A Week Later

The point is, it makes no sense. Not to rational people anyway. There's nothing about shooting young children multiple times that is supposed to make sense. It's an act of brutality the likes of which our nation has never seen.

There have been two times in Jeremy's life when his life hung in the balance. At six weeks of age, we discovered by accident that he had a heart defect. We didn't realize it until later, but our cardiologist let us know that we were 2 hours away from losing him. Several months later, he had a bad reaction to his heart medication and had to be flown on a Flight-for-Life helicopter to Lutheran General Hospital. (I was not allowed to accompany him.)

In both instances, I was sick with fear and grief. I am aware that this is only a small measure of what the parents of those children must be feeling. I was deeply affected by this tragedy. I was still impatient with my kids because I'm human; at the same time, I understood that those parents would have given everything to be impatient with their kids just one more time.

Back in August, just after the shootings in Aurora, Colorado, I blogged about how I felt there needed to be stricter gun laws. A comment was left saying, "if stricter gun laws are made, people will just find new ways to break them." (I'm paraphrasing a bit.) The gist of the argument is a collective shrug of shoulders that's akin to saying "boys will be boys."

I don't feel like that's an appropriate response to this. I was guilty of posting (and engaging in discussions on postings) about the need for stronger legislation on gun control. To be clear, I don't believe we should ban all guns. I understand that people hunt for game or to sustain their families. Farmers and ranchers use guns to help protect their flocks and herds.

My real problem is that people are not being honest about the purpose of guns. There were people posting things about Timothy McVeigh and John Wayne Gacy. They both, according to the posts, killed more children than the gunman in Newtown.

I am disturbed that we need to invoke the name of a terrorist and serial killer to try and minimize what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary. I am disturbed that none of my right-leaning friends want to verbalize the truth; guns are instruments of death.

When you head into the woods with a gun, you are not hoping to tickle the deer. When you use a gun to protect yourself in your home against an invader, you are saying that your life is more valuable than theirs. It's a zero-sum game, really. One person is going to die.

Yes, people kill one another with any number of instruments. One FB friend pointed out, the terrorists hijacked planes on 9/11 with just box cutters. Another said, when drunk drivers kill someone with their car, should cars be banned?

I will address both instances. First, after what happened on 9/11, flights were grounded for a week. Ten years later and I can't board a plane with so much as fingernail clippers. Anytime the TSA is found asleep on the job, we hear about it. There's an investigation. People are held accountable. Changes are made.

As for the drunk driver, they are held accountable. Driving privileges are just that-granted at the behest of the government. Failure to follow the rules means that one's license can be revoked. The person who kills someone with their car while drunk can be held criminally responsible. They can serve jail time.

The gun violence in America seems only to be skyrocketing. My husband, who majored in Political Science in college, informs me that the forefathers intended the Second Amendment as a way to give states the ability to form militias. Let's remember, back when the Constitution was framed, it probably took about 5 minutes between shots to reload a firearm.

I assert that the framers didn't intend for every Tom, Dick and Harriet to own a gun. Further, I believe they would be rolling over in their graves to hear the crimes against humanity being perpetrated in the name of the Second Amendment.

I return to my earlier posit; guns are used to end lives. Cars can end lives when used outside of safe parameters, when one does not follow the rules of the road, when the driver is distracted, etc. Cars are not manufactured for the purpose of killing people. Adam Lanza used the guns in exactly the way they were intended.

Anyone who buys a gun should know that the gun is a weapon of destruction. Even if someone is shot but not killed, a bullet can do far more damage to the human body than a knife, a length of rope or a lead pipe. Bullets shred organs on contact, shatter bones, lodge themselves deep into the body and cause ongoing damage.

Case in point? In China, the same day as the massacre at Sandy Hook, a man injured 22 people with a knife. Injured. Not killed, maimed, paralyzed, disfigured, but injured. If Mr. Lanza had entered that school with a knife, we would not be having this conversation. He would not have been able to kill 26 people with a knife in such a short amount of time. It just wouldn't have been possible.

The other post I kept seeing was that if just one person was carrying a concealed weapon, they could have ended the conflict sooner. Police and military personnel are trained extensively, for years, on how to use their firearms. Beyond going to target practice, they serve in real-life situations and have the opportunity to hone their skills.

I don't believe, outside of these two scenarios, that civilians are adequately trained or ready to fire a weapon at a moving target in a sea of smaller moving targets while under duress. I don't want an armed guard at my children's school. (I also can't get any of my right-leaning friends to tell me how we would pay to staff this position. Schools are already struggling to educate our children, I think the additional burden would break them.) I have faith that the police are the best option for protecting me against intruders or other criminals. I don't want anyone's (and I mean anyone's)blood on my hands. My fear is that even if I were trained appropriately, I could hit the wrong target. That's called murder and I don't want to give up my freedom for a bad decision.

(Also, please note that there were armed guards present at Columbine High School and they weren't able to stop the tragedy there.)

Now. The other issue our country doesn't want to address is mental health coverage and administration. We do not want to talk about mental health issues out loud in a public forum. We stigmatize people with mental health issues, make them the butt of our jokes, disinclude them from a discussion about mental health coverage and administration and then wonder why they don't seek help (and receive help). I struggle with depression. I can take as much medication for it as I want, but going to counseling is a logistical nightmare.

There's no infrastructure to help me. I am a housewife, I am involved in a couple of moms groups, but I hesitate to reach out for help. I feel like I'm burdening people by asking them to watch my kids. So I suffer, mostly isolated. There are no support groups for moms with depression. I'm not saying this to solicit help, I'm simply saying it is difficult for me, with health benefits, to seek treatment aside from pharmaceuticals.

How much more difficult is it for someone who has to work 3 jobs to put food on the table? For someone who works in corporate America, who is afraid it'll be viewed as a sign of weakness to seek counseling? For someone in the military, whose every move is documented and who is watched like a hawk by their fellow soldiers? No one wants to be in a foxhole with someone who's suicidal.

We need to have a frank discussion about mental health advocacy and administration. We need to strip away the stigma related to these issues. We need to let people know that it is okay to struggle with these issues. We need to stop the ridicule and the bullying and come to terms with the reality that we are, as a nation, very sick.

So this issue is two-pronged. I was disappointed that Wayne LaPierre blamed everybody else for what happened last Friday. I have started seeing some very frank PSAs about the dangers of smoking. I think if we had PSAs running with someone shooting a watermelon to demonstrate the power that guns hold, people might think twice about using them thoughtlessly.

Of course, what it comes down to is money. Those PSAs would never air; the gun lobby doesn't want anyone to slow the profits for the companies that it represents. That's what I find most disturbing. I am all for capitalism but I despise blind greed. I would have respected the NRA if they had accepted some amount of responsibility for what happened. They manufacture weapons that are designed for causing death (either human or animal). I feel like that's an honest assessment, not propaganda.

Finally, I want to speak out against those who say that this happened because God is not in the schools. I think this is an even more hurtful statement than people realize. Just because we are not praying at school doesn't mean that God is not there. I have plenty of Christian friends who teach in public schools. They pray for their students on a daily basis.

There were teachers at Sandy Hook who sacrificed their lives for the lives of countless innocent children. Isn't this a demonstration of God's love? Doesn't this show that God poured his grace on some of those children? I think it's heinous that Mike Huckabee is given free reign to spew vitriol about God not being there when he was standing next to each and every person there.

What's even more, I remember at least twice in the past two years that there were shootings in churches. If I'm correct, that's God's house. People invite him there every week. They visit church to commune with God. How is it, then, that the shootings happened there? By the previous statement's logic, God wasn't in those churches.

We will never eliminate murder in a world of imperfect, broken humans. There are no easy answers to this sickness. I firmly believe that violence begets violence. The NRA, the media, etc., have bred a culture of fear. The only thing that I know that replaces fear is faith and there is only one person in whom I feel my faith deserves to be placed. Even if we lived in a country where everyone acknowledged Jesus as their savior, we would still be having to deal with these kinds of issues. King David, who was known as a man after God's own heart, committed murder. Christians are not immune from this kind of tragedy and, as such, we shouldn't try to sell a bill of goods to people that says anything like that.

Ultimately, we can't apply our limited human understanding to something like this. It doesn't honor the memory of these fallen babies. We can only honor their memories by doing whatever we can to prevent this from happening again.

Lot in Common

I am participating in a Bible study about Genesis. I forget about the old Testament sometimes. It's been billed as a dry read, and I will admit there are some chapters and books that fit that bill. I'm not a fan of reading the genealogies, even though I know they are important to people of the Jewish faith.

I participated in a Beth Moore study about the patriarchs a few years ago. I didn't think that I would like Beth Moore--she's skinny, blonde and from the south--everything I'm not. She has an uncanny ability to talk right to you, even though she's addressing a room full of southern women.

I learned a lot about Genesis during that study and I was excited to dive into the book again. I didn't realize how much mercy there was in Genesis; it's woven through all the stories. Even in the story of Adam and Eve, there is mercy.

Right now we've started talking about Abram (later Abraham). He was called by God away from his home. God asked him to walk by faith through the desert. When he left his home, he asked if anyone wanted to come with him. His nephew, Lot, said that he did. They went out from Ur, to Haran, to Canaan, then Egypt and back to Canaan.

It was at this point that their possessions were so numerous that the land could not support their cattle, herds and people. So Abram decided that it was best that they separate. He gave Lot the opportunity to take first choice of where he would settle.

Lot looked around and decided he wanted to settle in the Jordan valley, specifically Sodom. Even those who don't have a vast knowledge of the Bible know that God eventually destroys Sodom because it's such an evil city.

I don't think most people can empathize with Lot, but I can. You see, what ends up happening is that Sodom is invaded and Lot is taken prisoner. Abram hears about this and decides to mount an army and go to his rescue. Most of the other women in my small group at BSF focused on Abram's end of the journey; I focused on Lot.

There are a lot of times I choose the easier, softer way. I choose the thing (food, indulgence, etc.) that looks delicious, looks appealing, looks beautfiul but that is really not what is the right thing for me. It doesn't mean I'm not a Christian, it just means I'm human. I have foibles. I like nice things. I don't want to have to think about living without my creature comforts. I imagine that's what went through Lot's mind, too. He wanted stability, he didn't want to live in a tent, he didn't want to be subject to (what he perceived) as God's whims.

The thing is, Lot enjoyed all of those comforts of the flesh but ended up missing out on God's full blessing. After Abram rescued him and restored him in Sodom, Lot stayed put! He decided (I think) that lightning couldn't strike twice and he was still better off in Sodom. He continued, for some time, to enjoy the "creature comforts" but ended up having to flee Sodom when it was clear that God intended to destroy it.

Abram, on the other, hand, got an extraordinary blessing. God told him that he would have descendants that were as numerous as the stars, that God would always protect him. He said no to the King of Sodom, who offered him inumerable riches. He knew that even though they were flashy, they were temporal and not nearly as luxuriant as what God was offering him.

I'm Lot in so many ways. Even when God has shown me mercy, I choose to continue to live in sin. So when I read this story, I didn't focus on Abram's blessing--I focused on the mercy God showed Lot. He could have said, "well, Lot made his bed, he's got to deal with it." No, he said, "Lot is my child and I don't want to see him suffer." He could have walked away from Lot but what I love about my savior is that he never walks away from us, he never gives up on us. Even when those around us want to throw in the towel, God is always there waiting for us to turn to him.

There have been lonely, dark days in my life, where my family did turn me out (for good reason) and where I had no one to turn to. I had nobody who was interested in helping a hopeless case. But God sent a modern-day Abram in the form of a friend of mine. This friend, whom I have known since college, took me into her home (along with her husband) and gave me a place to sleep until I could get things figured out.

I am Lot because I continue to struggle with "lesser" sins today (there is no hierarchy for God when it comes to sin), but I live in eternal gratitude to the God who saw me in captivity and still was there to rescue me. I think those who have been snatched from the jaws of hell understand, in a way no one else can, what it's like to sit in God's lap. I am humbled by the love God shows me because the full weight of "while we were yet sinners, He died for us" has extra significance.

I am Lot, but every day I move farther away from Sodom.

eCommerce Frustration

About two months ago, I attended a class/demonstration at a friends house. It was for a company called whEat Real. Kim Nordin is the representative and she sells equipment from a company called L'Equip. Her goal is to educate people about what they're really eating and then help them make better choices.

I immediately fell for the products--the two major products she sells are the Bosch Universal Mixer and Nutrimill grinder. Using those two pieces of equipment, one is able to grind their own wheat berries and make healthy, nutrient-rich wheat bread. It's unlike store-bought bread because there is markedly less sodium (the bread aisle is one of the biggest offenders when it comes to sodium content), more protein, more fiber, more nutrients. 

The only problem for me was the price. Kim and L'Equip are exclusive sellers of the Bosch. It is much more powerful than a KitchenAid and has a greater capacity. It boasts 800W of power and can mix quadruple recipes of cookies without batting an eye. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I guess, for KitchenAid), my KitchenAid was very much alive and kicking.

I didn't even mention the Bosch to Brian after the first demonstration. I knew he would be resistant to the idea of spending so much on a new mixer when I have one that works just fine. Luckily for me, we hosted a demonstration in our home and he was hooked.

We made the plunge-decided to purchase the Bosch. One of the beautiful things is that we were able to do a payment plan. The only stumbling block was my KitchenAid. We didn't *need* to sell it, but it would be great to sell it and use that money as a month's payment. 

I listed it on Craigslist for two weeks straight. I got one nibble from someone living in Chicago but it fell through. After that, I sat on it for about a month. A friend of mine who had also taken the plunge listed her KitchenAid on eBay. Last week, I finally got myself together and listed it on eBay. 

I have had some moderate success with selling things on eBay. Shipping is always a tricky thing, but for the most part I have had happy customers and great feedback. I sat patiently for a week to see what would happen. The auction ended at a fair price (about what I had been asking on Craigslist) and included shipping costs.

Now, however, I'm grinding my teeth. The auction ended yesterday and I've had no payment from the buyer. I am frustrated because it feels as if I'm cursed in trying to unload this machine! It works perfectly well, I have never had to replace anything on it or have it serviced, it's in great shape and I just want someone to buy the damn thing!

I am hopeful that this person will respond in kind very soon and I can be down to just one mixer in the house. 

Sour Stomach

I'm typically not a person whose anxiety rules them in the physical realm. I didn't get nervous before orchestra concerts, I'm not one whose heart races before public speaking. Tonight, though, for reasons I can't understand, I am leading a meeting and my stomach is churning.

It's with my girls from Mothers & More. They are lovely women, I've been a part of the group for 5 years and their leader for almost 1. There's nothing inherently nerve-wracking about meeting with them; they are a laid-back group of women who enjoy a good time.

I'm not sure why, then, my stomach is a swirl of acid and disrest. Let's hope all goes well and my stomach chooses to settle down by bedtime.

Humongous Growth

I took a huge step outside myself today. It was not always pretty but the end result was good. I decided that I needed to make sugar cookies. It was something my mom did with my brother and me; I felt I needed to start the tradition with a new generation.

There are several issues with baking. One, it takes time. My kids have no concept of time. I have to be very careful when I tell them that we're going somewhere. They don't know what it means when I say, "we're going to D'da and Bubba's house after naps." Meaning, I might say 5 PM but they don't understand what that means. All they hear is "after naps." So from the time Doug wakes up until 5 PM, I'm asked every 5 minutes if we are, in fact, going to D'da Bubba's house.

The same principle holds true for cookies. Sugar cookies are particularly tricky because the dough has to be refrigerated for two hours before the cookies can be made. I mixed the dough before Doug went down for nap, then set the timer on the oven for the two hours. (I admit, I fudged it a bit to buy me some more shut-eye.)

I managed to dodge in and out of a haze of sleep for a while, but the timer blasted me awake. Without skipping a beat, Jeremy asked, "mommy, are the cookies ready yet?" I explained to him that I hadn't even made them yet, that they needed to be made and baked.

I hadn't prepared correctly, though, because I still had to clear off the kitchen table to have enough space to work. At regular intervals, I was asked if the cookies were ready yet. I did my best to answer cheerfully that I was working as fast as I could to get them done, but being peppered with questions like that can be like being kicked to death by a rabbit-slow and painful.

Eventually, I started rolling out the dough. I remember my mom teaching me to be judicious with the placement of the cookie cutters. I started at the edge of dough and did my best to use all of it well. The kids excitedly told me which cookie cutters to use and meanwhile flitted about the room, playing with their toys.

The other factor pulling at me was Doug. He doesn't make it easy to work in the kitchen. He especially doesn't understand that the oven poses a substantial risk to his life. Midway through baking the cookies, I heard him crying and had to make a decision. I wanted to finish baking as quickly as possible, but I knew getting Doug would be counterproductive.

So, in the midst of being peppered with questions, I soldiered on. The kids' interest in the endeavour started to wane, but I wanted to make the memory with them. I don't know from where I summoned it, but I kept a smile on my face the whole time. I was cheerful and happy and very much "the happy housewife, circa 1950."

We took a break for dinner so that they wouldn't be sick from eating cookies. I promised them that after dinner we could decorate the cookies (which I knew was going to be interesting). I fought with them to eat their veggies and other food. Then I got to work making the frosting. We had gone to Jewel to buy sprinkles and that was all they could think about.

Decorating the cookies became more about the sprinkles than anything else. For some reason, Jeremy felt the need to have his cars dive in there, the kids comingled the sprinkles and the spoons (that were supposed to be used for decorating) were carrying on their own storylines. One thing I'll say for my kids, they have imaginations and know how to weave a story.

We ate whatever cookies broke (only a few did, really) and the rest look like my kids decorated them. But we had so much fun! It really was the first time I can remember that we completed a project together from start to finish. I felt reassured that I am able to care for other, smaller human beings. I felt like there is hope for us, going forward, that we can do something together as a family.

The kitchen, by the way? Completely trashed. I had to run to the store because I forgot an ingredient. When I got back, the sprinkles had exploded out of their packaging, no doubt casualties of a car-related tragedy. I spent the better part of ten minutes vaccumming up the kitchen. Even that couldn't dampen my good mood. Maybe I'm getting into the Christmas spirit after all.

Friendly Fire

I'm lovely. Really, a lot of people think so. I have a good sense of humor, I'm kind, compassionate, kind of cute, empathetic and a good listener. I have my bad points but they are far outweighed by my assets. Just saying.

Why, then, am I thrown into a tailspin every time I meet someone new? I forget form normal sentences, second-guess everything that comes out of my mouth and otherwise becoming a floundering nincompoop.

This school year has been tougher than last because either Bekah or Jeremy are in school every morning. In addition, Doug is still napping in the afternoon. That means that the possibility of play dates is slim. I see some of the same moms from last year but have limited opportunities to hang out with them.

The girls from my small group have been great company, but we have also fallen out of the habit of getting together in the evenings. I do what I can to get together with other moms from Mothers & More, but those gatherings are also in the evening.

Daytime has become lonely and it's a little frustrating. I try not to internalize my current scheduling difficulties, but it's an uphill battle during a time of year when darkness falls at 5 PM. It's tough, with these issues, to not start to doubt my awesomeness. I don't mean that in a braggadocious way; I mean, I know I'm good at making friends and maintaining friendships but the lack of access is discouraging.

I have started to research some other options for making connections. I do attend BSF (Bible Study Fellowship), but I can't attend fellowship with the ladies because of the kids. Ultimately, I know this time will pass. Before too long, all the kids will all be in school full-time and I will be able to participate in more things. I will be able to meet up with other moms during the school day and talk and listen to my heart's content.

Hopefully, my awesomeness will not have worn off by then. What am I saying? Like that could ever happen.

Empty Head

It's funny. I am sitting in front of a computer screen and my head is empty. It's the craziest thing. I can lie in bed for hours, after midnight, and have thoughts pouring through my mind. I'm not even sure I always understand it. Sometimes, I lie awake worried about how something will turn out. Sometimes, I turn a particular problem over in my head ad nauseum.

More often than not, I'm just not sleepy. I have taken a nap that was too late or too long. I didn't get enough to eat or I worked out too close to bedtime. I'm enjoying the quiet, I'm staring at the Scrabble board, I'm watching the minutes ebb away at my available sleep.

Now, though, when I want to be writing, I have no thoughts. I wrote part of an entry and scrapped it because it sounded like a commercial. I was going to write about Jeremy and I decided I didn't have enough to say.

It's tough, as a mom, to try and tap into a creative vein at will. There is certainly enough in my day that tickles my creativity. I have to solve my son's toilet paper problem, for example. I don't know why, but he insists on using almost an entire roll of toilet paper every time he uses the bathroom.

It would seem like the easy thing to do would be to put the toilet paper out of his reach. Unfortunately, there's no place that's out of his reach. I have tried to force him to go to the bathroom nearby, so that I don't have to run up (or down) to a flooding toilet.

Earlier today, he entered our 4th bedroom (which we use as an office) and unceremoniously plopped the plunger onto the carpet runner. "Mommy, can you please come downstairs and unplug the toilet?" He was at it again.

So there's a lot of opportunity to think creatively, but inspiration doesn't always strike when I want it to. Now, if you'll excuse me....my empty head needs to lie down on the pillow. I'm assuming an idea will strike in the next half hour.

Try, Try Again...

I have made no secret of the fact that I have struggled (and continue to struggle) with body image issues and weight issues. Really, at the bottom of it, I am not trusting that God will fill the God-shaped hole in my heart. It's been something with which I have struggled a long time.

I started this blog talking about my journey to gastric bypass surgery. I was hopeful, back in July of this year, that I would be able to use that surgery as a stepping stool toward a healthier lifestyle. I spoke with a surgeon and had the full support of Brian and my friends.

In the months since that point, I found out that I have a rare insurance plan that doesn't cover this type of surgery. I will note that the plan is geared toward middle-aged white men (that's the main demographic of my husband's company's board of directors). If he worked for a bigger company with a more diverse demographic, I have a feeling it would be included in the plan.

That's neither here nor there, though. I have to believe that God has a plan for me. I am not sure why, but it doesn't include gastric bypass. To be sure, there were people who were skeptical of the surgery, who warned me of potential complications. I know someone who had some devestating physical affects stemming from a gastric bypass surgery.

Since finding out I'm not able to have the surgery, I have floundered. It has become nearly impossible to conduct consistent workouts at my house. I have had a lot of success using Leslie Sansone's Walk at Home DVDs. They're great because it's a true aerobic workout and it incorporates strength training. I managed to lose 50 pounds from the time I delivered Bekah to the time I got pregnant with Doug.

The problem has been trying to find the time to work out. Having three small children isn't conducive to being able to complete these routines consistently. I have tried a bunch of different things to keep them occupied while I work out, but none have been successful.

I also have not been consistently keeping track of my food intake. I have ebbed and flowed with my Diet Coke intake. For me, I need to be accountable to someone or something (an app, a person, an online community) about my food choices. If I know I'm being accountable, I'm less likely to make a poor food choice.

For example, if I'm not tracking what I'm eating (either calories or points or just making a list of foods), then if the idea strikes me to eat a donut, I eat a donut. If I'm craving something sweet, I give in to it. Yes, I remember that I had two donuts for breakfast and Reese's peanut butter cups for lunch, but I want sugar and I'm going to eat it.

There is a component of willpower, to be sure. When I am eating clean--meaning, when I have cut out most white flour, white sugar and Diet Coke, I find that I crave sugar less. If I am well-rested, have eaten enough protein and veggies, have had enough water, I don't find myself fantasizing about sugar as much. I am able to say "no" if offered something sweet and am not consumed with it.

There is also, for me at least, a component of addiction. Once I have had a sugary snack--donut, candy, cake, cookie--the phenomena of craving kicks in. All of a sudden, I want more. I am not really good at having one cookie or donut or whatever it is. I am more likely to have 4 or 5 donuts, or cookies, or candy. I can try different strategies--eating with a fork, drinking water in between bites, cutting it in half, etc., but as soon as I walk away from my first serving, I start to obsess about when I can have more.

I did, for a while, stop eating white sugar all together. I lost some weight but I was emotionally a mess. I started eating it again and gained all the weight back plus some extra. I know that it can be said I just had a baby, but that's been 16 months ago (almost 17). Yes, I know it takes a while for the weight to come off but I have to take responsibility for my part in my predicament.

All this being said, I've started participating in Weight Watchers again. I had some success with WW back in the early to mid 2000s. Since then, I've been participating in fits and starts. I was paying for the online program earlier in the year but not adhering strictly to it. I have been losing a bit of weight here and there, but it's been inconsistent and patchy at best.

For me, losing the weight is not about looking a certain way or being able to fit into my skinny jeans. It's about my kids, my health and my future. I am currently battling high blood pressure and high cholesterol. Heart disease and diabetes run rampant through my family. This has to be about getting healthier. This has to be about showing my kids the importance of making healthy choices. Bekah especially watches me like a hawk. If I'm having junk food, she wants junk food. (I'm hoping that the reverse is true as well.)

I am ashamed that I keep having to return to WW. I know it's about continuing to try; I know when I stop making an effort that I will have failed. There is a bit of bruised ego in admitting that although I've been able to accomplish mighty things physically, I am still broken when it comes to overcoming my food issues.

As I said at the beginning of this post, this all comes down to trusting God. I have to trust that He is going to fill me up. Food is important to sustain my life and help me get from point A to point B; God helps sustain my spirit. I will say that I started blogging tonight specifically because I am craving something sweet. I no longer have that craving. It seems like when I shine the light of truth on my cravings for unhealthy things, they are dispelled. Now let's hope I can continue to let His light shine into those crevices where the cravings hide.

Christmas Blah

It's December 2nd and I can't quite figure it out, but I'm not feeling full of Christmas cheer. It might have to do with the unseasonably warm weather.

Growing up, there were a few times when I could go without a jacket at the beginning of December. Now it seems to be a regular occurrence. It's bizarre to live in the Midwest and not have cold weather in December.

It seems to be tricking my brain. Cognitively, I know that I'm supposed to be prepping for Christmas. The calendar says December, the ads on TV are holiday-themed, my kids are excited, etc.

The reality is that I have no compunction to make Christmas cookies. Part of that is I'm trying to lose weight. I am like a cornfield in Iowa when it comes to cookies; if I bake them, I will come...and eat them all.

So I have no strong desire to make my usual legions of delicious baked goods.

Shopping? I never like shopping, even under normal circumstances. My strategy is to make a list, grab the things in the store that correspond to that list and leave.

My kids are at an awkward age when it comes to gifts. Jeremy and Bekah want a merry-go-round for Christmas. I have asked for clarification on this gift many times. I tried to explain that our yard isn't big enough for a merry-go-round (or a tree house, the other request they've had).

They have a nascent belief in Santa. They don't quite understand how the whole thing works. As soon as the tree went up, they started checking on a daily basis to see if Santa had brought gifts.

I've tried, futilely, to explain that Santa only comes on Christmas Eve. They don't really understand the calendar, either, so it's all kind of tricky. Cute, but tricky.

I want to keep the present count to 3 per child. This makes things even trickier. It's my strong desire that my kids not be overcome with consumerism.

The purchases, then, have to be strategic. An anonymous donor left two bags worth of toys on our front stoop last year. I still have some of those toys left and have handed them out judiciously at friends' birthday parties.

I have a 2 gifts for Doug, one for Jeremy and none for Bekah. I have some ideas but am unsure about how I'm going to pull it all off.

This makes Christmas stressful, not joyful. The saving grace is that Brian and I have not exchanges gifts for several years. Grandparents gifts are done and my brother isn't really expecting anything.

I am hopeful that, as the month wears on, my spirit-o-meter fills up. Cause I gotta say, I've never been one for "Blah Humbug"; let's hope this year isn't the first.