It’s August already and I am saddened by the passage of time, days slipping away into the past as simple memories void of sensory sensations. I hold my babies and I want to remember forever what this feels like, right here, the sweetness of their forehead against my lips. How small their waist is against my hips, spooning style, cradled comfortably in the crease of my stomach that once held them inside.

The way Alyssa tucks her arms beneath her body and furrows her face in the nook of my neck. Her long ballerina legs prancing around on tip toes, her funny fast run, arms bent swinging side to side. The way she grabs and dashes away with a toy or item she knows she’s not supposed to have. How she tired to sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ the other night.

Big Baby Carly, at least 30lbs by now, stretching past the length of my torso when her small size used to get lost in my chest. Her sloppy kisses and open mouthed smile with such a beautiful gap between her two front teeth, an unsymmetrical row of three Chiclet teeth on the bottom. Her insistent pointing in demand of another ‘Bite!’

Bryce’s sweaty head and for being such a big boy, how he still wants to hold my hand when we walks and cries for his Mama when I’m not in sight. The hilarious stories he makes up or repeats, revising actual events filtered through a two year olds practicality and prose. His heart stabbing stutter. How he claps his hands together almost involuntarily when he gets happy and excited about something. How when he sleeps with me we fit together in perfect synch, his leg thrown over mine.

I want to freeze these simple moments in time, not let them grow any older where they might not want me anymore. Its exaughsting and at the price of me, I am the center of their world and I selfishly like it that way. They are my babies and nobody loves them the way I do. Nobody loves me the way they do.

If I could change anything about the rapid succession of their birth, it would be that I got to spend more time with each of them as an infant. I wish for a whole year or more of their infancy and transition into toddler years spent individually. What a treat that would be, to have each of them all to myself in a way that doesn’t neglect one of the other’s needs. It happens rarely, when we carve out a special trip or day for one on one time, but it doesn’t happen enough.

Sometimes I feel cheated, like my baby years went by in such a whirl of sleep deprivation and struggle to survive. Now it’s closer to being over than beginning, just when I am getting a handle on things and enjoying it. I worry that they are being cheated of me. Each one cheated of being the baby with 100% of me, which is now fragmented into so many smaller percentages that I have to steal moments back for myself. A quick stop by the library where I wonder aimlessly down aisles just admiring the quiet knowledge of the place. Lied about adventures to Kohl’s and JC Penny spending money I don’t even have. I am spent and they are rich with me and want more.

I get annoyed when their early morning cries splinter my sleep like a bullet shot into a peaceful night. I bargain with them in my head.

“Just sleep til 7:00am….. 15 more minutes.”

I get annoyed when I have to change yet ANOTHER dirty diaper. Pissed off for no good reason other than I am tired and in pain and this is my life and there’s nothing I can or want to do about it.

I love how they interact with each other, how Alyssa and Bryce both will bring Carly her Teddy if they find it on the floor or if she’s crying. How Alyssa will run to pat Carly or Bryce’s back in concern if they are crying or hurt. Their head tilt hugs and kisses to each other. Bryce explaining, ‘We were waiting for you Lyssa’ when she is the last one to awake from an afternoon nap and asking, ‘Did we wake you?’ Him telling Carly it’s Ok when she has worked herself up into a fit.

They are just so happy, so, so, so, so, so happy and I want it to stay this way, before the outside world intrudes with reality.

Check this out, the baddest video I've ever seen....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6_yVo7q9gM



Disclaimer: It's not me actually on this video, this is from the class right after mine at 6:30am, but I SO totally would have rocked it out in the thunderstorm. I am strangely jealous because I was not there! This video inspires me so much because I know what it takes to make yourself get up so early in the morning, push yourself SO HARD to succeed.

I've fought the elements, regular rain, heat waves, and snowstorms during boot camp, but nature still ain't got nothing on my main nemesis: ME.

I always preach MaxFit makes me stronger physically and mentally, so I'm better prepared to win more battles.

See More at http://maxfitstudio.com/louisville-boot-camps

Here is my official 'Before and After' picture from MaxFit's website.

That's from my February weigh in to July- six months of hard work and another 30lbs gone forever.


But here's there 'Before and After' pics I am most proud of. I usually don't post unflattering pictures of myself online. I didn't post many pictures of myself after the girls were born because I was so unhappy with my body.

Who cares if I had just given birth twice in two years, I was FAT!!!

But this picture was taken the 1st week of Boot camp last summer July 2009. I remember it was a Wednesday night after my 1st two sessions and I had already lost 5lbs. I was feeling more confidant than I had in a long time. I was actually feeling good about myself when Kenny took this picture- until I saw myself on the little screen and was repulsed again. But I knew I was at the beginning of my journey and I had no idea a year later I would still be on it, but I felt it in the air.

Change. Hope. Something was different this time.

So here I am, 3 months after the birth of my twins, 18 months after the birth of my son, 70lbs heavier than I am right now.... Leah July 2009

Look at those thighs!!! My ARMS! My FACE!!! It is bigger than Baby Carly in my arms!

Here is Leah's thighs, arms, and face from July 2010....





I still have work to do, but after I lose these last 8lbs, all the weight gained during both my pregnancies will be GONE. What a milestone to reach. I want it bad. I feel like I say this every month, but August is my month, back injury or not.

I don't feel repulsed when I look back at pictures of me from last summer, I feel proud.

Soon I will weigh what I did the day I got married. And I'm not stopping there. My ultimate goal is to be in my best health ever when I turn 30 in April, so I have 9 months to make that happen. A lot can be done in 9 months.... I am still excited and hopeful and hungry for change.

And here's one for the road, just because I felt good about myself this day. More like the 'old' me, but as the 'new' me. Sexy and strong and comfortable in my clothes and skin again.

Thank you forever, Maximum Fitness.

Boot Camp makes me a better person, it just does.

It’s changed the way I look at things, how I feel about adversity, what I think I am capable of.

Someone commented on Facebook, "Boot Camp has changed my way of thinking about life period not just my health. It's a great feeling on the inside and out. I know that I can do absolutely anything I want..."

One of my tactic to get through a challenging workout is to transport myself somewhere else. Its not always dance parties and sex sessions in my head that get me though each set. Sometimes when I'm working out and its particularly hard, physically challenging beyond anything I've ever attempted before, I imagine I'm training for something really big, a natural disaster or the end of the world.

I imagine I have all three my babies on my back and I have to trudge through flood waters to get them to safety. There's a fire in my house and I've got to break down a door to get us out. I'm on the side of a mountain and if I don't make it up the side of that rock wall, I will never see my kids again.

I pretend I'm training for the end of the world and my life and the ones I love depend on it.

Something big is coming and I am going to be ready.

Is the return of 80's fashion really such a great idea? I mean, I just bought a dress with mini should pads and metal studs! Awesome!!!

I haven't worn shoulder pads since I used to stuff my bra with them in the 7th grade! I love it!

I've spent a lot of time window shopping the past few weeks for the perfect bridesmaid dress that didn't cost a ridiculous amount for a single time use (still unsuccessful) but I was SO EXCITED to see the return of 80's fashion!

Neon colors. Off the shoulder style shirts and leggings! Who would have thought I'd ever be excited to see leggings again, but I saw some badass leggings on a mannequin with lace all the way up the side. All my hard work at bootcamp has allowed me to feel good exposing my thighs in such tight material, so I've been rocking those bad boys!

Of course I've gotten a few raised eyebrows from my mother recently. She never did get my fashion sense.

Gasp!

Her: "Do you know there's a hole in your shirt?"

Me: "Its supposed to be there, Mom."


Phone rings.

Her: "Where did you get that Hoochie Mama outfit on Facebook?"

Me: "Which one!?" LOL



An old time favorite.

Her: "Is THAT what you're going to wear?"

Me: (Internally) Sigh.

Parents just don't understand.

So the nanny from the externship program we participate in just told me she needed a break and got in her car and left!!!!

I wanted to say, "I do this all day everyday, I need a break!"

Straight from the handwritten pages of my life.
CIRCA May 13, 2009

Last week was one of the most difficult of my life. One baby in the hospital, two more at home without me, it just wasn't right. There's nothing worse than having a hurt or sick child. It does something to the inside of you, causes a pain that's only cured by their well being. I discovered a new kind of pain, the kind that came with my family being apart.

Alyssa in the hospital for three days, her twin alone without her for the first time ever, Bryce without his Mommy. Just not right. So unnatural. We are a family and we all belong together. The 5 of us forever and that's the way God intended it to be. I never knew I could feel so incomplete.

Life is better when Kenny is together with me, us a team against whatever. But no matter how stressful it is with all 3 babies at once, I will never wish for anything else.

Looking back on my blog, I never talked in detail about my ordeal where two of my children were hospitalized last summer, weeks apart from each other, the back to back heartbreak of a mother's eternal worry and wishing that our children will be OK.

When faced with a situation where the reality is they just might not be, I found the mind and body kicks into this strange state of overdrive, a too calm desperation difficult to describe. You are so scared you become numb, in shock I suppose, until you hear the good news you've been praying for and finally get to go home.

You operate in this upper echelon of existence where everything becomes muted and miniature. Meals don't matter. If you happen to make it outside the hospital walls and the sun is shining, the light you see the outside world through renders everything else unimportant. The only thing that really matters is your immediate concern about if your babies will make it and what you have to do in order to get them there.

If that means administering the nastiest tasting medicine made to a 1 year old every 8 hours, waking him up in the middle of the night to pin him down and squirt antibiotics strong enough to kill an infection of the bones surrounding the spine, fine. If that means repeated sedation for MRI's that take a day for the drugs to wear off, whatever.

If it means doing a spinal tap on a 5 week old preemie with a fever from an unknown origin, alrighty then. Or placing her on isolation in a metal institutional crib where nurses and doctors crept into her hospital room at all hours of the night in head to toe E.T. gear, get r done. Get my baby well.

At the time I felt like I was being tested, hit with punch after sucker punch to the gut. The universe was on a roll and all I could do was ride it out and hope the story unfolded favorably my way. As if it weren't enough stress on a person to endure two pregnancies in less than two years, recover from reoccurring c-sections, while breastfeeding or pumping milk for newborns non-stop every two hours, all the while caring for a 15 month old.

Everyday was a struggle just to survive new-routine activities.

Just managing the logistics of the daily life was a constant challenge. How do you get the tiniest of mouths to two swollen massive breasts at once, or even fix and bottle feed two screaming, hungry babies? All the while still tending to the other baby 'Big' Brother needing to be constantly fed, changed, and entertained?

How do you feed yourself somewhere in there or maybe squeeze in a shower every few days or find the time to just freaking use the bathroom.... or SLEEP!? There are three of them and one of me, and even with my husband and I tag teaming, we will always be outnumbered.

Here's one way we did it!








Carly was my eater. She was ready to eat the moment she entered the world, so wide eyed, mouth rooting. She was the smaller one, but baby girl has been HUNGRY ever since!

Alyssa was whisked away to the neo-natal nursery immediately upon delivery, so it was just me and Carly chilling in the post-op room together as Daddy paced the halls awaiting news of Alyssa. Carly, so wide eyed and ready for the world. She had the biggest bug eyes you ever saw, always observing. For 5 pounders at birth, which is pretty good for twins, they looked so alien!


Breast feeding with her was more natural than it had ever been with Bryce. I quit after one month of struggling with him. Carly ate like a champ within the first hour she was born. She kept my milk flowing enough to pump some into a bottle for Sissy.

Alyssa always had trouble eating. I don't know if it was because I didn't see her again to even attempt breastfeeding until more than six hours after her birth, or if coming into the world inhaling a lung full of amniotic fluid messed her up, but she has always been my difficult eater. Talk about double duty! She preferred a bottle filled with milk I had to pump every two hours, sometimes while I would be feeding Carly on one side, I had the pump going on the other.

We were all released from the hospital at the same time and during the first few days at home, I remember just being terrified. They were so little. So tiny and fragile, and I wasn't a rookie on the parenting front, but this was a whole new challenge altogether. We had one hospital run a few days into it with Carly who had a rattle to her chest and slight congestion and this weird white foam coming out of her mouth. Turns out she was fine, her body's way of expressing leftover gunk from childbirth.

I think God might have been doing a little foretelling with this mini-hospital run, because a month later, the real ordeal began.

The weekend started off promising, even though I was missing my first Derby in a lifetime. My whole pregnancy I had always envisioned the great unveiling of my babies to all my friends at the neighborhood Derby party, all of us in coordinating outfits saying, "Look at me! Look at our Happy Family, Bitches!"

But with the babies still on home quarantine, my parents took Bryce to a party while my husband and I manned the home front. The girls had an uneventful day not watching horse races and we celebrated, breaking open a peach bottle of wine I had been saving from Huber's Farm for a special occasion and mixing frosty beverage in our honeymoon glasses, a nod to an era that seemed so far away for only being a year or so back on the calendar!

No sooner as we started getting a little loose, girl's rocking life away in their swings (God Bless those things), robe falling off the shoulder, husband's eyes straying a little lower...

Pitter patter of tiny feet upstairs, party over. Parents and Big Brother are home, even before the big race. It was still a peaceful, fleeting moment in time.

Doesn't there always seem to be a moment, the cliched 'calm before the storm'?

The next evening, Alyssa awoke from a nap drenched in sweat. Warm to the touch. Damn, I guess we had her too snug in a rug, still swaddled in her bassinet. 'Fever' never occurred to me at this point. As the night passed, she wasn't eating and became less responsive. I did the dreaded anal temp check and holy shit 101.9, that ain't good.

I called the doc on call, and they said normally that is not an alarming temp for a baby, but anytime there is a fever over a certain degree in a newborn, an immediate trip to the emergency room is required. The source of what is causing the fever must be determined quickly.

Kosair ER on a Sunday night after Derby is not the place you want to be. Keep in mind this is during the Swine Flu scare, so before we even entered the packed waiting room full of sniffling, coughing infectious children, we had to do a Swine Flu check. WTF? I was slipping into panic mode more and more. They tried to hussle us into the general public and Mama Bear came out.

Most of my family members had never even met the girls yet because I was so paranoid about them getting sick. At our doctor's recommendation, we placed them and ourselves on a home quarantine and were waiting until their 8 week check up to get the all clear for visitors. And the immediate family who came out anyways had to wear fresh, clean clothes that hadn't been infected by germs from work or school or the grocery store and practically had to bathe in antibacterial gel before handling them. I still don't think I was being too over protective and they wanted me to expose her to that crap?

Here is a 5 week old preemie who has never been exposed to other people period, and they want me to take her in the belly of the beast and mingle with the obviously ill babies and snot nosed 5 year olds? Hell no. I fought and refused to go back out there until they gave us a secluded room to wait in. And the waiting began.

A nightmare of a continuously spiking fever. By the time they got to us in the ER the next morning, an immediate spinal tap was ordered to rule out meningitis. Collected blood samples and urine specimens were sent out for a variety of tests. They took her away to insert a tiny needle in her small spine to remove some spinal fluid. I could hear her screams as I sat in that little ass room with a borrowed breast pump and expressed my milk that was statrting to painfully clog in my milk ducts from going too long between feedings. Poor Carly wasn't around to empty me out and if I didn't send some milk home for her soon, she would have to be fed formula. Alyssa wasn't eating period.

We were moved to a reverse isolation room where anyone entering was required to wear full hospital protective gear and masks to prevent her from being exposed to anything. It was a big room with this small prison crib in the middle made of metal bars and she was the most pitiful thing you ever say laid up in the middle of that big bed hooked up to wires and whimpering from pain. Into the next night I held her continuously, only placing her in that horrible contraption to pee or pump.

That was one of the loneliest nights of my life. My husband at home with the other two, watching my daughter fight off something we still didn't know anything about, the fear of the unknown paralyzing and protecting me from losing it. You find a strength that you didn't know existed during times like that. I understand now how people lift cars off the wreckage of an accident to free their children because you will do anything for them and what a horrible feeling when you can do nothing but sit there and wait.

When they finally diagnosed her with a severe urinary tract and kidney infection and began treating with antibiotics through her IV, hope crept back in. We knew what we were dealing with and it was all to familiar to me. I knew the routine all too well when they did the tests the next day to check her for the same condition I suffered from as a child, where there is a malfunction in a valve inside allowing urine to flow backwards up into the bladder and kidneys while peeing.

After three days of no sleep and missing my other child so bad it hurt inside, and not just my boobs from non-stop pumping and no natural feedings, we were finally released. What a homecoming!

And yet still, this was just another preparation for round three coming two weeks later. 5 more days at Kosair, IVs and MRIs on a 15 month old, wagon rides around a place that was sadly becoming comfortable, mention of the 'C' word and tumors terrifying the shit out of parents who just wanted their babies to all be better.

Fight!
(Alyssa’s Song)

Fight, Baby, Fight!
From that 1st night in the Emergency room
Faithless doctor spewing doom and gloom,
Fear loomed for a fraction of a second,
Before faith beaconed.

There was a legit medical reason for him to say,
“The 2nd baby won’t survive,
It won’t be alive long with no fluid in its sac.”
I wanted to smack his smug cheek.
Surely he saw your heart beat,
Even though he said it didn’t matter?
I just smiled inside
I was along for the ride,
And I already knew one day I’d meet you.

We started our dialogue on the ride home
Just me in the car, but never alone.
There were 3 of us already,
I felt you there
Always a part of me,
3 beating hearts in one body
and that’s how it was supposed to be.

Fight, Baby, Fight!
I told the smaller of the two
You’ve just got to fight and be strong
Hold on and before long
this part will be through.
There’s a wonderful life waiting for you, the best.
You’ve just got to make it here
And the rest is on me to make you happy!

We kept up our conversation,
Creeping elation as the weeks went by.
Time surpassed silly predictions of my predicament.
I was not surprised to see you doing so good,
I always knew you would be fine.

And when you were born blue
I knew you would make it, too.
I held your sissy in my arms
Barely alarmed,
And told her to use her Wonder Twins powers
To telepathically tell you to…
Fight!




By Leah Bomar Thompson

5/6/2009

I wrote this poem for Alyssa and both my other babies. Never give up because I will fight forever for you.

More Than a Mother
5/6/09

So little and strong,
I knew all along
You were destined for survival.

Revival of faith,
when fear rivals the fact,
That I believe everything’s gonna be alright.

There maybe no end in sight
But baby we will fight,
for our life and each other.

No other thing in the world
Compares to my girls
When we are all together.

Never alone again,
In me you have a life long friend,
So much more than a mother.



Enjoy a pictorial presentation of me & my girls from the moment I saw their faces until now...

July 2010

Alyssa & Carly 16 months old

4th of July 2010

Alyssa & Carly

May 2010

Alyssa & Carly, KK's Prom Night

April 4th, 2010

Carly & Alyssa Easter Sunday

March 1st, 2010

Alyssa & Carly 11 months old

January 2010

Alyssa & Carly 10 months old

December 25th, 2009

Carly & Alyssa 9 months old

November 7th, 2009

Alyssa & Carly at Bryce's 2nd Birthday Party!

Ocotber 2009

Alyssa & Carly 7 months old

June 2009

Carly & Alyssa 2 months old

April 2009

Carly & Alyssa 2 weeks old

March 27th 2009

Our 1st face-to-face-to-face

Carly & Alyssa, a few minutes old

Survived the 1st round of weddings this summer. Every thing's different when you have kids, why do I keep forgetting that? Like I am ever going to have real fun again, until they're what, like 18 YEARS old? Never?

People who have older kids forget how hard the newborn/baby years are. Everything is about where can I change this diaper, what can they eat off this buffet table, hope that drunk lady with her shoes off doesn't trample my kid! Mommy doesn't get to socialize, eat, or drink. I thought my days of being sober at wedding receptions were over after I wasn't pregnant anymore. I swear it was like everyone I knew decided to get married while I was pregnant and have open bars. It sucked.

Now the only thing better is I have a few more cute ass accessories to tote around on my hip. I mean really with these two by my side, how can I not be happy anywhere I go no matter how stressful it is?








We are a handsome family.









In a few years they will all be more manageable and can run wild on their own a little more while I sit back from a distance and discuss details of my family member's life I want to know about but never have the chance to ask these days. I'm too busy sweating my make-up away and switching out 1 year olds.

Then I am reminded why I even attempt adventures outside my home. The anxiety of taking my three ring circus on the road subsides for a seconds when Black Eyed Peas 'Good Night' comes on and my girls twirl in circles on the dance floor as Bryce modestly busts few of his break dancing moves under the disco lights. For that fleeting moment, all is right in the world.

I will use this memory to replace the military TAPS melody still echoing in my head from the tribute to fallen soldiers played as I watched my 21 year old cousin hang his head in the silhouette of his Bride and morbidly wondered what everyone else in the room was thinking right then.

I don't consider myself a 'crier' and yet I break down at the oddest times. My buddies at Bootcamp must think I'm nutty. I've had a few public crying sessions there and more than a few private ones. I busted out crying at my first weigh in after Phase I Bootcamp when I lost 22.2 lbs, and it wasn't like a celebratory cry it was a sad sob.

What's weird is I don't cry at normal times, like when I couldn't cry at my uncle's funeral last summer when my entire family around me bawled like babies on one of the saddest days in our history. I never cry when asked about my Rest in Peace tattoo and I tell them the tragic story behind it. I answer monotone, like I'm not effected at all by something that moved me to permanently memorialize my body in honor of someone I lost at 15.

It still felt good to be at the Bonus Bootcamp class on our off week, soaked in sweat under the evening light versus comfort of darkness for my 5:30 am sessions. Always reminds me of last year when I first began my journey. I feel like a different person now, not just physically but there are more experience under my belt and I am more knowing in the ways of the world. At least more expertised in the ways of my world and how to make it run smoother. Those newborn days were rough! I never slept!

Now I just suffer my allergies and go on. I cry because I can't breathe, my sinuses are all jacked up, my blood pressure is racing and we're just in warm ups! I want to perform. I want to find that Happy Place where my blood is pumping oxygen too all the tiny crevices of my body that crave it and air reaches the depths of my diaphragm and the mucus in my lungs is not impeding my air flow. I've been getting dizzy lately, all the time, not just when I'm exercising. I am annoyed at my show of weakness, which makes me cry more.

But I know what's really going on. There's a pattern here. I remember crying on the soles of my blood stained shoes last summer when I was in the midst of fighting my son's bone infection. After yet another summer day spent at Kosair Hospital watching botched IV's of contrast for yet another MRI spill my baby's blood all over the table and floor, I found solace in my evening workout even if it meant mixing droplet of tears and rivers of sweat with that blood on my feet. I could cry then, let my shield down for 30-45 minutes as I pushed my body to hurt as much as I did inside. It was a soothing alternative for the pain.

I've found the soothing soreness of an after work out recovery is an effective alternative to suffering from pain of all kinds.

I knew what I was upset about today even more than my physical setbacks at the moment. All I could think about on my ride there was Alyssa's follow up tests at Kosair for her annual check up on her kidney condition schedule earlier that afternoon. Even though she's fine, I know she's fine and I am just so thankful for that, the thought of holding her down again while she's in pain while they perform uncomfortable and painful procedures on her sucks.

I finally make my way through the workout without passing out. My hair is wet as if I got out of the shower. I can control my tears again. I sit a while and listen to the newbies ask questions and I want to be encouraging and tell them go read my blog for inspiration, but all I can do is sit there today.

I made it.

It's amazing. The feeling I get after I make good choices eating all day is SO MUCH better than giving into my craves, no matter how strong they are.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit at a table in a restaurant where everyone around you is eating this cheesy, thick crust, delicious looking pizza and order a lettuce wrap? Then to sit there through the whole meal feigning like a crackhead fighting myself every second not to give in to the desire for what I think I want, but don't need.

Eyes on the prize, that's what my trainer Kyle always says to me. Its hard to see that prize when a big peanut butter cookie is starring you in the face.

This weekend I will not be so strict on myself and eat tortilla chips in the Mexican restaurant and start drinking before noon. But in order to wear the slinky pink dress I bought and prance around wearing my bikini at the pool, I knew I had to be strong. Its all about sacrifice.

And then after it was over, and I won, I felt so good. Triumphant. Strong. I am not a slave to myself or really cheesy pizza. Not only are my muscles stronger, my will power is as well. Now if it would only STAY that way!!!

Before & After By Bryce

Before I post my official before and after pics from Bootcamp this year, here's a little preview thanks to my son's random renegade photo sessions. He is infamous at grabbing my camera off whatever perch I have placed it on and starting to take pictures. Sometimes he's actually not bad.

Even though he cut off my head in both pics (it must be difficult to always shoot subjects from such a low vantage point) I feel its a fair pictorial interpretation of my progress over the past three months.

This first picture was taken during the first week of Phase I Bootcamp in February.



And this taken three months of hard work later during the first week of Phase 4 in May.



You know you like my blender and Whey protien powder in the background! lol

COMING SOON:

The before pic from June 2009 and after from one year of hard work at Maximun Fitness coming in June 2010!!!

I lost weight on vacation.

I lost weight....on vacation.

That deserves some bold and italic font for emphasis.

A whole pound difference from my weigh in Friday morning and today, in the right direction. Usually over the course of a regular 'ol weekend I can put on a pound or five from just going out and having fun for a night. So going out of town and not losing control is a big one for me.

Its not easy being the odd man out, the one who has to make decisions and strategize ways to resist temptation before they occur. I know what going out of town usually means, especially with my family. What can I say we like to eat! Its part of the planning, part of the fun.

So an hour into the road trip we are making the first pit stop... at McDonald's. I wanted a cheese burger and iced coffee so bad, but I just kept downing water to prepare my body for the day ahead.

I won the first battle. There was no way I was going to eat McDonald's in the first place, so I knew the real test was yet to come. At the hotel I fueled myself with low sodium turkey, cheese and almonds while feeding the kids snacks from teh stash I brought from home. I had a refriderator and microwave and all the 'wierd food' from my fridge that neede dto get used up. Set up for success.

I passed on a 5-star dinner buffet and ate grilled chicken. No breakfast buffet int he mornign either. I contained my desire for mini-quish and cake at my cousin's wedding shower. At the hotel, I avoided the room where my family brought their own goodies from home, triple layer carrot cake and homemade dumplins. It was like Thankdgiving up in that bitch. I would have loved some carrot cake.

Panic set in during the debate for dinner when it became obviosu ever other member of out party was going to the buffet again and i was pushed into a corner. So I ate some snacks in the room to take the edge off, shut off my sensory smell and sat between my babies and fed them fruit, baked beans, peas, and pudding while everyone around me pigged out. I didn't want to pay $19.99 for a salad, when I knew if I took a plate up to that temptation, I would come back with more than I was willing to risk.

I was fine and the feeling of accomplishment felt better than the food coma I would have been in for the rest fo the night for gorging out on 20 different things. It paid off.

I lost weight on vacation. After that, I know anything is possible!



Feeding the girls at the buffet I did not eat!

I heart Maximum Fitness

I do not love working out.

I do not love the alarm clock going off at 4:20am three days a week. I do not love sweating, I do not love being in pain. I do not love not being able to physically do something. I do not love being off balance. I do not love not being able to breathe, or my chest hurting, or my muscles screaming when I'm holding a squat or just trying to sit down on a toilet.

I do not 'love' exercising.

What keeps me doing it, sacrificing my sleep, time, pasta and potatoes is not the pounds disappearing from my body, though that is a definite plus. What I love is how it makes me feel.

Not while I'm doing it, because of course that part sucks. It doesn't feel good at the time to push yourself when you want to quit. When thoughts intrude like, 'I can't do this' that does not feel good. When you are trying to do something that sounds easy in theory like a side plank but you can barely get your ass off the ground, that does not feel good.

What does make you smile on the way home is when its over and you did it. Another day passes where you got out of bed before the sun came up and busted your ass like a marathon trainer or mom on mission. And even if you do horrible on your diet the rest of the day, or can't get up off the couch cause you hurt so bad, none of that matters because you didn't give up and tomorrow is another day closer to Wednesday where you're gonna get up and have the chance to do it all over again.

Except this time you will be better.

It will not get easier, it gets harder Kyle says, but you get stronger and you feel even better about your self and life and before you know it, you're smiling on the way there too.

Don't get it twisted. I do not love working out. I just love how it makes me feel.

Life does not get easier, but I get stronger.

Now I know what happens to the celebrities when they faint on stage or have a breakdown on live TV and sound like a coo coo head. When they take a break from work for a while or enter the hospital due to 'exaugstion'.

I think I'm about there.

In my head, the answer to all my problems would be a week away at a spa or somewhere sunny and quiet where I could lay in bed for a week or more at a time. Sleeping, not even reading or watching TV. Kind of like an induced coma, but I could wake up periodically and enjoy the view from my room. I wouldn't have to talk to people or take care of anyone else. They would feed me fruit, a bread bowl with warm soup, and chocolate in bed for every meal. To prevent atrophy, I would walk around a naturistic trail in the evenings and get massages several times a day to keep my blood pumping. Oh wait, that sounds too much like Heaven and getting there requires a serious step in the worst direction and I'm not willing to give up the good fight here for that yet, so I trudge on.

I realize I've lost my mojo a little bit. I can't find my 'happy place' at Bootcamp. Today I tried moving off by myself away from my freinds to maybe get some of my concentration back to no avail. My mind is not right.

If I go back and read my recent blogs, they are dark and depressing. No motivational speeches here. I like the positive ones better, but what's the point of having a blog if you're not honest, so stay tuned, I will return to my inspirational self soon enough. I hope. I will always have hope! If I lose that, I would be way to close to that spa in the sky.

I know will still reach my goals. I will come back around out of this funk, but it sucks to be stuck here in this darkness for the moment. The difference is now at this enlightened point in my life, I know there is a light on the other side, I just haev to paitently wait until I find my way to it again.

I was never good at being paitent.

Now I'm just in one of those pissed off for any and every reason moods. Mad at the world. I need some Bootcamp in the morning to calm my ass down.

Tonight was like the crescendo. Every time I turned to put out one fire, another bomb erupted behind my back. Alyssa has learned to climb on the couch and its a constant battle to keep her from climbing anything she can hike her leg up on.

So there she is sitting on the end table via the couch. As I fight her stubborn ass because all she wants to do now is sit on the end table, I realize my son is being way too quiet sitting behind the chaise lounge. Alarm bells for any parent. I pop up on him and catch him in the act of putting all his puzzle pieces down the air vent register.

As I was sticking my hand in to the spider web unknown, Alyssa reached the end table again and spilled my glass of water everywhere. As I ran to her, Carly continued her wail for her Teddy we couldn't find. We've never lost her Teddy before and this is the moment that happens? Right when they are ready for bed and I am ready for a few Ambien to take me away for a few days.

We of course have a back up Teddy, which was int he wash, so I leave them unattended to run downstairs and put it in the dryer. I hear a loud bang, the kind where you wince and freeze and wait to analyze the degree of injury from their cry. Silence. I bolt up the stairs and find both Alyssa and Bryce chilling on the end table, lamp on the floor.

What an end to my never ending Spring Break.

And there's still no end in sight. After tomorrow, I am on solo parent duty the rest of the weekend so my husband can visit his Dad in Georgia to fish. Recreation, what's that? I can't even dream of my non existnat get away at the moment. Even dreaming doesn't help. Even Bootcamp didn't help today. I think I am in trouble. My back is hurt from picking up my 35 pounder the wrong way over a week ago and of course it never gets to rest. I squat press 20, 26, and 35 lbs all day long. I feel like I could be an episode of 16 and Pregnant, except I'm older. If teenagers knew how much work being a good parent was, they would for sure double strap it up.

When I think of all my family on the beach in Florida, I keep singing in my head that margarita song 'Pour me something tall and strange, make it a Hurricane before I go insane.' And sad thing is, I don't even think alcohol will help because nothing I do can change my reality, all that is left is to change my attitude about it.

And right now I'm just fucking mad, so there's no talking rationally to an angry person. Even if its yourself and you realize how lucky you are to have so many blessings in life and that there's no reason to be ungreatful, but god damn can I just get a break!?

Spring Break? What break!?

This has been one of the longest weeks of my life. At least in the beginning when the babies were born and it was so hard, everything was a blur due to sleep deprivation and breast feeding frenzies. My pain from the c-section kept me distracted, the pain pills kept me slightly numb. Nowadays I just go crazy, go to sleep, and do it all again the next day. There is no relief in sight.

All my family (which equals all my babysitters, the trusted, valued, people who relieve my stress) went to Florida. My husband is working double duty to cover my brother's work during his spontaneous vacation. Must be nice.

My 2 year old son is out of his Mother's Day Out program all week long and just the four of us have been cooped up in this house driving each other insane. I think they are tired of me too and each other. Sure its been nice outside, but how can one person handle three out of our comfort, baby proofed zone? I logistualy can't take them to the grocery, they all won't fit in a cart. The park alone is too difficult, I tried.

This is the first time I have truly been alone with them without the help of family and I suppose its good for me to get perspective on how it truly takes a village, but fuck I just want to sit down for a moment.

I fell off the food bandwagon. I feel like I undid one month of hard work in one week!!! I lost 3.6lbs during the March Phase II Bootcamp, a pound a week, and I'm sure I gained at least that much back after my week 'off.' The thing that rests the most during the 'rest week' is my willpower!


Why is it I always seem to take two steps forward, one step back? That's twice the work with only half the results!!!

Get your shit together, Leah!