Henry Grey. (A welcome tale in pictures)

Introducing Henry Grey.

6/15/2012

8lbs. 11 oz. 20 inches

Don't worry. Mommy still has lots to say. Welcome back, friends.

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And then this happened...

In less than a week, I will be a mother of three.

It is like I could leave this blog entry with that sentiment right there. What's going on in my life? Pretty much that.

As I sit here outside with my children, one who is detailing for the 18th time what he wants to do today, one who is coloring my lawn furniture with purple sidewalk chalk, and one who is calmly growing in my belly, it doesn't seem THAT overwhelming...*deep breath*. That, in and of itself, could be the whole blog.

Except you know me better than that.

I haven't written for awhile, which is becoming a bad habit. Usually that means something is going down.

So, here it is.

The last couple months of my pregnancy have gone the way my pregnancies always seem to. I was gaining a ton of water weight, and my feet and legs were awesomely stuffed sausage-esque. I always just blamed it on "the way I am." Every doctor's visit would be the same story, perfect blood pressure, perfect urine screening, "drink more water, get those feet up." Every two weeks I could easily gain between 5-7 pounds. This time around at about 7 months pregnant, I requested to not see the scale or have them tell me what it said. It was too depressing. My first pregnancy, I gained over 100 lbs. My second pregnancy, I think it was over 65 lbs. When I hit 57 lbs. with this pregnancy, I stuck my head in the sand. And I still had 10 weeks to go.

I also started noticing that my stress level was through the roof. My anxiety was exhausting. I was in tears every day, several times a day. Sure, anyone could easily pass this off as pregnancy hormones. Then, about three weeks ago on a Monday, it all kind of became too much. 

MONDAY: A few little things at work had been adding up. Being on call is stressful, but it really had less to do with my actual job, and more to do with what I was doing to myself in my own head in regards to what other people were thinking about me. I had no basis for these thoughts, it was like the anxiety was taking over my life.  I talked to my mom about it. I talked to my husband about it. I talked to my brother about it. My brother was the one who finally said, "Wow. You really need to change the way you think, and look at things more positively." I may have also said something to him along the lines of often panicking because being in my *ahem* late 20's (or early 30's), I feel like my life is half over. The funny thing is, I have always thought of myself as an optimist. Ha.

That night was rough. Scarlett woke up at 1 am and I couldn't sleep, so I went in to rock her.  She usually rocks for a bit, her heavy eyelids flutter, and she is back asleep. Not that night. She was chattering away, grinning, playing with her feet, singing songs, NOT SLEEPING. I watched the clock go from 1:30 to 2 to 3 to 3:30. I started to consider calling in to work the next day, and began the vicious cycle of anticipating what everyone would think. I started to panic. I felt like I was in a cage. I felt like I was in a tunnel. I felt like I was in a tiny, steel box. I couldn't breathe. I started to cry and Mike came in to see what was wrong, muttered something to me about waking him up sooner, and took the baby and sent me to bed. 

I laid in bed, sobbing. Barely able to catch my breath, terrified of what everyone in the world was thinking about me and my perceived irresponsibility. I am embarrassed to explain it now, because I can see it now and see the illogical fear and thought process, but at the time...well? It was a panic attack. I haven't had one for years. At some point I must have caught my breath because the next thing I knew, my alarm was going off. Three hours of sleep is better than none, right?

TUESDAY: I was weirdly awake, alert. My head pounded on the left side which started when I woke up and gradually got worse throughout the day. I noticed my left eye twitching. These things are pretty easily to chalk up to no sleep and stress. So I did.

WEDNESDAY: The headache continued with a vengeance. The eye twitch came and went and came again. I worried that families I was meeting with would be able to see it. I had my regular OB appointment that day, and mentioned the panic attack and headache and eye twitch to the nurse. She took all my vitals and like always, my blood pressure was perfect. With no indication that anything serious was going on, she said that I must be dehydrated and asked me to double my water intake (to 2 gallons a day) and try some acetaminophen with caffeine in it. A recheck of my iron alerted them that I was extremely anemic (also pretty normal during my pregnancies), so I received an increased iron supplement. They sent me on my way to Walgreens to pick up all my new meds.  I called my mom to tell her about the doctor visit, and mentioned to her something I hadn't told the nurse. I had eaten a chocolate snack cake that morning (not even a good one) and my tongue felt like it was coated in wax. I got some lemonade with my lunch that day to try to get rid of it. The lemonade was fantastic, but the waxy feeling did not go away, and either did the headache. That night, while rocking my daughter, I asked my 5 year old, "can you get Mommy's pills out of her purse and bring them to her?" A shining moment in Mommyland.

THURSDAY: The headache was still there. The eye twitch was still there. The wax coating was still there. I made it to work a few minutes early and decided I would try to look better than I felt. I was putting on eye shadow when I noticed it was difficult to close my left eye. Once again, pretty easy to chalk up to the headache and eye twitch and pass off as allergies. 

I went to the morning meeting at work and considered whining about my headache. I went downstairs to get ready to meet my first family for the day. They were of course, very early, and already waiting for me in the lobby. I grabbed my files and my water, and then grabbed a quick bite of a granola bar. I set my things down in the meeting room, and thought I better check my teeth to make sure granola bar wasn't greeting my family before I did.  I went in my coworker's office to use her wall mirror, and smiled big to check my teeth.

But my reflection wasn't smiling back.

It was more like a half-sneer. I tried again. One side of my mouth went up, the other side didn't move at all. Flatlined. 

My mind raced as I put it all together. Headache. Eye Twitch. Panic attack. Stress. Overweight. Broken smile. My heart fell as I came to the only conclusion I could. I had, at some point this week, suffered a stroke.

I raced to my coworker, J. She was sitting at the front desk. Behind her in the lobby, I could see the nervous faces of the family that was waiting to meet with someone. I pulled her into the copy room and shut the sliding door. "Look at my face!" I demanded. "I can't smile!" I willed my face to comply, but I could tell from the look on J's face, it hadn't worked. I tried to hold back tears. Immediately, two of the worst contractions I had ever experienced shot across my back and towards my belly. J guided me to sit down and called for backup. I remember her explaining that I couldn't move part of my face and that I was having contractions. I remember her talking to another coworker about ambulances and hospitals. We decided J would go with me to the hospital and Mike would meet me there. Relief washed over me with J in charge and coming to the hospital with me. J is level-headed and very calming when I am in a frenzy, and she is also a mom. I thank Jesus for her. (Which is absolutely true, and an inside joke just for her.)

When we arrived at the hospital, they immediately sent me to Labor and Delivery. The nurse explained it is protocol when a woman is as far along as I was. I was hooked up to monitors and immediately relieved to learn that the baby was just fine. Whatever was happening wasn't affecting baby at all. I wavered back and forth between calm and "not-so-calm." My OB had just left that morning for Hawaii. Another doctor from his practice came in and met with me. He said he didn't think from examining my vitals that it was a stroke, but he couldn't be sure. He had a neurologist assist. This meant I was scheduled for an MRI. They asked me if I was claustrophobic. I said yes, but I had been through MRIs before. 

What I had forgotten was that last time I had been through an MRI I had to be sedated. 

My mom reminded me of this after the fact. Not that I could have been sedated anyway, but at least I could have warned them of giant ball of drama I was about to become. I had my second panic attack that week the second the cold, smooth tube hit my arms. What had been a small steel box before turned into the worse thing my emotionally battered brain could come up with. A coffin. A coffin. A coffin. The thought ran over and over in my mind as I completely freaked out AGAIN. Drama.

Those poor nurses. I apologized up and down. I really couldn't tell you why I couldn't rationalize my way through it. I needed that test. We needed to know what was going on. Mike tried everything he could. Finally, we got through it. It was a combination of the medical staff producing a mirror which made it appear that there was a hole in the top of the MRI tube, and Mike promising me that when this was over, we would go home and watch my tattoo show. 

I had recently discovered all 3 seasons of L.A. Ink on Netflix. What?

After the MRI, I was exhausted and I am sure Mike was too. We had been at the hospital all day with no answers. I had been praying over and over that it wouldn't be a stroke. Anything but a stroke. At about 4:30, the neurologist came in and told me I had not had a stroke. I don't know if I have ever felt more relief than at that moment.

The neurologist said he couldn't be positive, but was pretty sure I had a combination of an atypical migraine (causing the terrible pain) and Bell's Palsy.

Check out Bell's Palsy here.

In a nutshell, from what I can tell, it is a diagnosis of elimination. You are more prone to Bell's Palsy if you are A. highly stressed, B. an adult. C. prone to cold sores on your mouth when you are sick or stressed (yes, THAT Herpes...not the other one), and D. in your third trimester of pregnancy. It usually starts with twitches on the affected side of the face and then progresses quickly and mimics a stroke in that half of your face is paralyzed. You can't smile. You can't flare your nostril (just one), you can't raise your eyebrow, you can't easily close your eye. On the plus side, all your wrinkles on that side disappear too. 

How had I never heard of this before?

The neurologist then became very serious and asked me to evaluate my life. He talked to me about my anxiety and stress. I have always passed these things off as something I just need to be stronger about. As I have gotten further into adulthood, I can identify some exact thoughts that are on a loop in my brain. "I am a weak person and that is why I allow anxiety to rule my life. Other people are better suited to make decisions because they are more logical than I am. I can't make a mistake because then everyone will REALLY think I am stupid. I am too passive, too compliant, too people-pleasing and soft." These are the negative thoughts that have allowed me to continue going through my days thinking I just needed to be a better, stronger person and I wouldn't have this problem. 

And the funny thing about that is, I really don't have a self-esteem problem. I know I am awesome. 

The neurologist wasted no time testing my ability to decide what is best for me. He asked me what my plan was for taking care of myself until the baby comes. I, of course, was flabbergasted and panicked. He wanted ME to tell HIM what I needed to do? I fumbled through some things, "I'm on call this weekend, so I guess after this weekend I can ask to not be on call anymore? I could take tomorrow off?" Now it was his turn to be flabbergasted. "Try again." He was almost angry. I could tell there was a right answer, and I had better come up with it soon.

I struggled with the words. "Bed rest?"

"Exactly," he asserted. "At least until your next doctor appointment."

He challenged me to find some better ways to handle stress and anxiety. Then he wrote me a note to stay home, and made sure I understood that he meant it. The nurse who had been checking on me all day came in at that point and reaffirmed what the neurologist had said. "Rest means rest. Lying down with your feet up. No chasing kids! This can get worse, you know."

To be honest, I had done a lot of soul-searching in that bed that day. A lot of things needed to change.

At that moment, I made a commitment to change. Reduce sodium, reduce sugar,  no processed foods, drink as much water as I can, make sure there are proteins and carbs in every meal. I would research ways to have a more positive attitude and reduce stress. 

Work was incredible. They had already planned to take me off call until after I return from maternity leave, and said for me to take as much time as I needed. They had taken me out of rotation and dispersed my open cases.

The pain in my head and neck and ear was unlike anything I had ever experienced. My eye was running a constant tear down my cheek because I couldn't close it without a lot of thought and I found I couldn't easily eat or drink. But this was an honest and true gift from God. Honestly. This could have been worse. This could have been a lot worse. It forced me to take a look at my life and make some big changes. I completely changed the way I was eating, and I made sure if I wasn't up going pee, I was laying down with my feet up. It's hard not to feel responsible for things going on in your own house, but I had to do it. 

At my next doctor's appointment they told me I had lost 9 lbs. That was in 5 days. It was all water. I finally looked at the scale. We decided I could go back to work part time until the baby comes. My boss actually made sure I had an ottoman in my office to put my feet up on and has checked to make sure my feet are up more than once. My doctor moved my scheduled c-section up, in hopes that having the baby would speed up my recovery.

I mostly miss my smile. Another outcome of this is realizing that there is more to who I am than what I look like. Being able to offer a smile is something I am sure most of everyone takes for granted. The day we went to pick up my medications, I had my eye taped shut (hard to shut it on my own) and my giant Lady Gaga sunglasses on. An older gentleman was trying to talk to me about some things that were on sale. I was terrified to talk to him, he would see my broken face. He made a joke. I couldn't smile. I mostly miss my smile.

One amazing blessing I can count is that my daughter totally gets when I am trying to smile. She smiles back. 

It is getting easier to face people now. Maybe I am just getting used to it.  Maybe I am starting to understand that my face is the smallest part of all of this. In three days, I will be holding my new little man. (It's a boy!)  

I will recover. This will go away. I have so much to be thankful for. And so do you. Take some time to be thankful today, doctor's orders.

Embrace the Minivan

Not long after my last REAL post in October? Maybe? I was still feeling very down about my weight and dieting and eating healthy. I get really excited about an idea (*ahem* Quinoa) and when it doesn't work out 
I throw my hands up for awhile and mope.


Just when I was about to go full-force mope-o-matic, my husband got an idea. If this is your first time reading, or you are not real familiar with Mr. Mommyusedtobesopretty, let me just tell you...he is full of ideas. I get whiplash from his business ideas. In just the past two years, he has run a fully functioning moving business, started a tote rental company (actually a pretty great idea, check out www.renttote.com), to different websites, and is now entertaining the business idea he currently has sitting out on our driveway.


Here's a picture:  

"OK, Babe, see, I am going to buy these old cars really cheap, fix 'em up, and sell 'em."
Disclaimer: this is not my car. 

We will definitely get back to the mini-van, because it is an integral character in this plot line.


So my husband saw a commercial, which led him to a million websites of "Google research," and he even visited the local Complete Nutrition. "There's this new diet plan called HCG. People are losing tons of weight and it's natural." And his usual sales pitch, "listen to me, babe. I know what I am talking about." My husband, who has never been overweight a day in his life, at almost 6 feet tall and usually weighing in around 175, "knows what he is talking about." 

According to Wikipedia, "Human chorionic gonadotropin or human chorionic gonadotrophin (hCG) is a glycoprotein hormone produced during pregnancy that is made by the developing embryo after conception and later by the syncytiotrophoblast (part of the placenta)."

PS? Pure HCG is extracted from pregnant women's urine. 

OHHH, YEAH!!!!

                                        

Basically, the proponents of the HCG diet swear that the use of HCG will keep your body burning fat even when you are eating a super-low (500 per day) calorie diet. You can read more about that here.

I want to stop the bus right now and make something VERY clear. I am NOT a fan of diet pills. I do not endorse or condone the use of diet pills. I think they are super dangerous and pretty mysterious as most of them are not approved by the FDA, and many feature pictures of Kardashians on them.  

For whatever reason that day, I decided to let my husband talk me into trying this. I know! I know! I was really scared, but first of all, these are drops, not pills, so somehow, better?  Secondly, my husband assured me that the guy at Complete Nutririon assured him everything was natural. After all, it comes from the pee of pregnant women, right?

I opted not to follow the 500 calorie diet. Sorry, that nonsense ain't happening. Me HUNGRY.

I did keep careful track of my calories and followed a 1100 to 1300 calorie diet. I used the drops twice a day and drank a lot of water. Proponents of this diet swear that you can lose a pound a day. They promise that each pound you lose is a pound of fat. I found lots of blogs where people were following this diet and lost a LOT of weight with minimal hunger.  (Another promise of HCG is hunger reduction. Whatevs. Feed me.)

In about 7 days, I lost 10 lbs. Seriously. For a moment, I wondered if my husband had been right about other things in our marriage, and quickly got over that. (In retrospect, it was probably the healthy eating and water loss due to eating less sodium and drinking more water.) And this was even happening during my worst week of PMS. (Gentlemen, I apologize if this gets to be TMI, but it is CRUCIAL to the story!) I actually started my period a day early, although it had been jumping around a bit the past few months, I am always happy to get it over with. 

The next day was a training for work in Grand Island, Nebraska! WOOOOT!

A funny thing happened in Grand Island that day. My period disappeared. *poof* Gone.

I wasn't panicked at first. My period had been acting funny, and I was on these pregnant women pee drops which certainly could have some kind of hormonal effects on one's body, and I had been very stressed lately... so I waited to see if it would return. I even called my husband on the long drive home and told him to start researching whether or not these drops would have an effect on someone's "special time." He said that he found a few sites where someone mentioned it, but it was attributed to the extremely low calorie diet and not the drops. So we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After 3 days of waiting, a tiny seed of doubt was bristling and flourishing into a full grown frenzy.

Am I...? *gulp*

What was going through my mind? "There is NO way. NO WAY. Scarlett is only a year old. There is NO WAY. I was never meant to be a mother of ... *gulp*, and two kids both still wearing *gulp*...Mike and I had just started really trying to smooth out our relationship... (I know what you are thinking!) So this is really CLOSE to impossible...but not totally..."

"*gulp*"

Friends, I have purchased pregnancy tests in my life at many different stages. 

The "please, God, no!" Stage. 

The "please, please, please, God, let it be positive!" Stage. 

This was a new stage. Maybe you could call it, "Whaaa?" 

or "*gulp*".

I took the first test. It wasn't exactly positive. It wasn't exactly negative either.

I took the second test. Same thing.

Mike, in true form, keep up a tantric chant "It's gotta be the drops. It's gotta be the drops. It's gotta be the drops."

But with no period in sight, I had to call in the experts. So I called my OB's office and explained the situation with the HCG drops, the weight loss, the disappearing period, the weird tests. The nurse had never heard of such a thing, so they asked me to come in for a blood test. The next day, they called to let me know...

they weren't sure.

So they wanted me to wait a few days and come back in for another test. I went in to get my blood drawn, and explained my situation to the woman drawing my blood. She was mostly excited about my weight loss because she had just ordered HCG from Canada. 

Later that day, I received a call from my OB nurse. She said, "are you sitting down?" I said, "I can't. I think I already know what you are going to say." She said, "Yeah, you do." 

Then she said:

Baby #3 due June 23
"THE GRAND FINALE"

Soooo...about that minivan...

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Coming soon- "Embrace the Mini-van"

Don't worry about clicking that ridiculous banner anymore...unless you want to...

Just keep your eyes peeled for new posts coming real soon...

LOVE-
Mommy, who used to be SO pretty.



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Squeamish.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeere's Mommy?

Here I am!

Sweet pretty sisters and handsome misters, I apologize for my absence. Mommy took a little...mental vacation break.

Exhibit A: Cooking blog post "cooking" away

I know my last post was about me taking a break, but this long hiatus wasn't really planned. It all started out quite innocently. I even had a cooking blog post "cooking" for your reading pleasure right around the end of August. I had been running pretty regularly, I was cooking and eating healthily, I was making tutus (whaaaaa?), working, playing house (as always) and writing away. As per usual, I was holding everything together, stitched in place with a quivering, delicate, spindly thread of sanity.

Exhibit B:Trader Joe's ingredients

I had found this excellent recipe that I thought I could make with quinoa (here's a whole post about Quinoa) that used ingredients I had in my kitchen. Most of the ingredients were from Trader Joe's. (here's a whole post about Trader Joe's) These tidbits of info are totally intregal to the tale, so take it all in. I want you to get the whole picture. Before we get too far into the tale, I do want to express that I will not be sharing the actual recipe because the person that originally posted the recipe really and truly loves and believes in this recipe. I will not stomp on anyone else's culinary dreams. 

In fact, here's a picture.

Exhibit C: Looks innocent enough, right? Wait for it...

I took pictures that day because I thought my finished project was simply lovely. I couldn't wait to share with you this delicious recipe for what I will call Trader Joe's Tuna Curry. (*urp) Yeah, reading it now makes me want to puke too. Tuna Curry? REAAAAAAAAALLY? Did I think my children were going to run (crawl) excitedly into the kitchen and marvel over their steaming plate of Tuna Curry?

Tuna Curry? You're the BEST, Mom!

Well, er, I guess I kinda did.

Just one month ago, I was doing great. I was totally into the whole, healthy foods thing. I had my cabinets stocked with grains and bookmarks upon bookmarks saved of recipes to turn my family's life around. At the apex of this giant heap of optimism was pinnacle of light that spilled over the unreached masses still feeding their children chicken nuggets. "Moms! Turn in your Lunchables! I have FOUND the answer! Tuna Curry!!! Follow me!"  And all of Heaven and Nature sang.

I took a few pics of the Tuna project so I could create an uber-post to celebrate this magical day. I should have seen some of the signs early on, but what's the fun in that? For instance, I had planned to show you a pic of my baby eating it all up...but she didn't eat it all up because I didn't give her any. It smelled wayyy too spicy to give to a baby. If you can detect the heat of a food based on the smell, you may want to take it down a level. Lesson learned. As far as baby went that day, I gave her some of the tuna and some squishy baby food to play in.

Crisis averted.

Once the food was finished, Trader Joe's Tuna Curry and some super spicy quinoa, I staged a photo with a beautiful array of veggies and a freaking gorgeous onion right in the middle.

Onion. Gorgeous. Right? 

I piled some on a plate for my son. I avoided most of the veggies, so his was mostly quinoa and tuna. He took a tentative bite, then promptly spit it out all over the table, the floor, the trash can, the hallway, the bathroom sink, the toilet, the bathroom floor, and then wiped his mouth all over the bath towel. I heard the water running as he "pblth! pblth! pblth!" into the sink over and over, desperately and dramatically (who's kid is this again?) ridding his mouth of the putrid, burning fish dish.

"Mom? I want chicken nuggets."

I did not capture this delightful exchange on film.

With my children full of processed foods, I knew it would be up to me to be the change I wanted to see in the world. (*sigh*) My husband was at work, and honestly, I was quite sure once he took a look at it, there would be no way in H-E-double-hockey-sticks he would let this non-domestic-sounding, fish-containing, vegetable-laden cuisine anywhere near his gullet.

I remember a little bit about eating it. I remember thinking the first bite was really good, but the first bite was mostly gorgeous onion. I dug into the quinoa and I too almost spit it out. It was SPICY. I had to keep appearances though, so I choked most of the veggies down, and then set my bowl down to get the kids in the tub. I remember coming back into the kitchen after the kids were in bed to clean up, and trying to get a few more bites down. I wanted the health and nutrients of all the super foods in this dish to heal my soul. How could I get any good soul healing if I couldn't get the food in my belly? 

I put a LOT of Trader Joe's Tuna Curry and spicy quinoa in the fridge and then went to lay down with my son for a little bit before my husband got home. 

This is the part I remember well.

I have heard it described many different ways by many different people. It's that moment when you realize all is not well. Some people say their mouth fills with water. Some people say their nose starts to burn. Some people's ears start to ring. None of those really apply to me. My son and I were halfway through "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" when what had started out as something along the lines of feeling weird turns into a politely conveyed message from my stomach to my brain, "Sorry, kid. I tried, I really did, but this ain't goin' anywhere but up." 

I told my son to stay in bed because Mommy was kind of sick and wanted to lay in her bed. I went into my bathroom and knelt on the floor. I had already accepted my fate. You can get a bit of good thinking done leaning on the toilet, elbows on the seat, staring into the white gleaming porcelain bowl. I remember thinking how grateful I was that I had cleaned the bathrooms that day. I remember thinking, "I'm not a puker. I'm not one of those people. This is not going to happen. I'll fight it..."

When my husband got home, I was on Round 3. I could vaguely hear my son telling my husband, "Mommy's puking up her guts." 

My husband came in around Round 5 and dropped off a glass of water and some nausea medicine. "What did you make for dinner, babe? The kitchen smells."

Round 6.

By Round 7, I willed myself into my bed, dragging along the trash can, and to just sleep with my head hanging over the bed just in case.

I somehow managed to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I felt better, but I wasn't about to push it. I could hear clanging in the kitchen, the sound of metal scraping against metal...my husband was throwing away all leftover remnants of *gah* Tuna Curry.

I couldn't make myself run that next week. Or eat anything close to...that stuff.

One week turned into two weeks, excuses upon excuses...

You know how it goes. This is the story of my life. 

But here I am. I ran again today for the first time in awhile. I signed up for Weight Watchers online just to see how many points I am eating daily, and to see if I can make some healthy improvements to my daily routine...

And I have used it all of three times in a week and a half. The absolute epitome of self-discipline.

So I guess you could say I am definitely back. Back in the saddle. Back in the bad habit.

Wheeeeeeeeere's Mommy?

Here I am!

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Break.

I need a little quiet.

I am starting to feel...melancholy. I need to figure it out. I have a ton to say and a ton to think about and I want to do it right. I love you, readers. You echo back to me all the time that we are so very not alone in all we are trying to achieve. I love that we are all trying to achieve.

I don't appreciate my own inconsistency lately. I am supposed to post on Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. NOT HAPPENING. I am failure.

Speaking of that...
I ate some pizza the other day. After the pizza, the cravings for processed food came back almost immediately. It was almost like my tastebuds that were enjoying the healthy food just disappeared. SO frustrating and disheartening. I got really sick on Saturday, pretty sure it was food poisoning...(a good story), and my body isn't back to normal yet. I haven't gone on a run since Friday. I miss it, and don't want to get out of the habit, but I also need to get back on a normal sleep routine again, and since getting super-sick, I can't sleep. Hence the midnight oil.

I feel like I am at the fat tipping point where just taking the stairs a few times instead of the elevator should equal at least a 2 lb weight loss. So how is it that running a few times a week and eating healthier does not equal much weight loss at all? Ah! I know what is going to happen next!!! SAY IT. Say muscle weighs more than fat. I'm feeling punchy. (How 'bout it?)

WHY IS IT ALL SO FREAKING HARD?!

To be honest, nothing really tastes that great right now. What gives?

I cracked open a fortune cookie the other day (not to eat, gross. Want mine?), and it said something to the effect of "Happiness is where you look for it."

Is that the answer? Am I just not looking hard enough for the happy? It's pretty easy to find things to complain about. I'm real good at it. Real good.

So I want to really look at that. And I will be posting a few of my "greatest hits" for awhile.

Go buy some Greek yogurt, but get the kind with the fruit in the bottom...trust me. (Chobani rules!)

Muah.






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Giveaway Winner!

I had planned to use that random number generator thing that all the big girl blogs use to determine my giveaway winner...but I got distracted.

And I figure, what better random number generator than my random everything generator under my very own roof?

Me: "Graham, pick a number between 1 and 8."

Graham: "1 and 8."

Me: "Graham, no, dude. Just one number. What is your favorite number?"

Graham: "ummmmm.........2?"

Me: "2? Your favorite number is two?"

Graham: "Yep. And 30-60."

So there you have it. Congrats, Katy! Email me at mommyusedtobesopretty@gmail.com with your address to claim your prize! I will have more natural product giveaways, so come back and visit.
Oh, and on the off chance that Katy doesn't claim her prize, the runners up are 1, 8, and 30-60.

Please click on the brown banner! PLLLLEEEEAAAAASEEE!



JUST CLICK IT! Each click is a vote!