Me, In the Raw

A few months ago, I picked up a book called "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin. To be completely honest, I purchased it intending to give it to my Co-Brownie troop leader for her birthday, but she mysteriously quit showing up for meetings and activities right around that time. By the time I saw her next, it was already two months past her birthday, so I just considered it a present to myself for all the hard work I had to do to cover for her : )
Back to the book. Just by reading the title, I assumed it would parallel and supplement my Rita Project, but it did so much more than that! I've decided to shape my Rita Project around the framework set by Gretchen in "The Happiness Project." The book is a set of 12 resolutions, a different resolution for each month. Since Gretchen and I seem to have A LOT in common (we're practically the same person), I'm making her resolutions my own. The great thing about reading the entire book before starting the project is that she's done all the research for me, so instead of taking 12 months to complete the project, I can warp speed it and complete it in 12 weeks instead.
What I love most about this book is that it's not about changing everything in your life (i.e. moving, quitting your job, leaving your husband to find "Edward", etc.) to create an empty, false sense of happiness, but rather taking everything you have right now and finding the happiness in it. Doing away with pessimism and negativity, finding the little things that REALLY make you happy and encouraging positive thinking are more what this book focuses on. It's for those of us who are happy with our situation, but just not happy with ourselves and really looking for the joy in life. That's me in a nutshell. As Gretchen puts it, "I wanted to change my life without changing my life, by finding more happiness in my own kitchen."
The first step is to lay down some rules, or commandments, that will help when I'm wrestling with keeping my resolutions. Again, Gretchen's commandments line up perfectly with mine, so I only had to make a few adjustments:
1) Be Acasha.
2) Let it go. (That's something I tell myself at least 100 times a day)
3) Act the way I want to feel. (or "fake it till you feel it" from my April 1st blog)
4) Do it now. Don't procrastinate.
5) Be polite, be fair, don't raise your voice for any reason at all.
6) Enjoy the process
7) Spend out, but spend wisely.
8) Lighten up, but sarcasm isn't always the answer.
9) Identify the problem.
10) Do what ought to be done.
11) Don't over think.
12) In the end, love matters most.
So now that I've conquered my commandments, it's time to tackle Resolution #1: Boost Energy/Get Healthy. This is probably the broadest of all the resolutions and most likely the hardest since I'm a junk food eating, movie watching, anti-running couch potato. Not that I don't LOVE to be outdoors, because I do, but I like doing stuff for fun and exercise just never sounds fun. And don't get me started on food. I could eat a steady diet of Dr. Pepper, cinnamon bears, cheeseburgers, cherry pie and coffee for the rest of my life and be perfectly content (aside from all the health issues I'd encounter). So week 1 will certainly be the most difficult.
But I have motivation, and a good one at that. I don't want to go anywhere near chemotherapy and I was recently blessed by a new friend who brought me a book detailing the benefits of the Genesis 1:29 diet, the biggest being that it's cured cancer. Who'da thunk it? Of course when I told my oncologist that I'd be skipping chemo and opting for a raw foods diet instead, she just looked at me funny and said "See you Tuesday." I'm sure we'll talk more about it then ...
So today Chris and I officially started the diet. We got up and made fresh carrot juice, fought through a glass of barley and alfalfa (it was AWFUL) then snacked all day on fresh fruits and veggies. Tonight we're making pizza ... no cheese, no egg, no meat pizza. Should be fantastic! (Really, no sarcasm in that one. I know, total shocker.) I know this diet will be super hard to stick with for the first couple months, but it's what I need to do and Chris and the kids are doing it with me, so that should help.
So Week 1/Day 1: Diet is in the books. Tomorrow I'm tackling the bed. Probably both literally and figuratively. Chris and I have a bad habit of staying up late, waking up still tired and totally blah. Makes for a very long day. So not only will the focus be on getting to bed earlier, but also getting better sleep.
By calling these resolutions instead of goals, I'll be making a permanent change each day and building on that. If these were goals, then I'd simply accomplish them and move on to a new goal, making it easy to forget about the last one since, technically, I'd already reached it. This way, I never lose sight of the resolutions I make early on, always focusing on what I'm doing rather than where it's getting me.
So here's to veggie pizza, carrot juice and a healthier, happier me : )
Question: What could you take out of your normal diet that could make you happier and healthier? Comment below!

Just You and Me and the Beezer Makes Three

It's officially week two of being a single child household and I must say that it's definitely different. My days are incredibly quiet, which I didn't expect. Bonnie is usually the noise maker in the house, so I assumed taking Luke and Belle out of the picture wouldn't change much. I was wrong, which is a good thing : ) Bonnie hasn't had to fight for or demand my attention, she hasn't been bossed around and told to "stop it" every five seconds, and she can play whatever she wants and she's not annoying anyone. She's calmed down so much that she's like a whole new kid sometimes!
On the flip side, while it has certainly been quieter and calmer, it hasn't necessarily been easier. There's no one else here during the day to play with her and entertain her . . . just me. While I absolutely love having all this Beezer time, my productivity hasn't exactly sky-rocketed. Take this blog, for instance. I had hoped that I could write at least every other day, but the second I sit down to the computer, she's climbing all over me or darting back to Luke and Belle's room to try to sneak some of their toys. When I try to fold laundry, there's no one to keep her from unfolding it. I have to get up before dawn if I want a shower, or else wait until Chris gets home.
So while having a temporary three person household has been a nice respite from the normal chaos, I'm really starting to miss my other munchkins. Luke always greets me with a hug and Annabelle lives in this zany alternate reality that makes for interesting and hilarious conversations.
So, T-minus ten days and counting . . . 

The Road Goes on Forever

Over 4th of July weekend, I embarked on a journey I will not soon forget . . . though I'd like to. As you may have read in previous posts, my mother so generously offered to take on our two eldest children for a few weeks in July. After what seemed like and eternity, July finally got here, so last Friday morning I woke with the sun (it starts rising at 4:30am here) and got ready to hit the road.
First things first, I knew it would be a long trip and was very prepared. I was driving solo since Chris wasn't able to take leave (LOVE the military when civilians are involved . . . but that's a whole other story). I had three kids crammed into the backseat of a little Mazda 3, one in a car seat monstrosity and one in a booster. Poor Luke was in the middle, squished beyond all recognition. I have two girls that are prone to car sickness and three . . . that's right THREE mountain passes to go through. A grand total of 14 hours and 29 minutes according to Google Maps.
And did I mention Chris? Yeah he was worried sick. How do I know this? Because he told me so . . . on a note . . . that was taped to the inside of the driver's side door . . . with military issue 100-mile-an-hour tape (that's olive drab duct tape to those who aren't privy). On this note was a reminder to lock the doors but take the keys out first, a reminder to shut the lights off, a reminder as to which side of the car the gas tank was on . . . I could go on but I think you get the point. And the last little bullet said "I love you so much, Princess! And I'm worried sick!" Literally. My husband is the only person I know that can worry himself into 24 hours of mandatory bed rest and an lethal cocktail of TheraFlu and NyQuil. He even printed maps and driving directions and stuffed them in the visors. These, of course, were just back ups though. He had pre-programmed my phone and locked it in navigation mode so that Sadie the Nav Lady would be there to guide me in his place. And speaking of phones, he also installed a GPS tracking ap so that he would be able to watch my every move. He knew I was pulling in to a rest stop before I was even able to get my blinker on.
So anyways, back to the trip. I assumed that leaving early meant the kids would sleep for the first few hours, getting us peacefully and puke free through the Cascade mountains. Wrong. They were so stoked about seeing their GG and Papa that they were wired to the max. Bonnie was grumpy and unhappy with their movie choice. She didn't even make it to Snoqualmie. Car sick stop #1.
(Side note: Portable DVD players are excellent for traveling, but when you're looking at a 15+ hour trip, not even a Harry Potter marathon is appealing.)
We cleaned up and hit the road again, only stopping for potty breaks and the occasional stretch of the legs at road side rest areas. Snacks and Lunchables were packed away in the cooler in the passengers seat so that we wouldn't even have to stop for food. That may be why they call me the Road Trip Nazi .... hmmm.
Bonnie napped (thank God), Luke and Annabelle watched movies and listened to their MP3 players that Chris had loaded with pre-approved music the night before. We made it all the way to the Idaho border (the second time . . . weird, I know, but look at a map and you'll see) before Bonnie woke up. Car sick stop #2. This one was slightly more dramatic because Luke wasn't able to move out of her line of fire. That, and where I pulled off to clean everything up was in the woods right next to a river so we were getting swarmed by mosquitoes the entire time. The rest of the trip was creeping towards a 10 on the stressometer. Bonnie's seat was beyond roadside repair, so I had to cover it with a beach towel and put the regular seat belt on her. She refused to stay in her seat, the other two were fighting over movies and the last bag of apples and elbows invading "bubbles". Not even my headphones could drown out the chaos. I know, Parent of the Year award right here. We approached Idaho Falls as the sun began to set and made it to the last winding pass just as darkness fell. I hate night driving, especially when on a narrow, unfamiliar two lane road that has steep drop offs and large bodies of water just past the non-existent shoulder (all of which you can't see because it's pitch black in the middle of nowhere). All hope was not lost, though. Bonnie had fallen asleep and the other two were engrossed in whatever movie was left after 14 hours of viewing, so I made it onto familiar roads and eventually to Grandma's cabin. I didn't even bother unloading the car. We just went in and crashed. The rest could wait till morning.
Saturday and Sunday were very pleasant. Mom and Dad got to the cabin around 4:30 Saturday afternoon. They're not suicidal so they stopped and spent the night in Loveland, CO. We went out for pizza, helped put up a canopy for my grandma's friend and received fresh watermelon and ice cream for payment, went on lots of walks and just hung out. Pleasant.
Monday morning came and I had high hopes for a quieter and cleaner trip home. I had picked up some Dramamine at the grocery store to hopefully take care of the car sickness and there were no older siblings arguing and tormenting the Beezer with their movie picks. She could watch Open Season (which she calls Yogi Bear for some reason) as much as she wanted.
I got the car all loaded up, tried to sneak off a few times so Mom and Dad would be stuck with all three but they caught me every time, then we headed to the gas station together for the traditional "parting ways" tank filling. I gave the kids their last hugs (Luke will miss me WAY more than Annabelle will) and Dad gave me the obligatory $20 bill "just in case." It drives him nuts that I don't like to travel with cash. We waved out the back windows as we pulled off in opposite directions and suddenly it was very quiet in the car.
As we headed towards Alpine, it was 6am West Coast time and Bonnie's internal clock made it so that I didn't even have to bother with the meds. She slept until about 10, we stopped for a late breakfast at a rest stop in the barren Montana lowlands, then I felt it necessary to take advantage of the Dramamine. Beez didn't like it so much, hacking and coughing and spitting trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Lucky for me, it kicked in just as we were coming into the mountains and she slept all the way to Spokane. I was making record time at this point. Unfortunately, luck would run out as the sun slid lower on the horizon. Bonnie kept crying because the sun was in her eyes and I did everything in my power to block it, but it's kind of hard to drive with the wind shield completely covered. For those who aren't familiar with Eastern Washington, it's very much like the Texas Panhandle. No trees, hotter than blazes and lots of grass and farmland as far as the eye can see. I hauled as fast as the law would allow (ok, maybe a little faster) to try and get to the trees, hoping they'd block the sun a little so Bonnie would stop crying about her "eyes melting." I breathed a sigh of relief as trees began to dot the country side. The road began winding and we began climbing. The sun was going down and we were going up, so Bonnie and I could finally see again. Our relief was short lived, though. Car sick stop #3. Just as Sadie the Nav Lady informed me that we were only 2 hours from our destination.
Did you know regurgitated bananas smell like cheap beer? Well they do, so now you know.
After the clean up, I took it easy on the pass. I had made such good time up to this point that I'd still get in early even if I slowed down for the curves. As we came up to I-5 South bound, it was just dark enough for people to begin shooting off fireworks. Bonnie was in awe of all the pretty "sparkles," so the last hour of the drive was filled with laughter and wonderment.
I came home to a spotless house and a relieved and happy husband. All in all, a decent trip : )


A few things I learned:
1) I have a new appreciation for the Seattle area. The temp still hasn't gone over 80, the air is moist but not humid and I've never had scrape layers of bugs off the front of my car.
2) No amount of movies and snacks and books and music can keep three kids happy if they're squished in a tiny back seat for 15+ hours.
3) Driving off into the sunset isn't as romantic or exciting as it sounds. Staring straight at the sun starts to suck pretty bad after the first hour (or less).

The C Word (or Why I Have Rule #1)

So not long after I started my little blog, I began realizing that I should set some rules for my self. Of course, this realization only came after saying a few things I wished I hadn't, but hindsight is 20/20. While my rules are few, number one is certainly the most important: Don't write about a problem until after you've solved it. Some of you may disagree, explaining that sharing your current predicament with the world would give others the opportunity to provide an unbiased perspective on the situation. While this is true, I can't agree that it's helpful. Just because something works for someone else doesn't mean that it would work for me. And while I could say that I wouldn't let others opinions influence my choices, I'd be fibbing. Once you read something, especially when it relates to you on some level, it's stuck in the back of your head and will be recalled whether you intend to or not.
That being said, now on to why I've been on hiatus. It wasn't a problem, per say. More like a situation. One that I was having a little trouble dealing with.
Right after I had Bonnie, I went in for my post-baby removal (she was removed, not spit out) and had the normal girly tests done, only the results didn't come back so normal. So they did biopsies and discovered that I was in the early stages of cervical cancer. Since this is a military facility, they are very vague and not helpful when it comes to offering up explanations of findings and such. So naturally, I went home and googled the heck out of it. At the stage I was at, it was very easy to get rid of with something called a L.E.E.P. procedure (I'll spare y'all the details). Chris and I had already remedied the hyper-fertility problem, so since we didn't plan on having more little imps running around, there should be no reason to not do it, right? WRONG. Before I could even get a call back from my doctor after leaving several messages, I got a letter from the OB/GYN department saying they decided on a course of action . . . or lack there of . . . and that they'd see me in a year to see if I'd progressed. I finally reached my PCM (primary care manager for those of you who are lucky enough to not have government-run insurance) and she said that TriCare (government-run health insurance) won't allow any procedures until you've reached Stage 1 and are sent to oncology. The girly doctor department is so backed up with post-deployment pregnancies that being seen once a year is about as good as they can do. So can I get a referral to go off post? Nope. Can I get a second opinion? Nope. Can I pay for an off post doctor to do a second opinion myself? Well sure! If you have the money (which I didn't) and if you're prepared to get the door slammed in your face when you come back to Madigan. Apparently, Madigan (or maybe this is all military medical facilities) doesn't take too kindly to us not liking their diagnosis and going elsewhere on our own dime. They absolutely WILL NOT consider any and all anything from an outside physician. Period. So I waited my one year. I went back in, had another biopsy and guess what . . . I got worse. Not bad enough to warrant treatment of course, but bad enough to need to be seen in six months rather than twelve. Yay. So helpful. So I waited again, got yet another biopsy (considering the location I'm sure you all can assume how NOT FUN these appointments were), then got the same news again. Getting worse, but not bad enough for treatment and not fast enough to need to be seen anytime soon. At this point I'm begging them to please just take all the girly parts out. They're all messed up anyways and I don't need them anymore. Of course they would absolutely not even consider this. Because after all, I'm only 29 . . . with three kids . . . and a messed up cervix . . . and I may change my mind and want to have even MORE kids. So dumb.
(Side note: Why in the world is the military not encouraging sterilization? They won't allow anyone under 26 to be "fixed" no matter how many kids they have. They won't allow anyone under 30 to be "fixed" if they only have one kid and are content with that. They won't allow single parents to be "fixed" and they will pay for you to get a boob job to attract a mate, they'll pay for you to get in vitro fertilization if your mate can't do the job, and they'll pay for you to get gastric bypass and psychotherapy when said mate bails on you for gaining too much baby weight . . . . but they won't pay for preventive medicine . . . so stupid. Ok, off my soap box)
So anyways, somewhere in the middle of all this, my PCM had prescribed something to fix my other girly problems (told you they were all messed up) and come to find out, one of the side effects of that particular medicine is that it can accelerate the growth rate of cancerous cells. Genius. I'm sure you're all jumping off your chairs to go sign up for Obama-care.
Long story short, the last time I went in for yet another biopsy, the doctor's tone made me realize that it finally had gotten bad enough. When the lab results came back, she called me to confirm the assumption and to let me know that oncology would be handling my appointments from now on. And that I'd finally be getting that procedure I'd been asking for. I think she was a little put-off by my not upset-ness. After all, I'm supposed to want to NOT have cancer . . . and to continue with the uncomfortable biopsies every three to six months for ever and ever. No thank you.
Get worse to get better, that's what I'd been telling myself for some time now. But I wasn't better. I was actually much, much worse. I woke up the next morning with horrible stomach and chest pains, aching in all my joints and my hands were shaking like I hadn't eaten in a week. Poor Chris didn't know what to do with me. I didn't feel sick, so I didn't want to go to the ER (since with government care you can't get a same-day with your PCM). I just felt like the whole world was collapsing down on top of me. Apparently, there's something called Sudden Onset Hyperactive Stress Disorder. It's what happens when a person copes well under constant high levels of stress but experiences a "trigger event" (my cancer call) that causes a break. Like a normal person's panic/anxiety attack times 1,000. Come to find out, constantly needing to control the chaos is actually a bad thing. My new life motto needs to be "Let it be."
I got over my ordeal in a couple days, constantly repeating in my head that I had to get worse to get better. But I still had to tell my mom, among other things. Then the "Welcome!" letter came from the oncology department. That was so weird. Like they have to be friendly but serious. I deal much better with sarcasm and inappropriate jokes. So anywho, that's where I've been and what I've been doing. Making the day to day more important than what's going on inside. Going on field trips with the kids, putting together Annabelle's bridging ceremony for Girl Scouts, going to my favorite little beach, Solo Point, with the whole family, taking lots of pictures. I know what I have is not near as bad as most I'll see when I go up to oncology in a couple weeks, but it's still a big deal to me. My procedure is July 14th. The kids will be in Texas with Mom and Dad suffering from heat exhaustion, Chris used me as an excuse to get off work so he'll be bringing me fresh fruit and keeping Bonnie busy. I plan on milking it for as long as I can : )

Get worse to get better . . . . and get better, I will.

My best friend and biggest supporter : )

Homeward Bound . . . kind of

After being married to the military for the last eight years, I'd have to say that some of the biggest stress factors are the unknowns. Knowing you'll have to move, but not knowing where to or if there will be housing available and what the cost of living is (realistically). Knowing he's deploying but not knowing where to or for how long. We've had one very big unknown weighing us down for nearly a year now. Knowing Chris would be leaving the military, but not knowing when he'd be done with the disability process or how hard it would be to find a job and where that job would be. We knew what we wanted out of his future place of employment and where we'd soon be calling "home," but were we really going to get to be that picky?
Excellent news came last week in the form of an interview. Chris had applied for a job with Saint David's in Austin, TX and had been contacted by two different facilities there who were apparently fighting over him : ) He got all kinds of nervous when he found out he'd be flying down for an interview. Regardless of how much I tried to calm him down by insisting that they wouldn't be spending all that money flying him down, putting him up in a nice hotel and getting him a rental car if they weren't seriously considering him for the job, he was still a wreck when he boarded the plane last Thursday. So much so that he nearly made himself sick and spent all of Thursday afternoon and evening passed out in his hotel room.
Friday morning came around and my day started off horribly. My phone died in the middle of the night so I missed Chris' phone call before he left for his interview and I slept right through Bonnie's 8am doctor's appointment. It was a beautiful day, so of course both kids wanted absolutely nothing to do with school and what I was trying to teach them. Just when I thought all hope was lost and I was about to give up on the day all together, the phone rang.
"You're moving to Austin!"
After all that stress and worry, Chris' interview went swimmingly. Everyone loved him. In fact, they liked him so much that they drew up the papers right there on the spot so that he could take them home to me (I love people who value the wife's opinion). We couldn't be happier! Finally some things can be moved from the unknown to the known column. And how appropriate that we'll be heading to the Seattle of the Southwest. A city with a passion for the arts and culture but with the down home feeling you can only find in the Lone Star State. While we still have no ETS (end time in service) date, just the fact that we're knowin' where we're goin' is enough for me : )
Plus, I'll be able to say y'all without someone looking at me funny and saying, "where are YOU from?"

Back in the Ghetto Days . . .

We've been trying very hard recently to cut back on our eating out. Besides the insane amount of money we save by eating at home, I desperately need to lose weight and there's nothing healthy about ordering pizza or picking up Chinese.
So anyways, last night as I was doing my best to get Bonnie to wind down for the night, a commercial for Pizza Hut came on and both Chris and I started salivating. We don't order from Pizza Hut, but just the thought of a piping hot pepperoni with pineapple and extra cheese being delivered to my door without any effort on my part was enough to make me want to start digging for my debit card. Then they started talking about their current special: Any pizza, any size, any toppings . . . just $10 bucks.
I looked over at Chris and said, "Sweet! I'd get a Big New Yorker."
"They haven't made those in forever," Chris said. Then he started laughing a little and said, "Remember when we first got married and we were so poor and we ordered one of those with extra sauce, knowing full well that by the time it got to the house that all the toppings would have slid off and they'd have to give us a coupon for a free pizza? That was awesome."
Yes, I do remember the time we beat the system and for six months or so . . . until the Big New Yorker was discontinued anyways . . . we used our free coupon to order yet another extra large with extra sauce and never spent another dollar at Pizza Hut.

Karma did come back around in the form of a Pizza Hut delivery driver illegally crossing five lanes of traffic and crashing into us, ruining my Maxima and our Super Bowl Sunday. . . . Lesson learned : )

Thank the Lord for Sisters : )

My poor kids. No one really gets them. It has seemed for a very long time that they didn't have many allies in their little worlds. Luke and Annabelle started off with kids for parents. Chris and I had barely known each other a year when Luke came along. We were trying to balance college, work, marriage and munchkins. My kids got so used to the answer, "We can't because we don't have the money" to anything they asked for, that they eventually started answering themselves (funny how they never quit asking though). We moved around a lot, dealt with deployments and other things the military does to separate families, changed schools, quit school to home school, etc. They were both bullied by classmates and made miserable by teachers who didn't like the fact that they were smarter than the curriculum.

Long story short, there are few people in this world that my kids can count on, but one of their biggest supporters is my little sister. Though she may have been a pain in my rear end during our teen years and regardless of whether or not she's mentally unstable (she knows I'm kidding), she has always stood up for my kids and been there for them through all the tough stuff.

One would think that family support would be unwavering, but unfortunately my kids are often treated like outsiders. They have been ridiculed by relatives when we were thousands of miles away and unable to defend them. Thankfully, my sister is not one to guard her words and never hesitates to stand up for my kids, no matter who it is that's running their mouths. The only thing my kids have ever been guilty of is living outside the circle. Well that, and they're super smart and really good looking and well behaved, too : ) They've dealt with more disappointment than any nine or ten year old should ever have to. We can't do this, have to cancel that, so and so's not coming to visit after all, Daddy's deployment is going to be a little longer than we thought. I know kids need to learn that life's not fair, but seriously. . . I think they get it.

The most recent blow came just last week. My mom had mentioned to them during her visit this past winter that she wanted to try to see them this summer. Knowing full well that plans change and things don't always work out, we didn't mention anything to the kids until we knew it was official. Lucky for me, I was able to announce to them not long after that we were going to meet G.G. in Wyoming to drop them off and they'd be going back to Texas with her to spend a couple weeks. They were over the moon! It is the only thing they've talked about for the last few months (it also gave me an awesome threat to use when they act like punks). Something like this means the world to my kids. Unlike most kids their age, they don't get to see their grandparents but once or twice a year, their aunts, uncles and cousins even less. Getting to go back to Texas for two whole weeks is a BIG deal. They even passed up summer camps and sports so they could go. To be honest, I think Annabelle's bag has been packed since March. But as it happens more often than not, plans change. I didn't say anything to them right away, and I called my mom first to let her know what had happened and to see if she had any other ideas for shipping them home other than UPS (we called . . . they won't). She tossed a few out and said she'd talk to my dad, but the future looked bleak. I decided to prepare the kids for the worst. I really hate giving them bad news. I know and they know that it's not my fault, but since I'm the one that always has to tell them, I'm the one that has to deal with the tears, and the whys, and the that's not fairs.

But a week later, when I thought all hope had been lost . . . dot da da DAAAAHHHH! Sister to the rescue! I don't know how, but my sister (who is a single mom, has a new job, and can barely make ends meet) managed to come up with some money, find a travel companion/co-driver and come up with the cash to make the trip so that my kids would get their dream summer. My rubber-made kids bounced back and are all psyched up again, counting down the days till July. So thank the Lord for the forgiving nature and resiliency of children, and for sisters who are just plain awesome : )