october was great

we took a walk recently. on the most perfect day. it was chilly, but not too chilly, and overcast, and leaves were everywhere. errands to run, post office and the market.

start

"oh no!" (just for you dad, because you love her funny, over the top expressions)

that's better

post office

nailed it

mid way rest

stop to smell the yellow flower

i like rillsies tongue in this photo

my view

our view

love love love

hand stamps at the market. she carried her hands up the rest of the way, just like this

home again

my absolute favorite part of living here.

and yes, she is wearing last years flapper costume under her jacket.

if you are family or like family, you may enjoy this.

treads.

I am a fan of running in the outdoors.

experiencing sunshine, weather, breezes... all good for the soul I think.

so why buy a treadmill?

our apartment complex has an amazing fitness room.

multiple televisions with cable, treadmills, weight equipment.

so why buy a treadmill?

treadmills are expensive.

even the most inexpensive models are pricey.

and they take up space. lots of space.

so why buy a treadmill?

because I have two children.

because every day is different.

because it's not safe to take them to the fitness room.

because petra hated gym daycare, and I am traumatized.

because I don't have to "get ready" to workout.

because my warm up is getting everyone up, dressed, fed, bathed, potty'd, changed, entertained, washed, fed again.

because I can take my time, take longer if I like.

because my children can nap or play while I work out.

because that rush I get about two-thirds into the workout is worth it.

because there is a season for everything.

simply, because it makes me happy.

is there any better reason?

S.A.A.M.

mom and dad are taking me to the Seattle Asian Art Museum today.

It's free the first Saturday of the month.

it's a long drive, but not too long.

we're here!

see? that's me.

this is a camel statue. I wanted to ride it, mom said no.

my little sister wakes up from her nap.

we try an art project, a moon jar, with clay. I just want to smash it.

and a mosaic. I glued the papers on myself!

I got to try on a kimono. pink!

and play with the chinese dragon puppet.

time to look outside.

I see a fountain and a dog.

what can I see through that statue? the space needle!

tall tower! I think there must be princesses in there.

daddy takes me up to see.

my friend johnny and I sit after that long walk up.

I can see so far! the space needle again!

we splash in puddles when we get back down. got my boots on!

mom and dad watch me splash.

then off to pizza at the place with pogs and cell phones in the table.

I'm hungry. so hungry. waiting for pizza.

I had so much fun!

brown rice mountain cereal

breakfast.

left over brown rice, piping hot from the microwave. stuffed into a measuring cup to shape and keep warm. add milk, sugar and cinnamon to taste. brown rice is a whole grain.

umbrella

I have a new goal.

to "run and not be weary"*

this expression has been in my head lately. it's part of what us members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints call the Word of Wisdom. it is found in one of our books of scripture called The Doctrine and Covenants. the Word of Wisdom is council on how to care for our physical bodies, or in other words, "the temporal salvation of all saints**." if we follow the council, we are afforded some promises, including to "run and not be weary."

for me, it is a reform. a recommitment. a reorganization. viva me!

end goal:: run and not be weary

action plan:: eat well, exercise regularly, et cetera et cetera et cetera

I figure, implementing things to DO will be easier than giving myself things to NOT DO. diet has become the cliche, dirty, four letter word in my book. and really, I don't have the mental strength to commit yet again. and they don't work for me. (wow that sounds like a bad infomercial, right?) moving on...

I just want to stop stressing about all of this. being thin, every bite I eat, every meal I make. I know there are tougher things in the world, but truly, two children are time consuming and really, you don't always get to choose what time is consumed. my bff jade and I were chatting the other day, and realized that even if you just stay home all day, you are still busy. busy without really being "busy". and sometimes I can't be perfect in my d&e regimen. so I decided to forgive myself, and make an umbrella goal.

"run and not be weary"

and make my way there. slowly, everyday, making choices to get me there. will I make mistakes? sure. will it probably take longer to lose weight? most likely. will I get frustrated? um yes. but hey, health is the ultimate goal, and really, weight is the second. and if I can enjoy my days and meals and body in the mean time, this just may be the way for me.

and really, how much fun will it be to try some new ingredients in my diet? and get creative with exercise? without all the pressure...

do I sound pretentious? I feel like I sound pretentious. I don't mean to.

*D&C 89:19 **D&C 89:2

in the ni(bump)ght

I don't know how they did it.

my parents, that is.

pita has been waking up crying and screaming this week. multiple times a night. she has been asking us to fix her "blanks" (blankets) for her. she has three. they have to be perfect, and two will just not do. (I worry that she is a bit o.c.d, that's another story) we have been trying to show her how to do it herself, as to not have to wake to a full scream to get the job done and back to sleep. but she is convinced she needs mom or dad for the task. every time she does it, it makes my adrenaline rush and consequently, extremely hard to go back to sleep. I have a hard enough time convincing myself all will be well and safe in the world for me to get to sleep the first time, let alone few times, after waking up to my eldest crying out for "mommy! mommy, please!" I always start hearing noises and wondering just what is going bump in the night. sleepy chelsea is a paranoid chelsea.

last night, around five a.m. I heard it again. "mommy, please! mommy!" after waking up twice to this already, and having fed Rilla once in the night, for a total of three night time awakenings, the fourth time I was just perturbed. I went in pita's room, and jumped right in. "why are you crying again? just fix your blankets and go to sleep. I am not helping you. you are a big girl, show me how you do it." (guilt already seeping in my gut for going straight to tough mode) she grabbed her blankets and fixed them the best a two-nearly-three year old can. shakily smiled and said, "I did it!" the guilt had saturated and so I smiled and answered, "see? I knew you could do it." and kissed her cheek. having my face close by, she choked out,

"are there dragons and spiders in my room?"

in just the tiniest whisper. my guilt-saturated gut and heart just crumbled. so that was the true story. all this week, it wasn't blankets. she was just afraid. she invented a reason to get mommy and daddy to come reassure her in her room, whether she realized it or not. I could relate. I was that child in my family. always afraid, well into my child hood. I often slept in the floor in my parents room. (after seeing the movie "fire in the sky" I slept in their room several nights in a row. still can't watch that movie, but the images are burned into my brain) I can remember the terror very clearly. I have several memories of exiting my room, forcing my legs down the hall, and holding my breath and trying not to look at the big sliding glass door that led to our backyard. seeing into that dark abyss was horrifying. truly, horrifying. my parents always let me sleep on the floor. only now I realize how old that must have gotten, especially having nine children between them. after I convinced pita there was no spiders or dragons in her room (and praying no spiders would show up and make me a liar, since they are frequent visitors in our home) I went back to bed. I laid there, thinking about all those nights my parents let me sleep in there room. I thought about pita and her imagination getting the best of her. poor dear. I couldn't help muttering to jeff that we would probably be tired for at least the next 20 years. if it wasn't dragons and spiders, it would be boys and curfews.

oh mom and dad. I don't know how you did it. but, thank you. really, thank you.

t.m.i.

some days I miss her.

jeff and I were talking about our first date the other night. and about flirting and dating. I remembered the little things I did to try and let him know I liked him.

I tried to remember who she was. I tried to feel her, be her for a second. I couldn't find her.

I could access all her memories, and remember what it felt like, but only like I was reading her diary. how could I change this much in five years?

I can remember thinking when we got married that I certainly would be that wife that still acted like the girlfriend, the fiance, the newlywed. time wouldn't change me, not if I didn't let it. I would do it all and be it all. I could if I really wanted to.

I failed.

I can't even put her skin on any more.

I look different. my hair is darker, I am "curvier" (to be polite), I have permanent circles under my eyes, I have stretch marks, hallmarking age and the two children I have grown inside my body.

I feel different. the world is more frightening, I worry about the future, I ponder over the challenge of rearing my children when I don't feel "reared" myself, all because I have taken on the responsibilities of adulthood.

I act different. my patience seems to have a limit, I forget things and am not as considerate as I would like to be, I prioritize things in an entirely different way than I ever thought I would, these things all pointing to the fact that I have missed the standard I have set for myself. by quite the margin.

somehow, now, with the most accomplishments under my belt, I feel the least confident. I miss the girl who could feel attractive. I miss the girl who felt like she was funny. I miss the girl who would read books. actual books, by the armful. when it comes down to it, I miss feeling interesting.

I love my daughters. they are beautiful and clever and sweet and loving. I love my husband. he is hard working and handsome and witty and intelligent. some days I tear up with joy at this foundation I possess.

some days I am crushed under the weight of achieving the next level.

I can't be her anymore. but who will I be?