Empty Nest Full Heart

Discombobulated

 

We've been home from the hospital since Friday night, and I have to admit to having spent the past two days feeling somewhat discombobulated.  I walk into rooms and don't remember why, I spend way too long trying to figure out what I'm doing, and I lose things.  Like my work keys.  They're on a red stretchy thing (kind of like a telephone cord) that fits on your wrist, and there are 6-8 keys on a ring identified by colored tabs.  If you've seen them, would you let me know?  My goose could be cooked without them.

Anyway, what was I saying?

I think it's perfectly normal after spending  6 1/2 days at the hospital, where the world is somehow shrunk down to a single room, to feel a little misplaced.  Maybe I've had the bends these past couple of days and being home has been like undergoing hyperbaric oxygen therapy.  We've had several slow days and I'm almost feeling like myself again, which is a good thing considering facing the world is the first thing on the agenda today.

I was thinking about this last night and realizing there are many times in life when we feel a bit discombobulated - not the least of which is when the nest empties out.  Our world is upside down, our focus changed, our attention no longer required.  One of the best gifts we can give ourselves when we're hurting is time.  Time to spend with God, pouring out our hearts to Him and being wrapped in His loving arms.  Time to pamper ourselves (Lulu and I had our first mani-pedi of the season yesterday, and it was sublime).  Time to explore the interests that were laid aside during the child-rearing years.

And time to be patient with ourselves.  It took 32 years from the time our first child was born until the last one left home.  We can't expect to "get over it" just like that.  Grief is a little different in every person and some people feel it more deeply and/or for longer than others.  Girlfriend called her dad on the phone the other day when he was feeling ready to go home before his doctors would let him go.  She sang him a song from her childhood:  "Have patience, have patience, don't be in such a hurry...when you get impatient, you only start to worry.  Remember, remember, that God is patient too, and think of all the times that others have to wait on you."  He had to smile, and remember that sometimes we just have to submit to the process, lean into our troubles, and be patient for the outcome.  It's as true for us empty nest moms as it was for him.

Have a great week,

Gigi

Oh My Goodness!

"Did you pick up where you left off?"

There is no picking up where you left off when you spend a weekend with a friend you've not seen in thirty years.  There is a massive amount of filling in the gaps...connecting the dots...comparing notes...and much more.

This was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing weekends I have ever experienced.  It wasn't without a bit of pre-visit-angst, on both Melvin's and my parts, as we wondered if it would be awkward, or if we would run out of things to talk about, or if our paths had taken us to places too different to find the common ground of friendship we had so enjoyed in high school.  

It began with my arrival at the chosen restaurant thirty minutes early.  I had allowed 15 more minutes than Mapquest had predicted it would take, and I somehow made up for 15 more minutes along the way.  I planned to park, relax, blog a little and wait for Melvin to get there.  As I drove up, I saw her next to her car.  We waved and I found a spot.  We hugged and Melvin told me she'd already been inside and had our name on the list.  What I still had failed to realize even then was the fact that I was not 30 minutes early; I was in fact thirty minutes late.  There was a time change I had not even considered!  Oh my goodness!

Melvin was gracious (and grateful I'd not stood her up) and we were off!  We began talking, and did not stop (except to sleep, groom, go to church, and call our valentines) for the next 46 hours.  There was not even a lag.  One memory led to another, one story led to ten more, and we talked, and talked, and talked, barely taking a breath.  Melvin got her degree in special education and taught school while her husband was in medical school.  They have raised three beautiful children who have all followed the Lord and are excelling in their endeavors.  

Life brings different challenges to different people, and while she had been learning about some of ours through this site, I listened (with varying responses from gaping mouth to LOL) to stories of numerous misadventures.  In the number one position?  Melvin's baby #3 was born in their brand new van as they arrived in the hospital parking lot.  With the engine still running, her husband jumped out, ran around the front of the van, yanked open her door, and caught the baby.  Oh my goodness.

I find myself at a loss to communicate how profound this experience was.  Time had not erased our heart connection.  While so much has changed, Melvin is the same person whose friendship I treasured so long ago.  Her laugh, her animated reactions, her common sense, her strong faith and time-tested values...these things have not changed.

Thank you, Melvin for an incredible weekend.  I am exhausted to the core, but in the very best way possible.  It was like a little taste of heaven.

Reunion!

I purposely did not attend my 35th high school reunion last summer.  It's not because I don't care about what has happened to everybody, I do...it's just when I added up all the costs involved ($400 airfare, $200 hotel, $200 rental car, $75 reunion dinner - the ONLY planned activity, $100 incidentals), it just didn't add up.  And as I've looked at the pictures posted online since then, I'm even more glad I didn't spend the money.  None of the people there were good friends of mine, and I'm not sure I would have reconnected with any of them.

But the real reason I didn't want to go?  Melvin, my best friend in high school was not there.  My family left Orange County soon after I got married and moved to their mountain home.  Melvin's family left California altogether not much later, and then my parents made the migration back to Oklahoma after that.  Our paths have just never crossed since then, with the exception of a couple of very brief visits, the most recent one having been 30 years ago around Thanksgiving time.

We have communicated enough to know the names of each other's kids and what our husbands have been up to through the years.  We know each other's address.  But a face to face visit?  Not for a very, very long time.

Until today.

Today, I am leaving for our highly anticipated meeting halfway between our homes, about a four hour drive for each of us. We're staying in a hotel for two nights and will have lots and lots of time to catch up and reacquaint and connect the dots and fill in the blanks and remember...

Stay tuned!

True Confessions

So...I suppose it's time for an update on "The Plan".  Way back when, in say around October, I was perusing Facebook and noticed someone I know who put as their status update, "...started 8 Minutes in the Morning today."  Never having heard of 8 Minutes in the Morning, and immediately intrigued, I googled it right away and found a book by Jorge Cruise which outlined a plan for losing weight that included a simple eating formula (1/2 plate veggies, 1/4 plate protein, 1/4 plate complex carbs, little splash of fat).  It also claimed that eight minutes of exercise in the morning was all it takes to jump start the metabolism.  And, oh yes, the 40 gallons of water a day rule.  I concluded, in the two minutes it took me to scan the program that THIS was the plan for me.

And alas, The Plan was born.

I figured that if I put myself out there and chronicled this process on my blog that I would be more inclined to stick with it.  The accountability factor.  I admitted up front that I have an extremely short attention span when it comes to this kind of thing, but that I was determined to stick with it this time.  Well, let me tell you, kick starting a 53 year old metabolism is not all that easy.  And while I was tortuously faithful for almost three months, I lost a grand total of seven pounds.  And I was very discouraged.  And then Christmas rolled around.  And then at least 50 middle schoolers brought me treats before the break began.  And then Girlfriend came home and the cookie baking ensued.  And you know the rest of the story.

Somewhere around Christmas, I had a long talk with myself and couldn't believe I had fallen into the same trap all over again - thinking that some new approach was going to be my diet salvation.  And that the weight was going to just fall off.  I'm sorry, when you're 53, it just doesn't work that way.  Unless your name is Oprah and you have a personal chef, a personal trainer, a personal physician and a whole lot of money.  And even SHE struggles to keep it off.  I went back over (again) all the things I know to be true: that my body belongs to God, that in fact, it is His home, the "tabernacle of the Holy Spirit."  I know that to allow my weight to be out of control is to dishonor God and to disrespect myself.  I know all the right answers, but somehow, I fall into the same traps and make the same mistakes over and over again.  It is downright discouraging.

So I decided to take a step back from The Plan and just be committed to prayer about the whole thing and see where it takes me.

I'd like to report that I have it all figured out and that after all these years of three-steps-forward-two-steps-back I have finally seen the light and that all this time I have just been making something easy into something hard but now I know where I missed the boat, have made course corrections and am on my way to svelte.

Except for the fact that would be a lie.

I've decided this is a journey.  

My issues with food and self-discipline and the "need" to be in control are all intertwined and from my conversations with other women, I am not alone.  As I process these issues, I'll be recording it here, in hopes that someone else who struggles like I do might find some help.

Stay tuned...

A Little Working Out Goes a Long Ways

Going just a wee bit crazy around here this week.  Flyboy has already had two nights in a row where he didn't come home for supper, with booked evenings and lots going on.  We did sneak supper together last night at Red Robin (yum yum) before his ride along with the police department (that's another story for another time) but tonight we went our separate directions as I spent a little time with Pebbles since Bamm-Bamm was still at work and Flyboy went to his class.  Then I headed to two rehearsals for church and am finally home.

Whew.  It's good to be here.

But who could pass up an opportunity to baby talk with Pebbles?  She was dying to show me her hand-me-down maternity clothes, the baby warm-ups and Chicago Bears onesie purchased by Bamm-Bamm and his best friend, and her new prenatal exercise dvd:

Because she asked me so nicely, I agreed to a little workout - after all, how hard can it be to exercise with a woman on a dvd who is 7 months pregnant?  When she popped onto the screen in her little sports bra and yoga pants, with not an ounce of fat anywhere, it occurred to me that I am carrying more extra weight in a menopausal state than she is in a very pregnant state.  In fact, I would daresay I have more fat in my neck than she does in her entire body.  And while my protruding belly is obviously not housing a growing baby, a tape measure might reveal less of a disparity between us than I would ever want to admit.  Not a happy thought.  

Well, we began, and all was going well until we started on the squats and the lunges.  Interestingly, for carrying about 30 extra pounds I still have pretty good balance (leftovers from my balance beam days in high school), so I was maneuvering my way through pretty well.  What I noticed sooner rather than later, however, was that my knees did NOT appreciate squats and lunges.  In fact, they were complaining.  Loudly.  Guess I'll have to be a little more faithful to the glucosamine chondroiton.  

It's happened.  I'm old before my time.

Mercifully, I had a legitimate reason to leave before finishing the dvd, but Pebbles was just getting warmed up. I was just so very thankful she felt well enough (these first three months have been a pretty rough go) to try the dvd and I'm sure that while she controlled herself well, she was probably laughing on the inside at her tubby mother-in-law with the fat neck and the creaky knees.   

Keepin' It Real

It's a cold cruel world.  And fighting fat after fifty is not for sissies.  Getting the first seven pounds off was harder work than I ever imagined, and coming up on the holidays, it's not getting any easier.  I am entirely too busy and I haven't been on the treadmill since before Thanksgiving.  I have eight days of school left before the holiday break, and assuming I make it until then without having to be committed or something, I'm hoping the time off brings some perspective on this whole issue.

On the one hand, I feel like I fell prey, once again, to thinking that "The Plan" was the answer.  I always have A PLAN.  Whether it's filling half the plate with veggies or tracking "points", it always sounds so good in the beginning.  It is downright embarrassing how many Plans I have started and quit through the years.

A friend and I read a book together several years ago, and we were absolutely sure that by jiminy, THIS time we'd found it and THIS time we were going to battle and THIS time we were going to win.  While we liked the book and believed it was a sound approach, we never really got into it.  We started the book over again at least three times and never finished it.  In hindsight, I think it may really have been THE ONE, and on some level we knew it and sabotaged ourselves.

It's called "Thin Within" by Judy Halliday, and the first edition was written before anybody had ever heard of the Weigh Down plan.  I checked out the book from the library around 1990 and loved the simplicity of it.  There were eight things to remember, like eating when you're sitting down, eating when you're hungry and stopping before you're full.  There were some sort of goofy parts, too, like standing naked in front of the mirror and affirming that you love your sloppy fat body and promising to treat it right.  I remember thinking, if only somebody would have written this book from a spiritual perspective, they would really be onto something.  Well, about ten years later, Judy Halliday became a Christ-follower and rewrote the book from a Christian perspective.  And it was this new edition that my friend and I were having such a hard time getting through.

I think that the enemy of our souls does not want us to be successful at anything that will better us or strengthen our faith.  And he will do whatever he can to discourage us, to convince us that no matter what we try it will fail, no matter how hard we try our situation will never change.  We will always struggle, we will always want to try the next best plan and things will always turn out the same.  We'll just give up anyway, before ever even being able to see our goal in the distance.  The light at the end of the tunnel will always go out before we get there.  

I am so sick of myself I could just spit.  Somehow, The Plan seemed like such a great motivational tool.  Put yourself out there in front of God and everybody and there's no way you'll fail.  You will want to report good things, including the before and after shots, and encourage everybody who has been in the same boat, and show the world, yes, by golly, it IS possible to lose weight after 50.  Oprah did it, and so can you.

And then, I'm stuck all over again, feeling moronistic (Girlfriend's new word of the day) and wondering how on earth I could actually be in this stinky place...again.  I'm not blaming The Plan.  I am blaming me.  I have not done the prescribed exercises, even though I swore they were doable.  I have not drank the prescribed 30 gallons of water a day, and I have not kept to the food plan.  I have failed on absolutely every front and have no business whatsoever wondering why it didn't work.

So, I have a new strategy I'm going to try.  Because I have just enough pride left to keep me from planting my face in a quart of Ben and Jerry's.  I'm not running to McDonalds to shout "super-size me!" into the order box.  I don't want to be a failure.  I still want to be a winner.  I'm just going to hit it from another angle.

I am going to pray.

How's that for a plan?  How's that for profound?  I am going to pray and I am going to listen and I am going to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit in my heart to do the right thing.  Whether that is to follow any plan at all or not, I'm deciding that's not the point.  The point is to ask the Master Creator what I should be doing with the body He created and entrusted me with.  Then my job is to listen and obey.  Not so hard, really.  I have always loved these verses in 2 Corinthians 4...

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

They remind me that when I've fallen into the same old trap (again), the truth remains as steadfast as ever - the power to get the job done comes from God and not from me.  How I need to hear it!  How I need to rely on it!  How I need to live it!  Between now and Christmas, I'm devoting myself to prayer.  And when I'm tempted to run out to Barnes and Noble and research the next best plan, I'm going to stop and remind myself to pray.  Just pray.

Question of the Day

It's Saturday and our first day of vacation begins NOW! Flyboy had planned to go deer hunting (today is opening day), but he decided with our upcoming trip, he should probably be smart and avoid spending six hours in the car this weekend. I had girl plans for today, which are unchanged - Elsie is coming over and we're going to work on some of our Christmas projects. I'm fixing quiche, Italian veggies and strawberry smoothies for lunch. So - just for fun, answer this question: "What's the dumbest purchase you've ever made?" I have a basement full of exercise equipment that could probably qualify - first of all, a "cardio-glider", that sort of looks like a bicycle without wheels and works sort of like a rowing machine. When we used to keep it in our then oversized bedroom, it served us very nicely as a clothes hanger and very rarely served its intended purpose.
Next, comes the ab cruncher - how many of you were sucked into buying one of these, lured by the promise of flat abs in a fraction of the time? Did you know that doing one crunchie with ab cruncher is the same as ten regular sit-ups? Take one look at my abs and you'll see the truth of that claim.

What's the dumbest purchase you ever made? Let us hear from YOU!

Losing My Mind, and Hopefully the Bags Under My Eyes

Well, I had already posted once today, but the brilliant Pebbles graciously and carefully pointed out (so as not to wound my fragile self-esteem) that I had already posted a recipe for Mexican Corn Chowder, and it was less than two weeks ago.

Oops.

So, here we are, starting over from scratch...which is okay, because I had something to tell you anyway.  Following Pebbles' post on her favorite beauty products, my friend Lulu shared her amazing secrets with me.  Lulu knows I need help, because she, firsthand, heard with her very own ears and witnessed the atrocity with her very own eyes.  We have become mani/pedi buddies over the past couple of years and when we showed up early on, the cute little Vietmanese lady looked at me and pointed at Lulu and said, "Daughter?"  

Lulu is a whopping four months younger than me.  I could have cried.  I probably did.  Within a week, I was offered the senior citizen discount at the Goodwill as I prepared to take a load to the orphanage we were going to in Mexico.  I had an epiphany at that very moment.  Letting myself go gray had been a very, very bad idea.  I remedied it immediately.

Apparently, being my natural color of old isn't cutting it completely, because AGAIN, this fall, I was AGAIN mistaken for Lulu's mother.  Lulu thinks this is pretty funny.  I, on the other hand, am really starting to wonder how bad I must look.  This is a growing cause for alarm, and Lulu, realizing that one more case of mistaken identity might just put me over the edge, has come to my rescue.

Lulu has a little beauty secret.  And when I say "little", I mean it, because her miracle potions come in very small jars.  But they pack a wallop.  Lulu is sold on this, which she applies before her moisturizer, under and around her eyes:

A little goes a long way, and Lulu says that's a good thing, because a little is a lot when you get to the cashier.  But, remember, Lulu was thought to be a good twenty years younger than me.  Consider that before you get stingy.

The second little miracle in a jar is this one, which Lulu applies (just a little!) AFTER her moisturizer.

This one is not cheap either, but Lulu has me sold.  I'm hoping that after a couple months of this eye cream, coupled with some weight loss, and a face lift (just kidding) that maybe, just maybe, I can one day look as young as Lulu.

Regrouping

Old habits die hard and I have to say, mine are not slipping out without a fight.  They are trying to take me down at every turn and when I jump up to fight some more, they try to body slam me to the ground.  At this very moment, all I can think about is a Culver's pumpkin shake.  It's like pumpkin pie (minus the crust) and frozen vanilla custard blended together and fall isn't fall without it.  

When I first started on this new journey (The Plan: to lose 35 pounds in 180 days), I knew it was going to require sacrifice, and I understood there were three parts to the program: Drinking water, exercise in the morning, and the food part.  Imagine a dinner plate half full of vegetables, 1/4 with meat and 1/4 with carbs.  Add a little snack in the morning and in the afternoon.  Pretty easy, right?  Well, it seemed pretty easy to me, but between feeling hungry ALL the time, finding reasons not to exercise (there's always SOMETHING more important) and getting lazy with the water, I can't say things have been going all that well.

I'm coming to some conclusions as I'm in the process of talking to myself in the huddle and preparing a new set of plays.  First, this stuff just doesn't "happen".  I have to be intentional and proactive.  I have to make sure I have water at work (we have a water filter at home and tap water just doesn't cut it) and that I get up in time to exercise.  Which means I have to get to bed at a decent hour and have my clothes picked out and ironed the night before.  Second, taking the water to work isn't enough, either.  I have to DRINK it.  The schedule says 1 cup upon rising, with breakfast, with snack, with lunch, with snack, with supper, with snack, before bed.  But when I'm getting tired of drinking water, I have many reasons why maybe it's not such a good idea after all.  Didn't I read somewhere that you should not drink anything with meals because it dilutes the stomach acid and makes digestion harder?  Yes, that must be it.  And then, I talk myself out of drinking water.  Sir!  Yes sir! I will drink my water, sir!  No, sir, no more lame excuses, sir!  Third, I have to remind myself every time I'm tempted to chuck the whole thing that as long as I have that attitude I'll NEVER meet my goal.  

So, all of this is to say that while I'm struggling, I'm not giving up.  I'm gonna stick with it.  And start fresh.  And track it every day.  And stay on top of the planning and execution.

By the way, ever since I mentioned the pumpkin shake out loud, Flyboy has been trying to talk me into a Culver's run.  "Maybe we could just split one..." he said.  I was starting to shake a little, feeling like the temptation was about to win, pinned like a wrestler to the mat.  And then I had a stroke of genius, which saved me the last time I was feeling overcome with desire for a Cinnabon.  I looked up the "nutritional" facts online and was appalled.  I can easily say no to an 800 calorie cinnamon roll.  Whoa, baby.  Are you ready to hear this?  If you ever want another Culvers milkshake, I would encourage you stop reading right here and now, close this page and turn on the television.  Loud. Because otherwise you're going to run screaming.   Being a seasonal item, the pumpkin shake is not on Culver's website, but for the sake of comparison, let's just take a look at the chocolate shake...the small chocolate shake.  Are you sitting down?  It has a whopping 738 calories, 36 g of fat and 89 g of carbohydrates.  I read this out loud to Flyboy, who said he thought a smoothie was a much better idea and we wouldn't even have to leave the house to enjoy one.  Good idea, Flyboy.  Suddenly, a pumpkin shake doesn't have quite so much appeal.  In fact, I may never be able to drink another one.

It's these little epiphanies that may just get me through. And a lot of prayer.  And some regular regrouping.

I Know, I Know

Yes, I do know that the daily update on "The Plan" (the mission to lose 35 pounds in 180 days) has been stuck on Day 10 for about a week now.  I'm actually on Day 16 now, and the reason that I've not updated is frankly, there has been nothing to report.  I have radically changed my food intake - instead of eating from the time I walk in the door after work, testing the supper every little step of the prepping process, until the time the food is put away, licking every last spoon and eating every last morsel, I pay careful attention to what I'm eating, planning it out ahead of time and sticking to the plan.  I'm not cheating.  I've passed by every dessert offered my in the last 16 days and have been truly dedicated to the process.

And I've hardly lost a pound.

Maybe a couple, but that initial weight loss surge has NOT happened for me.  And I have to admit to some discouragement.  It's not supposed to be happening this way.

While I'm not an Oprah fan, I did hear her say something that caught my attention and makes a good lot of sense:  "If you say you want to lose weight and you're not exercising, you're lying to yourself."  Ouch.  I was all pumped to do the "8 Minutes in the Morning" and have probably hit half the days, so that could have something to do with my dismal results.  But, deep down, I really have to wonder how much good 8 minutes can do anyway.  Which is probably the underlying reason why I haven't been more gung-ho.

Metabolism after 50 seems to have come to a screeching halt. 

Girlfriend just joined her local Y, and the trainer told her that you have to walk for 45 minutes on the treadmill before you do any good.  The first 30 minutes, according to him, are burning sugar, and it's not until you pass that 30 minute point that you start to burn fat.  And, a workout that doesn't include some weight training is a waste of time.

Ouch again.

I keep saying (and with sincerity, I might add) that I can't figure out how to work serious exercise into my ife.  There are so many things I want to do with my days and exercise is always at the bottom of the list.  And the weight is stuck to the bottom of my bottom.  The real truth of it is my big belly makes it look like my body is on backwards.  And it appears it's going to stay that way if I don't add exercise to my regimen. 

Maybe the key to success is to taking one step at a time.  It's taken me over two weeks to get past hating the diet piece.  I am hungry half the morning, and have decided to "like" that growling stomach because it must mean that instead of having a muffin my body will just have to head to my hips for a snack.  Drink another glass of water.  Steer clear of the snacks in the faculty room.  This phase is going well and it's getting a little bit easier everyday.

Maybe now is the time to start trying to get the exercise into the schedule.  And to keep up with the daily updates.  And to realize that nothing about this process is going to be easy.  That flubber is glommed on and it's going to take a fight to get it off.

I know.  I know.