Today I am in the downy dumps.
Feeling a little bit defeated and I want to cry.
Must be PMS.
I did download a Biorythym thing onto my phone to try to track my moods. Or whatever it tracks.
Ugh, I am going to pull out of this.
You know it is bad when I woke up and am already plotting how I can skip working out tonight.
But I am not going to skip it. I am going to go!!!
Sigh,
Gabbi
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Decision Time!
I can only weigh myself every 30 days. I have weighed myself twice.
After 30 days I lost 8 pounds
After 60 days I lost 6 more pounds for a grand total of 14 pounds.
I am underwhelmed.
I weigh and measure EVERYTHING I EAT. I create a food plan every night and follow it the next day.
The scale is a lying bitch and I totally should have lost 40 pounds in the first week.
Alright, unrealistic expectations. This is classic Gabbi behavior.
UNTIL!!!
Bethany: You know, you can only lose 1.5 to 2 pounds a week of fat, anything more than that and you start losing muscle. Did you want to lose some muscle?
Hmmm, I kind of did.
Until I took a look at my arms.
I noticed my bicep is nice and hard and curvy muscular.
The bottom part, flabby hangy whip in the wind. As in, I could never ride a motorcycle with short sleeves on because my arm fat would be flapping so hard the momentum would knock me right off the bike.
Not that I have a motorcycle or even know how to ride one, but just like my dream of becoming a Roller Derby Chick, I also plan on being a Motorcycle Mama, with a helmet that has "Hot Mama" airbrushed on the back. (I like to be vivid and detailed in my rich fantasy life.)
Then came DECISION TIME:
Do I want to lose my hard muscular bicep
or
my underarm flaps?
Definitely the underarm flaps.
And honestly, 14 pounds of all fat gone, that is pretty damn awesome.
Yay ME,
Gabbi
After 30 days I lost 8 pounds
After 60 days I lost 6 more pounds for a grand total of 14 pounds.
I am underwhelmed.
I weigh and measure EVERYTHING I EAT. I create a food plan every night and follow it the next day.
The scale is a lying bitch and I totally should have lost 40 pounds in the first week.
Alright, unrealistic expectations. This is classic Gabbi behavior.
UNTIL!!!
Bethany: You know, you can only lose 1.5 to 2 pounds a week of fat, anything more than that and you start losing muscle. Did you want to lose some muscle?
Hmmm, I kind of did.
Until I took a look at my arms.
I noticed my bicep is nice and hard and curvy muscular.
The bottom part, flabby hangy whip in the wind. As in, I could never ride a motorcycle with short sleeves on because my arm fat would be flapping so hard the momentum would knock me right off the bike.
Not that I have a motorcycle or even know how to ride one, but just like my dream of becoming a Roller Derby Chick, I also plan on being a Motorcycle Mama, with a helmet that has "Hot Mama" airbrushed on the back. (I like to be vivid and detailed in my rich fantasy life.)
Then came DECISION TIME:
Do I want to lose my hard muscular bicep
or
my underarm flaps?
Definitely the underarm flaps.
And honestly, 14 pounds of all fat gone, that is pretty damn awesome.
Yay ME,
Gabbi
Monday, June 28, 2010
PiYo
Last night I attended my very first class at the YMCA. It is called PiYo. A fusion of Pilates and Yoga.
Picture: Fat Girl Trying to do Yoga. While laughing and trying to breathe and sweating profusely.
Me: You want me to put my leg through where?
I loved it.
I sweated my butt off, stretched and got a great workout, all while enjoying myself. Here is my story:
Sunday morning I got up early-ish, packed up the fam and headed to the MN Valley YMCA to work. The kids swam with Ted, well, not really WITH Ted because he forgot his swim trunks on the kitchen table. Ted actually sat on the side and pouted, I mean, watched the kiddos swim.
After, I was so tired, I went home and napped for an hour with Sam. Except that when I woke up Sam was not in bed, but was playing with his train table, naked, and my cell phone was missing. DAMMIT! How does this stuff happen?? And, more importantly, why are you naked??? Anyways, I found my phone, in his bed, fairly undamaged. Only 3 random blank texts had been sent and some new apps are on my home screen. The apps on the home screen is only mildly upsetting because I dont know how to do that myself and I wish Sam would show me how.
I whipped on some yoga pants, a sports bra (from the last time I decided to attempt some exercise, several years ago), tshirt, socks and tennis shoes. Grace told me:
Grace: Mom, you are going to be to hot.
Me: No I won't.
Grace: Yes, you will. If they cancel the class, work out anyways.
Me: Fine, BossyPants.
Grace: Do the 30 minute walk program.
Me (exasperated): OK!
Grace (suddenly the expert on all things working out-ish because she has been to the Y ONE TIME IN HER LIFE): Oh, and don't try to quit before the 30 minutes is up. I know you will try to cuz, I even wanted to when I did it. But DON'T. I will know if you did. You wont be as sweaty.
Me: Ohforcripessake.
Grace: NOT KIDDING!
Ted (not to be outdone): I am going to take a class and wreck all of you.
Me (sick of these people): I am sure you will.
Ted: I will, I am going to shred those machines. They never seen nothin like me.
Grace and I both roll our eyes. What a dumbass.
Anyways, I get to the Y, and I am super nervous. I have never done yoga or pilates, and here I am trying to do a fusion.
Ok, I really like the word fusion, it is so...mmmm, up and coming and trendy. Kind of like the Maxi Dress and Jeweled Sandals. Not that I can wear a Maxi Dress cuz I am whooping four feet tall, ok, I am more than four feet, but being short and wide, not becoming in a Maxi Dress. Back to the story.
So, I am all nervous, but willing to give it a go. I met the class instructor in the lobby and warned her, I am a newbie and not flexible and so I may very well hurt myself in her class. She laughs her skinny girl laugh, and says
Skinny fit instructor: just take it easy, you will be fine. All the moves can be modified, and trust me, I am still new at this and not very flexible either.
Me: (In my head: Yea right toned muscular arm girl, I don't even want to hear "I am not flexible." Lies, all lies.)
Me Out loud: Ok, thanks.
I fake-confidently walked into the studio and stopped dead in my tracks. One whole wall is mirrors.
Mirrors!!!!
We have to FACE the mirrors.
So, not only do I get to feel all ridiculous and unflexible, I get to SEE how ridiculous and unflexible I am.
I grab a mat, and try to find a spot that could at least partially block my view of myself in the mirrors. Since there were only 3 other people in class besides myself, no such luck. I get a nice full on view of myself, chubbed out, wearing my to-hot outfit.
We get started and since the class is only 40 minutes, I convince myself I can do anything for 40 minutes. Maybe not anything, but certainly this class.
We do some stretching, not so bad, we do some curtsy lunges, which, although confusing at first, I quickly got the hang of and felt kind of proud of myself.
A few minutes later I am sweating profusely and trying to do something called "Thread the Needle". Oh dear God.
Then comes some kind of squat ass burning leg shaking thing. Names are unnecessary at this point, I will just start calling things by the pain they are causing me.
Skinny instructor: Ok, now I want you to squat and thread your right leg through to a side straddle ....
then all I heard was blah blah blah leg through, jump, squat, twist yourself into a figure eight and smile.
Ok, that last part she didn't really say, that is just how I felt.
BUT, through the whole class, I found myself smiling and laughing and able to do a lot more than I expected to.
Sunflower: I can do that
Arm Circles: I can do that
Leg Scissors side to side: I can do that a little tiny bit
Curtsy lunge, did I mention I was pretty ok at those?
I sweat so much I couldn't believe it, and the knot in my back...gone.
My face: bright red, hair: sweaty, Me: out of breath, and so DAMN HAPPY!
I had a good conversation with the instructor afterwards and I realized they really are there to help you progress and do more and feel more confortable in your own skin. I saw her as my partner and not just some woman whose body I covet.
Today I am sore in a good way. If I sit at my desk to long, I can feel my muscles atrophying (whatever that word is). Sore in a way that four Tylenols and periodic stretching throughout the day can handle.
I am looking forward to class on Wednesday. I am WAY looking forward to being in class, sweaty and out of breath, but more flexible and able to do the harder moves. Healthier and happier!
PiYo's Bitch,
Gabbi
Picture: Fat Girl Trying to do Yoga. While laughing and trying to breathe and sweating profusely.
Me: You want me to put my leg through where?
I loved it.
I sweated my butt off, stretched and got a great workout, all while enjoying myself. Here is my story:
Sunday morning I got up early-ish, packed up the fam and headed to the MN Valley YMCA to work. The kids swam with Ted, well, not really WITH Ted because he forgot his swim trunks on the kitchen table. Ted actually sat on the side and pouted, I mean, watched the kiddos swim.
After, I was so tired, I went home and napped for an hour with Sam. Except that when I woke up Sam was not in bed, but was playing with his train table, naked, and my cell phone was missing. DAMMIT! How does this stuff happen?? And, more importantly, why are you naked??? Anyways, I found my phone, in his bed, fairly undamaged. Only 3 random blank texts had been sent and some new apps are on my home screen. The apps on the home screen is only mildly upsetting because I dont know how to do that myself and I wish Sam would show me how.
I whipped on some yoga pants, a sports bra (from the last time I decided to attempt some exercise, several years ago), tshirt, socks and tennis shoes. Grace told me:
Grace: Mom, you are going to be to hot.
Me: No I won't.
Grace: Yes, you will. If they cancel the class, work out anyways.
Me: Fine, BossyPants.
Grace: Do the 30 minute walk program.
Me (exasperated): OK!
Grace (suddenly the expert on all things working out-ish because she has been to the Y ONE TIME IN HER LIFE): Oh, and don't try to quit before the 30 minutes is up. I know you will try to cuz, I even wanted to when I did it. But DON'T. I will know if you did. You wont be as sweaty.
Me: Ohforcripessake.
Grace: NOT KIDDING!
Ted (not to be outdone): I am going to take a class and wreck all of you.
Me (sick of these people): I am sure you will.
Ted: I will, I am going to shred those machines. They never seen nothin like me.
Grace and I both roll our eyes. What a dumbass.
Anyways, I get to the Y, and I am super nervous. I have never done yoga or pilates, and here I am trying to do a fusion.
Ok, I really like the word fusion, it is so...mmmm, up and coming and trendy. Kind of like the Maxi Dress and Jeweled Sandals. Not that I can wear a Maxi Dress cuz I am whooping four feet tall, ok, I am more than four feet, but being short and wide, not becoming in a Maxi Dress. Back to the story.
So, I am all nervous, but willing to give it a go. I met the class instructor in the lobby and warned her, I am a newbie and not flexible and so I may very well hurt myself in her class. She laughs her skinny girl laugh, and says
Skinny fit instructor: just take it easy, you will be fine. All the moves can be modified, and trust me, I am still new at this and not very flexible either.
Me: (In my head: Yea right toned muscular arm girl, I don't even want to hear "I am not flexible." Lies, all lies.)
Me Out loud: Ok, thanks.
I fake-confidently walked into the studio and stopped dead in my tracks. One whole wall is mirrors.
Mirrors!!!!
We have to FACE the mirrors.
So, not only do I get to feel all ridiculous and unflexible, I get to SEE how ridiculous and unflexible I am.
I grab a mat, and try to find a spot that could at least partially block my view of myself in the mirrors. Since there were only 3 other people in class besides myself, no such luck. I get a nice full on view of myself, chubbed out, wearing my to-hot outfit.
We get started and since the class is only 40 minutes, I convince myself I can do anything for 40 minutes. Maybe not anything, but certainly this class.
We do some stretching, not so bad, we do some curtsy lunges, which, although confusing at first, I quickly got the hang of and felt kind of proud of myself.
A few minutes later I am sweating profusely and trying to do something called "Thread the Needle". Oh dear God.
Then comes some kind of squat ass burning leg shaking thing. Names are unnecessary at this point, I will just start calling things by the pain they are causing me.
Skinny instructor: Ok, now I want you to squat and thread your right leg through to a side straddle ....
then all I heard was blah blah blah leg through, jump, squat, twist yourself into a figure eight and smile.
Ok, that last part she didn't really say, that is just how I felt.
BUT, through the whole class, I found myself smiling and laughing and able to do a lot more than I expected to.
Sunflower: I can do that
Arm Circles: I can do that
Leg Scissors side to side: I can do that a little tiny bit
Curtsy lunge, did I mention I was pretty ok at those?
I sweat so much I couldn't believe it, and the knot in my back...gone.
My face: bright red, hair: sweaty, Me: out of breath, and so DAMN HAPPY!
I had a good conversation with the instructor afterwards and I realized they really are there to help you progress and do more and feel more confortable in your own skin. I saw her as my partner and not just some woman whose body I covet.
Today I am sore in a good way. If I sit at my desk to long, I can feel my muscles atrophying (whatever that word is). Sore in a way that four Tylenols and periodic stretching throughout the day can handle.
I am looking forward to class on Wednesday. I am WAY looking forward to being in class, sweaty and out of breath, but more flexible and able to do the harder moves. Healthier and happier!
PiYo's Bitch,
Gabbi
Friday, June 25, 2010
Resentments
A wise woman told me:
"Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die."
This week, I have been poisoning myself over and over; waiting for other people to feel the pain and change.
Guess what? They didn't feel the pain and they sure as heck didn't change.
For some reason, my silent (or not so silent) seething is non-effective.
Hmph, who knew?
I have dove headlong into major self improvements; working my food program, taking on 2nd and 3rd jobs that all take into account my family and allow me to still be with them while I work; meeting with a life coach to help get me re-focused and energized at my primary job; exercising more; talking shit less (not that I am successful at that one).
All these things make me feel good and I know I am on the right path.
BUT, there is this small (sometimes not so small) niggling that maybe OTHER PEOPLE should be working on their stuff too. And I am pissed that I seem to be the only one on this path to self improvement.
WHAT THE HELL?
Serious resentment steps in. Resentment is eating away at me and slowly poisoning me. Causing me emotional turmoil and physical anxiety. My Wise Woman told me to pray for the people I am feeling resentment towards, pray for all the good things in life to come to them, pray for their happiness, and their peace and security. All the things I want for myself, pray for them to have those things too. Even if it is not sincere, pray for sincerity and pray for them, at some point, sincerity will come. So, I have been praying for people to have all the things I want in my own life, with one caveat: ME FIRST!
Sigh
Maybe that is not exactly on target, but I gotta be me.
This morning I vented to a dear friend and within a few minutes I felt some relief. The relief also could have been because I sneezed and farted at the same time, but I am going to go with the venting.
After I let it all out in email and then re-read it. Ahhhh, much better. It is out of my head.
While basking in the glow of a good purge of negativity, I had the thought that
"All of the good things I am doing are for ME. I am improving myself for ME. Not to change or regulate anyone else, but to feel better about ME. To know my side of the street is clean and I am doing all that I can to live a good life, for myself and for my children. I can only improve or regulate myself. "
I am only responsible for me.
That is beautiful.
I can live with that.
Shining so brightly,
Gabbi
"Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die."
This week, I have been poisoning myself over and over; waiting for other people to feel the pain and change.
Guess what? They didn't feel the pain and they sure as heck didn't change.
For some reason, my silent (or not so silent) seething is non-effective.
Hmph, who knew?
I have dove headlong into major self improvements; working my food program, taking on 2nd and 3rd jobs that all take into account my family and allow me to still be with them while I work; meeting with a life coach to help get me re-focused and energized at my primary job; exercising more; talking shit less (not that I am successful at that one).
All these things make me feel good and I know I am on the right path.
BUT, there is this small (sometimes not so small) niggling that maybe OTHER PEOPLE should be working on their stuff too. And I am pissed that I seem to be the only one on this path to self improvement.
WHAT THE HELL?
Serious resentment steps in. Resentment is eating away at me and slowly poisoning me. Causing me emotional turmoil and physical anxiety. My Wise Woman told me to pray for the people I am feeling resentment towards, pray for all the good things in life to come to them, pray for their happiness, and their peace and security. All the things I want for myself, pray for them to have those things too. Even if it is not sincere, pray for sincerity and pray for them, at some point, sincerity will come. So, I have been praying for people to have all the things I want in my own life, with one caveat: ME FIRST!
Sigh
Maybe that is not exactly on target, but I gotta be me.
This morning I vented to a dear friend and within a few minutes I felt some relief. The relief also could have been because I sneezed and farted at the same time, but I am going to go with the venting.
After I let it all out in email and then re-read it. Ahhhh, much better. It is out of my head.
While basking in the glow of a good purge of negativity, I had the thought that
"All of the good things I am doing are for ME. I am improving myself for ME. Not to change or regulate anyone else, but to feel better about ME. To know my side of the street is clean and I am doing all that I can to live a good life, for myself and for my children. I can only improve or regulate myself. "
I am only responsible for me.
That is beautiful.
I can live with that.
Shining so brightly,
Gabbi
Friday, June 18, 2010
Sometimes I Lie
Me: Grace, did you put the dishes away?
Grace: Yes, MOM
Me: Are you sure?
Grace: YES! GAWD!
Me: Swear to God?
Grace: YES! URGH!
Me: Maybe you should double check.
Grace: FINE!
Me: Wait. Do you realize you just swore to GOD you put the dishes away, but you haven't?
Pause, pause....
Grace: I can't help it, sometimes I lie.
Me too,
Gabbi
Grace: Yes, MOM
Me: Are you sure?
Grace: YES! GAWD!
Me: Swear to God?
Grace: YES! URGH!
Me: Maybe you should double check.
Grace: FINE!
Me: Wait. Do you realize you just swore to GOD you put the dishes away, but you haven't?
Pause, pause....
Grace: I can't help it, sometimes I lie.
Me too,
Gabbi
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Do not try this at home...wait, DO try this at home
I am in the midst of trying to change my behavior from self destructive and dysfunctional to healthy.
Yeesh
In the last two days I have learned that so many of my reactions are absolutely automatic, almost as if I am programmed to stay in this cycle of dysfunction.
Growing up there was a lot of shame, guilt, secrecy and a little bitterness (just for fun) all swirled together. As an adult, I have tried to make a conscious effort to be open and honest about life with my children and with others in my life. I have found I do a much better job of this with my friends than I do my family.
With my family, I have confined myself to the hard and fast rules of our family dynamic.
No one rocks the boat.
Don't say anything upsetting.
If you have something upsetting to say, shut the hell up and keep it to yourself.
Keep the peace at all cost.
Don't tell anyone how you really feel until you have sworn them to secrecy.
If you feel bad, that is your own fault.
I didn't realize that the family dynamic is not set in stone.
At anytime I can change my reactions and change the tone of our family dynamic.
But going through this is scary. I don't want to be the one who rocks the boat, and says her feelings out loud and be the one who refuses to live free of shame and guilt.
Oh wait!
I DO want to be that person. She sounds pretty cool and quite possibly HAPPY?!?!
So, right now I am scared, and I am rocking the boat and I am saying how I feel and I am refusing to live with shame and guilt. They are no longer my bedfellows.
I am not sure how this all works. How do you say how you feel without hurting other people? And if other people are entitled to their feelings, then why am I not entitled to have feelings?
I am entitled to have feelings.
I think the biggest realization that I have made is that, no one else tells me I cannot have feelings or say them.
I do that to myself.
Learning new ways to do things is tough stuff, but I am so glad and thankful to be on this journey.
A whole new gal,
Gabbi
Yeesh
In the last two days I have learned that so many of my reactions are absolutely automatic, almost as if I am programmed to stay in this cycle of dysfunction.
Growing up there was a lot of shame, guilt, secrecy and a little bitterness (just for fun) all swirled together. As an adult, I have tried to make a conscious effort to be open and honest about life with my children and with others in my life. I have found I do a much better job of this with my friends than I do my family.
With my family, I have confined myself to the hard and fast rules of our family dynamic.
No one rocks the boat.
Don't say anything upsetting.
If you have something upsetting to say, shut the hell up and keep it to yourself.
Keep the peace at all cost.
Don't tell anyone how you really feel until you have sworn them to secrecy.
If you feel bad, that is your own fault.
I didn't realize that the family dynamic is not set in stone.
At anytime I can change my reactions and change the tone of our family dynamic.
But going through this is scary. I don't want to be the one who rocks the boat, and says her feelings out loud and be the one who refuses to live free of shame and guilt.
Oh wait!
I DO want to be that person. She sounds pretty cool and quite possibly HAPPY?!?!
So, right now I am scared, and I am rocking the boat and I am saying how I feel and I am refusing to live with shame and guilt. They are no longer my bedfellows.
I am not sure how this all works. How do you say how you feel without hurting other people? And if other people are entitled to their feelings, then why am I not entitled to have feelings?
I am entitled to have feelings.
I think the biggest realization that I have made is that, no one else tells me I cannot have feelings or say them.
I do that to myself.
Learning new ways to do things is tough stuff, but I am so glad and thankful to be on this journey.
A whole new gal,
Gabbi
Monday, June 14, 2010
Confessions of a Crabby Bitch
Upon waking Saturday morning, I discovered I was nothing but pure evil.
Poor Ted, I thrashed him heartily right up until I stomped out of the house for a good dose of retail therapy.
Confession of a crabby bitch: I don't really feel sorry for Ted. Man up.
I packed up the kids and headed out to the MOA for some Old Navy $2 tank tops.
Big mistake. MOA had some kind of event going on and it was packed. We parked on the 7th level...and trudged to the elevators to get in the mall. Stopped in Bloomies to use their restroom. Note: when shopping, go into the nice stores to use the facilities. I promise a lovely potty experience.
Foolishly, I stopped in at the jewelry store to dream.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: The jewelry store leads to the "Woes me, I will never get married" train of thought. Never a good ride.
Eventually, we hit Old Navy. There were like 3 tank tops left and two unkempt women fighting over them. Have 'em, I am just not that committed to a $2 tank top.
I discovered that Old Navy at MOA no longer carries plus size clothing. Bastards.
Confession of a crabby bitch: I hit the maternity section and bought two super cute shirts. Upon arriving home, I promptly cut all the tags out, thereby removing any shame.
After Old Navy, Grace indulged in our MOA tradition of a Godiva chocolate.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: Fuck Godiva for looking so wonderously delicious, knowing full well I am not eating sugar and I have my period. BITCH
At this point, I was done. The MOA had her way with me and I gave up. Just to make it fun, the elevator in the parking ramp was broken and so the kids and I (with stroller in tow) had to trudge up 4 levels of stairs to get back to our vehicle.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: I was hot and sweaty and ready to cry.
Quick stop at Target, new skirt, new sandals, a toy for Sam and a new book for Grace.
Did I mention the skirt I bought was a full size smaller thatn I normally wear?
Aaaah, much better.
During my shopping trials, I did see the error of my ways. Apologies all around and I was much more pleasant to live with.
Confessional over,
Gabbi
Poor Ted, I thrashed him heartily right up until I stomped out of the house for a good dose of retail therapy.
Confession of a crabby bitch: I don't really feel sorry for Ted. Man up.
I packed up the kids and headed out to the MOA for some Old Navy $2 tank tops.
Big mistake. MOA had some kind of event going on and it was packed. We parked on the 7th level...and trudged to the elevators to get in the mall. Stopped in Bloomies to use their restroom. Note: when shopping, go into the nice stores to use the facilities. I promise a lovely potty experience.
Foolishly, I stopped in at the jewelry store to dream.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: The jewelry store leads to the "Woes me, I will never get married" train of thought. Never a good ride.
Eventually, we hit Old Navy. There were like 3 tank tops left and two unkempt women fighting over them. Have 'em, I am just not that committed to a $2 tank top.
I discovered that Old Navy at MOA no longer carries plus size clothing. Bastards.
Confession of a crabby bitch: I hit the maternity section and bought two super cute shirts. Upon arriving home, I promptly cut all the tags out, thereby removing any shame.
After Old Navy, Grace indulged in our MOA tradition of a Godiva chocolate.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: Fuck Godiva for looking so wonderously delicious, knowing full well I am not eating sugar and I have my period. BITCH
At this point, I was done. The MOA had her way with me and I gave up. Just to make it fun, the elevator in the parking ramp was broken and so the kids and I (with stroller in tow) had to trudge up 4 levels of stairs to get back to our vehicle.
Confessions of a crabby bitch: I was hot and sweaty and ready to cry.
Quick stop at Target, new skirt, new sandals, a toy for Sam and a new book for Grace.
Did I mention the skirt I bought was a full size smaller thatn I normally wear?
Aaaah, much better.
During my shopping trials, I did see the error of my ways. Apologies all around and I was much more pleasant to live with.
Confessional over,
Gabbi
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Ego
Recently, I have had my eyes opened to my own big fat EGO.
It is NOT selfless to want everyone to be happy.
Case and Point:
Ted spent the weekend at his moms due to some obligations he had to fulfill and his brother was in town, and since his car is broken, driving back and forth, was not really an option. ENJOY!
I fully expected him to come home happy and relaxed.
He didn't.
In fact, he was tense and pissy.
I ask him why he was upset.
He said he was just crabby.
I asked why.
He said he just was.
I badgered him until he finally said:
"It sucks not having a car and being on other people's schedules. Plus not working really bums me out."
I get that, but are any of those things MY FAULT?? No, so stop being a crab. here are all the reasons why you should not be a crab...blah blah, harass, badger, poke.
For some reason, my explanations, badgering, harassing and poking only made him madder.
Crazy, right?!?!
Hmmm, when I am crabby, for any reason, real or imagined, I just want to be crabby and be left alone.
Did I allow Ted the right to have his feelings? Nope. I tried to force him to conform to WHAT I WANTED him to feel.
Hello, Ego. How are you today?
Of course, it took some talking to a couple of sponsors to sort out the fact that this is not Ted's issue, it is mine. Believe me, I did not come to this conclusion all on my own.
If I had just allowed Ted his time to be upset and bummed out about some legitimate things that are going on in his life, it wouldn't have been anything to talk (blog) about.
So, I guess, there is a reason for my Ego-liciousness.
All About ME,
Gabbi
It is NOT selfless to want everyone to be happy.
Case and Point:
Ted spent the weekend at his moms due to some obligations he had to fulfill and his brother was in town, and since his car is broken, driving back and forth, was not really an option. ENJOY!
I fully expected him to come home happy and relaxed.
He didn't.
In fact, he was tense and pissy.
I ask him why he was upset.
He said he was just crabby.
I asked why.
He said he just was.
I badgered him until he finally said:
"It sucks not having a car and being on other people's schedules. Plus not working really bums me out."
I get that, but are any of those things MY FAULT?? No, so stop being a crab. here are all the reasons why you should not be a crab...blah blah, harass, badger, poke.
For some reason, my explanations, badgering, harassing and poking only made him madder.
Crazy, right?!?!
Hmmm, when I am crabby, for any reason, real or imagined, I just want to be crabby and be left alone.
Did I allow Ted the right to have his feelings? Nope. I tried to force him to conform to WHAT I WANTED him to feel.
Hello, Ego. How are you today?
Of course, it took some talking to a couple of sponsors to sort out the fact that this is not Ted's issue, it is mine. Believe me, I did not come to this conclusion all on my own.
If I had just allowed Ted his time to be upset and bummed out about some legitimate things that are going on in his life, it wouldn't have been anything to talk (blog) about.
So, I guess, there is a reason for my Ego-liciousness.
All About ME,
Gabbi
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Oh dear.
Just to continue with the oddities that occur in my household...
Sunday morning Ted let me sleep in...oh heaven. Upon waking this is the conversation that takes place:
Ted: You should ask your son what he did this morning.
Me (knowing full well it can be nothing good by his use of the phrase YOUR SON): Sam, what did you do today?
Sam (cheerily): I pooped outside.
Me (totally not expecting that): OH!
Sam (cheery and proud): Like a dog.
Me: Huh....well, ok.
Sam (very matter of factly): The dogs ate my poop.
Oh dear.
Monday I woke up to:
Sam: Mom, scootch over.
Me: Mumble mumble (while scootching)
Sam: Mom, your hair is ugly.
Me: Mmmm, thanks.
Sam: Mom, your breath smells bad.
Me: GET IN YOUR OWN DARN BED THEN! Geez, I wake up to the Peanut Gallery, what the hell, mumble mumble, swear a bit, flop over, flip the pillow and try to ignore the commentary.
And a bit later on Monday while sitting on the couch with Sam:
Sam: Mom, I love you just the way you are.
Me: Awww, Sam, I love you too, just the way you are.
Sometimes one little thing makes it all worth it,
Gabbi
Sunday morning Ted let me sleep in...oh heaven. Upon waking this is the conversation that takes place:
Ted: You should ask your son what he did this morning.
Me (knowing full well it can be nothing good by his use of the phrase YOUR SON): Sam, what did you do today?
Sam (cheerily): I pooped outside.
Me (totally not expecting that): OH!
Sam (cheery and proud): Like a dog.
Me: Huh....well, ok.
Sam (very matter of factly): The dogs ate my poop.
Oh dear.
Monday I woke up to:
Sam: Mom, scootch over.
Me: Mumble mumble (while scootching)
Sam: Mom, your hair is ugly.
Me: Mmmm, thanks.
Sam: Mom, your breath smells bad.
Me: GET IN YOUR OWN DARN BED THEN! Geez, I wake up to the Peanut Gallery, what the hell, mumble mumble, swear a bit, flop over, flip the pillow and try to ignore the commentary.
And a bit later on Monday while sitting on the couch with Sam:
Sam: Mom, I love you just the way you are.
Me: Awww, Sam, I love you too, just the way you are.
Sometimes one little thing makes it all worth it,
Gabbi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)