It's been a big week around here. Lily lost her first tooth:
Tiniest tooth ever.
She has been wiggling it around for weeks, since loosening it while chewing on her pant leg. Yeah. You read that right. What can I say? She's a bit of a goofball. Not surprising, considering her parentage.
It's potty training time for the boys:
Just makes you want to tinkle, doesn't it?
The thought of toilet training two boys makes me exhausted. Lily was so great at it...initially. Then I got huge and pregnant and she started pissing herself to piss me off. It worked. Thus began a cycle of success and regression that is still not over. She's going to be five on July 2nd. Now you understand my trepidation. If it takes 3 years to train these boys, I'll be snorting Effexor and chewing Xanax like candy. They're ready, though. They went to daycare in underpants today, with a huge bag of extra clothes. We'll see how much laundry I'm in for this evening.
Today I got up early and went to CrossFit, then came home and cleaned the house, did laundry, and set up the potty station. In a couple of hours, I'll be busily making supper while shouting at children. I'm a complicated woman, and no one understands me but my....oh never mind.
I'm going through my own changes. I've been 18 days Paleo (with one slip), and I'm feeling pretty good. I'm down 2lbs (nothing earth shattering there), but my waist is 2in smaller and my legs are firming up. I am beginning to see muscle definition in my arms and shoulders. That's a first.
Here's what I've noticed. Each CrossFit session is a lesson in fear and humility. I go in there and am confronted with what seems like an impossible task (Climb this rope! Handstand pushup! 100 squats followed by a 1 mile run!). I feel nervous, sick even (seriously, I've been having gym class flashbacks). Then something funny happens. I accomplish the task. I climbed a rope. I did about 25 handstands today. I did squats until I couldn't feel my legs, then posted a mile in 9 flat. Certainly there are things that will be a challenge for a long time (Toes to bar?!?! Yeah. Right. Double unders? I haven't jumped rope since I was 9.), but I feel confident that with time I will be able to do them.
The most striking thing? I can feel the hatred I've always had for my body slipping away. Now, I'm not saying I see a supermodel in the mirror, but I'm developing a healthy respect for what my body is capable of. I don't spend 30 minutes picking out the workout gear that makes me look the least fat...I pull some shit on and just go. No one at CrossFit is wearing a cutsy outfit. When I did handstands today, my shirt fell up and my abs were exposed for all to see. I didn't care at all. All I wanted was to get up in that handstand and stick there.
I may not be skinny, but I am fit and I am strong. Fitter and stronger by the day. I find myself really hoping that this will be a continuing trend. I don't want to spend my life wondering if everyone that looks at me is laughing at me. I want to walk upright through my days feeling healthy and happy, not giving a shit about whether the stockboy at Festival thinks I'm a fat ass.
Weight is a bullshit number. I refuse to be defined by it.
The final change:
This is my Dad. 1/1/12.
This was the first Father's Day without my Dad. The picture above was taken the last time he was able to travel to my house. It was taken 26 days before he died. He came over to see the kids, and Lily is proudly holding up a container of his favorite cookies. He was still able to eat a bit at that point, but there were still three of those cookies left when he passed. We sent them with him into the fire. The cookies, the magnet he's holding in his left hand (Lily made it for him), and that goofy camoflage hat.
I miss him.