Confidence

I was sitting in the drive through listening to Jason Derulo's song Trumpet.  I think that is his name and the song's name.  I was sitting there listening to the lyrics thinking, "It would be nice to find a guy like that."  That thought took me back to almost 8 months ago when I was speaking with my new coworkers about me and they marveled at my confidence.  I told them in a very respectful way that I thought I was all that and a bag of chips and no one could tell me different.  
Now, because they were actually speaking to me, it made sense and didn't come across conceited (at least it didn't in my brain).  They allowed me to explain why I felt that way and I like to think they understood.  So, here are the top three reasons as to why I am so damn confident.

3.  I am freaking AMAZING!

In life, I don't have very many friends and I am okay with that.  My friends are like extended family created by Go and sent directly to me.  If you tell me you need me, I am there.  If you don't have money, I will give you mine knowing I may not be able to make rent.  If you are sick, I will nurse you back to health.  Anything you need, I got you.  All I ask is that if your needs get me arrested, you bail my newly broke ass out.  In all seriousness, I give all and put all I have into every relationship I have.  

2.  My bubble is a bully free bubble.

Years and years and years ago, I was teased.  I can barely remember a point in my life when I didn't think I was fat, ugly, or unlovable.  I sailed past my peers in height and weight, which led to me being the odd ball.  To make matters much worse, I didn't have any of the conventional beauty that was in back in the 90s.  To take it even further, I berated myself.  I would starve myself, purposefully inflict pain upon my body, and then take joy in the fact that I lost 10 pounds.  So while my peers were yelling "Jolly Green Giant" and "Boomshika," my head was a much more damaging place to be.  I would run around the lake at our first house in Arizona wondering, "Why don't you just jump in and drown yourself?  It's supposed to be a peaceful way to die."  Or I would eat with my mom and her husband, then run upstairs to throw up before eating more.  
During my last year in college, I intentionally began to look for beauty in the women around me.  I made it a point to compliment women if I liked something about their hair, clothing, etc.  The more I did that, the more I was able to pick out things about myself that I found beautiful.  Slowly, I began to like my smile, my hair, my shape...everything.  Some days it's harder than others.  Some months are insanely harder than others.  The year after my second daughter was born was the worst and possibly lowest point in my life.  Had there not been two little people dependent upon me for survival and happiness, I'm not sure what would have become of me.  That's when I began taking Zoloft (an antidepressant for those who don't know).  Life became brighter, but there are still some days where I can be my worst enemy.  Yesterday, I had to stop and say, "You need to eat.  Stop focusing on the fit of your pants and eat."  I do my best to ensure I am no longer hurting myself by setting unattainable goals.  I do my best to love me.

1.  God told me I am beautiful.

Now, I'm not going to get all preachy and start shoving my faith down your throat, however, please understand that my number one reason for my confidence is deeply rooted in my faith.  
As a young child, John 3:16 was one of my first memorized bible verses.  As I grew older, I grew apart from organized religion.  Shortly after the birth of my first daughter, I found a church I felt at home in and began going there regularly.  This was a huge turning point in my life because I had so many questions.  At the time, my main one was, "Why was this beautiful being given to me to protect?"  Now, I could go one and on and on about why, but to make it short I was blessed.  I needed my daughter to show how blessed and beautiful I truly was.  Through her, I see me!  When she was born and the nurses placed her on my stomach, my first words were, "She's so beautiful!  That's means I'm beautiful, too!"  That was a turning point for me.  Through her, I see that God doesn't only bestow blessings onto skinny, beautiful people.  He loves the world, he created man and then woman in his image and I am a woman in HIS world!  
The more I dove into my faith, the more I feel it radiating through me.  The smile on my face is brighter and my hips swing with a no care attitude as I walk down the sidewalk.  I may be bigger than other women and taller than a good chunk of them, but I am beautiful.  My Father has said so and no one can take that from me.

Now, back to the drive through and the song.  If I were to tell a random person on the street that I want the man I'm with to be so enraptured with me that he hears trumpets when he sees my under garments (or whatever the lyrics to the song are), there is a good chance I will be laughed at.  But, I deserve it a man to be that in love with me.  Not only that, my daughters deserve it.  Where does this insane amount of confidence come from?  Well, I'm no Beyoncé or Kim Kardashian, but I know my worth.  I am worth it.  

Now go look in the mirror and tell yourself you are worth it, too.

Tweets by @JackieMichele

Throwback Thursday! - The Secret of the Ooze

This is an OLD post.  It was originally posted when my oldest was two months old.  After smearing poop on my face this week (in my defense I thought I wiped it all on my pants) I thought it appropriate.  :)
*** 

I love my daughter.  I love her more that life itself.  But enough with the poop already!
Before I had my daughter I had a certain abhorrence to poop.  I've never had to look at anyone's but my own, so I've never been schooled in the way of poop.  So aside from the fact that this little munchkin doesn't nothing else but poop, I really don't know what to do with it.
According to the books I've read, newborn poop is fairly small in size and the way it smells depends on what they eat.  Breastfed babies are supposed to have almost sweet smelling poop.  Formula fed babies poop is slightly stronger with the consistency of paste, but generally not that bad.  That is what the books and the magazines say.  I double checked.
So what exactly is wrong with my daughter?!?  Her shit stinks!  It not the newborn type shit that you can just laugh about. It's adult type shit stinky.  And she only poops once a week it seems, so when she does poop it oozes out the sides of her diaper.  It's like Huggies isn't stronger enough to contain the secret of the ooze.  I thought about getting her a bigger size diaper but I don't want her getting any new ideas about a bigger diaper meaning she can hold off on shitting for two weeks and really fill it up.
Now most people when faced with the situation are revolted, disgusted, etc.  Pick any synonym.  However, I can't stop laughing about it, and apparently neither can she.
Our latest incident was today about 6:30 pm.  I was reading an article to her about the latest on the No Child Left Behind Act, when all of a sudden she started grunting.  She looked like she was concentrating really hard.  Then, I realized that was her poopy face.  So I told her while she poop Mommy was going to write a blog.  Well, a couple minutes later she is still grunting like a little piggy and a certain smell begins to permeate my room.  I start to crack up.  I've never known a seven week old to have such strong poop!  As soon as she starts smiling and cooing sans the grunting, I know I have my work cut out for me.  And just as a precaution I lift up her legs to check the sides of her diaper and sure enough, no matter how well I center her little bottom on the diaper, poop oozes out. 
I definitely need to invest in a gas mask, and write the makers of the Diaper Genie a long thank you note. Tweets by @JackieMichele

Tellin it like it is: Breakfast in the classroom

(photo credit: http://indianapublicmedia.org)

A couple years ago I was very blessed to have my mother here shortly after the birth of my second child.  The original plan was for her to be here the last week before to help me prepare the last minor details, but my big headed bundle of joy decided to make her arrival close to two weeks early.

Well, during my mom's stay, we had a conversation about the program my former school was enrolled in called: Breakfast in the Classroom (BiC).  She had some very valid questions as to why my daughter doesn't participate.  Questions like:  What is BiC?  What is served?  How does it work?  Who pays for it?

Let's start out with what it is.

What is BiC?
According to the website, www.breakfastintheclassroom.org, it seems so simple.  You take the traditional school breakfast that was served in the cafeteria and serve it in the classroom.  The reasoning is simple as well.

This is taken directly from the website:
"It’s a fact:  eating breakfast at school helps children learn.  Studies show that children who eat breakfast at the start of their school day have higher math and reading scores.  They have sharper memory and show faster speed on cognitive tests.  They have broader vocabularies. They do better on standardized tests.  They focus better and behave better."

Now, how about this:  How does it work?
(Please allow me to don my teacher hat to answer this question.)
Students are allotted a specific amount of time unpack and eat breakfast upon entering the classroom.  This time limit varies from site to site.  At my site, students have 20 minutes from the time the first bell rings.

Last but not least:  What is served?
(Note:  The teacher hat has been removed.)
Looking at the website, you see picture of children eating fruit and drinking milk and water.  What is served, however, couldn't be further from that specific depiction.  Out of five days in the school week, students are served only one hot breakfast.  Since many schools in the district do not have operating kitchens (they can reheat food but not cook it), the food needs to be heated/cooked easily.  On hot breakfast days students could be served breakfast pizzas, breakfast burritos, etc.  Most days, students receive a cereal pack.  This contains a small bowl of cereal like Trix, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, or Honey Nut Cheerios. The pack also contains a pouch of juice and graham crackers or goldfish crackers.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Armed with all of this knowledge, there is no way I could, in good conscience, send my then 7 year old daughter to school hungry.  Sure, the school would feed her, but could I do it better??

On the left is what my daughter's school would feed her.  On the right is a breakfast prepared in less than 7 minutes (yeah, I timed myself).

I get that this is a federally funded program and they want to feed our children cheaply and lessen their hunger pains.  However, as a mom on a budget, I know first hand that eggs are cheaper than boxed cereal and fresh fruit is cheaper than juice.  Well, if the school has a goal of helping children learn, they need to take a closer look as to what they give a child to put in their mouth.  

--------------------------------------------------------------------Now fast forward three years.  I've changed districts and my daughter has no choice but to do breakfasting the classroom.  Why?  I have to be at school by 6:45 which means my daughters are dropped off between 6:20 and 6:30.  I can't feed my daughter at 5:30 and expect her to not eat until lunch.  
This just increases my frustration over this program.  We want our kids to perform at such high levels but we feed them crap.  We want our kids to sit still and focus but we pump them full of sugar.  There has to be a better way.

Tweets by @JackieMichele

Single, single, single...and believe me. I'm better off.

Well, I had a fun conversation with my mom today.  We were talking about the girls and then all of a sudden she says seven words that has me seconds away from losing control of bowels.

"So when are you going to start dating?"

Really, mom?  Really?

I'm quite happy being who I am and being alone.  When I'm alone, I can sleep how I want, watch what I want, and I don't have to answer to anyone about my ridiculous work or cleaning habits.  

Ultimately, I simply choose to be alone.  It's acceptable for us girls to do that you know.

A few years back, I was in a relationship with guy.  However, I had a recent epiphany and realized I was in love with love.  I was in love with the idea of being in a relationship of someone who I felt didn't judge me.  I was in love with the idea of someone who didn't care that I had a child with another man.  I was in love with the fantasy of a life I had created for us.  I was in love with my bubble.

I didn't want to be alone.  I wanted some poor introverted soul to curl up on the sofa with.  I wanted someone to go to parties with.  I wanted someone to be with.  The dream of that perfect relationship sucked me in and I gave myself up to it.  Walking through the supermarket, I imagined what life would be like when we got old.  

Many months into the relationship, the bubble popped.  I realized that I was financing his life.  I worked long hard hours while he drove my car, sat on my couch, ate my food, and pretended to be an adult.  He lied, gave money to his family without paying any bills for our household, and six months into my pregnancy with our daughter, he decided that life was too stressful to be with us because I was demanding, materialistic, and selfish.  Oh, yeah.  I hit the ground with a  resounding thud.  Right on my pregnant ass.

It's taken a little over two years to straighten out the financial damage that he left behind but I'm finally there.  It took this conversation, a trip to Target, and some online shopping to realize that I'm better off.  I am demanding.  I have every right to be.  I have fought for this life that I am living, and if someone or something is not up to my standards (yes, you read that right) then I will DEMAND that you get on up out of my life.  I am also materialistic.  I can afford to be.  I wanted a house and a new car.  I bought it.  I want designer sunglasses, purses, etc., so I buy them.  I know what I want and I will not apologize for that, ever again.  

My life is far from perfect but I wanted a relationship so badly, I was willing to sacrifice me.  I will NEVER do that again.  From here on out, if a man wants to sweep me off my heavily calloused feet, he's going to have to fight to prove he deserves to be in life.  And he better use a bright pink, glitterific broom to do it.


Tweets by @JackieMichele

Lady Luck has nothing on me....

Dear Friends and Family,
It was suggested by someone this weekend that I was lucky in life.  This was someone I considered to be a friend.  Lest anyone else think I'm "lucky", I feel the need to set the record straight. 
You don't make a mess out of your life like I have and crawl back up and then give Lady Luck the credit.  My bachelors and two masters have nothing to do with luck.  It has ALOT to do with hard work and determination.  The fact that I have a roof over my head that is finally furnished the way that I want it to be has nothing to do with luck.  I worked 10+ years to be able to do this.  My children being happy and healthy have nothing to do with luck, but everything do with me trying to be the best mother I can be.  
So before you ever think about calling me lucky, don't.  You don't see the hard work, the drive and the determination it takes to be me.  You don't see the effort behind every step.  You don't hear the internal monologue I keep with myself as I push to keep going.  You most certainly don't get to see me break down when I think I can't go on.
So before you insult me by giving luck the credit, realize that I'm THAT good to make it look THIS easy.  
<3

*I was going to leave this on my Facebook page but decided to make it public.  This is something I love about myself.  My determination to make my life better. 

Tweets by @JackieMichele

Food obsession or addiction?

Sometimes in the past, I wondered if I was addicted to food.  Out of no where I would get cravings so strong my mouth would salivate.  The mere thought of a type of food could bring me to my knees.  I am again wondering if I am addicted to food.  Chocolates, sweets, and coffee to be specific although I am quite sure I am addicted to the latter.

Over the past week, I started researching addition symptoms and cam across this handy dandy chart.

So I went down each row, to determine my dependency on certain foods and the amounts of foods I eat.  Here were my thoughts:
1.  It's already been proven that eating certain foods can simulate a "high" that is similar to that of opiate usage.  
2.  When I thought about how often I ate the evil foods, I came up with daily.  And yes, I realize certain foods are draining to my bank account.
3.  Looking at the third row, I laughed.  If you invite me to a "celebration" that is lacking food, I'm not going.  Point blank.  Period.
4/5.  There are some foods I won't eat in public because I don't want people to think negatively of me in the sense of, "I can't believe she is that fat and she's still eating that!"  Additionally, when I am home and getting a craving, I will sometimes resort to choices I'm not so proud of to get whatever I'm craving.  It has been somewhat normal for me to leave me children for a quick run to the store if the craving gets too intense.  I simply rationalize with myself that it's like me stepping out to check the mail.
6.  If I can't find what I'm craving I will substitute anything I can get my hands on.
7.  I do binge.  I stopped purging when I was in high school (which now that I think about it is probably what has led to my weight creeping up over the years).
8.  Since I am nearing my mid 30s and I'm still struggling with this issue, I think it's say to say I may need help to change.

I guess what I don't understand is if you CAN be addicted to food, why has no one stepped up to help those people who are struggling?  There are clinics for eating disorders like bulimia and anorexia.  But when someone is obese as I am, who do we turn to other than our general doctor?  People say that obesity is a major problem in America.  I think that major problem is the fact that the public thinks someone who suffers from obesity can help themselves or even has the money to help themselves.  

This is what prompted me to change.  According to this chart, which I know is not 100% accurate, I am extremely obese.  Unlike many others, I have my doctor and my brother's cousin's sister's nephew who moonlights as my therapist free of charge.  I guess all we can do for everyone else who is suffering and praying for help is pray that our country wakes up.  For some, this is just a feat to large to stand against alone. Tweets by @JackieMichele

The Art of Losing Yourself

I like to consider myself a very independent person.  I'm a single mom of two and love my children to no end.  Somewhere along the way, though, I lost myself.  I understand that I have a very demanding job but between the big one, the baby, work, and making sure the kids stay alive I lost myself.

Looking back, I think I lost myself when I was getting my second masters degree.  (No, I'm not throwing that in there to show how I smart I am.  The errors in my writing should prove otherwise.)  All throughout the two year program I completed in a year, I kept thinking, "Just think what I will be able to do for Dori!"  Then, sure enough, my focus went from school to what can I now do for my daughter.

Fast forward a couple years and now I'm dating a loser.  In the beginning, he was sweet and very accepting of my daughter.  Then, he moved in (RED FLAG!  Don't move to fast in any relationship!) when I was house hunting.  Now it's, "What can I do for my daughter and for him?"  Fast forward a few months after a surprise pregnancy test and trying to hold it all together, I finally realized he never thought, "What can I do for Michele?"  Lucky me.  I found someone willing to suck me dry.  

Fast forward a few months past the delivery of my second child, I was now focused on holding everything together for my children, my house, and my job.  Not one moment did I think about myself.  From the moment I opened my eyes to the second I drifted in to REM sleep, I was focused on everything but myself.  

I lost myself.

I lost the ability to smile.  I felt horrible.  I gained weight.  I stopped wearing makeup.  I never bought anything for myself.  I was angry.  I hated that I felt I couldn't protect my children.  I was starting to hate my life.  

Slowly, I had begun to hate my life.  The weird thing was that no one really knew.  I still did my job.  I was still a parent, though some things my oldest did caused me to fly of the handle, sadly.  Most of my bills were paid, so it seemed that I was doing just find for those outsiders looking in.  I had begun to wish I was a visible mess.

Last year, I finally brought it up to my doctor.  For 20 minutes, I sat and described everything I had been feeling to Dr. T.  I talked about my unhappiness, the weight gain, feeling ugly, my racing heart....EVERYTHING!  I've never been so scared in my life because I thought I was falling to pieces.  I could not have been more right.  You see, the weight of everything I was trying to carry was slowly eating away at me.  Eventually, I would have been an empty shell.  

Though I ended my doctor's appointment bent over at the waist sobbing like a baby, I felt better.  I had finally let someone in and shown them how much I was hurting.  I left the office with a prescription to see if I responded well to an anti depressant that would also control signs of anxiety I had been exhibiting.  Within a month, I was smiling.  My eyes were brighter and I put on mascara.  My doctor felt confident at that point to diagnose me with depression and anxiety.  

That was one year ago.  With many ups and downs, I can say that I love me.  I smile a lot.  I laugh more.  I wear makeup and clothes that make me feel good.  I am happy.  But most importantly, I love my life.  I still struggle, so please don't think I take a magic pill.  I don't.  I make a choice every night before I go to bed to take my medicine and love me.  Today, I love my eyebrows.  Tomorrow?  I will find something else about me to love.  It's hard to think that one year ago I didn't even like myself.  Now that I'm starting to map out a plan to tackle my weight, I tend to get a little overwhelmed, but it helps to look how far I've come.

Making tomorrow better, if my favorite goal.  I have to work hard, but I can do it.  I have two beautiful girls who are sleeping soundly in their beds.  The best thing I can do for them is to ensure their mom is healthy and happy.  I have to make sure I don't lose myself again.

Tweets by @JackieMichele