Finding My WHY

Why do I do what I do? Why did I start my weight loss journey? Why do I make a conscious choice every day to maintain and get healthier? Why did I become a Beachbody coach? 

I've been thinking a lot lately about my WHY. 

Why did I lose the weight and why do I work every day to maintain? SO many reasons. 

MY KIDS

I wanted to have the energy to play with my kids. I wanted to set a good example. I wanted them to know that exercise was important and how to eat a healthy, balanced diet. I wanted to be a happier mom. 

MY DAUGHTER

I wanted my daughter to grow up with a positive body image, and the best way I could do that was to HAVE a positive body image myself. (I want this for both my kids of course, but it always seems to be a bigger deal for girls.) I didn't grow up with a positive body image and it got worse as I got older. To this day I don't love every little thing about my body but I know what that body is capable of, I am proud of it, I understand how to dress for my shape, and I FEEL GOOD about myself. I make sure to NEVER criticize my body or appearance in front of my kids, if ever. I don't use words like "fat," and try and teach my kids that people come in all shapes and sizes but HEALTH is the most important thing. 

ME

I wanted to like myself. I wanted to be proud of myself. I wanted to prove to myself that could do it. I wanted to be healthier. I wanted to feel attractive for my husband. I wanted to walk into any clothing store and be able to try something on. For years the only thing I could even consider at Lululemon was a woollen hat. 

Why did I become a Beachbody coach?

HELPING OTHERS

I have a busy life. I have a full time job that pays well and is very fulfilling. So WHY did I add another "job" to an already full schedule? Because Beachbody coaching isn't a job for me, it's a passion. I love to inspire people, motivate them and help them succeed. I have been a cheerleader for peoples' weight loss journeys for years "pre-Beachbody" and this is just a more active version of the same support. And now I have tools that I believe in, to offer people help in their journey. 

MOTIVATION

I NEED to stay active and be accountable to myself for my own weight maintenance and health, and being a coach guarantees I can't falter. I am there supporting my clients and my coaches, and I need to stay consistent for THEM as well as for myself. 

MY FAMILY

While I make a good salary we are still facing a mortgage, car payments, kids' activities, and all the other expenses that come with a family of four. A year ago our little man was finally diagnosed with ADHD and DCD - Developmental Coordination Disorder. This probably sounds worse than it is, but he has a complex mix of somewhat mild issues that when combined are bringing him some pretty significant challenges in school and socially. He has been in occupational therapy for a year and it isn't covered by my benefits program. It is NOT cheap, but it is completely worth it. 

I want my business to grow to the point that these OT costs aren't an issue, that we can travel as a family without financial concern, we can afford the larger vehicle we need - and Beachbody has the potential to make these things possible. 

I found my why. 

Ultimately, my family is my WHY. I want to be there for them, to be better for them, and to teach my kids to lead healthy, fulfilling lives. They are my life, my heart, my reason for doing what I do. 

They are my WHY. 

I Won't Raise a Man Cold

When the little man was about six months old, we began our first experience with sleep training. He quickly learned to soothe himself and all was good.

Until he got a cold.

I have heard from a few moms, "Everything's fine until they get a cold." This was certainly true for us. We began a slow year-long decline into what eventually became a family nightmare. Hourly wake-ups, screaming, no sleep for us, fighting...it was awful. And then at the peak of it all we had house guests sleeping in the room next to his, so it got worse as we were jumping at every noise so as not to disturb them.

The day they left, when we was about 20 months old, we began our second round of sleep training. Three days in and we were good as new.

And then, as some of you will know, we had a terrible, awful, mind-numbing setback a couple of months ago. Things are actually somewhat manageable now, and with a few "new normals" such as his door having to be halfway open and his Ikea moon light having to be on all night, we're coping. The wake-ups are less frequent, the screaming is rare, and the fear and anxiety seem to have gone away.

So now he has a cold. And not just any cold. This is a green monster, complete with the worst cough I have ever heard in his four and a half years.

Kids love boundaries, they thrive on guidelines and rules. But give them an inch and they'll take a mile. They're always testing, checking to see if the boundaries still stand. Consistency is the key, and in the long run it's better for everyone.

But what do you do when your little man is hacking up his lungs, streaming out of several orifices, and generally feeling yucky?

You love him. You care for him. You help him blow his nose. You keep him home from preschool. You rub Vicks Vaporub on his chest and back at bedtime.

And you stick to the routine.

With the hell that we've just come through (and are still dealing with), we will not go back. The bedtime routine holds strong, with the occasional application of Vicks thrown in. The responses to his wake-ups are the same.

And it's working. The cold has not impacted the progress, and we're moving ahead. We could have coddled him and opted to sleep in his bed with him to comfort him through the night, but then we would be right back in the sleep-deprived nightmare that nearly drove me to a breakdown. That simply cannot happen.

Mr. Awesome, when he does occasionally get sick, is the exact OPPOSITE of a Man Cold. He will even say "I'm dot thick" in the stuffed up effort to prove he's just fine. He believes so strongly in mind over matter that when, on the rare occasion he actually admits to feeling rough, I'm convinced he's dying.

I look at the husbands of my friends and colleagues and listen to the stories of their whimpering and snuffling. They have Man Cold written all over them.

I believe that every parent has the right to raise their children how they see fit, as long as they are not endangering their health or safety. And I believe that what we're doing now is the best thing for our family and for the little man. He's powering through this bug and he's doing fine.

The world does not need another Man Cold.

Hello Kitty, Goodbye Diapers

We decided some time ago that we would not potty train the little miss. Like, ever. We quite simply did not want to fail as epically as we had with the little man. A year and a half of absolute hell had scarred us to the point of letting her wear diapers forever rather than start the nightmare all over again.

Even at fourteen months when she started using the toilet on a semi-regular basis, we resisted. I didn't even write about it here because if I ignored it then it wasn't real. It was too early, we didn't want to push it. She was pooping on the potty long before the little man, but we were too mired in the dark, bribery-riddled place of Legos for poops to actually admit it. The closest we came was moving her from diapers to Pull-Ups, to make her frequent potty trips more convenient.

She wouldn't even use the potty, preferring the actual toilet for her business. And despite our only taking her when she announced it, she was still averaging about a 75% success rate. People would ask if we were training her and we would either avoid the question or flatly say "No." We would just take her when she said she had to go. But potty training? Never.

Last week her preschool teacher asked if we wanted to start, as apparently any time they asked the kids who were potty training if they had to go she would squeal with glee and do anything she could to join them. Our little girl was basically begging for it, wanting desperately to be part of that toilet-using elite.

The time had come and we couldn't ignore it anymore. We agreed that we would start potty training the following Monday, but on Friday morning our little lady announced that she wanted to wear panties. So there you go.

Now the little man actually mastered peeing LONG before the other business got sorted out, so I had kind of forgotten those messy first few days. Four sets of wet pants later and I decided to brave a trip to Walmart. Crazy? You bet. But it was fine. We even bought her a few sets of Hello Kitty underpants to sweeten the pot, but I was confident in the power of the Dora the Explorer pair she was wearing. I mean, how could you pee on Dora?

It was only on a stop at the library on our way home that my cockiness caught up with me. Now, I'm not a complete idiot. I did have a change of her clothes with me. But being out of practice with the wet pants scenario, I did neglect to pack an extra pair of socks. Or a plastic bag to put the wet clothes in. Rookie move. Serious rookie move.

That was last week. And we're pretty much done. A few accidents here and there, but basically done. Thank you God, Hello Kitty or whatever power you choose to pray to. And you can hate me all you want, but I invite you to read ANY of my previous posts to know that this is truly some sort of divine intervention and someone up there is paying us back for the trauma we endured for almost two years.

We're still in diapers for bedtime, whereas the little man stayed dry through the night from early on. It really does go to show you that every kid is different and you just never know. I can't even bear to think how many trouser bombs we could have avoided if we had let the little man do things in his own time. We were first-time parents and eager to get started, and well...you know how that turned out. Maybe not even in his own time, as he could very well be in diapers til this day, but just a little longer.

Hindsight is 20/20. And I can "what if" and "if only" with the best of them, but for now I will just be happy to be done with potty training, once and for all.

Now if we could just find the magic answer for the little man's sleep issues.

It's always something.

The Good, The Bad, and The Depths of Hell

Wow, three months since my last post. It feels like a year since I had a moment or the brain power to actually sit here and start typing. We are in the midst of what I can honestly say is the hardest phase of parenthood we have been through to date. And I thought potty training was a difficult phase. I would trade a trouser bomb any day for the knowledge that we were heading into a good night's sleep.

A quick update for anyone that has followed our saga de poop: Potty training the little man is as complete as we are going to get until he learns to wipe his own butt and actually aim, but we'll take what we can get. We are now the proud owners of an EXTENSIVE Lego collection, but it was worth every brightly coloured block to find a reward system that actually worked.

That is the "good" part of this post. The "bad" and the "depths of hell" are all kind of rolled into one with the update to come.

Right around the beginning of December, the little man started to get anxious about bedtime. It escalated pretty quickly, mixed together with some nightmares about horses and some very tired parents.

Since we went through sleep training three years ago, he's been a champion. He has gone to bed with no issues, slept through the night except for the occasional night terror, and although he's always been an early riser, it's been fine. Now all of a sudden he won't go to sleep if we're not in the room, and he wakes constantly throughout the night and freaks out if we're not there, or runs into our room screaming. He then won't go to sleep again unless we're with him. Every single night.

It started out as fear, then anxiety, and lately it's become a power struggle, pure and simple. The fear is gone because we actually talked to the imaginary horses, gave them names, and asked them to leave. We're still working through the anxiety, but at some point the getting up and screaming became more habit than anything else.

It's killing us.

Well, to be more accurate, it's killing me. Mr. Awesome has absolutely proven his moniker throughout this time, and especially this past week. I was literally falling apart. I do not do well with little, or frequently interrupted sleep. I was a basket case most of the time, flipping between sobbing and a numbness that felt like the precipice of depression.

On Monday of last week we went to our doctor and he told us to back to sleep training. We didn't really know that you could do that with a four and a half year old, but after some exhaustive (pun intended) searches online and a re-read of our original sleep training book, we decided to give it a go.

Because I was past the point of coping, Mr. Awesome gave me earplugs and told me to go to bed, saying he would take the first night. This had more meaning to me than any bouquet of flowers - that was pure LOVE, baby. And he took the next few nights too, working through the repetition of going in at regular intervals and letting the little man know everything was okay and that it was time to be asleep.

It is not easy. Last time it took three nights and we were done. A four and a half year old is a lot different than an 18 month old. (Duh.) The last time we went through this he was in a CRIB, for Pete's sake. He's constantly getting out of bed, turning on his light, saying he needs to go to the bathroom, anything and everything to avoid going to bed without us in the room.

Last night was night #5 and we're still not seeing a very bright light at the end of the tunnel. Mr. Awesome went camping last night with friends so it was all me. I was dreading it. It wasn't great and I did leave the TV on all night so the little man would think I was on the couch, but it was definitely better. Marginally.

Mr. Awesome will hate the electricity bills, but that just might be the price of a rested child and wife. You find what works best for your family and roll with it, right?

Giving Thanks for Poop: Potty Training Progress

It's Thanksgiving in Canada and I am thankful for all the blessings in my life. But most of all, today, I am thankful for poop.

As I type, the little man is in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.

That's right friends, we have achieved the impossible. The unimaginable. The dream of all potty-training-challenged parents everywhere. The little man is pooping on the potty.

After one year and nine months of pants bombs, trouser grenades, Code Browns and poop-splosions, we are now on day four of toilet poops.

If the past year and nine months has taught me anything, it's to not get my hopes up. I am taking this day by day and not assuming that the accidents are behind us forever, but holy mother of GOD does this feel good.

There have been a couple of steps forward and many steps back in the last month, but it started to finally feel like we were doing something right. We had a visit with the pediatrician a few months ago and explained the hell we were living (not in quite those words), and he "prescribed" a six month course of not talking about poop. Now, for anyone that's been reading this blog for a while now, you know that that's virtually impossible for me. And his advice wasn't to necessarily banish the topic, but to just not make it a big deal. If accidents happened, clean them up and move on. And we were to not spend any length of time discussing the situation, either with the little man, each other or anyone else.

While this did not magically end the messes, it did lift the stress right off. Our home became more relaxed and everyone involved got happier. Now, patience has never been one of my virtues, so it won't be a surprise to anyone that we didn't wait the FULL six months. But we followed the cues the little man gave us, and we started a whole new plan.

We were at Costco one day (imagine that) and found a set of interactive books called Ready to Read. Kind of like LeapFrog, this set comes with a "pen" that reads the coding on the pages and plays words, songs, stories, etc. Some of the books are more advanced, so those went up on the shelf. These became our potty books. They could only be read while sitting on the toilet. Pretty soon he wanted to sit on the toilet all the time, as he loved them so much. He wasn't actually trying to go, but it was a HUGE step forward from where we'd been.

At the same time we instituted a reward chart. Our initial challenge was that for months he had absolutely refused to sit on the toilet. He would lose his mind if we even suggested it, so at first the reward stickers were for sitting. For every five stickers he would get a (small) Lego set.

We very quickly realized we were going to go broke fast with the current system. Mr. Awesome is a bit of a Lego-fiend, so he wasn't terribly upset that we were amassing a large amount of the stuff, but the stickers became for actually trying. And over the past month or so, there have been a few successes. Sort of a "one step forward, two steps back" situation, but still progress where none had been.

Then, four days ago, just before bed, the little man said "I think I have to go poop." In he went, sat himself down, and started his reading. Then something changed. He got a look of concentration on his face that we hadn't seen before. And he did it. Because it was just before bed we all happened to be in the bathroom at the time, and man, did we celebrate. I was on the verge of hysteria, almost in tears, laughing and screaming for joy. Mr. Awesome kept saying things like "Dude, that's awesome!" and "Buddy, that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you!" And the little man loved every minute of it. He was laughing and loving our impromptu "potty party," so very proud of himself.

It was like a switch needed to be flicked and he finally "got it." I equate it with the moment I finally KNEW what I had to do to succeed with Weight Watchers. True and lasting success only comes when one is really ready for it. No one can make that happen for you. And just like a weight loss journey, there may be setbacks.

Like I said earlier, we're on day four. Four days of telling us he had to go, sitting on the toilet and actually going. And I'm good with that.

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and thanks be to poop.

Saying Goodbye to Caillou

First off, I have to say that yes, our kids watch TV. Gasp!

Judge me if you will, but when the little man wakes up at 5:30am, sometimes it's the best thing in the world to turn on the giant lightbox and bring to life the wonderful worlds of Netflix or Treehouse.

We've got a pretty steady rotation of Dora, Diego, Max and Ruby, and then the character in question today - Caillou.

At first glance, Caillou is awesome. He's a big brother to a little sister, he does all the activities our little man does, he's potty trained (I wish), and their family situations seem pretty realistic. TOO realistic. Therein lies the problem.

We worry about all the bad words and concepts the little man might pick up at preschool, but we always thought young children's programming was fairly innocuous.

Then "Grumpy Caillou" came to our house. One day our little man crossed his arms and came out with a full on pout, refusing to eat his dinner. We couldn't figure out where he'd learned this, as it's summer vacation and none of the kids we've played with in the last few months do this. A few days later we were watching Caillou and lo and behold, Caillou does the exact same thing. We started calling our little man "Grumpy Caillou" every time it happened, and joking about it until he gave up the pout and agreed to whatever we were asking.

Grumpy Caillou eventually went away and life went on. We've been trying pretty hard to clean up our language over the last year or so - not that we're potty mouths, but there are definitely certain expressions we've needed to curb. The little man has tried out a few of them and we've learned very quickly just what a sponge he is.

Then he started experimenting with the word HATE. Now, we may use that word now and then, but it's not really a regular visitor to our home. I do know that he'd picked it up from my mum one day while playing at her house, because I heard her say it about a show they were watching, and he repeated it immediately. He adores his "Nang Nang" and picks up a lot of her language - mostly safe and British-themed. She's under strict instructions now to clean up her act, which is hilarious because she's a very well spoken, polite, lovely lady.

We explained to the little man that hate isn't a nice word, and gently tried to discourage its use. Then Mr. Awesome was watching Caillou with the kids and wouldn't you know - Caillou says it ALL. THE. TIME. It's hard enough to explain that his Nang Nang shouldn't be saying it, but when his favourite TV show is seemingly endorsing it as well it feels like we're getting outnumbered.

Caillou is now off the morning rotation. That bald little bike riding hate-monger is no longer welcome in our home. We're cutting him off now, who KNOWS what slurs he might come out with in future episodes.

And Nang Nang better watch her back.

The Scoop on the Poop

Because I know you've all been sitting around with bated breath, just desperate for an update on the little man's potty training saga, here we are. (For any new readers, you can catch up quickly through such posts as "We Suck at Potty Training, Or Why Pull Ups Should Sponsor Me," "Okay, Seriously. I HATE Potty Training," or "Potty Training #2." They're a thrill a minute.)

Well, seventeen months into potty training he has now pretty much mastered pee. He tells us, or usually just runs in and does his business on his own. Aiming is another story, but we're picking our battles.

As for the P-O-O-P (we spell everything now)...not so much. We're pretty much exactly where we were seventeen months ago, but with a lot more screaming about sitting on the toilet. And I say toilet because he is now too big for the potty. He used to sit to pee but now he stands and, like I said, we're picking our battles...for now.

A couple of weeks ago we had an appointment with a pediatrician to talk about this situation and a couple of other questions. Basically, we wanted to make sure we hadn't done something to scar him for life, ensuring he would remain in Pull Ups for all eternity. We took the doctor through the Awesome history of potty training, through the many trials and tribulations. He was lovely and assured us that nothing was wrong, we were still good parents.

What he did do was "prescribe" six months of not talking about the poop AT ALL. We can talk about the pee and encourage him to go, but when the poop hits the fan we just calmly accept that it's happened, clean it up and move on with your day.

It seems a little too "duh," but it has really made a difference to have that six month time frame. We always felt under the gun before, wondering WHEN it was going to magically start working. Now, it doesn't really matter. Yes, I absolutely hope it happens at some point in the next six months, but we're a lot more relaxed now.

Technically they won't let him attend the coming preschool year if he's not fully potty trained, but as long as we can get him to pee at school I think we'll squeak by unnoticed.

So for now, this is the plan. He's definitely a lot more relaxed about it too, which is a good thing. I feel so ashamed that we were stressing him out through our stress. Poor little guy.

In other news, the little miss has decided to potty train herself. At 20 months old she tells us when she has to go, sits on the potty and does her business. It's only about 75% of the time, but it is AWESOME. We're going through diapers at a fraction of the rate we used to, and she is so proud of herself, asking for high fives every time.

It's just as well that she's taken it upon herself, actually, as we obviously don't know what the heck we're doing.

Potty Training Sucks: My Google Search Story

I discovered Google Search Stories this week. As usual I'm late to the party, but I blame the fact that the original story, "Parisian Love," wasn't aired on the Canadian networks during the Super Bowl.

I decided to create my own, based on what I know best - how NOT to potty train a preschooler. Enjoy.

The Great Leveller

You can be lying in bed, enjoying a lovely morning snuggle with your partner and kids, giggling and chatting about plans for the day. You can feel pretty blissful in the whine-free, loving moment. You start to think, "Wow, maybe we've got this parenting thing figured out." You start to feel pretty good about yourself.

Then your four-year old says to you "Mum, your breath stinks."

Thanks buddy, for bringing me back down to earth.

Hearing With New Ears

I can probably count on both hands the number of full episodes of Oprah I have watched in the last 25 years.  I am not exactly a member of the Church or Oprah, but I do think she's a force, an inspiration, a powerhouse, and a wonderful woman who has done some amazing things for individuals and society. I caught MOST of her finale episode, and she said something that really stuck with me. I went and found the transcript, so I could have the exact wording to give it context for this post.

"I've talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common: They all wanted validation. If I could reach through this television and sit on your sofa or sit on a stool in your kitchen right now, I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: 'Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?'

"Understanding that one principle, that everybody wants to be heard, has allowed me to hold the microphone for you all these years with the least amount of judgment. Now I can't say I wasn't judging some days. Some days, I had to judge just a little bit. But it's helped me to stand and to try to do that with an open mind and to do it with an open heart. It has worked for this platform, and I guarantee you it will work for yours. Try it with your children, your husband, your wife, your boss, your friends. Validate them. 'I see you. I hear you. And what you say matters to me.'"

It's those last few lines that got to me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm currently reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. In the chapter on parenting, she talks about how children really just want to be heard, and that a lot of the whining, tantrums, etc result not from not getting what they want, but from the feeling of not being heard. She goes through experiments on ways of speaking to her kids and notes that while it can be sometimes exhausting to take the extra steps to stop and really listen to your child, it ultimately makes for a happier, less stressful, less frustrating day. I know, it's kind of a "duh" concept when you're not experiencing it, but when you're smack-dab in the middle of a chaotic morning where NOTHING is going right, taking a beat to listen to your whining four year-old can be a very real challenge.

I've started trying it out with the little man. It is bloody exhausting, because I have to consciously remind myself to go against my immediate emotional response, pause and proceed with some statement that clearly acknowledges I have heard him and understand what his concerns are. The idea isn't to become the world's biggest pushover and give in to what kids want all the time, but to simply let them know you've heard them and that what they have to say matters. It's hard to do when you're trying to get two kids out the door on time and someone is refusing to cooperate, but in the grand scheme of things, who really cares if we're five minutes late but my kid is happier? Not me.

At the little man's preschool they ask the kids if they have their listening ears on. It seems to me that at most four year olds have thrown away their listening ears in favour of the "I can't hear you" ear muffs, but it's an appropriate metaphor for this new experiment. If I want him to have his listening ears on, I'd better have mine on too.

So thank you, Oprah, and thank you, Gretchen, for helping me to find my new ears.

Finding Some Happiness

There are times in your life when a particular movie, book, quote, or person comes along at the exact right moment. Something you read or hear breaks through the chaos of your life and clarifies things, even for a split second.

This happened for me recently as I began to read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. It is the chronicle of her year-long journey to try and add more happiness to her life. She wasn't an unhappy person, but she believed she could be happier and embarked on month by month process, establishing measurable goals in different areas of her life - home, marriage, parenting, work, etc. For January, for example, she made resolutions to go to bed earlier, exercise better, organize her home,etc.

Rubin has developed the "Secrets of Adulthood," a list of seemingly common sense concepts like "You can choose what you do; you can't choose what you LIKE to do," but you don't always think about until someone says them in the exact right way. I'm only up to the month of May right now but already I feel this woman and I should be great friends. Her parenting ideals and frustrations are right in line with mine, so when she refers to a book that she finds helpful and informative, I hop on to Amazon to order it. (I'm currently awaiting my copy of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk all because Gretchen wrote about it. And because I want to talk so the Little Man will listen.)

There are a number of blog-worthy ideas in this book, and I will likely be writing about it again. Given my current "feeling stalled" situation, this book came at the exact right time. a) It's about finding more happiness and clarity in an already happy and full life, and b) it's a PROJECT. It's even in the name. I was JUST writing about how I love projects and need a new one, and lo and behold I start reading a book about one. It's like fate or something. Fate or creative marketing on behalf of the publisher. Either way, I'm pretty excited about it.

Like I said, I'm only up to May and the whole thing may fall apart by December. But stand by for more posts, I'm already working on one in my head as I type.

Look out world, I'm feeling inspired.

Old Habits Die Hard

Every month my emotions and my body go into a battle to the death. I have always been an emotional eater, a bored eater...and every month around the same time, I start to notice that I want to snack all. the. time. I finish one snack and I'm immediately jonesing for another fix of sweet or salty goodness. At this same time my body starts to get all bloaty and I start to freak out that I'm losing control of everything I worked for.

I didn't have these same cravings when I was on my journey to weight loss, so what the heck is going on now?! I'm panicking that the old Gillian is trying to make a comeback.

Old habits die hard. That's not just a saying because it's catchy. 34 years of building one set of habits cannot be completely erased by one year of better choices. Every now and then, and yes, usually once a month, the old Gillian rears her not-so-lean face and wants to eat everything in sight.

I knew when I started the process that I would have to make conscious decisions every day of my life if I wanted to stay in the body I had achieved. But after a year you get a little lazy, a little complacent and I'm BORED of making those same decisions. I want to EAT!

Sorry, that was the old Gillian. I have now squashed her back down for the moment and will choose the better road.

It's not like the old me wants ice cream for breakfast, but when Mr. Awesome brought home strawberry and rhubarb pie last night, HELL YESI had a piece. And as Weight Watchers will tell you, that's fine, as long as you have eaten accordingly for the rest of the day, or you have your extra weekly points left. Blah blah blah. (Shut up, old Gillian!) Lately I'm thinking less about points and more about the deliciousness of that second 100-calorie snack. Of course then it becomes a 200-calorie snack and that pretty much defeats the purpose of pre-portioned snacking.

A colleague told me the other day that the Vancouver Canucks play "Whistle to Whistle." They only focus on the next immediate goal, the next 30 seconds, the next play. I am making a resolution here and now that when the old Gillian tries to grab an extra snack, I will play whistle to whistle, until the urge subsides. It's a great mantra and I will recite it to myself to get through the temptation.

I may not be bigger than the old me, but I'm definitely stronger and I will win.

Just like the Canucks. GO CANUCKS GO! (Sorry, it had to be said. Game 1 is tonight.)

Oh Gillian, Just Get Over Yourself

Why can't I write a blog post? Why has it been four weeks since my last entry?

I started this blog as a place to share, to vent, to motivate (myself and others), to inspire, to confess...to be open and honest in a safe, albeit public, place. Even though it's a safe space, I've always tried to write posts that will connect for my readers, sharing my insights or challenges in the hopes that someone will say "I totally get that."

I feel stalled. I am still working through the challenges of maintaining my goal weight, the little man is STILL dropping pants bombs ever single day with no signs of progress after a year and a half...I feel like I have nothing new to report and don't want to burden my readers with the same old topics.

I'm feeling stalled personally, professionally, and I hate this feeling. I have always been one to look forward, on to the next project, the next goal. This is probably not a terribly productive or healthy way to be, as I am not very good at just being present in the moment, but I'm working on it. I LOVE new projects, big or small. I start to get antsy if one is coming to an end, and I very quickly fill the void with a new plan. Maybe my new project should be to live without a project, to just BE...
Um, no. I just don't think I can do that for very long.

The project of potty training the little man has been dragging on for a year and a half and I'm frankly done with it. There is no real progress...well, that's not entirely true. There is progress on the pee front. We're working really hard to empower him to do things for himself - get undressed, brush his teeth, go pee on his own, etc. He's never been big on independence, usually giving a half-hearted effort and then saying "I need help." This morning he got up, went pee, then proceeded to brush his teeth and wash his hands all before coming in to find me. That's big progress, and it was pretty exciting even at 5:45am. But the poo thing is the same as it ever was, with a grenade (if we're lucky) appearing at least once a day. He disappears into his room to play and then we go in and check on him and are greeted with a wall of stink as we open the door. Every. Single. Day.

One of my current projects is my garden, and it's one project where I can see daily progress and growth - literally. I didn't start this page as a gardening blog, and other than a few rants about my beloved lawn, I don't want to bore you with the daily millimetric growth of my veggies. Maybe just one photo...or two. That's it, I swear.

Shortly after it was planted. Mr. Awesome built me this fantastic raised bed.

Now check out my peas!

Okay, enough about my garden, for now. This isn't a gardening blog, it isn't a cooking blog, it isn't even just a mommy blog or a weight loss blog. It's a blog about my life and I don't like admitting when things aren't going perfectly. Don't get me wrong, I still love my life and everyone in it more than I can even express, I'm just feeling...STALLED. Things at work aren't how I would ideally like them to be, which is a whole other blog post that I will never write. I can't find as much time to work out as I would like. My body isn't feeling as tight as it did at its best - I'm still maintaining the pounds, just not the feeling. We'll be potty training until the little man gets married and it becomes someone else's problem. Because you KNOW that's a huge selling feature on the dating scene...

This is why I haven't written in so long. I haven't wanted to bore you with my petty grievances. I already bore my friends to the point that they probably wince when they see me coming (I HOPE I am exaggerating), so I don't want to drive you away too.

So, I will endeavour to just get over myself. Life is, in fact, pretty awesome. I just need to stop once in a while and enjoy it.

"You Are Doing it Wrong," or How Mr. Awesome Gives Advice

"You're doing it wrong."  These were the words that greeted me through the kitchen window this morning as I started to lay some bricks as a border to a small patch of grass I intended to seed. "Stop. You're doing it wrong." This just might be the most useless constructive criticism on the planet. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband more than anything in the world (or at least tied with my kids), but he's not always the most tactful when offering advice.

"Why? What's wrong about it?" I asked. "You're just doing it wrong" was the answer back. Thanks, got that the first time you said it. Let's work on moving this conversation forward a little, shall we? However because he was busy with work and kids under foot, that's pretty much where the conversation stopped.

He should really know better. It's not like he just met me.

If I want something done I typically just go ahead and do it. Where I don't need Mr. Awesome's brute strength and technical know-how, I usually just plow ahead. I'm not much of a "measure twice-cut once" type of girl. Yes, this usually sometimes leads to mistakes, irreparable damage, and almost always ridicule from Mr. Awesome (if I haven't already erased or disposed of all evidence before he finds out).

It's mostly because I'm hopelessly impatient. I don't want to wait around for him to be ready to help me do something on his schedule, I want it done NOW. And my bright ideas aren't always the disasters I've made them out to be. We have a number of items around our home, garden, my office, etc that have been my "projects" that actually ended up decently enough to be displayed. (Note to anyone that knows me personally that is reading this - I will NOT be speaking of the recently crafted table lamp.)

And if you happen to catch me mid-project and tell me "You're doing it wrong," you should know full well that this will only make me more determined to finish it and prove you wrong. I WILL finish it, and DAMMIT it's going to look GOOD. And if it doesn't, you'd better NEVER bring it up again.

So back to this morning. I was under the gun as I wanted to get the seed sown before the forecast afternoon rain, because in true "me" fashion I had decided the project would be done today so BY GOD it was going to get done today. Being the good wife and professional communicator that I am, I called Mr. Awesome outside a few minutes later and calmly asked him to explain the issues and what I might do better. We reached a point of understanding and the project continued. The bricks were laid, the soil was spread, the seed was sown.

It's now 8pm and I'm still waiting for that bloody forecast rain.

Um hello? Mother Nature? You're doing it wrong.

Happy Anniversary to Me!

So a year ago (actually a year and 12 days ago – oops), I signed up with Blogger and started this blog. I had never blogged before and didn’t know much about the “blogosphere,” the incredible community that exists out there on the Internet. The amazing people I’ve connected with – bloggers, readers, followers, friends – have made me better. A better writer, a better mom, a better wife, a better person.

I called the blog Finding My Weigh because a large part of this blog has been about my weight loss journey. Making the process public made a huge difference to my success, keeping me accountable to myself and my readers who were looking to me for inspiration. I never felt I had to only post about successes, because the very act of admitting I was struggling brought me closer to others. We could share the challenges and celebrate the successes when they did happen.

And speaking of challenges…

This past week has been extremely challenging, being at a work conference centered in a hotel with seemingly never-ending food. Literally, every time we left the session rooms for breaks there would be a huge array of pastries, breads, and yummy treats. The lunches they served were fairly healthy, but right next to the lunch buffet was always THE most ridiculous display of desserts, mostly cakes. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Not to mention the fact that I was jet-lagged and busy the whole week so my good intentions of going to the gym every day turned into only going twice. Yes, that’s still decent, but I was sitting most of the day and really needed that physical activity. Unfortunately the excuses were coming fast and furious and I wasn’t very good at fighting them off.

I am currently on the plane on my way home. I feel fat. I have been congested and feeling “off” all week because of the hotel’s air conditioning. I know I’m coming close to that lovely time of the month, but I cannot explain away the bloated, puffy feeling with these excuses. I am pretty sure I gained at least five pounds. The problem with gaining such an intimate understanding of my weight and body is that I have immediate, very real feedback on my poor choices. (Actually, I guess that’s not really a problem!) My jeans aren’t as loose as they were. My waist isn’t as flat as it was this time last week. I made fairly smart choices most of the time, eating smaller portions and lots of veggies, while watching others eat pastries, slather butter on buns, take two servings of dessert at every meal, etc. But I wasn’t as good or as on track as I could have been.

A few months after starting Weight Watchers, something went “click.” I came to the realization that I will have to live and eat mindfully, consciously, every day for the rest of my life if I want to stay in this new body. I can get lazy and go back to the way I lived before, but I know that pretty quickly I would be in a body I wasn’t happy with. It almost feels like I forgot that realization for a few days, or at least ignored it.

I have had trouble finding time to blog lately, unable to manage my time to make it a priority. I can’t help feeling that there is a correlation between my not writing and my lack of will power this past week. Blogging keeps me honest. My readers keep me honest. And I obviously need that on a regular basis to stay on track.

I dread getting on the scale tomorrow morning but I will do it. I’m looking forward to getting back to “normal” food, and regular exercise. And feeling better in my body.

And blogging. I’m looking forward to blogging. A year and twelve days ago I started something really amazing. I’m certainly not touting my success as a blogger, saying that I’m amazing at what I do. What IS amazing is the connection I’ve made with others, and the self-awareness I’ve gained through sharing my thoughts and experiences. Blogging has truly changed my life.

Thank you for sharing this with me. Whether you’ve been around for the last 377 days or just started reading today, thank you.

Wish me luck on that scale.

Oh Right! I Have A Blog!

I am so sorry. I have let life get in the way of blogging. Forgive me.

We went to Mexico for a week and I specifically took along my trusty little netbook with every intention of writing some blog posts while there. Not a chance.

We got back and I swore I would post in time for my one year "blogaversary," February 22. Nope.

I have a review planned of some AWESOME baby food (Baby Gourmet) but I didn't want that to be the first post after being away for so long so I procrastinated and postponed once again.

I am currently in Toronto on business and for the last three days have been swearing up and down that I would write something. Then today I met a colleague from across the country that I had never met before. Our jobs never intersect so we'd never even emailed each other but it turns out she is a reader of this blog (Hi Kirsten!). Small world, and she mentioned that she'd noticed I'd kind of dropped off the face of the planet.

Again, I'm sorry. Blogging is like weight maintenance. It's a commitment and if you don't stick with it things can go a little off the rails!

I have several posts percolating and I promise I will get to them, but for now here's the scoop:

- After a year of potty training we have taken the little man back to Pull-Ups. This is a blog post all its own, so I'll leave it at that and post this story in its entirety soon.

- I'm having some challenges with maintenance but no real slip ups to speak of. This week of conference food ismaking it increasingly difficult but I will get through. I actually LOST weight in Mexico (and no, not because of bad water) because we walked up and down a 75 degree hill at least twice every day.

- I would still like to write a post about my blogaversary as this past year of blogging has had an incredible impact on my life. It may end up being a "Happy Year And 12 Days" blogaversary but it will get written.

For now, that's the catch up. I will be in touch again shortly but for now it's bedtime. Our hotel room is sweltering and the thermostat is already as low as it can go, so maybe I can sweat off some of the delicious food they've been plying us with since Wednesday.

Sweet dreams!

G.

I Have a Cleaning Lady. So Sue Me.

Late last year the little miss got mobile, and our previously we-can-manage-the-preschooler-mess house instantly transformed into a daily tornado scene. Any time we previously had (and let's be honest, it wasn't a lot) for bathroom cleaning, cupboard wiping, appliance de-fingerprinting was now taken up by simple pick up of toys, clothes, papers - anything and everything she got her hands on that she could fling far and wide.

I put a call out on my beloved Facebook to see if anyone I knew had a decent cleaning service. We've tried a few over the last few years, none regularly because of the cost. Mr. Awesome is...um...thrifty. He's been swearing since we moved in two and a half years ago that we can't get our windows cleaned because he will do them himself. WHY should he pay someone $100 to clean all of our windows, inside and out, when he can easily do it?! Good question, and in theory, this is a valid point. IN THEORY. In reality, we've now lived here two and a half years and our windows still have the post-reno guck not washed away by rain or wind. It's just mild enough that it can't be seen from any distance, so it's remained a low priority problem.

So anyway, back to the cleaners. Along the same vein, Mr. Awesome swore up and down we could manage the household chores by establishing a list of 15-minute tasks that we split up and each take one each day. Two flaws with this plan - 1, the whole house is never clean at the same time so we're always living with something undone, and 2, we never found the time to make the plan! We couldn't even find time to PLAN the system, let alone actually do our 15 minute tasks!

One of my dear friends sent me info on her cleaning service, who happened to be having a ridiculously good special encouraging people to book12-week packages for a reduced price. It worked out to only about $45/cleaning, every two weeks.

Yes, I could get up an extra half an hour early and stay up late every day, but friends, I am tired. I want to spend my extra time with my family, not with my head and shoulders rammed down behind a toilet. Call me crazy. We already spend plenty of time doing dishes, general wipe-up, pick-up, and given the fact that the little man is STILL not fully potty trained (don't get me started), we are doing laundry EVERY DAY.

The other bonus of our bi-weekly cleaning sessions is that it forces us to tidy up before they arrive. And then it stays WAY tidier throughout the two weeks. Things don't pile up the way they used to, even with our 15-month old cyclone tearing the place to bits.

So yes. I have a cleaning service. I'm less stressed out about the condition of our house, and I spend more time with my family. Best $45 I've ever spent.

I Fear Having Teens, and Why I'm Mad at Enrique Iglesias

I was having a conversation the other day and someone commented on how awful it must be to be a teenager in the world of Facebook. I love Facebook and credit it (partially) with many of my opportunities of the last few years. I have reconnected with some absolutely fantastic people, and connected more deeply with others as a result of this addictive website. I'm a self-diagnosed Facebook addict. It's chronic.

Yes, I love Facebook NOW, but I cannot imagine my high school years being this connected to my friends and enemies of the moment. Life can already change in the blink of an eye when you're in high school, switching alliances and best friends faster than the cafeteria menu changes features. Knowing my BFF hung out with my mortal enemy and being able to see photographic evidence, seeing pictures of my biggest crush hanging out with the class slut, having my friends make comments on photos that I was already insecure about - it's all just too much.

Facebook has really only taken hold within the last few years and it truly has changed the world and the way we connect with others. My kids are years away from becoming teenagers, and I can only imagine the technological and sociological advances we will have seen by then. (Actually, I can't imagine them, which is why I will never be worth $50 billion dollars.) What gadgets and gizmos will be available to our children in the year 2020? How will kids interact? One a side note, it drives me crazy when I see kids plugged in to their game or music devices, not talking to their friends or family. Mr. Awesome and I have made an agreement that although our kids may have those items one day, they will not "plug in" during family time. Luckily, our kids already seem to love watching the world go by (with a running commentary from the little man) on road trips, so we haven't even had to invest in a sanity-saving DVD player for the vehicles. But I digress.

I am truly fearful about the challenges that will come with raising teens. The world is such a different place now and I know how hard I found it back then. And it's not just technology. For years people have been up in arms about the effect music will have on the impressionable young. From Elvis' hypnotic hips to Britney Spears' barely-there outfits and evocative lyrics, "adults" have worried about their children being led into temptation just by hearing this music. I used to think these arguments were ridiculous, but I hate to admit it, I fear I am now one of these adults.

I'm torn, because I have a very clear memory of singing the 1987 Paul Lekakis hit "Boom Boom (Let's Go Back to My Room)" in front of my mum (I was 12) and being told that it "wasn't a very nice song." I didn't really know what I was singing about, but I'm pretty sure most 12 year olds today would know what "so we can do it all night" means. Scary, but true.

This brings to me to why I'm mad at Enrique Iglesias. I recently compiled a workout mix from some of Mr. Awesome's new music. (I should explain, Mr. Awesome is a DJ and has several CD subscriptions that bring new music to our house monthly.) I chose songs quickly, listening to the first few seconds to establish the beat and see if it would keep my butt chugging on the treadmill. I didn't listen to any lyrics before adding the songs to my playlist.

So there I am, loving my new mix and keeping a good 4.1-4.2 pace on the treadmill when Enrique Iglesias' song "I Like It" comes on. And about 30 seconds in, I hear these lyrics:

(From "I Like It" by Enrique Iglesias, featuring Pitbull)

Girl, please excuse me
If I'm coming too strong
But tonight is the night
We can really let go

My girlfriend's out of town
And I'm all alone
Your boyfriend's on vacation
And he doesn't have to know

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! It's bad enough to think about young kids singing about sex like it's no big deal, but adultery? That cutie patootie Enrique is encouraging the screaming girls that swoon over him to cheat on their boyfriends and/or be the other woman enabling a man to cheat? Suddenly this is okay behaviour? And it's not just the kids, it's ANYONE that listens to his music. On what PLANET did he or his manager think that was a good idea for his image?

Needless to say the song did not live long on my playlist. Now I'm all riled up again. I need to calm down.


The best thing we can do is be the best parents we know how to be, talk openly with our kids, and pray to GOD that they come out of the teenage years in one piece. No problem, right?!

Although I do worry about the ridicule the little man might face if he's still dropping pants bombs at the age of 14.

Don't laugh. It could happen.

Like a Knife to the Heart

Let me just start this post by saying we love our nanny. She comes two days a week and she's been with us since the little man was seven months old, with the exception of my latest mat leave. She's awesome and the kids love her.

Which brings me to the guts of this post. The kids love her.

I came home the other day and the little miss was being her as-of-late dramatic self, clinging to the nanny's legs. The nanny picked her up while I was taking my shoes and jacket off, setting down my bags, etc and when I was ready I went over to see if she would come to me. Not only would she not come into my arms, but she turned away and clung to the nanny for dear life. I went around to peek at her from the other side and she actually pushed my face away. It was quite literally a slap in the face from a little girl that has, up til now, been a mama's girl.

I was telling my mum this story and she then proceeded to tell me that that very same day, while she had been out with the nanny and the kids, the nanny had taken a second to get out of the vehicle to run and get something. Well apparently my little miss burst into floods of tears and started screaming "Mama! Mama!"

Um...EXCUSE ME?

Logically, I know that all kids go through this. I remember the little man shunning me once in favour of this same nanny at around this same age, but he never (to my knowledge) gave away my title to someone else.

I get it, and I can rationalize it until the cows come home, but hearing that my little girl called someone else "Mama" was an absolutely knife to my heart.

It's a phase. I know it's a phase. And I know my baby knows who her mummy is. But at 1:30am when she's crying to be picked up and is not wet/hungry/in pain it is very hard to resist the guilt that starts creeping in and encouraging me to cradle her for the four hours she would happily stay awake.

I believe there is a balance between constant cradling, jumping to answer their every whim, and helping them learn to self soothe and find their own solutions to the basic "I dropped my doll" issues of toddler life.

But if I hear she's called anyone else Mama, I may abandon my beliefs and never put her down again. Although that could get problematic when she needs to start school...

Preparation + Relationships + Opportunity

Life is an amazing thing. Last year I wrote a post about how I got to where I am today, looking back at the decisions I've made in my career path and the bonds I've forged with key people in my life. It's one of those bonds that has brought me to write this post today.

The final stage in that last post was arriving at the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation and a marketing job I absolutely love. This is still 100% true and will not change anytime soon. But a piece of the past has found me again and a new opportunity has come up, one that I am pursuing in my "spare" (HA!) time.

About seven years ago I was working for a PR firm (for those of you that read the other post, the firm run my the woman that is now my boss at CBCF). One of our clients was a popular spa in downtown Vancouver, and I became friendly with the manager. We lost touch when I left the firm, and reconnected a couple of years ago by chance at a coffee shop near our homes (who knew we now only live five minutes apart?!). We "friended" each other on Facebook and have stayed in touch virtually.

Just a few days ago she reached out to me, in search of a "PR Guru." She has been given an absolutely life-changing opportunity and wants PR support to make the most of it. I said yes pretty much immediately after some (very quick) reflection. I don't take freelance PR work very often as I will only take on projects that I believe in 100% and get "jazzed" about pitching. I don't want to have to pitch something I'm not passionate about as it just doesn't feel authentic. I'm no spin doctor. (Oh yes, and I also have a full time job, a husband and two lovely munchkins to take care of. That too.)

The fact that I said "yes" should make it obvious that I believe in this woman and her work, and I am extremely passionate about contributing to her success. She is now a jewelry designer and she has been invited to have her pieces included in the VIP gift bags at this year's Academy Awards. (Hello? The OSCARS?!) She is completely deserving of this honour. Not only is her work absolutely stunning, but she is just the most lovely, loving person you could ever be lucky enough to meet. How could I say no?

I will share her name and website in a later post as we're working through some media agreements and can't let the "cat out of the bag" too early...a tough thing in the world of social media!

I was recently reminded of Oprah's quote "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." I've heard the same quote using the word "Success" instead of "Luck," but both ring true. I would like to add something to this quote though, as for me a large of of the "preparation" is the relationships you form along the way. My new "client" didn't reach out to me because of schooling or my resume, she reached out because we had connected in a way that let her know she could trust me with her best interests. She saw something in me and the way I work that spoke to her. And on the flip side, I said yes because she is such a fantastic, genuine person. If she'd been a nasty person with lovely jewelry and the same opportunity, I wouldn't have agreed to work with her!

I truly marvel at life sometimes. You never know who will end up being a significant influence in your life, even years down the road. A good reminder to be true to yourself and to never burn bridges, as you never know what is just around the bend!