But I love self-reflection, so I was all-in.

I’ve always wished I understood my purpose in life, as I’ve always been someone that loves so many left-brain hobbies (writing, singing, music), with a career that is primarily right-brained. Or to say it another way, I always felt passionate and fulfilled when I was creating something artistic (writing/music/dance), whereas at work I honed the non-artistic skills I needed to be financially successful. I felt a bit like Jekyll & Hyde between work and home, with no real vision on how to completely cross contaminate the two worlds, and actually make a living. However, I did find a few ways to engage my left-brain at work: I learned to use creative problem-solving for root cause analysis, I developed unique team systems to drive/encourage my teammates, and I wrote lots of farewell odes to people transferring out of our location… but I wanted more. Honestly, I knew it was time to leave my last big corporate job, when the company had determined it was best for results to prescribe very detailed standards on how to do all aspects of your job (so that anyone could easily know how to do any job). Unfortunately for me, that eliminated any left brain creativity, so instead of feeling enlightened & fulfilled, I felt like a robot. So, anywho, back to the Purpose & Passion Training—-I started the day praying that I’d find a way to use my passionate left-brain at work and that those passions would become an overwhelming force for my purpose in life.

So, we spent the day talking through our core values, our learned values, our natural gifts. All intriguing and moving memories to sort through. At one point we were asked to discuss one of our many peak experiences in life (where time stands still and we are truly fulfilled). There are so many but I chose the feeling I had at my sister’s wedding when I read her my toast. It was a doctor-suessy-kinda-rhymed poem and it was meant to make everyone laugh and cry. I had effortlessly written it in 30 minutes because that is one of my natural gifts, and then tweaked it & practiced it for months, making sure I had the cadence down perfectly. The peak moment was actually when I delivered the toast. The reason it was a peak moment for me: (1) I got to share my love for my sis/brother-in-law in a public way, hopefully making them feel more loved as they recognized the effort it took and the fear in my voice, (2) I got to use a natural gift I have for writing, (3) I got to artistically create something, (4) I got to walk into one of those fearful moments, & (5) I immediately recognized that people appreciated my gift from all the laughter, tears, and applause. I sat down, hands shaking, as I finished the last of my beer. I felt like I was flying.

So when we had to close out the Purpose & Passion Training by writing our own Purpose & Passion statements. I pulled from all the cool experiences we had dug through all day. The leader, Cindy, was amazing, coaching me through the right words and right tone, pulling out of my heart what I was scared to see. And when I finished I was amazed at the experience.

I feel like I now understand what my purpose in life is.

At the end of the day, we stood in a circle and read our Purpose & Passion statements out loud. When we started the meeting, the HR leader read his passion statement—2 or 3 words that can immediately pull him into his most powerful energy/mindset/peak moment. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else (i.e. one person’s was “Bacon & Eggs”), as long as it brings you into your most fulfilled mindset. These 2 words are used to open every single meeting at my company—you say, for example, “I am Bacon & Eggs” at the start of each and every meeting to show you are clearheaded and ready to focus on the topic at hand.

Then he read his purpose statement; there’s a format for this piece—who you are, how/what you want to do for yourself and others, and why. These statements we post in our offices. They should be a reminder of why we are here on earth, our true north, our compass.

Without further ado, here is my Purpose & Passion statements—

Passion: I am Fearless Lyrics

Purpose: With optimistic courage and passionate motivation, I inspire myself & others to creatively use our minds & differences to sprint over life’s hurdles, so that we may joyously share our fearless lyrics in the spotlight of life.

Essentially, I want everyone I love and work with to find a way to use their creative differences to better the world. To not back down from their fears, scary situations, or uncomfortable positions. To find their own fearless lyrics to show the world their greatness.

I feel blessed to have experienced this training, and so encouraged to be part of this amazing company.

But to be clear, I still prefer the damn carousel.

23 years ago tomorrow, I experienced one of those embarrassing snot-cry moments in life. I was 18 years old, freshly graduated from Eureka High as a cocky-senior, and boarding a flight headed to Connecticut. Just before getting on the plane, I looked back up the gangway towards my family & waved. I was sobbing, they were sobbing, it was exhausting. At one point I wasn’t sure I could physically make myself move forward. I was so ridiculous, that the flight attendant, with a worried half-smile, brought by a box of Kleenex for me, and gave me a little pat on the shoulder.

When we landed, a random sponsor family picked me up at the airport and kept me at their house for the night. They tried to make it peaceful evening, but my anxiety was so high about what was coming the next day that it felt like I was in a fog. Early the next morning they dropped this very naive girl with perfectly-poofy hair, a new outfit, bright lipstick, brand-new luggage & a huge smile off at the US Coast Guard Academy for Reporting-In Day. As I walked through the arch of Chase Hall and into the quad, I embarked on the first chapter of my adult life. Within the first hour, I was put in an unflattering uniform, my make-up was sweated/washed off, my luggage was tossed in the attic (never to be used during my cadet career), and my smile was replaced with a fear-filled quiver.

Over the next 4 years, I learned so much about who I was, who I wasn’t, who I could trust, who I admired, and who I wanted to become.

There were cool times/experiences I got because of attending the Academy, like all the different countries I got to visit, sailing the CGC Eagle across the Atlantic Ocean to Ireland, learning to navigate celestially, using one of the most advanced visual simulators to learn how to drive a ship, getting to indoctrinate new cadets as a junior, and learning to shoot a gun/use pepper spray/defend yourself.

However, there were really, really hard times, where I was (regularly) screamed at in public by upperclassmen where their spit was landing on my face, had my room turned upside down because it wasn’t to standard, experienced a few sexual harassment-type encounters, and felt so alone and homesick that I would cry myself to sleep for months on end.

And of course, there were a lot of physical difficulties…like long group runs in dress shoes, obstacle courses where I’d inevitably burn the skin off of my shins on the ropes, and a semi-annual challenging fitness test.

The part that surprised me the most about the Academy was how mentally-challenging it was. For example, I graduated high school with well over a 4.0 gpa, and yet struggled to hit a 3.0 at CGA. But beyond the difficult academic requirements, I found the mental challenge of peer competition the hardest. Truth be told, although my first few years started out strong & somewhat motivating at the Academy, my last few years were filled with lots of restrictions, demerits, and worry about whether I’d survive ‘till graduation. Sadly, many of the times I got in trouble, my classmates had turned me in for breaking a rule. We were ranked against each other, and every time I got in trouble my ranking dropped. That ranking was the key to your first assignment after graduation, so it was a big thing. Don’t get me wrong, I made the mistakes, I made the choices to break (quite a few) rules, so I own the result. But it’s one thing to have leadership catch you misbehaving—-it’s a totally different thing to have your peers turn you in. Even after all these years that was the biggest spirit-breaking part of my experience at USCGA.

So, although, I cannot look back at all of my Academy years with fond memories and a smile, I do know that I made some of the best friends and closest connections I will ever make in life. I learned a lot of hard life lessons really quickly by being “on my own” at 18. There’s something about having to make adult decisions so far from your parents, and then stand on your own 2 feet when those decisions have consequences. Looking back now, I know there were 5 things that helped me survive being a cadet at a military academy:

1. Amazing friends-I had a good handful of really close friends who could see me as just me…the mess of a young adult I was, trying to limp my way along into my own life path… and not judge me. Rachel, Mclauf, Kate, Sarah, Jo, Beatty, Marie, and Beeg were my closest buds and I would’ve never lasted there w/o them & their shenanigans.

2. Prayer -Before every meal, we would get a moment of silence… which in the early days of my cadet-career, was the only “safe” time in the day where you weren’t screamed at for screwing up. And from day 1, I would say the same prayer over and over at every meal, “Dear God, thank you for your strength & guidance.”

3. Sports/Activities- I didn’t earn a ton of accolades at the Academy, but I did earn, “The Female Cadet Who Participated the Most in Sports.” It didn’t take me long to realize that escaping the barracks for sports and activities would help me stay sane. So, I joined indoor/outdoor track, cross country, Glee Club, I even taught dance, and worked as a football manager one season when I was injured. I’m proud to say I even still have 1 record on the wall for triple jump. But hands down, these sports kept me sane.

4. My family/friends—I look back at the trips my family and friends took during that time to visit me, and all the care packages they sent, and I realize how blessed I was/I am. This was before cell phones, and therefore, I spent more money than I actually made calling home on a pay phone to cry on my momma’s shoulder.

5. Rules—-break them enough to stay sane, but not too much that you end up kicked out!

Once I graduated, I told myself I would never wish time away again. And as I left the Academy for my first unit, CGC SENECA out of Boston, I truly found a passion for my career while I served my country as a Commissioned Officer in the greatest branch of the military. The Coast Guard has the best people, the best missions, and in most cases the best station locations! I could (and probably will) write an entire blog one day on my experience in the Coast Guard after the Academy.

Until then, God Bless the Coast Guard!

I want to preface this blog by saying I am no professional. 

I absolutely do NOT consider myself an expert in this subject. 

I am not selling anything. 

I am just a regular chick, who has to work at my fitness everyday in order to maintain (or barely improve). 

I am not someone who is naturally thin.

I am not someone who is naturally fit.

I am not puffing out my chest or bragging after just losing a couple lbs—because I know how easily the weight can come and go throughout the course of our lives. 

So, that’s who I am not. Now to cover who I am:

I am a mom of 2.

I am married to a carbaholic.

I am currently transitioning from a part-time worker (3 ten hour days a week) to a full-time worker (at least 5 ten hour days a week).

I am someone who has always been into fitness—in high school/college I was on dance team & track, in post-school years I became a long distance runner & marathoner, & post-twenties I got into fitness competitions. So fitness is (and always has been) a part of my life. Well, that is except for the two separate years I was pregnant (complications had me scared still), and for the 2 years after my last child was born (pure self-indulgence & laziness).

I am currently training for my third fitness competition, but my first since turning 40 in January, and since having children.

I’ve recently posted a few pics of my meal preps, and I’ve had quite a bit of questions and private messages. The most surprising and common response I’ve gotten is, “If I had your willpower, I would totally do a competition”… 

I would not say I have amazing willpower, but I guess what I have that helps me is that I am organized and I am good at doing what I say I will do. So, I want to clear up the misconception that I have any stronger willpower than the next person. My willpower comes from organized discipline.

I’d like to give a few suggestions to any normal person like me who may struggle to maintain weight on how to get the ball rolling on sustainable weight loss.

1. Get yer’ head right- You have to want this….bad. So, how do you know if you’re ready? I know that when I can’t find a high enough angle of selfie to where I look okay, that I’m ready. I know that when my clothes are really tight (or inexplicably short), that I’m ready. I know that when after each gross meal I eat I am too tired to play with my kids, I’m ready. I know that when I am breathing heavy carrying in groceries that I’m ready. I know that when I avoid pools, mirrors, company, events, etc., that I’m ready. So you need to figure out what sign in your life will show you that it is time to commit to a new eating/fitness-habit. No one else can tell you if you are ready. Figure it out, when you’re ready move to #2.

2. Set a BAG & Talk About It- Set a Big Arse Goal. To me this shouldn’t be weight, because numbers on a scale are not a visual-enough-motivator to get behind. How many friends of yours say “I just need to lose 10 lbs”… but they never get there. It’s a boring and painful goal. Instead, choose a fitness goal—a walk, a run, a tri, a 1/2 marathon, a full marathon, a crazy muddy obstacle course…. whatev. Just choose something 6 months out from the next Monday (your start date). The only rule about this BAG is it must be scary (meaning something you cannot do in your current fitness state). Register for it, and then tell everyone you know about it. Share it on Facebook. Talk about it over lunch at work. You want everyone you know cheering you on. And believe me, vanity can help us here, as well. Once you pay & announce, it’s hard to back out—you want that added pressure and accountability.

3. Get a trustworthy fitness buddy- This is a nice-to-have, not a requirement. If the person you choose is not committed, and ends up talking you out of eating right or working out, this is not your buddy. Find a buddy you can trust to push you. This person is the one you will send your before/during/after pics to, your weekly measurements to (bust, waist, hips, thigh), your weight changes to… they are your own Jiminy Cricket. You need someone who can hold you accountable. This person can be Weight Watchers or a trainer, too, if you are short on available fit buds.

4. Get yer’ food right- Learn how to eat right. I don’t care how—doc, trainer, Pinterest, nutritionist, weight-loss company, etc.—just find a menu to eat clean and print it out or save it to your phone.

5. Get Organized— This is your excuse-busting step. Can’t you hear your own excuses already? If not, don’t worry they show up around week 3-4. “I need more sleep.” “I have children, I just don’t have this kind of free time.” “I don’t have anything healthy in the fridge, or ready for dinner.” My personal fav that I always throw out to myself around month 2, “This is ridiculous, no one else has to live so strict… this is no way to live”. You need to be very organized and preemptively strike at your go-to excuses. You need a system to ensure your workout clothes are in the bathroom waiting for you to stumble in sleepy-eyed in the morning. You need a system in place to get you in bed in time to get enough sleep. You need to prep your meals at least once a week, so they can be grabbed and carried out very easily. Meal prepping typically takes me 3-4 hours on Sunday afternoon. You need to have a ton of low-cal snacks, sugar free gum, & zero-cal flavored drinks just laying around your home, desk, & car. Make sure you always are prepared with a cooler for the day so you don’t get somewhere that has no healthy options for you. My desk at work usually has 5-6 different flavored waters, and 2-3 packs of sugarfree gum on it.

6. Get fit- Everyone’s schedule is different, but I highly encourage working out first thing in the am. It can suck, I know. But after awhile you will start to enjoy the routine and the quietness. I personally have to get up at 0330 to leave my house at 0345 every weekday in order to get a 60-70 min cardio/weight-training workout in before my work starts at 6 am. Is that normal? No. But it’s the only way I can guarantee my workout will happen. I started up in March, and haven’t skipped one day. I’m the kind of person, that once I skip something, I get unmotivated and off track. So, I have not let myself miss 1 gym day. Again, find a workout routine through a trainer or the internet or your doctor, and jump on it. 

Watchouts  

1. Just a bite won’t hurt – I promise you one bite will hurt. It may or may not hurt your waistline, but it will definitely affect your commitment. Each little cheat, becomes more frequent and bigger. Just don’t do it. What I have learned from my competitions & my fitness in general as I’ve aged, is food is 80% of the work. The workout is only 20%.  So you have to build a strong defense against all temptations. You need a good lean diet and lots of healthy options around so you won’t lick the brownie batter off your finger. Momma tip: chew gum or brush your teeth if you are preparing different “yummy” food for your kiddos. 

2. Not enough protein- This goes hand in hand with eating right. However, I wanted to point out that I never changed my shape until I started eating enough protein. I could lose weight following low calorie diets, but I would not change my shape. Talk to a trainer about how to get enough lean protein in your diet.

3. Not everyone is your friend- This is a sad reality. Husbands, friends, dads, mothers, sisters, co-workers—they may be there for you, or they may be secretly plotting against you. For example, I know, when I get strict on my diet, my husband eats more ice cream & fried food than normal. I know I have co-workers and friends that will say, “Oh come on, you’ve lost enough, you can have one donut.” I know, I have lots of food-pushing friends & family. These people may or may not even realize what they are doing—but you have to. Realize you are strong, and that you can withstand these types of small temptations. 

I hope this list of ideas & tips helps you on your fitness journey. Good luck!

So, locally, we just had another incident where a breastfeeding mother was asked to cover up at a public pool. She was approached by the (I’m sure) very “mature, educated, & life-experienced” lifeguard—I feel grounded enough to stereotype the poor ‘ole lifeguard because (1) most lifeguards are only in high school, (2) I was a lifeguard throughout high school, & (3) I can confirm that my mind was usually on the hottest guy at the pool. The lifeguard approached this breastfeeding mom and stated something about how she was making other people uncomfortable by not being discreet with her breastfeeding activities, and then asked her to finish up elsewhere. 

This particular mom is now classified lovingly in my book as no Regular-Mom, but instead a Momma-Bear. Momma-Bears can quickly change posture/demeanor when she or her young come under attack. Well, this incident was an attack. Therefore, Momma-Bear lunged into action—well, after she recovered from the initial sting of the lifeguard’s words, and sent a quick zinger back at him. 

She then approached the Manager of the pool. Shockingly and sadly, he proceeded to say something like, “people don’t have a problem changing their child’s diaper on the changing table in the bathroom, so why can’t she feed her child there.” 

So clearly right off the bat we have another company out there that doesn’t understand the law—740 ILCS 137, Section 10, known as the Right to Breastfeed Act, which states, “a mother may breastfeed her baby in any location, public or private, where the mother is otherwise authorized to be, irrespective of whether the nipple of the breast is uncovered or incidental to the breastfeeding.”

I’m not gonna lie, prior to having children, I didn’t think about, talk about, or care about this law. I was raised in a very conservative home—politically and just in modesty-terms. My folks didn’t (and still don’t) walk around naked. Also, my mom was in the baby-making-era where it was more accepted to feed your child with a bottle. So all of us kids were bottle-fed, and quite honestly I always assumed I would do my child-rearing just like my momma. 

My mom is one of those super women you only read about—married her high school sweetheart, delivered all her babies all naturally, had zero pregnancy complications, and just hit 50 years still madly in love with that old fart from high school. So let’s recap where I’ve already differed from my mom so far in raising babies: (1) I had to get married twice to find the right baby-daddy, (2) I got the strongest drugs imaginable to man immediately on both deliveries, & (3) my pregnancies were riddled with complications and scares.

Well on top of all those differences, at some point during my first round of pregnancy classes, I made another decision to go against my conservative-genetic-grain—I decided I would try breastfeeding my kids.

My family would swear I am the most liberal kid out of the bunch—college ruined me. There had been signs of my innate-liberalness, prior to this breastfeeding decision—many questionable decisions for relationships, the comfortability with walking around my house in my birthday suit, my grayness at times in political discussions, etc. But this decision, shocked my family. I mean, I’m the non-hugger. I’m the veteran. I’m the engineer. I’m the “give me my personal space or I will throat punch you”-kinda-chick. Why would I want to attempt this style of feeding my baby?

Well, the answer was simple and clear—it was healthier for my child. I’m not going to go into all the specifics, but a quick description of health-benefits include: 

“Breast milk contains antibodies that help your baby fight off viruses and bacteria. Breastfeeding lowers your baby’s risk of having asthma or allergies. Plus, babies who are breastfed exclusively for the first 6 months, without any formula, have fewer ear infections, respiratory illnesses, and bouts of diarrhea.” (WebMd.com Dec 13, 2015)

So, really to me, there wasn’t a decision to be made—I would be breastfeeding my child.

I was also bound and determined to be a mom that wasn’t controlled by fear or complications. I had already seen my peers, friends, and family be completely homebound and depressed or overly-stressed because some part of being a mom had freaked them out. They were so often stuck at home from fear of not knowing how to logistically exist with an infant at the grocery store or the zoo or at church or on a plane. I swore to myself that I would get out of my comfort zone and do something that scared me regularly.

Now, when I decided to breastfeed, I hadn’t realized I picked the easiest-logistic-type-feeding available. Ya know, no packing bottles or messy/sticky powder containers to worry about. My hoots traveled nicely around with me, everywhere I went—no assembly required. This was an unexpected win for doing the right thing.

And I quickly learned other baby life hacks that my mom had missed out on—like how to don the friggin’-life-saving-moby-wrap (which just became a part of my everyday apparel for 2 straight years), and how to use the very, light, almost-sheer nursing blanket. As a result of learning these simple tricks, I can say I was a very, very, very relaxed mother with infants — don’t worry the toddler-stage is sucking the life out of me, currently, so I’m paying my dues. 

However, there were also difficulties by choosing to breastfeed. First of all, I was effectively the only “bottle” available. So there was that. No help available when it came to feedings, which turned out to be no big deal because it was such a bonding/sweet moment with my girls. Secondly, I quickly learned that people were always way too “helpful” in shooing me into a private location to feed my child. This felt like help for the first week of having a child—then in quickly turned into feeling like I was shunned from society to deal with “womanly-issues”. Lastly, there was pumping. To put it nicely, pumping sucks. I think pumping is the main reason most women avoid breastfeeding or cut it short. It’s messy, it’s a pain to clean up, it’s a time-killer, and it’s definitely uncomfortable—what other liquid in our bodies do we have squeezed/pumped out? It’s the most mammalian-feeling process ever invented. As a result, I almost never pumped. I only pumped if I was away for a trip away from my kids.

So I became a public, covered, breastfeeding mom. I tried to avoid being sent to rooms by “helpful” people. I just threw my little superhero cape on and we were off and running. I truly shocked all of my close-friends and family, at how quickly I could toggle between chatting in a simple conversation to suddenly feeding a small child under a blanket. I weirded my fam out several times, I weirded friends out all the time! But I was covered. I can’t imagine if I hadn’t been covered. 

The funny thing is I thought I was pushing the line by being in public with my little shawl. I thought I was in this new wave of wild, baby-wearing, breastfeeding moms. But I stayed covered and regularly stated how I would never feed in public without being covered up.

Looking back, I think I mainly covered up because (1) I didn’t want any pervs eye-balling my goods, (2) I didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, and (3) I didn’t know at first that it was an option to uncover legally. These reasons are extremely self-absorbed. Is it possible a perv would be in the right position at the right time to try and see the outer-edge of my hoot?—I suppose…very unlikely, but I suppose. I know though if that happened, my “threatening to throat-punch”-side would kick in and the problem would disappear very quickly. In my experience, most people just looked away once they realized what I was doing, whether I was covered or not.  

I can now say, if I got preggo today I would breastfeed in public uncovered because I think we need to send the right message to our children and new, young mothers. The message that feeding our children is natural in any form and should not be restricted in any way. I guarantee certain close friends, members of my family, my husband, and my husband’s family would gladly keep me under wraps or preferably in a separate room while I was taking part in this act. But this would be my response:

“No.”

No explanation needed.

If you are choosing to breastfeed, your head and heart are in the right place. The medical benefits are proven. We could list excuses or reasons why women would not want to stay covered, like: it’s hot, the baby doesn’t like a blanket on their face (big surprise they don’t like the feeling of suffocation), the mom needs to see the child’s face to confirm the latch is correct, etc.).

But the bottom line is: it is the law.

So my final points—Fellow women, please stop saying anything remotely close to what I’ve said a million times before— “I don’t care what other moms do, I just know I would always cover up”. I cringe knowing that those words have come out of my mouth. That ridiculous statement is so insulting and unsupportive of other moms. If someone asks your opinion, I’d just simply say you support every mother’s decision to feed her child in any manner she deems fit. 

It is time for women to support fellow women.

It is time for us to lead by example. 

It is time to help encourage new mothers to choose the healthiest option for feeding their children, by making it easy and by making them feel comfortable. 

It is time for the old-fashioned, eye-rollers, to keep on rolling by if they can’t keep from glaring. 

It is time.

This happened yesterday.

The Intro

On Tuesday, I should’ve gone to bed at my normal early bedtime of 830 pm. Instead, I stayed up late watching Netflix (Game of Thrones and Gilmore Girls), and ended up falling asleep around 1130 pm. I woke up the next morning at 630 with my mind racing through all the things I needed to do: log onto my work computer and send out a few important emails, jump into a very quick-cleaning of the house, start the laundry, make the bed, get the girls breakfast, get them bathed, get them dressed, book a family get-away that I was planning to give them as a gift, get the girls packed up in the car, drop by the post office to mail a few Christmas Cards I forgot to send the other day… of course, don’t forget to drop my Netflix in the mail, get to Walmart to pick up random supplies (kids cough syrup, tape to wrap presents, etc.), and then finally grab lunch and head to my father-in-law’s house—-all in 4 hours, max. Rereading this last sentence, yes there was a lot going on. And on top of it, not only was my mind jumping from one task to the next, but I was also thinking about all the upcoming events I needed to get done over the next week—-picking my niece up for the weekend, making cookies for a cookie exchange, getting a meal ready for a holiday party, getting the girls’ outfits ready for a Santa Party…blah blah blah. I was feeling stressed the moment my eyes popped open, but I just started down my list.

First, the emails—knocked those out, and then heard the girls waking up. KS, my husband got them downstairs, and then he took off to his dad’s house to help him with some kitchen-fixing-wire-pulling-thang (the reason he took the day off in the first place). So he took off, and I jump into mom-mode. I got breakfast going; everything was going relatively smoothly at that point—lots of laughing, shrieking, and eating. While the girls were eating, I responded to work emails, got my last few Christmas cards addressed, turned the laundry, and picked up dishes… most of you get the point…just a non-stop to-do-list. So then the 2 little terrorists finished eating and started to whine, cry, fight and throw bottles/food in any direction that was clean. I started to feel the tension mounting in my shoulders, and started yelling at Charleigh (my 3 year old) to get undressed and into my bathtub, asap. I pulled my syrup-covered-1-year-old out of her high chair and got her undressed and into the tub in one swift movement. Congratulating myself in my head on my ability to get stuff done and still manage my kids—-“man, KS could really learn something from me”, I was thinking…

The Oh-Shoot-Moment #1

So, I have my kiddos captured in my tub, and I knew I had a few more minutes to get things done. So, onto make the bed, pick up toys, check work emails, and… again I start to think “I am a super woman, look at me knocking stuff out”, and then…..”MOM, CHAYCE POOPED IN THE TUB”.   

This was not just a simple poop. Without getting too graphic, it was a situation where both my kids, their bottles/sippy cups, their toys, and every surface was covered in poop. It was in my JETS!—mind you this is my favorite place in the house, my escape, my Calgon-take-me-away place, my sanctuary, my extra-long Jacuzzi tub. So, the tension raised up from my shoulders to my head. I may or may not have said what I saw on my girls. I grabbed my poop-covered girls and put them in the adjacent shower, and started draining the tub. As soon as it drained, I did the surface cleaning with bleach. I knew I would need to do a thorough jet-cleaning, but in full multi-tasking mode, I realized I needed to shower the kids and myself before filling my tub up fully and using all the hot water. So I jumped in the shower with the girls, got them clean, and before I could get myself clean, they both escaped out the shower door. I rushed to finish rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when I heard …. “MOM CHAYCE PEED ON THE FLOOR”. Now my 1 year old was starting to irritate me. She had left a huge puddle on the hardwood floor in my bedroom. And now, both girls were fighting and screaming at each other. I was at the point of my head popping off when I intelligently realized Chayce needed a nap. So I calmed myself down, got her dressed, and then quickly put her down. I could feel myself start to relax a bit now that I was no longer outnumbered.  

I jumped right back into my list. I had a new priority—jet-cleaning my tub. This required me to fill it all the way up with hot water, add cleaner, and then run the jets for at least 20 minutes. So, I cranked the hot water on to start filling the tub, and headed out to the kitchen. I spent a few minutes cleaning dishes, started folding laundry, continued answering rapid-fire Charleigh-questions, and then decided I could quickly finish booking our vaca online. The stupid online vrbo site tripped me up a few times, but after what I’m guessing was 20 minutes or so, I was done booking the trip, and I was again patting myself on the back for being so efficient with my time this morning since I was able to complete my to-do-list.  

I yelled out to Charleigh that I just had to go put some make-up on and then we would be ready to walk out the door.

Anyone anticipating the next oh-shoot-moment?

The Oh-Shoot-Moment #2

I walked into my bedroom to put on my make-up, and could then just start to dreadfully hear the forgotten-water running. I sprinted to the bathroom door, and saw a horrifying sight—the tub was completely overfilled, 2ish inches of water on the floor filling my entire bathroom. It even made it into my carpeted-closet, this time. Yes, quit judging me, I had done this before— but it had never gotten in the closet before. And after the first time, I told myself to always set an alarm on my phone, because it is very hard to hear the water running from across the house. But in all my hustle & bustle, I hadn’t done that this time. I had told myself I would hear the water, and that I wouldn’t forget about it—-but now here I was, saying the same words that I had said earlier when I found my girls covered in it.

So I went straight into clean-up mode, certain I could get this cleaned up before my husband got home. So I spent 10 minutes and all of my bathroom towels, getting my bathroom glistening and dry! I was proud of myself for having rebounded so quickly and for handling this big clean-up on my own. And then, somewhere in the back of my brain I remembered, the last time this had happened, KS told me that water had made it down into the storage room directly below my bathroom. Well, I hadn’t really believed him, but I thought that since this overflow situation was a titch worse, that maybe I should check it out.

The Final Oh-Shoot-Moment

I was still on the stairs leading down to the basement when I heard it: rain. I heard rain inside my home. I walked into the storage unit, and water was literally raining down from the floor joists. It was dripping from pipes, our ventilation system, our subfloor, everywhere. (BTW, I found it really odd, that I had completely dried the bathroom above, and yet it was still raining in the basement several minutes later–who knew?!?). There was at least 3-4 inches of water on the concrete flooring, and it had started to spill into the hallway carpet. The water was on everything. It was in and on top of the 20+ Rubbermaid containers of keepsakes and holiday decorations. It was in KS’s tool boxes, on his shelf of power-tools (yes on every box labeled Dewalt). It had sprayed all over all of our P&G Product from product giveaway, and all of the cardboard boxes of gain dishwashing soap and bags of bounty towels were sitting in water. It was soaking into all of KS’s little cardboard boxes of nails/screws/fasteners (100s of these). Several boat batteries and portable radios were sitting in 3 inches of water on the floor. This was really, really bad. At that point, I gave up hope on being able to clean up my gigantic disaster on my own. I did the call of shame— “Um, KS, can you come home….something happened…” 

The Aftermath

All of my multi-tasking and frustration and lack of self-triggering led to a whole lotta’ negative consequences:

1) Stuff didn’t get done – So, all the holiday tasks I needed to get done, obviously did not get done. My house, which I was hoping to have in holiday-entertaining-mode, now has all sorts of Rubbermaid containers and P&G product staged all over the place trying to get dried-out. My storage room smells weird and feels damp and now has several fans and dehumidifiers staged inside of it. My to-do list for the holidays is worse off than it was when I woke up. Not. Cool.

2) Lost Trust – My husband will never trust me to fill up the bath again. So I will forever have to be questioned on my process. Am I following the standard???? If I had followed my standard process of setting my alarm, I wouldn’t need the extra-supervision, right?

3) Lost Property & Time – Both KS, his dad, and myself, lost 4 hours while we were draining boxes, squeegeeing floors, and wringing out towels. We threw away a lot of decorations and boxes and batteries.

Putting it All together

So, I didn’t want to humiliate myself by admitting this horrific-self-induced-failure-of-a-day for no reason. After it happened, I realized how bad of a day I had had, and how many chances to self-trigger I had had and had missed… and that’s when I realized I had a perfect teaching moment to share—the silver-lining for the day.

How many times in your daily life are you are a little tired from staying up too late? And especially during the holidays, how many times are you doing your daily work when you have other stuff on your mind? Your brain is already filled to the brim with tasks you need to complete for the day for life/work, but now you are potentially thinking of the other 15,000 things that you, and/or your loved ones, are doing over the next few weeks…. And that is when it is so hard to self-trigger.

So this holiday season, let us be very intentional about how we self-trigger (at home and at work). How will you ensure you get everyone in your work or family to slow their roll during this crazy busy season? I would suggest that you make sure you talk as a team, and look at your teammates in the eyes. Do you know your teammates well enough to know if they are stressed or if their minds are not on task? Look for frustration— frustration can cloud your judgment so easily, so how can you self-trigger or help a teammate self-trigger if they are frustrated? How will you make sure your teammates are following standards? And who will make sure that you stop as a team and reassess your risk again after something changes in your plan?

Top Learnings

• Turn off tv early and get to bed on time (Netflix will be there tomorrow).

• Notice frustration, and intentionally work on calming techniques (Take a break, or breathing exercises).

• Do not multi-task—focus on one item at a time.

• When your situation changes—-reassess the Risk (stop and do a new Risk Prediction).

• Follow standard procedures to ensure you are safe.

• Ask for help early on & Watch out for each other.

• And …NEVER. EVER. PAT YOURSELF ON THE BACK! 

 Have a Safe Holiday Season!

 Wait, what? Did I just admit that? Although growing up, I spoke openly about my beliefs, I feel like we have come to a point in society where it is frowned upon to be a Conservative … And definitely a Christian.

One of my biggest fears about the current state of our nation is that everyone is afraid to speak about their beliefs. The pendulum has swung so far to the side that everyone is afraid to be labeled X by speaking about what they believe in. The USA I grew up in allowed us to have different opinions; we could have different backgrounds, upbringings, and morals and still live side-by-side. We were also able to discuss these differences with respect. I don’t know where that USA went, but here is my attempt to make a difference. 

I am writing this blog to openly admit my religious and political views, in hopes that I (1) make those who are of opposing views more aware and empathetic of what “people like me” believe in, & (2) make those who may fear speaking about their beliefs feel more confident to do so. 

So basically, I am just gonna throw it all out there in an effort to make it seem more normal to talk about your beliefs, hopefully without being persecuted. 

I am not a black & white Christian, nor am I am black & white Conservative—meaning, there are a few areas of my personal beliefs that may not line up with my religion or my political party. One of my biggest pet peeves about social media, especially during this election year, is when people tell me via big tough posts what I believe in or stand for. I have read multiple posts from folks stating “If you are a Christian, you must not be supportive of the LBGTQ movement” or “If you are a Republican you must be against the LGBTQ movement”. This is a perfect example of how my personal beliefs may be different from my political & religious BOX. I am not in a BOX. Do not put me in a BOX. Do not tell me what I do and do not believe. If you are curious about my beliefs you can ask me, OR how about I just tell you what I believe, and eliminate all the guessing?  

Christian

So let’s start with Christianity. I am a Christian. I believe in God. I was raised by my Methodist parents and still attend a Methodist church. We went to church and Sunday School every Sunday, and I sang in the church choir at every stage of my life. I don’t think I’m an expert on the Bible, however I am always trying to read more, learn more, and teach my daughters more about the Bible every day. The most important part about being a Christian, in my opinion, is having faith—knowing the Lord is out there protecting you and your loved ones, so that worrying is unnecessary. This really hit me hard when I had my pregnancy scare with Charleigh. Faith pulled me through.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting.

I live my life by trying to always treat my neighbor as I’d want to be treated. I support and fully respect every nationality, ethnicity, sex, age, & sexual orientation. I go to church to stay connected with God, to stay centered in faith, and to find peace for the upcoming chaotic week.

For those reading this who are not Christian or religious… I’ve tried to put myself in your shoes, and think about what in my description of being a Christian would offend you. I honestly can’t think of anything, but in the words of Sarah Silverman, “You can’t smell yourself”. Honestly, I have many flaws in my personality, in how I live my life, in how I raise my kids, etc. But if there is one thing that makes me a better friend, better wife, better mother, better neighbor, better coworker— it is being a Christian. There is not one ounce of judgment or hate or negativity that comes with adding Christianity to my life. I have overheard non-believers make jokes out of religion and add in their own viewpoints of how Christians may be judgmental or critical of others, but that is not what happens to me as a result of being part of a Christian community. It makes me calmer. It makes me kinder. It makes be a better human for you to interact with.

Conservative 

I was raised as a Republican. As I grew up and went away to college I became more liberal, which I think is pretty normal. And now as an adult, I would describe myself as a Republican (with a few small hints of libertarian mixed in there). Some categories I will add explanation to; some I feel need no further explanation.  

Ideals – I believe in limited government & promotion of individuals rights. I believe in state regulation vs. increased federal regulation. Why have states if they can’t control how they are regulated?  

Abortion – First and foremost I hate that this is part of politics. I personally feel like it is sexist to even have this discussed. What part of a male’s body/health is regulated and discussed during political debates? So, although I do not personally support the idea of having an abortion, I can tell you I am even more against the government telling me what I can and can’t do with my body. So I would have to say I’m a mixture of Pro-Life & Pro-Choice. If pressed hard, I would have to say I am more against the government being involved with my health choices, than I am against the act of abortion. This is not normal for Republicans or Christians, but this is my more libertarian view. I know there are many people out there judging my view on this, but all I can say is this is what I believe in. 

Capital punishment – I believe in capital punishment.

Gun Control – I do not believe in any restriction in gun ownership, with the exception of current background checks for possession. 

Immigration Restrictions. – I believe in building a wall. I am not racist. I do not think that Mexicans or Canadians or Muslims are bad or criminal. I think we have a broken system that is not functioning as it is designed and we should fix it. It amazes me how many people are bothered by the concept of the wall. I think we all agree that we have borders. I think we all agree we have Border Patrol. And I think we all agree that the border is currently being crossed illegally which is affecting so many areas in our country negatively. Yes, I think drugs and criminals are coming in because of this, and there are jobs for Americans that are lost because of illegal immigrants working for less. But more importantly, our communities are being depleted (infrastructures, schools, facilities, etc.). We are not in control. Why have a border or Border Patrol/US Customs if we are going to allow borders to be crossed and laws to be broken? I believe we need to fix this more than ever with the rising risk of terrorism. I also agree that we need to stop entry of any non-citizen traveling from countries that have been officially compromised with terrorists, including all Syrian refugees. 

Economy – I believe in free market competition, entrepreneurship, and corporate deregulation. I do not believe in progressive taxation (taxing the wealthy more). I do not believe taxes should be increased for anyone, for that matter.

Education – I believe in school choice/vouchers & homeschooling. I believe in saying the Pledge of Allegiance in school, and allowing prayer in school. I am not sure how I feel about quotas for gender and race. There is a big part of me that still feels like we need some work in this area to make our country stronger, but I honestly do not know enough about it. My gut tells me we need affirmative action to help with the current gender inequalities, and race issues (discussed below).

Faith – I am a big supporter of free exercise of religion and I do not agree with taking religion out of our schools. 

Foreign policy – I believe we are at war with Radical Islamic Terrorists. I believe we need to eliminate ISIS. I believe that we need to eliminate WMD. I believe that countries that support and protect terrorists are just as guilty. I believe and support in spreading democracy, and believe we need to reform the UN.

Gay Rights – I do not believe the government should control who we are allowed to marry. I fully support the LGBTQ community and their continued progress. 

Healthcare – I believe we should keep healthcare private.

Security & Defense – I believe in keeping our military strong, and keeping our weapons/technology up-to-date. 

Social Issues- Violence towards law enforcement and race are our main issues right now. I believe we have a race problem in our country, and I believe we need to get the right group of leaders together to figure out what we need to do to correct it. There is not an easy fix to this. I can’t even begin to think through the right solution. I believe it is a much larger issue than most of us are aware, and it will take experts working together to correct broken systems, culture, & trust. I believe that anyone intentionally killing our law enforcement officers should be treated as terrorists. I believe that for any police-involved shooting, the public should wait to have all the data prior to jumping conclusions—innocent until proven guilty, right? I do not support BLM, for the same reason I do not support the KKK—in my opinion it is a hate group, continuing to spread violence towards our law enforcement officers. I have read many posts supporting BLM, and with many stating that the group is based on peaceful protest. When I hear the hate-filled slogans or see them on signs/shirts this group holds/wears and also watch the rioting, looting, intimidation, and group violence, it is impossible for me to think of the group as anything other than divisive and hateful. I stood at a peaceful & patriotic Trump rally in our beautiful city with my 2 young girls, and watched a BLM group move into the crowd and immediately start pushing, intimidating, bullying, and starting fights. I felt so unsafe that I had to leave the rally early out of fear for my girls’ safety. Founders of BLM may have intended for the group to have a different message, but that message has been compromised. I wouldn’t follow or listen to any “good intentions” of the KKK, and I wouldn’t for BLM either. Let me reiterate, this doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the current racial issues in the USA, or that we don’t have a lot of work to do in this area. I do recognize our race problems; we have a lot of work to do. I just strongly disagree with BLM being part of the journey to our solution. 

Social Security – I believe we should move to private investments. 

Veteran programs – I believe we have not supported our veterans like we need to, and that change needs to come to the VA immediately. 

Welfare – I believe that if you are on welfare, you need to be drug-tested, because those who are working and in turn paying for welfare are required to pass drug tests as well.

So this is me. I don’t know if I have offended a bunch of people by throwing my beliefs out there. Hopefully not. I am who I am. I am a mom, a wife, a veteran, a worker, a patriotic American…a person trying to get by in a crazy world, and possibly make it better along the way. I have no hate in my heart. I have no judgment in my heart. I just know what I believe in. 

Do you know what you believe in?

I turn 40 in January 2017 and although I’m 39.5 years into my first 40 years, I have just drafted a bucket list for my first 40 years (more like a recap since it was after the fact). So you will notice many items I’ve already completed since I’m almost at that specific finish line… But I thought it would be fun to capture, so when I lose my memory at 80, I can tell my kids all the wild stuff I did? 

So I need 5 new crazy items to complete before January 28th! And after that, I want to draft a list for the next 40 years of my journey! 

So here goes the first 40… Based on this list please feel free to suggest items for 36-40 (for me to complete this year), or any items for me to conquer over my next 40 years! 

1. Be a Christian – Get baptized✅, go to church as a kid✅, join a church as an adult✅, do RAK often✅

2. Enjoy Friendship – Have a best friend✅, be someone’s best friend✅, find your mom-tribe of friends✅, find your crazy-group-of-friends✅!

3. Fall in love – With the wrong person✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅, & with the right person.✅

4. Ride an upside down roller coaster✅

5. Float on the river in a canoe, boat, tube, raft. ✅

6. Go to amazing concerts. ✅ A true passion of mine… Live music …so many amazing concerts so far… Willie Nelson, Michael Jackson’s (amazing Bad Tour), Alabama (4xs), Toby Keith (3xs), Pink, Eric Church, Black Hawk, Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, Jason Aldean, Tim McGraw, Sugarland, Rascal Flatts, John Anderson, Lee Ann Womack, Yonder Mountain Stringband, Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood, Jamie Johnson…

7. Attend Bonnaroo.✅

8. Be Fit- Run a 1/2 marathon ✅✅✅, a full marathon✅✅, & compete in a fitness competition ✅✅

9. Make a Family – Get Married✅✅, & have or adopt babies✅✅

10. Learn how to be a momma✅

11. Jump off a cliff ✅✅✅✅✅✅ (unbeknownst to me… I was a week preggo with CJ when I jumped off a cliff into the ocean down in Cabo San Lucas) 

12. Mess-up your body – Get a tattoo✅✅✅✅, get a piercing✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅, & dye my hair✅✅✅✅✅✅✅✅+

13. Pamper your body- Get a massage, a body scrub, a facial, a peel, a microderm, fake tans, spray tans, & mani/pedis✅✅✅+

14. Learn how to swim✅

15. Drive a boat, car, atv✅✅✅

16. Ride on a horse and a motorcycle✅✅

17. Water ski & tube & jet ski✅✅✅

18. Snow ski & tube & snowmobile out of state✅✅✅

19. Swim in the Atlantic, Pacific, & Caribbean Oceans✅✅✅

20. Live in different places – On the East Coast, Midwest, West Coast, & South Florida✅✅✅

21. Live on my own by myself✅

22. Live with my best friend in an apt✅

23. Own a home, pet, and a car by myself✅✅✅

24. Travel – Visit Europe, Caribbean islands, Central America, Guantanomo Bay, Cuba, Canada.✅✅✅✅✅

25. Serve in the military✅

26. Graduate and earn high school diploma, bachelors degree, and graduate degree✅✅✅

27. Go to work- Work in a family-owned business✅, find your career✅, & change career path✅✅

28. Dare to dream – Sing somewhere important, or at least really public ?✅✅✅✅✅(sang at multiple military black-tie affairs while in CGA Glee Club, sang at a Bob Dole function, sang back-up for Kenny Rogers at Women in Military function, sang on stage at Tootsies, sang on stage at Irish Kevin’s), & record/copyright 15+ songs✅

29. Be young & crazy- Date wild musicians ✅✅, date guys your parents disapprove of✅✅✅+, get engaged ✅✅✅✅✅, break rules✅✅✅+, break hearts✅+, party till dawn✅✅✅+, take spontaneous roadtrips✅, do a keg stand✅+! 

30. Explore the USA- Grand Canyon✅, NYC✅, LA✅, Breckenridge✅, Boston✅, every state in New England✅, Seattle✅, San Diego✅, Destin✅, Orlando✅, Cape Canaveral✅, Key West✅, Arizona✅, DC✅, Atlantic City Beach, NJ✅, Atlantic Beach City, NC✅, Maryland✅, Nashville✅, Memphis✅, OKC✅, Phoenix✅, Joplin✅, Dallas✅… I’m sure I’m missing places. 

31. Mature a bit- Forgive someone who hurt you✅, gain someone’s forgiveness for hurting them✅, help someone through the worst time in their life✅, & let someone help you through your worst✅. 

32. Public speaking – Sing a solo✅, choke during a solo✅, give a speech in front of 20+ people✅, give a wedding toast✅✅

33. Learn how to shoot a pistol, rifle, shotgun✅✅✅

34. Go hunting, fishing, gigging, & camping✅✅✅✅

35. Learn to grieve a death✅✅✅✅✅

36.

37.

38.

39.

40.

Beginning of next 40 Bucket List:

1. Attend at least 40 more amazing concerts! 

2. Hold a tarantula (not sure I’m actually committed to this one).

3. Sky dive (not sure I’m actually committed to this one).

4. Visit 2 more continents (not sure I’m actually committed to this one).

5. Find your place in your church.

6. Learn a new hobby for each child’s skill.

7. Make a memory trunk/book/thumb drive for each child.

8. Learn how to meditate.

9. Learn how to ride a motorcycle.

10. Go to Vegas, Napa, and Hawaii.

11.

12.

13.

…
Well I am totally open for suggestions at this point in life! What should I do that will change my life for the better?!?