The Whole 30

I put my pants on today without having to unbutton them first. I have more energy than I’ve ever had. I have followed through with something for the first time in my entire life with the exception of my divorce. The Whole 30 works. I have become one of “them”. I want to talk to people about it and I want people to feel as good as I feel.

It’s not easy. In fact, it was hard and it took a lot of planning on my part to get my meals lined out. It took a lot for me to not have that glass of wine or that mini tub of ice cream but I pummeled through. I went to happy hour with my friends at one of our favorite pizza places and didn't have a drink or a slice of pizza. If I can do this – ANYONE can. I’ve actually made people uncomfortable with this new found discipline which at first I found to be unfortunate but it’s actually empowering. It means I’m changing. It means I've found something healthy to be passionate about. It means – I am growing.

Now that I am finished with The Whole 30 I will continue to apply it to my everyday life however I am incorporating a cheat day. That day starts today and it’s going to entail a summer brew from one of my favorite local breweries and PIZZA. I cannot wait however I already know I will be going into this incredible, delectable experience with a different mindset. My treat will not be to over indulge but to have just enough and to feel AMAZING tomorrow. Cheers!

Here are few things I did that made it easier:

I did it with a friend who I can trust and did indeed call on her to talk me through a few tough sitches.

• Grilled meat for my lunches & dinners on Sunday night all in one sitting.
• Turned part monkey and made bananas within reach at all times. Monkey salad was my go to.
• Lara Bars (be careful to read the ingredients on each) – Lemon Pie, Coconut Cream Pie and Cashew were my faves.
• Had coconut milk available at all times.

Here are some links to help as well!

The ShoppingList

The Whole 30FB

PinterestWhole 30

The Timeline is dead on

GROW :: 2013

I've decided that I need to be fully committed; surely in more ways than one as some of you will agree but what I mean is I've made the decision to be fully committed to 86 Big Mama {ahem} again. I took quite the hiatus due to several reasons but mainly because I was being "criticized" for sharing too much. I've come to find that is indeed who I am. I share, I try to relate to others, I've been through and witnessed enough to have compassion for almost any circumstance (here in suburbia) but most importantly I've found that sharing and writing is something that's been instilled in me since I was a small child and well - I could give a rats ass if anyone feels I'm sharing too much. Now. Now I could give a rats - before I wasn't emotionally equipped to handle the criticism. 

I have stories to tell. It's my release. It's my escape. It relaxes me and I find it therapeutic. So there. Nothing will be off limits. Except of course the names of those I've dated in the past year who will be poked fun of. Ah, come on...it was definitely earned. One day we'll laugh and the next we'll cry; if you don't then you might just be the Tin Man ;) Oh, I'm still obsessed with food - #getreadyforthefoodpicturesallyoufoodpicturehaters. Let's see: food, parenting, dating, business, pretty stuff, ugly stuff, inspirational stuff, disheartening stuff - you name it, I'll touch on it. 

First up:

A colleague of mine (who just happens to be the cutest thing since The Olsen Twins, Full House edition)  posted a fun/inspiring little ditty about committing to just "one little word" that sums up what you want for yourself in 2013. It took me 2 seconds to commit to mine: GROW. I want to grow personally, grow professionally - grow up basically. It is time for me to GROW with the grace of a woman rather than the grief of a child. It. Is. Time. 

{image via tumblr}

So friends, saddle into your big girl (or boy) panties, sit tight and enjoy the sometimes unfortunately true stories of my life that make Honey Boo Boo's family seem normal. If the sole purpose of reading this blog is to help you realize that we all have struggles regardless of how big/small our house is, how expensive/crappy our purse is, how amazing/not so amazing we portray our significant other to be, how successful/unsuccessful we are professionally - then mission accomplished. Hopefully I can offer a little comic relief to some of the tough stuff because trust and believe this is quite the side show over here. If you're here to criticize/ridicule/take me 100% seriously go blog stalk some other broad. Pronto. 

All eyes on me in the middle of the ring - just like a circus. So true Brit Brit, so true. 

Pinned Up

There are worse things I could be addicted to trust and believe but for now Pinterest has my full attention. I go back and forth with committing time to pinning and well, in the last couple weeks I've just gone...forth. It started to weigh on me that I hadn't checked in on my online hoarding addiction in awhile. So I turned on a TNT movie, made a cup of coffee, turned the air down, grabbed my favorite throw and away I went. Sucked in like a freaking hoover vac. Done and done. See you in a few hours.

I came across so many new things; recipes, home improvement projects, outfits, color combos, decorating ideas, craft projects, workout regiments, homemade beauty products - good thing I don't care about my nails...because jeeze louise there are a ton of new things you can do with them too! I almost, almost started to feel a little inadequate. Who comes up with all these brilliant ideas? I surveyed the sitch and I'm quite alright with being a "repinner" rather than an "original pinner". Pulled out the note pad and started putting a game plan together.

Don't be jealous, I had an entire weekend full of nothing to do except laundry and switch back and forth between TNT and Dateline ID so I tried a few things and I actually really liked them. I thought I'd share. I started small...easy recipes and an orange/sugar facial exfoliant scrub that I somewhat tweaked based on what I had. Let's be real, the home improvement projects that involve more than glue, felt and spray paint are for the advanced pinner. I had time but no desire to make that much of a committment.

I made this orange sugar facial scrub and let me tell you afterwards I felt like I wanted to make everything from scracth. There was something nostalgic about it. I got so into it at one point I had to ask myself if I were Amish. Jokes. I did however quesiton if I had it in me to be an urban granola? Not sure, but it turned out well and after I used it my face was as smooth as butter. I'll definitely be using it to shine up the 'ol epidermis for a little Chi-Town romantic get-a-way this weekend! Mama's getting her groove back and making sugar scrubs - look out.

Orange Sugar Facial Scrub

Ingredients:

Brown Sugar

Raw Sugar

Pinch of Baking Soda

Pureed Mango (It was a day away from being tossed, decided to use it)

Freshly Squeezed Orange Juice

(Um, I used the orange juice one of my kids didn't drink from breakfast that morning. Don't judge. I hate to waste.)

Mix all together until desired consistency. Less is more wherein the juice is concerned. Don't over do it or you'll make more than you'll be able to use over a few days before it starts to smell unpleasant. Trust me on this one.

Question to Self:

Do you like pinning the hard bodies on Pinterest for motivation or do you just like looking at the hard bodies?

Answer to Self:

It's a toss up.

More scrubs found here.

My Teenage Boy

“They” say hold onto your babies… “it” goes by fast. You think “they” are crazy as you’re chasing a fiery red headed 2 year old boy around; you think it will never end and there will be plenty of time to hold on to the precious moments you push to the side to do whatever it takes to pay the bills. You convince yourself that those nights with friends are irreplaceable so you get a babysitter because “he’s sleeping anyhow”; or at least that’s what happens when babies raise babies.   I was 23 years old when I found out I was pregnant with Jacob. It was shocking and surreal to say the least however I have always felt he was my blessing in disguise and continue to feel that way.

I remember the day Jacob was born like it was yesterday. How appropriate it would be for this incredible little man to come into our lives on Mother’s Day. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I just sat there in awe. He was perfect. He wasn’t like those other newborns that I had seen in the past; the not so cute ones. You know the ones I’m talking about. His face was perfectly round and his nose was exactly like mine. My entire pregnancy I had prayed that my baby wouldn’t have red hair (it runs in the family). As soon as I pulled his little cap off of his almost completely bald head the next morning…I saw the glimmer…the glimmer of the red. That’s what I get for screaming “you treat me like a red headed step child” my entire life, I thought to myself. I decided to keep him anyways. Every part of this kid is special including his to die for red hair. His strength, his friendliness, his humor, his beat boxing abilities, his heart, his patience, his kindness to others, his resilience to change but willingness to embrace it, his athleticism and without question his fearlessness.

I will never forget the feeling that ran over me when he went down the slide for the first time by himself. I literally wanted to make it my mission in life to take him to every slide within a 50 mile radius to watch him achieve the climb, the fun on the way down and his never ending energy to make that climb again. My dear, sweet, beautiful, red headed baby boy as you make this transition from child to young man you will encounter many climbs and many trips down that perhaps aren’t so fun however always, always know I’ll forever be nearby whatever playground you’re on to make sure you continue to have the energy to make that climb.  

Happy Birthday my teenage boy, or rather...Happy Birthday my teenage {ahem} young man.

Note To Self:
When he talks, listen. When he hugs you, don't let go until he does. When he wants to hang and watch the game, do it. These will be the small things that matter the most later.

The Funk

Do you ever just have those days? When I say days I mean days not day. You feel the snowball teetering at the edge of the hill and then BAM some little a-hole comes from behind and knocks it right over? You start freaking out about everything on your plate rather than focusing on just the mashed potatoes and gravy? All your responsibilities come to the forefront and you’re a panic attack away from crying as you stroll down the aisles at the grocery store? Oh wait, both happened. If you get what I'm saying then you too have experienced The Funk. It's serious biz.

When you lose your “person”, you know, the one that gets all your quirks; thinks you’re cute when you’re really not, finds your personality funny not abrasive and provides a soft spot to land when things get hard - it is a daunting task to deal with life alone. (At least at the time you think it is) Sprinkle a little PMS on top of that chaotic cupcake of a sitch and forget about it. You might as well lock me in a dark closet (naked) with reptiles, amphibians and such.

Perhaps The Funk decided to nestle in when I saw my brother in ICU (he’s thankfully on the way to recovery so no worries) or seeing my mom go through her child being in ICU. It was like a Hallmark commercial in my head when I left the hospital. I started thinking of when we were little and how much I loved him and wanted to take care of him. When he cried, I cried. When he got in trouble, I got in trouble so he wasn’t alone – or because I was that stupid. Yeah, I was probably that stupid. “I don’t know who kicked the ball through the window mom and dad. I think the whale people (overly obese neighbors) stole our ball and did it”. It’s a true story. I called them the whale people and that my friends is why I struggle with my weight. Karma’s a bitch. At any rate let’s get back on track. It’s the golden rule we break every day: Seeing someone you love in pain, sick and helpless and the reality of taking their presence in your life for granted. Hand delivered invitation for The Funk to come on inside. This bout of The Funk could have easily been brought on by the self inflicted broken nose which brought along two blacks eyes for back up. It’s a toss up really. Either way the feeling of not being able to handle things sucks...and it lingers...The Funk.

As I felt it creeping up and noticing how worried my mom was over my 32 year old bigger, younger brother it suddenly dawned on me that my job as a parent never expires. Not that I want it to but damn. I think I have problems now. Little kids=little problems. Big kids=BIG problems. During the most recent Funk I found myself feeling sorry for my kids when I tucked them in at night. Just the fear of being alone and raising them on my own basically. I’m still raising myself. How am I going to do this? What will become of them? What if something happens to them? What if something happens to me and I’m not here to take care of them? When they get older will I be stoic like my mother who has been through hell and back these past several months? Why aren't things the way they're supposed to be? Time is going by too fast. How am I already in my late 30's? Where did time go? I want to go back to the simpler times when I rocked my babies to sleep and was a pizza slinging fool. I should never be left unattended. I Ike Turnered myself.  I still need my mommy!

You feel the panic at the disco of life setting in? When The Funk and paranoia finally set up housekeeping all through me I naturally go on a comfort seeking binge. Bike rides with my kids, going to the library-because that’s what normal people do, Body Combat, day drinking with friends, spending time with those same friends and laughing/dancing it out, candy, frosting, cheez-its, and then of course church (shocking, I know) – in that order. None of it seems to help. No offense Jesus. I try to make my problems yours as you tell us to but my requests must be going straight to your voicemail as well. 

Then alas…I come to my senses and watch Bridesmaids. WTF?! Why didn’t I think of this earlier in the week? Why didn’t I remember this magical trick from the last snowball incident?  Who can’t talk themseleves off a cliff and recover from The Funk with a little Lady St. Patzwa y’all?! A couple of hours spent with my favorite make believe girls and I’m staring at myself in the mirror saying “Carol! Get your $#&* together Carol!”  Done and done. Funk-don’t let the door hit ya on the ass on your way out! A few deep breaths and we’re all better. I say “we’re” because let’s be real - there’s a few of us leasing space up in this noggin. The kids are going to be A-o.k. with me as their mom. I’m going to be able to make pancakes in the morning AND do my hair; maybe even match. I've got this alone although it gets a little hairy at times. No soft spot needed - just good friends - the real kind, family and my healthy, beautiful kids. Whew. All is good in the Hernanskey Hood. Catcha on the flip side Stove.  

86 Big Mama’s Advice:

If you haven’t seen Bridesmaids stop everything you’re doing and watch it. I don’t care if you’re at work. If you don’t find it funny the first time, watch it until you do – what are you? An appliance?

Note to Self:

Remember when you were 7 and leaving K-Mart with your mom hoping to God none of your friends saw you coming out of the land of the blue light special thinking to yourself "I CANNOT wait until I'm adult"? That was dumb.

Tell Sweet Jesus you're just kidding. You know he's getting your messages or at least your mom's...or your Nanny's...or your Nanny's friend's...or the neighbor lady's...or your friend Cicely's...or your friend Rachella's. Your life is awesome sauce. If you don't think so just turn on the news. Focus on the mashed potatoes and gravy.

Relationship Advice from Little Red

Let me set the scene:

American Idol is on and one of the contestants is singing Whitney's "How Will I Know".

Little Red (my 7 year old daughter) is in the living room and I am in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. We are both singing and dancing along...

I wrap the song up with "...if he really loves me...", the dance movement referred to as "the snake" and mumble something under my breath (or so I thought) like "oh dear Lord I will never know" or something to that effect. My daughter whips her head around and says "MOM! There are other fish in the sea! You just need to get ready more and get some different clothes". Thank you for the advice 7 year old. Unfortunately, she's right. 

While I was getting 1 of 3 bathed and ready for bed this is what Little Red was up to. I walked in after it was too late. Let 'er roll Little Red, let 'er roll. 

{Take 1}

{Take 2}

{Take 3}

I know, I know. This is wrong in SO many ways and on SO many levels. 

86 Big Mama's Advice:

Clearly I'm the one that needs the advice. If you happen to know Super Nanny please call me in a favor.

Note to Self:

You could learn a few things from this girl. PS, you might want to put another straight jacket for yourself on lay-a-way.

You're going to wish payback was only a "bitch". 

Note to Ex-Husband:

Get her room ready. She's coming to live with you in 2.2

Disclaimer before you call CPS: I do not condone or encourage the word "suck" in my home. In my defense this little spitfire has a brother who is almost a teenager with teenage friends. She's a sponge soaking up all of the naughtiness and gets in trouble more than Little Johnny. I am known to still use the word dude though. It's good times in these here parts.

Believe in Yourself. I do.

As you can imagine last week’s post on The Inevitable Break-Up ruffled “feather”. I’ve thought long (6 days) and hard about whether I should actually go here. Oh hell, why wouldn’t I? Quite a few people reached out to me after they read the post. Some I know and some I don’t. The messages varied from “I hope you’re cutting yourself some slack”, “sorry to hear it didn’t work out” to “I just went through a rough break-up myself. I love your blog. You say what most won’t”, "$4.75 for the bike" and then of course my absolute fave “I just read your blog and I lost my shit”. I don’t write this blog to hurt feelings, dump my problems on others or to be a Negative Nancy. I’m just simply sharing my experiences whether difficult or not in a somewhat comical fashion because in reality some of the things we go through that seem unbearable and tragic at the time are SO trivial compared to what others are going through. I’m extremely thankful that I’m not blogging from a hospital room updating everyone on the condition of my terminally ill child or passing along stories that a loved one is sharing from protecting our country overseas. This is merely a way for me to express myself. Some people dig it, some don’t. I say tomato (which is the right way to say it) you say “tuhmotto”.

First and foremost I want to be very clear that this is not a declaration of war or a “he said, she said” type situation. I just simply want to share a tid bit about the repercussions of sharing my break-up on a public forum. I received quite the doosie of a text later that evening as a result; I was on the fence whether I would or not. It wasn’t the implication of “revising history” or being called out on my “f’ing warped sense of pride/insecurities” that got to me. Nor the “you’ll never learn from your mistakes” comment. Trust me when I say I let it sink in and allowed it to run all over me. It hurt like hell and only slightly penetrated this Great Wall of China I’ve thrown up again. What juked me and got under my skin were the following words “…I’m very happy. You deserve to be happy too. Believe in yourself. I did”. Oh no he di'ain't.  I’ll come clean. I did send a message apologizing if any feelings were hurt or ego insulted. I’ll also put it out there that when the break up first happened I was a complete mess for a good month. I did my fair share of groveling and (ahem) begging and pleading – obviously to no avail. I even went as far as sending a letter thanking him for all the wonderful things he did for me and brought into my life and I meant every single word of it. Yup, I went there. Why not? I was heartbroken and madly in love; emphasis on madly.

{image from someecards.com}

Let’s get back to the “…I’m very happy. You deserve to be happy too. Believe in yourself. I did”.  First, like love, sometimes happiness isn’t a feeling it’s a choice. I allowed myself a time of mourning and then I made a choice that I would indeed be happy. That’s not to say that I don’t get sad and miss the relationship or the person who was in my life. I definitely had to readjust my thinking. I'll have you know I am in fact a softy wofty on the inside. Hard to imagine, I know. Second, who on God’s green Earth would have the audacity to tell ME to believe in myself? I have a case of the blues and suffer from low self-esteem from time to time as do most but it is not due to the lack of believing in myself I can assure you that. It’s sometimes triggered by believing in someone else and being let down time and again-not ALWAYS but on occasion. Sometimes it’s due to my skinny jeans not fitting or a freakishly bad hair day but whatever. You’re picking up what I’m laying down - no doubt. One persons blog rant is another persons new bike and relationship. 

Let me just say this. If I didn’t believe in myself I would not have pulled through the last 3 years especially the last 6 months (most of the problems I confronted were self-induced - I’ll touch on that some other time) with my head held high for the most part and indeed learning from my mistakes. If I didn’t believe in myself I wouldn’t have left a verbally unhealthy and emotionally dead marriage after 11 years much to the majority’s dismay.  If I didn't believe in myself I would be one of those women who stays in a relationship and puts up with a ton of crap just for the sake of not being alone. If I didn't believe in myself I wouldn’t be busting my ass on a daily basis to run a 2 income household on 1. If I didn't believe in myself I wouldn’t take on the mother and father role in my children's lives-not only take it on but also dominate and conquer those roles.  If I didn't believe in myself I wouldn't have opened the door when opportunity knocked just recently and took my business to a whole new level. If I didn't believe in myself I wouldn't have the courage to rebuild my company even though I've ran it into the ground several times. If I didn’t believe in myself I wouldn't have the cojones to face my colleagues and peers who've witness me suck and suck hard professionally.  If I didn't believe in myself I wouldn’t stand in the front of the class during the hip hop workout Body Jam. Last but not least, if I didn't believe in myself I damn sure wouldn't have a daughter who believes in herself. 

I did get kudos for saying something correct though...that it was inevitable because I pushed him away from day one. With good reason and none that pertained to me. I didn't want him to be sucked into my already made life. He's young and has the whole world in his hands. I wanted a different experience for him. The chance to be with someone more "appropriate". I'm a closet full of Banana Republic and a trust fund away from that. However with that said anyone here or there can call me what they want...warped, insane, unstable, bitchy, hard, negative, or even stupid but don't - ever - insult me and advise me to believe in myself. I do and oh, yes - I did. 

86 Big Mama’s Spicy Advice:

If someone treats you like an emotionally wrecked, unstable dumb bitch I think it is perfectly fine to react like one.

Note to Self: 

When someone says they love you and are there for you-you should be able to feel it and see it; not get sent straight to voice mail.