I’m perfect!

1 Jul

IMG_0548I’ve been thinking about perfection a whole lot lately. What it means to me, what it doesn’t. I think I’ve been striving for perfection for a long time. I’m not quite sure why.  So many seem to want perfect. A perfect body. Perfect children. Perfect life. Perfect…well…everything. I’m thinking for a long time I’ve wanted perfect.  Or for a long time I’ve been wanting to be seen as perfect. And I am perfect. Absolutely perfect. So you’re wondering just why I think I’m perfect. Let me sit on this throne of mine and tell you.

I’m perfect at overthinking. If there’s a girl out there who’s perfected overthinking, it could be me. The wheels turn about everything and anything.  Sometimes it keeps me up. Sometimes it’s not even warranted. My imagination is amazing apparently. Put that together with overthinking and I assure you I can come up with a great story.

I’m a perfectly messed up mom. Sometimes when I work overnight, my kids stay in their pajamas and play electronics until I can muster enough strength to get out of bed.  Sometimes, I forget to ask them if they brushed their teeth. And most of the time I cuss too much.

I’m perfect at pointing out every imperfection I have. (Can you tell?) I can point out the parts of my body that I long to improve. I can perfectly tell you I won’t wear shorts because my legs make me feel insecure. Feel better yet?

I’m perfect at being quiet when I’m upset, but equally perfect at running my awkard mouth when I’m dying inside and worried.  My coworkers will tell you they don’t know what to do with me when I’m quiet. As a matter of fact, a little while back, the supervisor of our environmental services came to check our floor, took one look at me and said. “I gotta leave. I don’t even know what to do with this mess. I’ll come back when you get your bubbly back.  I can’t watch you not be bubbly!” And he really did leave. And he squints one eye when he looks at me now, just to feel me out. Geez, can’t a chick have a bad day?

I’m perfect at doubting what I can accomplish. It’s only for a second or two but when I struggle…it’s real.

So let’s really get real now.  Do you see where I’m going with this? Fuck perfect!!!!!! I’m done with it.

Perfect. Is. Boring.

I’m never going to be perfect. No one is. The only thing I’m perfect at…is being anything but perfect.

I’m perfectly imperfect and wish nothing other than to be accepted for being that way. And if you can’t accept me for that…I’ll be fine eventually.  And I realize these things. I actually bet you may recognize them in yourself.

I may not like certain parts of me. But I love me. I’m worth something. (and yes, so are you!!) So my legs aren’t my favorite part. You know what? I can tell you those same legs are stronger than they were a couple of years ago.   Maybe I won’t get to wear the shorts I want…but I’m still working hard to try.  So, look at your perfectly imperfect self, and I bet if you take an honest look…you too will find strength.

I’m never going to be a perfect mom. And I don’t think I really want to be. I want my kids to know that perfect is boring and that sometimes, it’s ok to sit in your boxers and pjs til 2pm because mommy is going to be a crotchety old bag if you don’t.  And I’m always going to be the sarcastic mom, but that same mom will always make sure her kids feel loved.

Somedays I’m going to be quiet and hard to read. Some days I’m going to text in awkward pieces  and you’ll know I’m just having a hard time. Sometimes I’m going to mouth off and be angry. And know that I’m perfectly imperfect at being angry…angry means crying for me. Some days I’ll be able to keep up with your humor, some days I won’t.  And guess what… it’s totally normal!

Here’s the important part. And I may be talking about myself, but this goes for all of you too! Here’s a letter that you can use to express how you feel. See, I’m gonna help you and give you a little gift.

To whom it may concern: (Just insert whoever the hell you want in here)

I’m never going to be perfect. But I’ve got a pretty perfectly imperfect heart and it’s got lots of love to offer. It’s the unconditional kind.  But sometimes it’s messy and sometimes it’s quiet. It’s sometimes overwhelmed and sometimes scared of it’s own shadow. Sometimes even angry just to throw another somethin’ somethin’ to keep you on your toes. I repeat…   I’m never going to be perfect. Which is good, that means you’ll never be bored. And sometimes I’ll say the wrong thing because this mouth of mine is just as imperfect as the rest of me. But it’s me and I’m not sorry for it. I’m a take me as I am or leave me the hell alone kind of (chick/dude…you can print it out and circle the proper gender if you want). In turn, I’ll accept you just the way you are… as long as you are respectful of my imperfections.

Respectfully and with love,

(Jill or Joe Schmo)

You can feel free to use this little ditty. The trick here, though, is that you have to be accepting of other’s imperfections.  Sometimes, we all forget that.  Sometimes, I forget that. (Because we aren’t perfect for crying out loud!!!)

So please…give me your messy, your imperfect…your real. Because everything else is crap and it’s boring as hell.

Until next time,

DP Babbles

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A letter to my daughter about life…(that she can’t read because it has bad words in it)

30 May

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My daughter got into the car after school today. Tears just waiting to spill over. She was upset that she didn’t make safety patrol. This girl has been turned away from doing several things in school so far.  So, it gets harder and harder to tell her that life is like that.  Life is only going to get harder that way.  How do you tell your kids that?  How do you let them know life isn’t fair, but that everything will work out.  So this is what I’d propose to say to my kid, and you if you feel that way.

Dear Rae (and anyone else disappointed),

I know not making safety patrol feels like the end of the world today.  And I’m sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry. I’d like to tell you life is going to get less disappointing, but there will be several more disappointments along the road.  There are going to be times when you are riding high and perfection is right in front of you.  When the road ahead seems so clear.  And I promise that what you see will be real.  Don’t forget that feeling. Don’t forget to keep pushing towards that.

During the hard times, when you feel disappointed by life, know it’s not the end of the world.  It’s a lesson.  And sometimes the lessons suck, but sometimes there is true value in them.  But you have to feel the shitty parts of life…truly feel them to really feel the good stuff.  I mean, maybe now at 10 it doesn’t make much sense because its just safety patrol, or the dance team or friends being a bunch of a-holes.  But later on, it will be lots of other things. Career, finances, boys…oh for fuck’s sake, not those!!!!   I promise to have a container of ice cream for the boy stuff, or  maybe we can sit on the beach and you can cry on me.  I may have wine in my cup, and I may cry with you.  I’m good at crying and I’m not sorry about it.  I don’t want you to be sorry either.  I think its ok to cry.   It’s not weak to feel the feels.  It’s healthy, its healing and I promise to hug you through it.

What?!?!?!?  You don’t feel all healed up from the tears.   That’s ok too.  Life is all about showing up.  Pushing the line when it feels uncomfortable. There will be lots of lines to stretch.  Try hard not to cross the wrong ones.  But when you do feel the need to cross the line, make sure it’s something  that means something to you.  Tears don’t fix everything.  But they help.  Taking deep breaths and living life moment by moment…that heals.

I sometimes wonder why the hell life presents situations to us.  It’s like it’s says.. ” Look at this…perfect right? ”  and in the next breath it gives you a big “fuck you”.  You will have so many of these moments.  I can’t tell you I know what they mean.  I have no clue.  I’m certainly not a wise mom, I’m just me…shuffling through like you will be. Some will suck worse than others. Hold on to your perfect.  And in the same breath cherish your imperfect.  I’m not sure if this makes sense now.  But I just want to tell you that no matter what life is handing out, handling it will never be perfect, so just strive for perfectly imperfect.

Don’t let life’s disappointments make you pessimistic.  Because it’s easy to remember the shitty things that happen.  Try hard to focus on everything that went right.  Everything that you learned.  Focus on everything you love.  And hold on to that…make that work.  You can make anything work if you want it enough, especially when you have love in your heart.

Know that when it’s meant to be, it will be.  And whatever that “it” is, know its not on your timeline, it’s on life’s timeline.   I am a huge believer in spiritual things.  And I know things.  I believe in signs and I believe everything happens for a reason.   But here’s the thing you have to really pay attention to…it’s none of our business as to the “why”.  None of our damn business.  And you have to be ok with that.  (Stinks, right???)

I also want to tell you for all the disappointments, there is joy.  Eat it up.  Love. Make waves when it’s right.  Don’t bury the fire that burns inside of you.  That flame is so important.   It makes you…you and it’s not replaceable.  It’s what makes people love the real you.  And for Jake’s sake…be real and be you.  Everyone deserves to see the masterpiece that makes up you.

Enjoy your accomplishments, bask in your own glory.  You are a big deal, little lady (or random person reading this).  You are loved unconditionally…and forever by someone (namely me!).  You have so much to give…so much life to live. Climb the mountains, wallow in the valleys , but live.  And live true to your heart…not just what you think your supposed to do.

And just in case I didn’t tell you today…I am proud of you. So damn proud.  Even when you think I can’t be…I am. That’s what unconditional love is. It’s loving someone through the hard stuff.

Until Next Time,

DP Babbles

 

 

 

 

 

The body doesn’t forget

23 Apr

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Yesterday was my first half marathon since running NY in November. I’ve been down and out, unsure of myself.  I’ve tried to redirect myself, make a new plan. I’ve thought about quitting running all together. I was seriously going to cancel my trip.  I didn’t feel worthy of coming up to NJ to run. The whole week was doubt. I couldn’t picture each mile.  I felt like I couldn’t plan one thing. I was tired. I couldn’t sleep. 13.1 seemed impossible. And on top of that my legs and feet were cramping. And you know everyone says “But Donna, you’ve run a marathon, 13.1 is cake!”  Not when you’ve changed your routine. Not when you are full of self doubt. Not when you’ve been injured and you feel mind fucked by that injury.

So the I packed with no order. Prayed I remembered everything and did my best not to think about it. I was a wreck the day before I left. To say I lost my sassy was an understatement. Thankfully the flight then next day grounded me a bit. The trip to the hotel…a little more peace. A walk on the boardwalk…even more.  But still…I can’t picture the miles and I can ALWAYS picture them. I’m not ready… damn it. I’m not ready.

The morning was Florida cold, and rainy. And I panicked because I didn’t have my lined shirt. I didn’t bring a throwaway and I left my warm hat at the hotel.  The rain drops started big and I couldn’t get a mental of picture the finish line. There was just no good feeling about it. But I made a decision to fake it. To make myself believe it was possible. I was going to “kick today right in the dick…”  I just decided to get engrossed in the energy, feed off of everyone’s vibe.

And ready, set, go…  It was a step by step effort. But then the rain down even more and that’s when everything connected. I love the rain. I love running in the rain. Each drop more cleansing than the last, each step more clear…  I actually forgot I was running at mile 3. And I was chatting wth a 60 year old lady who was doing a half marathon in 50’states by the time she hits 70. Wanna talk inspirational??? She’s still intending to be running half marathons at 70.  I could surely run this 13.1 right?

But then at mile 9. I felt my toes tighten and everything sucked from that moment on. But I was pushing. I needed this race and I needed my win. So every time a muscle tightened…I’d cuss like a sailor, take a deep breath and keep going.  This is what the texts look like… (thank goodness I can talk into my watch like a secret agent and it spits out words…also, thank goodness I can say Fuck…and it will actually spell it out!)

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And just like that there was only 5k left. It was a 5k full of tears and cussing. It was 3.1 miles of knowing I could do it, and then the finish line came in to view. I picked up my pace, and was almost there when everything locked up. Excruciating pain, nothing but sobs… and cheering. There was cheering from people I didn’t know. There were people pushing me to get there. There’s the magic…right there. It wasn’t in my 13.1 mile journey. It was the spirit when I had none left, when my own will couldn’t move my limbs. The people around me   Just made it ok. They picked me up, they showed me I had it left…shockingly I got past that line. Still sobbing, still locked up, but still moving.  And then I knew, running is not something I can quit. It’s part of me now. I suck at it, but it’s part of me. I’m getting better every day, but nothing beats the spirit in the race. Nothing. Because my body remembers, even when my mind doesn’t. It’s right there in my ticker.

So, those of you who doubt yourself, keep moving. Feed off the spirit of the positive people around you. There’s no giving up… because your heart remembers. It knows… you just need to give yourself a chance to see it. Take a deep breath, I promise…you’re body will remember. And if you doubt me, hit me up. Because I gotchooooooooo!

❤️ #noregrets

DP Babbles

It Can’t All Be Pretty

11 Apr

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The other day a friend of mine messaged me and told me she needed some witty motivation. She had just lost a friend and she was struggling to her get mojo to get up and go back.  I’m really hoping my words helped her. I had struggled knowing that although I didn’t know this person who tragically passed, I knew of her. I now knew her daughters. I got a glimpse of what kind of amazing mom left this Earth.  And I trudged on…because thats what we have to do.

The next week, I was called to transport a sick little baby, one who suffered a tragic accident I know when I went to pick her up, I just felt that it wasn’t going to be the outcome everyone wanted. But I prayed and died inside every time I heard her parents beg her to wake up. As a PICU nurse, I’m never going to be able to get over the begging. The bargaining with God, the cries for a child to wake up. I excused myself and sank in tears in the bathroom., pulled myself together and went on to continue giving everything I had to save this child’s life…and clearly it wasn’t up to me. She lives in Heaven now. She rides bikes with Angels and has pizza parties with God. (That’s what I  think Heaven is like. By the way…it’s the best NY pizza served there. ) And I kept trudging forward. Because life is happening and we have to keep going.

Yesterday, after having  a great day with my kiddos and their friends, I received a call. A tearful and shocked, a friend had unexpectedly passed. She wasn’t a friend that I talked to or hung out with everyday. But someone that I had recently hung out with and laughed over wine. Someone who has children and who’s daughter has hung out with my daughter.   I was in high school with her, at least for a year. She was a fabulous mom and person. After sitting on my bed with my mouth hanging open and tears rolling down my face.  My husband looked at me and said, “You’re going to go out and run 9 miles like this?” “Yep…I have things to do and I don’t have time to stop.” So I went out…and three miles in I was running down a major street and I was done. I stopped,  sat down and cried. These were all great people. I don’t have to know them all or even intimately to mourn them. There are children without their mothers, and a family without their child. I’m done…so I walked back to the house, slowly trying to figure out how to groove on. It didn’t happen last night. And today, I wavered still.

Tonight I was just trying to get back to being positive me…the one who’s trying to inspire. The one who wants to help everyone keep going. And this is what I learned.

Its ok to stop. It’s ok to take a breath. It’s ok to say life’s not fair. It’s ok not to know why.  It’s ok cry. It’s just ok. But then I felt like maybe this was a time to examine things. And this is what I have for you.

Let people know they matter. And those people who treat you like an option, those same ones who come around only when they need something from you…stop allowing it. Love the people who matter! Don’t waste it on people who make you an option. You are NO ONE’S DAMN OPTION!

Be there. Be present. Feel the good, the bad and the ugly. And know that it’s not always going to pretty. But being present in life, you’re going to make a difference no matter how ugly the ugliest moment is.

Know your worth. Know that you are a powerful and amazing person. And that you  have pieces of yourself to offer without taking away from what truly makes you…well…you!

Say no if you have to. Say yes if you really want to.  Say what you feel.  Do you see something you like…say it! Do you feel good about something. Let someone know. Say something, stand for something.

Maybe this sounds like a whole lot of fluff. These are all basic life instructions we forget. When was the last time you saw something  you liked and said it? When was the last time you said you really wanted something…and went and got it. Don’t wait! Make it happen.

I’m so lucky to be surrounded by people who are in my corner. Who want what’s best for me. Who add to my life in so many positive ways. I’m thankful that those who treat me like an option are few and far in between. There are lessons to be learned from both. The lessons won’t always be pretty.

It just can’t. Life isn’t pretty. It’s messy and stressful. But it’s also beautiful and peaceful. Depends on the moment. Depends on the time. Depends on our outlook and what and who we surround ourselves with. So make it what you want…but know it’s not guaranteed.

And for everyone that reads this. Everyone that I’m blessed to call family and friends. Thank you. Thank you for making a difference in my life.  Thank you for making sure I know I’m not an option. Thank you for making me feel worthy and loved. Thank you. When all is said and done, I hope what can be said about me is that I tried my best. I didn’t always make the best decisions.  But I made a few pretty amazing ones too. And that I loved…I loved everyone and everything that mattered to me. And I made a small difference.

The purpose of this isn’t for you to tell me how amazing I am or blow rays of sunshine up my ass.  It’s so you know that none of us are all that different after all…that it’s not all pretty but together we can be brave enough to make sense of it all.

Love Always…

Until next time.

DP Babbles

Putting the “Hyp” in Hypocrite

20 Mar

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I’m going to let you in on a secret.  I’m a total hypocrite.  I realized this during my seven mile run today.  My run time is the time where my wheels turn.  My thinking time. Time to think of the dumb things I’ve said and done. Time to think about whatever has been bugging me.  Time to think about my insecurities and my not so insecurities.  I have a race in one month and it’s my first long distance race since November’s full marathon.  So what have I been a hypocrite about?  I feel like sometimes I talk about strength and body confidence and overcoming obstacles but there are times I’m saying this stuff, and I don’t believe it when it comes to myself. I know my insecurities show in my blog, but hopefully there’s some bad ass to counteract that too.  Three steps back to go ten steps forward, right?

Exactly one month ago, I completely changed up my routine.   You know how I preach patience?  Well, I double suck at it.  I thought a month later I would be seeing some amazing things.   Little did I know that maybe “seeing” them won’t happen first.  “Keep holding on”, I keep saying.  “No giving up” I encourage.  But although I’m not ready to throw in the towel, I thought I would see a difference in the mirror.  Maybe there is and I don’t see it.  Then today as I finished my seventh mile stronger than my first, dummy me realized something.  Maybe…just maybe  I would feel the difference before I see the difference.  Maybe it was the consistency of my splits or the slightly improved pace.  Maybe it was the fact that I felt no foot or knee pain today.  Maybe I missed the forest for the trees on this one.  The fact is, I ran my longest run since November, and did I die?  Hells to the no.  In fact I’m feeling amazing…like I wanted to keep going.

So I’ve made changes to my diet again and I trudge along further.  This isn’t just a me lesson…it’s a life lesson.

The truth is that we can’t be confident all the time. The person who is appearing the most confident.  The one toting their  Instagram perfect asses around (I’m not gonna lie, I check out that stuff. I like to look at nice asses, don’t judge me!)  The one dissing the “fat person”…those people clearly have more insecurities than I do.  We all have insecurities. Admitting anything less than that is false advertising.   I’m not going to list all my “ass”ets here.  I have nothing  to prove to anyone who is reading this.  I have to be cool enough for me, even though sometimes I know I’m not. If you think I’m a cool, fun chickaroo, why thank you, my dear!  The thing is that those who only see that probably don’t get to see the messy me.  The messy me isn’t so fun.  She’s insecure and gets easily offended at times, emotional, an overthinker.  The people who are closer to me know that.  They have felt the wrath and trust me when I tell you I’m not so proud of it.  I’m impatient, sometimes needy, and I pop off at the mouth without thinking.  I don’t  always think of others.  Sounds like an asshole, right?  Guess what…we all are assholes sometimes.  Yep, even you, hot shot.  You know the trick here is simple, don’t you?  It’s  being real enough to know that you are being messy and admitting it.  I hate having to admit that I’m a total jerk right now and I’m being that way because I’m feeling insecure.  I’m a pusher.  I push away not because I am full of myself, but because I think you as a husband, friend, family member…deserve more than my messy.  It’s kind of dumb when I say that out loud. If you look at it, that’s truly not who I really am,  but insecurity and lack of confidence will do some ridiculous stuff to your mojo. I hope the people in life who have to experience my messy remember the fun chick.  I don’t need a lecture about how I act. I beat myself up more than any friend or family member can.  I promise you that.

But in reality aren’t we all a little insecure. Even the hottest of dudes who have the ladies falling all over them, aren’t they even a little insecure? (I don’ know shit about hot dudes nowadays so I’m grasping.)  The ladies who can walk around in their bikinis without a towel wrapped around them…aren’t they all insecure sometimes, or is it just me.

Let me tell you I don’t feel like a weeping hot mess afraid of her own shadow most of the time.  There are definitely sometimes when I feel like I could pass for a total hot piece of ass. Ha! Or at least whatever that equates to for a 39 year old mother of two with this ass of mine. I love that girl in me.  She’s the person I am.  She’s the fun girl without a give a damn in what people think.

But then the hypocrite in me shows up.  How do I sit here and preach what I do to all of you and “pretend” to be positive.  The answer is simple.  Because I want to believe it too. And I know that everything I’m saying is true, I just don’t feel it sometimes and maybe if I say it to you, it may click.  Do you feel it clicking?  The truth is that if I look back to where I started.  I believe every ounce of this shit I shovel out.  And it’s proven that I have felt it enough to turn my beliefs into reality. I’m good at succeeding when I believe.  You can be too!!!

So let’s all agree that sometimes we have to shovel out positivity even if we aren’t feeling it. You absolutely hear everything you say to yourself and what you say matters.  When you tell yourself you’re nobody…you exude that.  People feel your vibes.  So turn it around. Be kind to yourself.  Say nice things to yourself.  And so maybe you don’t believe them right away…I promise you will.   Look for the good in yourself, and in others.  Match their effort and do kind deeds.  You won’t be sorry.

On the other hand though, remember that it’s impossible to be perfect.  Sometimes the hypocrite comes out.  The one that tries to be everyone’s cheerleader but may not believe it so much for herself (or himself).  The messy creeps in and lashes out.  And life doesn’t feel so great. That’s why it’s life. We can’t always be neat, sometimes messy is just ok.  Bring me your messy…bring me your  worst and know that I’ll sit through it.  Let me be your hand when you need one.  Because quite honestly…I am blessed to have that person who sometimes can’t take much more from me…but somehow does and shows me there is a way to the surface.  God Bless him….seriously. I also have the most amazing friends.  Some ignore my moments and silently forgive and move on.  I have listeners and rainbow throwers (those are the ones that always see the pot of gold even when I can’t).  And I’ve got friends  who call me on my shit.  I need and appreciate all those people in my life.  You have them if you look…I betcha!

I’m mostly pleasant and positive…mostly.  But damn that insecure gal, I truly hope to be seeing less of that as I keep groovin’ forward, but she will always be inside. Damn her !!!!! lol

If you are feeling less than perfect, a little messy today, give yourself a break.  But put those fancy pants on tomorrow and climb up to the top.   There is so much waiting for you just beyond the surface.

No regrets…

Until Next Time,

DP Babbles

Irish for a Day

15 Mar

 

A couple of years ago, the hubs started learning how to play the bag pipes. At the time he started, the vision of kilts, kilt checks and my son running around in his underwear attempting to play on his dad’s precious practice chanter were not at all a reality or something I thought could be a reality. Nor did I realize what being a “member of the band” would be around St. Patrick’s Day. It’s been a parade kind of couple of weeks and I’m excited to see him blowing like a champ!  (Yep, I went there!)

So my experience at this weekend’s local St. Patrick’s Day parade was my first ever.  I’m Italian (Nutalian as my son puts it) and I’m not a big parade person. I had no idea what was in store for me while trying to support the man of the house.

The kids were so excited to see their Dad in action. Little did I know that “in action” meant chicks stopping him left and right for picture within the first 10 minutes. And you know what else it meant. Lots of drunk people.

We finally left our celebrity to line up and wait for his big entrance. The parade was all sorts of amazing. Beaded necklaces, “gold” coins and candy flying everywhere.  We got to see him up first which was fun. In the spirit of how reserved he is the following text convo ensued between me and a friend:

Me: I should totally follow up his fanfare by flicking some panties on his bag pipes. He’d die, I’m sure. Lol

Her: I dare you!

Me: I so wish I had some handy. Damn it!!!!

So now I’m regretting not thinking of this idea earlier at home when I could have stuffed a pair in my pocket. But I’m also surrounded by a bunch of adults who act like they’ve never seen beaded necklaces or candy.  I’m telling you these people were diving for necklaces. This shit was cut throat. They didn’t even seem that drunk.  Some dude actually tried to fight my son for a necklace. And there were plenty to go around so….he needed a beating. I was sure that if there weren’t children around people were going to start showing their goods for it. Next text:

Hubs: Ok I’m done and we’ll be in front of the bar.

Me: I really want to be in front of the bar. The bead diving here is getting ridiculous. I’m sure Jax is going to get to see some boob shots soon. Not too shabby for 6?

So we did catch the mother load in terms of beads. The kids were happy. I looked like I worked really hard to get those beads, and I didn’t even have to put “the girls” to work. Although I may have “slightly” elbowed the dick who fought my son for a beaded necklace. It was the same dude who caught 6 beer coozies at once and stuffed them all into his back pocket like a crazy person. I had no idea it was about to get crazier!

The plan afterward was that the band was to play at this bar. My daughter was already showing signs of her hangry and my son…he’s just ready to be social. All of a sudden the crowd around the bar didn’t feel so breathable.  I started talking to one of the band mates. We were talking (or yelling loudly in each other’s ears) about kilt checks and whether my husband wore drawers underneath. So I just looked at him wide eyed…

Me: It can’t be true that you are all walking around here free ballin’ it.

Him: really?  Check it out…(lifts kilt and bares it all…)

Me: Well then. I feel fully initiated into the club. 😳

By now my daughter is done with the drunk people. The boy wants to dance a jig of some sort but there’s no room. As the hubs line up to play, I run to get pizza to stuff into my hungry 10 year old’s mouth…but she starts to cry. Cause there’s no where to eat and she’s tired and hot and hungry and there’s sweaty drunk people around her. So one hysterical kid, a crazed dancing son and a tired mom holding a pizza box in the middle of the a drunk crowd. Before you know it one drunk chick is trying to comfort her and the other one lifts Jax up and starts dancing and pointing screaming “look at yer daddy! He’s over there!” And of course she’s pointing to the wrong guy. Didn’t matter because Jax was having the time of his life with this brand new cleavage he had acquired. My daughter’s now sobbing in the middle of a bazillion bagpipe  players and I stand there like an asshole holding up a pizza box praying for Calgon to take me away.  And let me just tell you being an Italian holding up a f*cking pizza box in the middle of an Irish festival…not popular. It was quite the scene.  I felt bad. I totally didn’t see my husband even play…but he knew we were there somewhere.

We were officially done. At least I was. My daughter was. Jax was ready to party all night long.  I didn’t know I’d have to pack a shank in my panties in order to go to a parade for crying out loud! But after all was said and done, the kids did admit they had a good time, I was proud, and he was happy.  And no one died!

Funny thing is, I loathed the bagpipes before. They were a symbol of sadness and only had I heard them at Police Officers’ funerals. But today, holding a crying ten year old, and a pizza box…I changed my mind. (Shhhhh… Don’t tell him I said that!)

Until next time…

DP Babbles

 

8 Weeks to a better ass…or something like that

8 Mar

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So, every January  for the past three years, I have embarked on an 8 week fitness challenge with my bootcamp.  Every year I had learned something different.  The first year I learned (after placing second) that I actually could work some magic when I put it all together.  I was very into running and my body wasn’t saying screw you to running just yet so my results were pretty amazing.  Year two, I learned I was really good at wasting my money.  Because I was a lazy shit who ran  but didn’t do much else.  This year though, I learned a little more.  I figured I’d share.

The goal was to eat 80 percent clean, work out 5x per week and make weekly goals, We of course needed to log our food and our instructor looked at what we were doing.   Our weekly goals didn’t need to be weight loss oriented. As a matter of fact she encouraged other goals.  A few weeks into it I lost my running coach so I was faced with having to change it up.   This is what I learned…

  1.  I learned I’m one unorganized shit! I mean my weekly goals consisted of cleaning out my closet, pantry, bathroom etc.  My husband still can’t find where I put my panties when he folds the laundry but they are organized!!! “Where’d you put your underwear? You organize things and I’m so lost. ”  “In the little drawers in my closet!” UGH! So, I learned that the more organized I am, the more successful I am.  I also learned that I have a “Bra-blem” At least that’s what my kids call one drawer devoted to bras.  I digress.  I’m a little more organized than when I started and it has made a big difference.
  2. I learned that although I want to be a better runner, I really want to be more fit first.  My personal observation and those close around me is that my body is used to running, and running slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.  That’s what my body knows. In that I also learned that maybe in order to be more successful at one thing, I have to get better at others. So  I’m working on building muscles. Lifting weights, resistance bands, squatting like its nobody’s business.  I guess if we all want to monitor my progress, just keep an eye on my “ass”ets.  I miss my running coach, but Im still going to make her proud.  I just have to make me proud first.  I haven’t felt proud in a while.  But holy shit, the next few weeks are shaping up in my favor.  I also learned that I can work around my injury and that I’ve been babying it a little.  That could be total bullshit of course.  Maybe my foot is just healing.
  3. This is the biggest thing I learned.  I learned that emotional eating gets me no where except disappointed.   Before this eight weeks, if anything bothered me, I could totally eat my way through a bag of Doritos and a Snickers bar.  This eight weeks, I was placed in stressful situations and holy sweet baby Jesus,  I didn’t turn to food.  Shit, I didn’t even think about it.  I actually used working out as an outlet.  I kicked ass at kickboxing or dropped and did push ups.  I know this all sounds like bulls*t, but its true.  I thought it was weird too.  I’ve lived my whole life as an emotional eater.  I used to sit through Weight Watcher meetings where the Lecturer actually had conversation with her food.  I don’t really want to spend time being emotionally attached to chicken nuggets or ice cream.  I don’t want to talk to them either.  I’d rather make a healthier choice and sit here and talk to people that matter to me, not my food.
  4. I learned I’m never going to be an itty bitty teeny weeny in that little polka dot bikini.  I learned that it’s ok.  I learned that the real people in life actually think I’m a hip and happening chick no matter what.  I’ve learned what a real definition of sexy is to me.  Sexy is being beautiful with all of your imperfections.  Sexy is putting real effort into being strong.  Sexy is loving yourself and being confident.  Guys and Girls, I tell you.  Not loving yourself and not being confident is actually not very attractive.  So own your thighs,  your big or small boobs. Own all of it.  Yep, you’re allowed to have moments, but don’t dwell on them.  Just keep groovin’! Changes happen when we believe and think positively.
  5.   I learned that I was starving myself.  I got sick halfway through and could barely eat, but when life resumed, I still couldn’t get all my calories in.  The numbers on the scale didn’t budge and they haven’t since. Working out 4-5 days a week with some of them being double workout days is tiring…especially if you aren’t eating.  It’s mind boggling thinking you can’t actually starve your way to weight loss. You really do have to eat.  I severely underestimated the calories I was supposed to be eating and the scale suffered.  But I’ve got the idea now.  I want to know how eating 1900 calories a day is going to help a sista out. But I’m going to trust the process.  I actually believe it’s true, but I’ve been sabotaging myself for months now.  So, now I sit and wait. Really I’m not sitting, that hurts too much right now.  I know I’m done starving myself.  Amazing how easy it is to put away 2000 calories of wine but yet I’m over here dying cause I’m stuffed full of grilled chicken and brussel sprouts.

These things I learned are not a one size fits all lesson.  Things are different for everyone unless they are the facts.

The facts are that you can’t eat shit tons of crap food and be healthy.  There are people who can eat shit tons of food and still maintain their figure but that doesn’t mean they are healthy.  The fact is that muscle burns fat, and I don’t have enough.  The fact is broccoli is always healthier than french fries and cheesecake…but we all know what tastes better!

The fact is that being fit and healthy is never going to be an easy endeavor for me.  And it may not be for some of you either, but I promise  that if we keep working and we don’t give up, good things are going to happen.  Change it up.  Do something that scares you, but that   makes you realize how badass you are.  I mean, for reals…as I was heaving over the Orange Theory potty this morning after 6 out of 10 all outs.  I was scared…but I was feeling pretty damn bad ass when I went back in for more.  There’s no giving up bitches, just puke and keep moving.  (At least that’s what I’m telling myself!)

Until next time…

DP Babbles (and squats like a badass too!)