S

Another self-serving, introspective post brought to you by the letter S -- for SELF.

I decided to try a "fitness" yoga class, it was weird. Not my kind of yoga.   My body was worked, but my mind and soul, they were pretty well just counting down the minuted until 55 minutes were up.  Looking around me in the class, there were people from all walks of life.  Moms, Grandmas, super-uber fit ladies and gentlemen, people on a life fitness journey, experienced yogi's and new to yoga people. Just a melting-pot class of people.

Honestly, there was no one time in 55 minutes I even compared myself to anyone in the class.  My 55minute class was between me and my ocean blue Jade yoga mat.That is the beauty of yoga, it can be as hard as you want, and your mat will never judge you.  You can stick to a basic pose if that is your "expression" that day, or you can go deeper and add a little flare.  You know me, I have some flare in my yoga practice.  This is all due to my crazy flexibility that is still with me.

But, yoga is yoga -- it is all loving and for all levels.  It does not beat you down because you cannot place your leg behind your head, it is happy you can lift your leg- or even THINK of lifting your leg. The intention is just as important as the action in yoga.  No one starts off being able to do every single variation of every pose.

Is this post about yoga- nope. But, it was after class I had the thought for this post.

You know, from my A post, I am trying and working on accepting me for me. Yoga accepts anyone who is willing and brave enough to try it. I need to think more like yoga.

I have really been finding myself comparing myself to others. Oh I wish I had her arms, look she doesn't have that Mommy pouch, her thighs look so toned... I find myself comparing myself to strangers, or better yet, the Kim from her peak of fitness. When I practiced 20+hours a week, and still found time to lift weights and do cardio for an additional 10+ hours a week. For some reason, I keep trying to compare my current -- 15 years older self-- to that Kim.

Why do I keep competing with myself? I wish I knew why I did this. 

Then today, I checked out a new to me blog.  It's a fashion blog (and I am SOOOO not fashionable), but she is a curvy girl. And she ROCKS every outfit she wears. Jeggings, leggins. skirts, form fitting dresses... and she looks great. She has something I do not have. She has a self-confident self image. I am super self-confident, but NOT when it comes to my body image.

My big problems with myself is two fold.

1. I keep questing for "normal." What does a "normal" 37 year old look like? What does a "normal" 37 year old with 8 years of infertility, a couple pregnancies, a full time job, and likes to drink an "adult beverage" a night look like?

Why do I care about "normal?" I am normal, for me. Why can't I  just look in the mirror and love who I see?  I mean I like me, I just wish I had thinner arms --- not going to happen I am built to have strong arms, not skinny tooth pick arms.  I am able to lift 40 pound bags of dirt 40+ times. I get sore, but I can do it -- can tooth pick arms do that? Would I sacrifice strength to lift my children up, to have skinny arms? No. No, I would not. The same goes for those long Angelina Jole legs -- unless I get a femur transplant, short and squatty, yet strong and flexible is what I have.   My "Mommy" belly. I swear, that was 100% exacerbated by my fertility drugs. You can totally disagree with me, but, I had a pretty flat stomach when we started.  And I swear after injecting so many rounds of Follistim (and other related cocktails), the "pouch" grew.  Around Christmas, I was 1 pound from my wedding weight, but pouchie was still there. There seems to be an odd scientific phenomena that has occurred around my belly button area.

2. Be happy with what I see. I am working hard on me. I am working to try to see what Jeff sees, and it is hard. I can't. Where is see blah, he see curves and a nice lady. Where I see jiggles and girth, he sees the love of his life.  Funny thing is, I see Jeff for Jeff. I have never judged him against another. He rocks. He states he loves me for me.  Now, when will I be able to see that?

So, here at the age of 37, and greater than 145 pounds at 5'4", I really, really, need to work on my inside (i.e. brain).  I need to work on me before Calista realizes how Mommy sees. I do not wish my weird sense of self on CC. She is a beauty and always will be. I hope to instill in her confidence about herself.  In order to teach her that lesson, I need to re-learn it again myself.



    

R

Real life. Real life is not what I watch in those silly Hallmark movie channel movies. 

Real life is that moment, I become brave enough to take my two kids to the Zoo, alone. I must say, I expected the worst, but we all had one of our best days together.

Real life is the moment your husband calls you laughing. Apparently, your "self-sufficient" potty trained 2 year old fell in the toilet and got stuck.

Real life is the moment a sweet memory of hand feeding birds goes horrible wrong when one daring bird decides to land on your son's head.

Real life is traveling away from home from your family, but knowing your reunion will be extra sweet.

Real life is knowing, I don't know a lot of things--- but my Mom does :)

Real life is taking the time to enjoy the silly things; like two little sweet kids jumping in a swimming pool exclaiming, "Cantaloupe!" You know they are wanting to say the word, "Cannonball!" But, you do not even pause to try to correct them.

Real life is seeing an unflattering picture of yourself, but thinking the moment it was taken there was SO much joy around, so, you did not delete it.

Real life is asking your husband to teach you how to use a volt meter- just in case.

Real life is doing what is best for your family, even when other people question your choice.

Real life... yes, I find it all around me. It's around all of us. It's up to each of us to live in the moment of real life.  Live in the moment, take what serves you and feeds your soul.  Then toss away all that crap.  The crappy part of real life is the stuff I need to let roll off and not hang around. However, the most important part of living in the moment and in real life is to learn from it and enjoy the ride.

Here are a few real life pictures from last week:

Last Day of Pre-School

Fun on the slip-n-slide

Bathing Beauty

Silly Face

Sillier face

Pure Joy