A Picture Doesn't Lie | "Werkit" Out Wednesday

I have a confession to make guys.

I don’t see the point of eating healthy and working out regularly.

I mean, if I'm working out I feel like I should be able to eat anything I want.

Makes sense right?

However, I'm getting - ahem -  older and it’s much harder to work off the food that I've just inhaled.

AKA - cookies, hamburgers, tamales, tacos, cake ... I could go on and on. 

My pants weren't fitting like they used to and I knew I had to do something about it.

I decided to do a two month challenge with a group of people who shared the same goals as I did, including my husband.

And you know what? It wasn't horrible. 

It was nice because I wasn’t the only one being held accountable for what I consumed. I had to be held accountable to my group because we wanted to win. We weren’t winning anything personally for ourselves - meaning money for us. We were actually going to be winning the right to choose which charity we wanted our "buy-in" money to go to.

Not only were we helping ourselves get healthier, we were also helping a charity of our choice. 

If I cheated on a meal or I cheated on a work out, it wasn't just me I was cheating on but the entire group as well. And that appeared to be the consensus throughout the group.

I suggest getting with a group and try to earn towards a goal together. Especially if you really, really, really want to meet your goal. 

Anyway, we had to take pictures every week to show the scale number and also pictures of our body. It was not a pretty sight because I couldn't look at myself, let alone show others what I looked like. My body has been so stretched over the years that it is really hard to be proud of what the body can do. It truly is amazing that three children were MADE inside me and I'm so proud of that. 

Confession - Though, a part of me will always grimace at the sight of the stretch marks or the sagging skin. (I'm really working towards loving myself the way I am.)

Let me tell you though, taking pictures every so often to show your progress is what everyone needs to do to visually see what is happening to your body. It's not all about the number on the scale!

I told my coach that I wanted one of those awesome before-and-after pictures that I see all the time on TV or through health groups. Even though my change wasn’t significant within those two months of the challenge, I could see a difference and that’s what kind of pumped me up. 

I ended up losing quite a few inches around my waist and some pounds. I was (and still am) pretty proud of myself. I was proud of my husband. I was proud of my team. We had all done really well. (even though we didn't win)

What really got me was when a Facebook memory showed up. It was a picture of me holding my six week baby girl at one of my recent workout groups. Yes, I had just been cleared to workout and yes, I just had a baby. But I quickly scrolled over to another recent picture of me at one of my running group meetups. The change was amazing.

It was crazy. I could see the difference. I was rounder in the before and I had defiantly thinned out in the more recent image. 

The weekly pictures from the challenge showed my slow progress. But the year difference photo showed my success!

Take your progress pics guys. It will pump you up! 

A picture doesn't lie!

Dealing with Autism | Raising the Boys

Autism.

This is our life now. The meltdowns. The constant repeating of tasks. The continuous bickering of a too literal big brother and a little brother who just doesn’t care for facts.

This is us.

Shirt by Sunshine & Spoons

The chaos will always follow us. We will always come in full force and interrupt your quiet. I’ll always be the strict mom and I’ll always be the momma bear. 

My boxing gloves will always be on to fight for him at school and my apologies will come like second nature for behavior.

Little brother will always be the antagonizer - no matter what.

I’m not sure what little sister’s roll in this mess will be but I do know she’s teaching him responsibility and patience.

I know I haven’t blogged much about what’s going on in our family - I mean the holidays came fast and furious with lots of sugar, excitement and more stimulants then you can count.

We are exhausted.

Now with 2019 here and his 12th birthday behind us we I can refocus and blog/journal more about our experiences.

I finally bit the bullet and joined multiple autism support groups on Facebook. I wanted to see how others deal with this diagnoses but mostly I wanted to finally talk to people who understand. ADHD/High Functioning & Autism is a bitch. Mix in puberty and ohhhhh hell. 

Watch out. 

I don’t know what the diagnosis is and what puberty is. His actions are all over the place. He’s started to get more agitated and less patient to the unknown.

I learned the word “stemming” recently and boy, does that bring a lot more knowledge to what he does & why. Stemming is something an autistic person does to calm, concentrate, focus, and/or protect themselves when things get chaotic, too exciting, too scary, too boring etc.

My son has two types of stemming I’ve noticed so far - when frustrated he brings his hand to his head and squeezes (sorta like pulling his hair as well). And he also flaps his arms - he calls it dancing but to me is more like flapping. Before we would make him stop flapping because, well, it looks ridiculous. But now that I know what it is- we are trying to ignore it.

The squeezing of the head is a little more worrisome only because it sometimes involves him hitting his head on a wall or punching himself. Though, we don’t want him to hurt himself, it’s great to know why he is doing it so we can slow down and rethink how to approach him. 

The women I’ve talked to thru these Facebook groups (and close friends who are going through their own struggles) empathize and relate. They also bring up how they’ve dealt as well as sometimes tell me to suck it up because I was chosen to be his momma and no one else. And I love their tough love because well, autism is our life now.

Shirts by Sunshine & Spoons

Ready or not.

It won’t run us, but it will guide us.

Not Giving a F*ck | My Hot Mess

Do people really not care what others think of them? 

Like, do they say they don’t - act like they don’t, but then go home to the quietness or lay in bed in the darkness and think about what others have said. 

I mean, I feel like we were built to people please - or at least attempt to be seen as “good and righteous” in the eyes of others. If someone says something about you and you truly don’t give a flying fuck - are you being true to yourself? 

I really want to know. 

I try to not care - I’m a grown woman and in my teenage years I spent way too much time and effort on trying to appease people that didn’t care about me and in the long term, didn’t even matter to me. Lots of wasted time.

So, I feel like I’ve learned from that experience and now only put effort to what will help me grow and build better relationships, but will make me mentally stronger. 

But no matter how hard I try- people get to me. I’m a person who strives to be the best version of myself. 

Yes, I have my faults and I can agree with you on that, but I try to not let people down on a day to day basis. The worst "punishment" to me while growing up was when my father (only once) told me "You disappointed me." And I deserved that because what I did was stupid and definitely the wrong thing to do.

How can one person’s opinion of me affect me to the point I’m writing this blog?! 

One comment. One measly comment that said I wasn't adequate enough to do what I do that it attacked my brain into rethinking I'm not as good as I thought I was.

What the hell.

How do you bounce back from that?

Many friends tried to comfort me.

"It was only one comment, Shari."

"A fluke -- just a fluke, Shari."

"You don't need to worry about one's opinion when it's obviously wrong. You have many other compliments and accomplishments to let this one comment affect you."

They all meant well. And they validated me.

But I'm a people pleaser. Why didn't this one person like me? 

"You shouldn't give a fuck about what others think of you."

I know ... but how the hell do you do that??!?!!?!

Does it stem from low self-esteem?

I shouldn't be suffering from that. I know my worth. It's taken a long time to find that inside.

Does is stem from not truly understanding yourself?

I could see that. I'm still trying to figure out the way my brain works and how to better myself. I don't think one SHOULD fully understand themselves because you SHOULD want to better yourself. 

You're not going to please everyone. I get it. But why be rude about it. It cut deep. 

Complimented everyone who was with me ... but blatantly called me out. Was it to stop me from doing what I do? Was it to give me some sort of punishment? Or whatever I did to you hurt soooo badly - hurt your character soooo much - Hurt your manhood soooo much - that you needed me to dwell on it and cause me pain as well?

Because that's what you did.

But it's cool. I will learn to live with your comments and will use them to better myself. Because my supporters are right. You're just one person, and I shouldn't beat myself up because of your lame, cowardly comments (because you couldn't say it to my face). I will use your foolish comments to help me grow - both in my profession and mentally.

I too want to learn how to not give a fuck. But until then, your comments will get me closer to that goal. You can push me down, but you can't stop me from getting back up.

When Barracks go Wrong | Wearing Stripes

Guys ... I know it seems like I complain.

A LOT.

But I really don't.

I mean, sure - I guess the complaining is what makes a "story" interesting. I mean, would you want to read about someone's life that was perfect in every single way?

I know I wouldn't.

I'd hate that person for being so awesome and I wouldn't be able to compare.

SO --

Here's my complaint number 5,009,394 of the military life.

I have been really lucky to have PCS'd to a new location with my husband and have my old unit be rather workable. They've let me "drill" with other units and they've been pretty cool about me taking physical fitness tests with my husband's unit as well as keeping up to date with my weapons qualifications.

I mean, I know a lot of other units who are horrible and don't take care of their soldiers. I keep up to date on annual health screenings and my soldiering tasks ... and well, I'm pretty good at my job. So my unit lets me be.

So when they say I HAVE to show up, across the country, for a day's certification class (with two extra days of travel) - I obliged.

I mean, I wasn't happy about it. I also only got notice of it a few days prior. BUT - I obliged.

Shoot, during the country's longest government shutdown in history and they want to fly me across the country for a 10 minute certification and pay me three days worth of work?

I'm down. 

However ...

When I arrived to the barracks in which we were to staying - no one could tell me the building number I was in. "It's the second to last building on the left with the third flag pole in front of it and the 4th yellow door on the right."

An hour later - I find the room I'm supposed to be in and there were 9-10 females also sharing the open bay room with me.

And only one single key to the bay.

What in the actual world?!

We are all on different schedules and basically on a short chain to whomever has the key with them.

Ridiculous! 

Oh, and not to mention - no linens were available - WHEN we were told there would be linens available. Luckily, I brought a fitted sheet (thanks to my many Army friends who suggested things to bring to an open bay barracks) and a pillow case. When I got to my bed, there was a pillow - thank goodness. But after asking many National Guard peeps - no linen would be given out to us because they were "reserved" for the students that are staying in the same barracks.

Okay, I get it. Students first. They get first in chow, they get first rooms, they get priority, I get it.

But why the hell are we staying in barracks that don't have enough keys for their instructors OR linens?

Thanks to a local friend - because I went back to Fort Bragg for this - she lent me a comforter for my two nights I stayed in the freezing barracks with no heat.

My biggest complaint is this:

Had I not been local to Fort Bragg years prior, I wouldn't have had the support for resources that I did. I came from the west to the east coast. I was left hanging when I was told I would have the resources needed to sustain a somewhat comfortable living area.

Again, another shout out to my Army peeps for also suggesting bringing an extension cord. There were no electric outlets in the sleeping area. No where to plug in alarm clocks or - SHOCKER - cell phones to wake us up in time for formations.

I had always envied the higher ranking NCOs when I was younger. They always got the top of the line ... after the officers, of course. But I was like, "When I'm a senior NCO, I'm going to be living large."

Nope. 

I was wrong. You are always at the mercy of the military. You think you're cool and then the Army slaps the shit outta you.

All this to say - I'm glad I have great friends who look out for me.

You guys rock.

This also brings me to my recent barracks fiasco.

Fort Hunter Liggett is a beautiful post in California. I would suggest it to be a place for any outdoorsy person. The hills are gorgeous. The sunsets are breathless. The morning fog is beautiful and the history is awesome.

However - the post itself needs work. There's a tiny shoppette with odd hours. A commissary the size of a gas station. ONE gas station with 2 pumps. A bowling alley with 6 lanes and very good Mexican food. A small neighborhood for the ones stationed there and a beautiful hotel on the hill that we just stare at because we can't live there.

My first stay in the Army "minion" living quarters was ridiculous. These barracks were considered condemned for civilians but here I was. Lugging my huge duffle bag up four flights of stairs, nearly in tears when I came into the gnat infested bathroom covered in dust and grime. The room was decent, once I cleaned it. And after about an hour of scrubbing the bathroom ... I was able to go in there and not burst into tears. Though, the water would flood so by the time you were done with your 10 minute shower, you were now standing knee deep in water and filth.

Guys - we complained about the living quarters and what did they say to us? "Yeah, it's bad. It's considered inhabitable."

WTF.

Not to mention the broken ass door to the bathroom that someone got into a fight with in the middle of the night and just decided to keep it propped up and walk away ...

Pretty sure there will be a list put out within the next year or so for anyone who stayed on FHL's black mold infested barracks to get 20% disability just like the Iraq burn pits list that was released. No joke.

This past week, I was back at good ol' FHL and we got the privilege to live in the newer barracks that active duty normally stay in. I was pretty excited, until I found out there was no internet. (Even the condemned barracks had internet.) I know first world problems ... but I mean, we were expected to work out of our barracks ... and no internet. Sounds about right.

Also, the bathroom ... which had sensor lights would go black on you even when you were moving. The shower is a push button that runs scalding hot water on you for about a minute and then turns off. There's no temp control and you can only push the button about 4 times before it won't turn on anymore. Yeah ... fantastic. I never made it to more than 2 pushes on the button because my skin couldn't handle the 2nd degree burns and I just said "F it."

At 4am the lights to the entire building would magically come on and all we could do was cover our heads with the scratchy green blankets that were supplied to us (THANK GOODNESS).

I shared a room with a Master Sergeant who said when she arrived it was filthy and she had scrubbed the room down before I had arrived. There were no fridges or microwaves ... except one in the  common area on the other side of the building. People are staying here for days on end and you can't get them a fridge? Needless to say ... some black ops shit went down and we magically had a fridge and microwave appear. Though, a puddle of water also appeared under our acquired fridge the next morning that may have cause a slight panic as well ...

Guys, I complain. I know. But I can't make this shit up. The Army has been good to my family ... but it also has been shit. I guess that's how the world goes and you have to take the bad with the good.

Don't even get me started on the "Camp Crystal Lake" living quarters in the hills of FHL.

For everyone who thinks, "Be thankful my tax dollars are paying for all this." - Meh, not all that money is going to "spoil" us. We are roughing it. And you can believe me when I say this, I am one of the lucky ones. There are many other service members who have lived in dirt holes and ate horrible, stomach wrenching foods, bathed in unclean waters, and who have seen horrible things throughout their military careers. My complaints are moot compared to their struggles.

Thank a service member... even if never deployed - they've endured hell when it comes to living in barracks.

Make it Work | Werkit Out Wednesday

I went to Fort Bragg for a (almost) month long TDY. I was staying in a hotel that had a gym ... but the  "gym" had a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a mat. 

That's it.

I was like, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!"

I did run the treadmill a couple times. But I hated it. Yes, there was a TV but you can only stay content running in one place for so long. I think the longest I ran was 2 miles on that thing.

I tried the bike ... but meh. Same thing. I'm not cut out for stationary workout equipment. I'm just not that person.

I was in NC when Hurricane Florence decided to rear her ugly head. We had odd clouds, sprinkling ( and later drenching) rains but for the most part. We got lucky. 

There was flooding after the storm due to overfull rivers and low lying lands. 

BUT leading up to the storm and during ... it wasn't so bad.

I say this because ... this is another excuse used a lot when it comes to not working out. 

The weather.

(and lack of equipment)

Welp, ladies (and gents) - I made a good 30 minute workout using only this:

and these:

How you may ask??

I sprinted the length of the hotel parking lot.

Did tricep dips off the tiny curb ...

"Kettlebell swings" with this concrete block thingy ...

AND REPEATED x4.

Until it started to rain on me ... and then I headed indoors to the echoing stairwell and ran these 8 steps multiple times. 

I was sweaty and I was tired and I burned about 200 calories. 

Guys. It's possible.

Weather was against me. The equipment wasn't there.... 

But I did it! You can too!

Werkit out!

Involve the Kids | ‘Werkit Out Wednesday

I know, I know, I haven't been posting my workouts on here for you guys. I've been sucking at that lately. But never fear -- I have been working out and just wanted to give you guys some words of encouragement.

Plus, one tip.

I don't want to workout everyday. And so I don't. 

Sometimes I feel bad about it. Sometimes I'm like, "That was a good choice." 

The kids are cranky. I'm tired. The television is very welcoming. The phone's glow is intriguing. 

I mean there are numerous excuses I can tell you why I didn't workout.

The kicker though? What am I reflecting upon my children by making up these excuses .... and mostly because I use them as the excuse the majority of the time.

I'm not being the best role model I can be. And I mean, I can have rough days. Sick Days. Mental Days. I can, but one turns into two turns into a week turns into a 3 month cookie binge. 

This is MY personal experience. You know you best. But for me - excuses get the best of me. (turning  me in the worst of me)

Here's the most important part of this post though, you don't have to blame the kids make excuses.

You can be a great role model AND get your workout on!

How?

GET YOUR KIDS INVOLVED!

What are you saying Shari?!

I know, it sounds counterproductive. I know my kiddos drive me nuts when I'm trying to workout. They magically want every snack in the house that they CAN'T reach. They need their butt wiped. They want my to read to them. I have become their personal jungle gym. I mean, I could go on and on.

But the number one reason why moms don't work out (in my non-statistically/non-fact checking brain logic) is that they say they have no time because the kids take up all their free time.

Well, get them involved! I mean it!

You guys know already, that I push mine in the stroller all the time. But sometimes they just wanna workout with you and that's okay! You may not be doing as heavy a lift. Or as many rounds/reps you wanted - but you're moving. You're bonding.

That's what a postpartum (ANY) workout is all about!

I know my middle boy always wants to work out (to some extent) with me and I know my little girl is always curious as to why mommy is all sweaty! ;) My eldest runs 5ks with me and even though he complains 80% of the way, he loves crossing that finish line and earning that medal.

1st place in his age group during the El Paso/Mexico International Run!

You're teaching them the importance of self-love and perseverance. You're teaching them to take care of their bodies and to be strong both physically and mentally. You are being the role model they deserve and need.

So get them involved!

In Need of a Momma Moment | Raising the Boys

Guys, it's been a rough few months. 

I mean R.O.U.G.H.

I was starting to think that life was going to get a little easier for our family. We welcomed a little girl into this family of chaos - thinking - HOPING she'd bring a little calm into it.

We love the hell out of her. The boys treat her like a princess. My heart is full.

But it doesn't erase all the chaos. It really does add to it.

The ADHD doesn't magically disappear. The Autism doesn't fade away into nothing. The high pitched tantrums don't quiet down. The pushing, the shoving, the bickering, the big brother/little brother struggle just continues.

You think you have it all together one moment. You're juggling the stroller in one hand with the wiggling baby on the other hip. The boys are standing next to you and not arguing and everyone is smiling.

The next second, the middle boy is body slamming the older boy. The baby now is in full blown arched back, scream crying and the older boy now has the middle boy in a head lock ... in front of your acquaintances whom you wish would become close friends but know you'll never have a Thelma and Louis type of friendship because ... well...

Your children.

Wait what?

You're blaming your children?

Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I am.

I feel like no one really, truly understands what goes on in my household. I try so hard to keep a smile on my face and pretend like like I'm strong and will never give up. I confine to one or two of my friends but I still get the feeling they still don't understand. If there was a hidden camera in my household, I'd either be locked up or have a really amazing, six figured contract deal for a reality TV show.

But all I want right now is a proud momma moment. I just want one of those moments when the kid(s) does something so amazing that I can say, "I'm so proud of him." "I'd like to bragg on my boy(s) for a minute."

You start to notice you aren't getting invited to playdates anymore. You start to notice that eye contact doesn't happen very much any more in your social group. Jealously kicks in when pictures on social media pop up of people you think are amazing and you THOUGHT you were getting close ... but really ... you're not. Because, well - you're not in the picture of that fun outing. Nope. You're stuck at home because you think the world is against you.

I thought I was going to be this amazing mom. I was going to be crafty, cool, someone to confine in, and just all around awesome. But reality came a-knocking ... I'm a hot mess.

I'm so tired of complaining about my children. I don't know how you happy, peppy, look on the brighter side moms do it. I seriously look up to you so much. I strive to be like you. I try so, so, so hard to be like you. I want to be in the "in-crowd." I want to be the mom that meets up with the other moms at school drop off and shoot the shit about what we did as a group that past weekend.

Instead, I push the double stroller up to the door, smile politely, wait for the door to open and hurriedly hug my hyper boy goodbye as he hops happily into the school. I share pleasantries as I push the stroller back home and wallow in my miseries as I munch on snacks, edit a photo or two for my business, do some social media posts and call it "marketing" and then get the baby ready to pick up the boys from school ... continuing to pretend that our family isn't a complete sham on social media.

I know what we see on social media and most of the time out in public isn't the whole story. No, not every family is smiling and getting along. No, not every mom has it together. No, not every child is perfectly behaved all the time. I get it. But why do we not share the horrible moments? Why don't we come together to share what a shitty day we had or the horrible tantrum that was thrown. Or the bottle of wine you picked up on the hectic grocery run just to help take off the stress? The little bit of whiskey we throw in our morning coffee to help us through the day. Or the chocolate we have hidden in a locked case above our closet. Or the chips we silently (as much as we can) crunch in the back room to drown out the arguing in the front room.

We all want that proud momma moment to have other moms and parents to be like "oh damn, she's got her shit together." That's why we only share the "good moments" on social media (the majority of us at least). And when we few share the hard times, we get ridiculed by other moms. "Why would you share that?" "Why would you boast about that?" "You know, you really shouldn't say things like that." "Can you believe that's how she handled that?"

And that's why people only want to share the things they did "right" -- according to society that is ...

I'm ready to show my proud momma moment ... whenever it comes ... hopefully ....

How do y'all look to the brighter side? How do you continue trucking on when motherhood just seems to be sucking? I'd love to hear how y'all manage not going crazy.