marriage

Febrile Seizures and Healthy Anxiety

Posted on by megdanielle

It’s Friday morning and the air is cool. The sun is out and the clouds are sparse. The kids are off to school and daycare for the first time in 5 weeks and my music is turned up. Thank you Walker Hayes Pandora station. I have a quarter cup of coffee left in my to-go mug; it’s still hot despite being poured over an hour ago. I don’t feel like I’m scraping myself off the floor today. It’s a good morning.

I mentioned it in my last post but I started anxiety meds at the end of May. It takes a while for the meds to get in your system but I can say without a doubt that medication combined with therapy has made a world of difference for me. I still struggle with anxiety but I’m getting better at recognizing healthy anxious thoughts vs. obsessive thoughts. I’m getting better at communicating those obsessive thoughts with my husband and he’s getting better at giving me grace when I can’t let go of something, snap at him, or need to step away.

Our son had a febrile seizure on Wednesday, his second since June. He’s been at daycare both times and both times I missed the call. I saw Fred’s text explaining what happened after I got out of a meeting and immediately left work. I called him on the way to daycare. I panicked. He panicked. I snapped. I didn’t get to daycare before the ambulance left the parking lot so I followed closely behind knowing that that they wouldn’t do anything but give him some acetaminophen and ibuprofen and a COVID test. I got turned around in the parking structure. Fred somehow made it to the ER before I did.

Febrile seizures are interesting because as long as they’re not occurring frequently during a single “illness” or longer than the completely frustrating range of somewhere between 5-15 minutes, medical professionals don’t really bat an eye. The first time it happened, the ER doctor told me to Google the answers to my questions about how often to expect seizures / whether or not they occur with every fever / if they’re caused by temperature alone or the rate at which the temperature elevates / the statistics of reoccurring vs. one time febrile seizures. Google. To a mom whose son had just had his first ever seizure that lasted 7 minutes followed by another one for 2 minutes.

Another interesting thing about febrile seizures is that the fever is often the first symptom of a virus. So you bring your kid to school and you temp them at the door and you send them on their way. They don’t have a stuffy / runny nose. They don’t have a cough at night. No sore throat. Not even a sneeze. Then they wake up from a nap with a temperature of 102 and they seize.

Little man didn’t need the ambulance ride but I’m shit in emergency situations and I couldn’t think straight. The director at daycare told me the EMTs had arrived and I couldn’t slow down my thoughts enough to ask the questions:

  • Does he have a temperature?
  • How long did the seizure last?
  • Is he lucid?

His COVID test was negative and I tested negative on Tuesday after a coworker was diagnosed. I waited the appropriate number of days before testing myself, we mask in meetings at work, and my other team members tested negative but I’m still obsessing. I could take another test but the first did nothing to curb my anxiety so I haven’t, telling myself that I can rely on the test results and that my anxious thoughts aren’t serving me.

Healthy: Taking the necessary precautions to prevent illness and testing for COVID after a possible exposure

Obsessive: Thinking that you have COVID and spread it to your child despite knowing you and your son tested negative

I’ve always been an anxious person. I know that about myself. I think back across relationships and I see the patterns. The way I obsessed. The way I let healthy anxiety roll into obsessive anxiety. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so rigid. I’m sorry that I held so tightly to control. I’m sorry if my anxiety made you doubt yourself. Recognizing healthy anxiety and letting the rest go is something I’ll probably always work on.

So I sent my son to daycare today. I’m slow-sipping coffee. I’m spending a moment in catharsis before I hit post and carry on with my day. And I’m trusting that God has this. That whatever caused Freddy’s seizure just is. If I could have prevented it, I would have; I can’t control what is.

Little Man

Febrile Seizure Fact Sheet

Mental Load

Posted on by megdanielle

My husband and I talk about mental load a lot. Mental load refers to the non-tangible tasks needed to run a household. It includes things like remembering what needs to go daycare each week and what needs to come home, knowing what assignments are due, what books need to be returned from the library, and what special themes you need to dress your kid in for school, who is due for their next doctor appointment or dental appointment and which kid sizes need to be changed out for the upcoming season change or growth spurt.

We talk about it as a couple so much because we’re at odds about how the mental load is distributed in our household. My husband feels we have a 50/50 split because he does a ton of the physical household tasks. But you just read that the mental load isn’t physical. You can probably see where this is going…

I feel the split leans a little heavier toward me. Or a lot heavier? (It’s a lot heavier.)

Case in point: I tried to delegate some of my mental load to him this past week regarding a schedule change with my daughter’s afterschool program.

Me: “You need to inform her teacher and the secretary if you change her afterschool schedule.”

Hubs: “Okay. Can you send me the secretary contact?”

Me: “It’s should be in an old e-mail I copied you on.”

Hubs: “I can’t find it.”

Me: “You’ll need to look it up on the school website. That’s what I would do.”

Hubs: “Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

Hubs: **Walks away from the conversation and immediately forgets my transfer of the mental load to him.**

SEVERAL HOURS LATER…

My phone, right after school ends: “RING! RING! RING!”

Me: “Hello?”

Secretary: “Hi, is this Meg? We have your daughter here. She’s saying there was a schedule change?”

Me: “Oh, yes. My husband should’ve contacted you and the teacher.”

Secretary: “We didn’t receive anything. We just want to make sure she’s where she needs to be.”

Me: “I’m really sorry about that and I appreciate you double checking! She’s okay to go ahead with the change.”

Secretary: “Okay, we’ll send her along.”

Me: “Thank you!”

Secretary, knowing I usually e-mail these changes ahead of time: “My pleasure. Do you mind you contacting us next time there’s a schedule change instead of having your husband contact us?”

Me: …

Secretary: …

Me: “Yep. Yes. I can do that.”

Life Hack: Man Cold

Posted on by megdanielle

The man cold is the phenomenon that occurs when a man catches a mere common cold and reacts as though he is near death. He’s really sorry but he can barely breath right now. His whole body hurts. His teeth hurt. His scalp hurts. It’s like every hair follicle is inflamed or something. He knows it sounds crazy but he just really needs to sleep this off for a while. You’ll be good with the kids, right?

To a passerby, he appears to be mildly congested and would probably benefit from sitting up off the couch long enough to let gravity aid him in blowing his nose. But that passerby would be wrong. This is the worst cold he’s likely every had. It’s been years, at least.

So he sleeps. And he puts his feet up. You have the same cold but you’re not the lesser sex so you handle yourself like an adult. You pride yourself on how much you accomplish with sinus pressure compounding work and life pressure. You aren’t weak from some virus. You, my friend, are strong.

If any of the above resonates with you, I need to tell you about this light bulb moment I had over Thanksgiving break. I HAVE HACKED THE MAN COLD.

This Thanksgiving break, I experienced my first man cold. I got hit with a virus and swore I had strep. It hurt to swallow. I had body chills and body aches. I gargled salt water. I took pain meds. I refused to talk. We ended our Thanksgiving break early so I could go home and crash hard… for two days. For two whole days, I didn’t care how stressed my husband was with managing both children. I rested. I slept a ridiculous amount of time. I put my feet up.

And in two days, I was 95% better.

That’s when my husband’s man cold hit. I felt guilty about my two days off so I jumped in to relieve him of parenting duties and took the night shift with the kids. I pushed myself to make up for lost time and my cold started creeping back. It is now 11 days since my sore throat appeared and and I’m still dealing with it.

You see, what I learned is that the man cold is not a sign of weakness. It’s a conscious decision for rapid recovery. If we would’ve thought it up ourselves, we would’ve called it “self care” but instead, we mock men. We’re over here extending ourselves and our sickness while our men bounce back in one day and we congratulates ourselves over it! We think they must not have been that sick but it’s only because we’re on the other side making ourselves worse!

These men aren’t needlessly helpless. They’re calculated. They’re smart.

It might take me more than one man cold to get the hang of setting aside my guilt for long enough to make a full recovery but I’ve got to tell you that my husband is in for a world of hurt. I am no longer patting my back the next time we both get sick just to watch him recover quickly. We’re about to go halvesies on this!

It’s not his fault that I’ve been a fool about the road to rapid recovery but, as often occurs in marriage, he’s still gonna pay for it.

“Sorry, bud. You had the last man cold. This one’s mine.”

*This post is an exaggerated account of my husband’s colds but a serious account of my epiphany. I’m going to start a petition to end man colds. I will no longer be tricked by this social construct. #mancoldsarejustselfcare #womenneedmancoldstoo

**Also, I’m still rocking head congestion and my self-editing skills are in the gutter. Forgive me if I half-sentenced this whole post. I swear I used to be able to string together enough words to make a complete sentence.

Interview with Freddy Jr.

Posted on by megdanielle

Freddy Jr. (aka “husband” / aka “dad”) has been unanimously voted the family MVP today. The votes were cast after reviewing the past three weeks of family events, culminating with today’s impromptu nap with the kids. This act allowed Freddy’s wife to nap by herself without interruption and ultimately sealed the vote.

Let’s hear what he has to say about his new title!

M: How does it feel to be the family MVP?

F: It feels pretty good. Did I go above and beyond today? I mean, yeah… I did. But mostly I just answered the call of duty.

M: Having a newborn and an almost 5-year-old who needs a lot of attention is a lot to manage alongside a full-time job and your wife’s changing emotional state. What keeps you going?

F: Umm…this is intense. [Pause]

A few months ago I challenged myself to write out my personal mission statement. It has given me so much guidance and personal accountability in my work life and personal life. Ultimately in this season of life, I’m striving to be a balanced man. At the end of the day, I just want to be a good husband, dad, and employee. And I have a lot of people counting on me.

M: How do you feel this newborn phase is going compared to your first time around?

F: So much more chaotic… Freddy is an absolute gem! He is so calm, content, and happy which makes it very easy to take care of him. However, the pure nature of having two children just makes it feel like everything is in the air at all times.

Freddy III is heard tooting in the background. Freddy Jr. pauses and cracks a smile. The girls start laughing.

So crazy…

•••

At this point, the interview is paused. Freddy III needs to be changed. Freddy Jr. leaves to change him.

When he returns, dinner needs to be cleared, one child needs to start her bedtime routine and the other needs to eat again. His daughter Emma ignores all requests to get ready for bed, instead choosing to practice triple axel jumps in the kitchen.

Soon the whole family is gathered in the baby’s room. Freddy Jr. is teaching Emma how to do cartwheels while his wife feeds the baby.

Daddy and daughter leave to brush their teeth. Although she has managed triple axels and cartwheels without injury, something occurs with Emma on the walk across the hall. Crying can be heard.

The interview resumes 58 minutes later.

•••

M: The timing of those interruptions felt staged. That’s what you meant by everything is in the air, isn’t it?

F: Yes, precisely.

M: If you could choose one thing to change about this phase, what would it be?

F: The time of year… More fresh air would be a “breath of fresh air”. [I] can’t wait for spring!

M: How about your favorite part of this phase?

F: I have an appreciation for how quickly everything else in life can just slow down. Having a newborn in the house has a way of shifting priorities. I no longer have time to sneak out for a quick bonfire, walk the dog, or even keep my driveway perfectly clear of snow. Just the basics.

M: That’s your favorite part about this phase?

F: Huh? What was the question?

M: What is your favorite part about this phase?

F: Hm, I must’ve gone off on a tangent. My favorite part is smelling my son’s head! Duh!

M: Thanks for taking the time today. Wanna watch an ep[isode]?

F: Yes.

An Overnight Work Trip and Two Kids

Posted on by megdanielle

It’s official. I have kids. Plural.

I don’t exactly know what I expected but so far having two kids looks like my husband doing all the things. (Thank you, cesarean section for rendering me nearly useless as a partner but keeping me undeniably alive not once but twice.)

He manages all the things with minimal complaint and impressive restraint until he is temporarily freed for an overnight work trip and I finally get a taste of parenting two alone.

I’m two weeks postpartum and have been off pain meds long enough to know that I can survive without them. Progress.

I’ve scheduled a lunch date with a girlfriend to distract me from the evening to come. (Okay, she called me and I happily accepted. I love my girlfriends.) She comes over to catch up and meet the newest. She brings açai bowls. They’re delicious.

Before picking up my daughter from daycare, I take my son to run some errands. I park next to the cart corrals each time so I don’t lift him too long. He’s heavy but he sleeps.

I pick up my daughter from school and she shows off her little brother to all her of her friends. I introduce him to the teachers. One of the women helps me carry Emma’s car seat out to the car. My hands feel full (literally and figuratively) but I’m handling it.

Dinner time goes off without a hitch and we even find time to play Candyland and put together a puzzle before bed. I’m basically a super hero.

Both kids are in bed by 8:30 PM which is earlier than my husband and I have been managing together (#blessed). Having not much else to do (combined with a deep loyalty to my husband which prevents me from watching ahead in our Netflix series), I go to bed.

At the 1 AM feeding, I reach for something on the baby’s book cart. The cart is metal, on wheels, with three grated tiers. It’s repurposed from another room in the house; we have too many bookshelves already.

I forget about the open water bottle. Its contents chug-chug-chugging all over the books serve as an unwelcome reminder.

After a few choice words, I conquer my freeze-reflex, put down the baby, and grab some towels. Several books need to be wiped down. The floor is soaking wet. I recognize that this episode would have destroyed me the first time around but I’m feeling even-keeled and postpartum anxiety isn’t consuming my thoughts. I’m grateful.

At the 4 AM feeding, my daughter wakes up crying. She wants to sleep in my bed. I’m tired so I oblige, patting myself on the back for making it this long though I know I’ve set us back. She waits for me while I feed her brother. She talks the whole time.

Morning comes and I try bribery to get her dressed. She dillydallies. I renege on my bribe. More tears are shed but we finally get out the door. I grab the full trash on the way out for a quick stop at the garbage can. It’s icy but I can’t tell because of the snow. I fall.

Inside, I grab some ibuprofen, anticipating incision pain, and my daughter grabs a Band-Aid for me. I feel bad about reneging on my bribe so I issue a new one.

All in all, I’m pretty proud of myself for making it this far without any breakdowns but the house will stay a mess. Even super heroes need a break.

A 3 Year Old’s Goodbye

Posted on by megdanielle

I’m currently sitting in the airport which is a place I haven’t been in quite some time. I’m traveling for work, making my way to a 6 day training which will end with some new certifications and knowledge about how to better support my team.

6 days. With an additional day devoted to travel. It’s the longest time I’ve ever been away from my daughter and I’ve been having a hard time with it. 6 days without bedtime stories and her little feet climbing up the side of my bed in the morning. 6 days without our car ride conversations about sunrises and sunsets, about which friends we like and which friends we don’t like this week. 6 days where I choose the seemingly selfish path of self-improvement over my family.

It is hard to get a three and a half year old through daily routines with a partner, let alone without. I’ve signed my husband up for a 6 day solo-struggle knowing exactly what I ask of him. I’m fortunate. He is the most gracious supporter, willingly signing up for the task and focusing our time together leading up to the flight pouring into me with words of confidence, truth, love, and encouragement. But what does a trip like this look like to a child?

A pre-preschooler doesn’t understand self-improvement or work trips. Time doesn’t quite make sense (“Is it tomorrow today?”). Mom is supposed to be home. I think about our FaceTime calls throughout the coming week and I get that tight pit in my stomach anticipating the inevitable questions from her.

We started talking about this trip about a week ago, trying to prepare her. When we first introduced the idea, she lifted her big doe eyes and squeaked, “But who will stay with me?”

I wasn’t prepared for what my little carbon copy told me this morning as I was packing up my bags. She looked at me with the sweetest demeanor standing next to her father and said,

“You’re not pretty today.”

Hahaha, aren’t kids are the worst?  They have this incredible knack for knocking you down. Are you feeling like a needed member of the family and that things may fall apart without you? Fat chance. Your kid is already planning her daddy daughter movie nights and is primarily concerned with how many pieces of gum she can consume before the day is over. Little shit.

But dang, do I love her. I already miss her. All of her sweetness and all of her sour.

Word of 2018: Engage

Posted on by megdanielle

I received a Day Designer planner from my parents for Christmas and immediately devoured the annual planning pages. In previous years, I’ve chosen a phrase or a Bible verse as my inspiration for the year but I’m letting my new planner set the course this time around. As such, I’ve limited myself to one lone word for the year:

Engage

If I had been allotted two words they would’ve been “Head Up” but “Engage” meets the one word challenge set by my planner and takes me one step further, from limiting my phone time and passive involvement to actually stepping into the daily swell of things when I might be inclined to tune out.

I have a bit of a phone problem.

I spend far too many hours on the stupid thing. I don’t know all of the people I’m investing in online (their houses though!) which means the time I spend with them is time I don’t spend getting to know the intimate details about the people immediately around me. Ya know, those with whom I daily interact in person.

It’s gotten bad.

I downloaded the Moment app which tracks your time by app and even prompts you when you’ve reached your daily limit or are in the black out periods you set for yourself. It helped for a while until the reminders to get off my phone became too persistent and I turned them off (yes, really).

To be a little more transparent, I’ve known it’s been an issue for a while but I have a hard time kicking the habit. Educating myself seems to help a little (Irresistible by Adam Alter was fantastic; it’s somewhat empowering to learn that apps are designed to addict users). Tracking my time helps a little more (until I sabotage my own boundaries, that is).  But the biggest motivator of all is when my daughter’s “Watch this!” sounds strained instead of full of three-year-old excitement. *Gulp* I look up from my phone and see her searching eyes and I know without a doubt that I need to change.

Yeah, like I said, it’s gotten bad.

So I dove into the annual planning pages of my new planner with that in mind and I wrote down my values, my strengths, my passions. I documented the things I did in 2017 and how I wanted to handle those categories in 2018. I circled relationships. I committed to spending more time with my head up, more time outside (although I admit I put that in the second quarter goals because… brrrr). I committed to more fun.

I also committed to more organization but when I looked outside this afternoon during a KonMari-inspired tidy, I saw a pink fluff of snow gear joyfully plodding through knee-deep snow and thankfully had the clarity to think, “Hey idiot, put on your snow gear. Layer up. GET OUTSIDE like you said you would and be with these rosy-cheeked people you love!”

 

And I did.

Dear 2018,

May there be many more days like your first. May I have many more days like today: Engaged.

Yours,

Meg Danielle

Life has been a little hectic lately.

Posted on by megdanielle

Life has been a little hectic lately. In the last 7 weeks or so, I have worked in inordinate amount of overtime. Do you still call it overtime when you’re a salaried employee? Not just a few late nights here and there or a few early meetings but multiple days’ worth of time. Leading up to our project launch, I was in the office for a 14 hour Saturday backed up to a 17 hour Sunday and back in by 7:30am on Monday (but only because I slept through the 6:00am scheduled start).

I have never before and hope to never again experience the kind of exhausted, not-enough-eye-drops-in-the-world, mental/physical/emotion strain of that kind of timeline for a project launch. Take it from me, you should never attempt to launch before you’ve completed your mock launch activities.

But my project team and I did it. We’d been preparing for an ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning) software implementation. We were already using a previous version of the same software but instead of looking at this change as an upgrade, we pulled out all of the data that had been erroneously entered over the past several years and sifted it out. We remapped table keys. Restructured business processes. Rewrote code and reports and work instructions. And despite a few misses that we’ve worked to clean up over the last two weeks, this project has been considered an overall organizational success!

But can we zoom out a little?

I’m exhausted. Still, almost two weeks later. My husband, who pulled all of the weight of family life during this period, is now fighting off his first illness of Autumn. My house is full of tiny fruit flies from a misplaced can that wasn’t properly recycled during my usual cleaning routine because, well, there was no routine. I worked out this past Saturday (taking it slow) and it nearly killed me. Fast forward half a week and I pulled a muscle playing with my daughter; my body is wrecked. And my beautiful little girl wants “Momma, Mom, Mommy, Mom, Momma. Did you hear me calling you, Mom?”

We’re all a little drained from the chaos. And to be honest, there’s no way we all would’ve made it without these things right here:

  • My Tribe
    • Friends who continue to pour into me when I go dark. Friends who continue to text or Snap without a response. Friends who send flowers to work for encouragement.
  • My Husband
    • Who allowed our roles not just to flip flop, but to completely shift onto him. Who put his career behind mine for a period. Who bit his tongue – a lot. And who continued to encourage me even if he felt like I should be waving the white flag.
  • God
    • For putting those people in my life. For continually tapping me on the shoulder with scripture or songs about being a light or a door for others to experience his goodness. For keeping me from completely morphing into a troll at the workplace.
  • Whole30
    • For categorically denying my desire to stress eat. For minimizing the impact of skipped meals, small meals, or late meals on my system. For giving me the energy that I needed to make it through a 17 hour shift at all, let alone without getting sick immediately following. For giving me something else to commit to when the project felt all consuming. For teaching me ways to cope without food.

So really, this post is a gratitude post for those things that kept me going. At work, we passed the project launch, cleaned up the few misses, and we’ve already started sliding back to normal. But me? I’m changed. I’m exhausted and more experienced and more filled with gratitude. It took overtime and high stress and looming deadlines to remind me that my focus is really on people, and that includes me.

Thank you, tribe and Freddy, and God, and Whole30, for shaping me during this time. For showing me grace. And for teaching me about my priorities and the balance that leads me to my best me.

Without you, I am a lesser me.

The Family Teeter Totter

Posted on by megdanielle

How do people balance married life with child(ren)?

I’ve been going at it for three years now and I don’t think I’m very good at it. They say practice makes perfect but everyone in my family keeps growing and changing. The second I think I’m on to something, I run into a wall or trip and fall flat on my face.

Do you remember what it feels like to be spontaneous?

I dream of being spontaneous but married life with child(ren) seems to be full of plans. Calculations. Routine. Expectations.

Do you want to go out with friends? Are you leaving your family at home while you’re out? You can’t bring your child but what about your husband? You’re leaving your child at home? Is married spontaneity worth $40+ to you to find a sitter? You want family spontaneity? Have you packed the snacks? Has she had her nap today? What time is bedtime?

 

I don’t know if it’s healthy to live a social media life different from reality. The best pictures, biggest smiles, softest light. It all seems so perfect.

A lot of people I know are in an unhappy phase of marriage right now or are making plans to end marriage. I’m not naive enough to believe this is true for everyone but I think this social halo around family life makes the unhappy phases seem permanent. They’re stifling and we feel like there are few people to reach out to because everyone else is doing so well.

When we speak up, we feel like naysayers. Negative influences. Outcasts.

I had a friend tell me the other day that her boyfriend was so easy to get a long with and I scoffed. They’d just started dating and I thought back to that time. When it was easier. When we were on our best behavior. Our own bank accounts. Our own schedules. When our time together was chosen and treasured in a way that marriage dulls.

I’m not trying to say that family life is terrible. It’s incredible. But incredible doesn’t mean perfect. Family life is hard. Incredible. Beautiful. But also hard. Fred and I talk about wanting a better marriage a lot and we’re constantly talking about ways to raise a lady. A healthy child. A contributing member of society.

Are you going through a hard phase right now?  

Fred and I are working our way out of one for no reason other than life happens, it happens quickly, and it usually skirts expectations (and so do we as human beings – even if we love each other!). It strikes me that we don’t typically talk about the hard times when we’re in them. We often talk about them when we’re clear on the other side. Happy, so we can be an inspiration to others. How alienating is that happy message when you’re in the trenches?

Can we please start normalizing unhappy?

When I have written about marriage in anything less than a glowing light in the past, I have received feedback that people I know are talking about the well being of my marriage. Not to me but to others. We call that gossip and it isn’t a sign of care. If you care, you’ll ask me directly how we’re doing and I will tell you that Freddy and I are capable of weathering the hard seasons of marriage for the incredible seasons. We know that seasons are a reality of life and that the harder seasons make the good seasons sweeter. We are not divorcing; we don’t even talk about it so please calm down and let me be real about what it takes to be married and raise a family.

 

A Mile A Day: Day 25-28

Posted on by megdanielle

I always say that anyone can do anything* for 30 days but 30 days really is a long time to do the same thing and continue finding interest in it. Or at least continue to find interest writing about it. I imagine it’s the same for reading so I’m going to start condensing the last bit of this 30 journey.

Day 25, Thursday:

I told my husband that I wasn’t going to walk and he told me I was. He’s chosen to be very supportive of my mile-a-day challenge where he could have been passive or irritated. And there were days that a passive or irritated husband would be entirely enough to dissuade me from walking. Today was one of them. So thank you, Freddy! Your insistence has refueled my persistence.

Day 26, Friday:

This is a total cop out but I promise you I got well over a mile today! In a throw-care-to-the-wind decision, I went left when I should’ve gone right after my haircut. Out of nowhere appeared Tanger Outlet mall! It’s not that it jumped right out at me, of course, but that the developers chose a more remote location. I completely meant to be there.

I spent about three hours walking the outdoor mall. I bought things. Things I needed. Things my daughter needed. Things I wanted. It was delightful! It’s been a while since I have been able to walk in and out of clothing stores with the sole question “Do I like this?” between me and an item of clothing.

I’m not trying to provide any false advertising but after over seven days of Whole30, I’m feeling good. My body is feeling good. Which meant I didn’t have to judge myself for the sizes I tried on and I was surprised to see an old size come back into play for certain cuts at certain stores. And most importantly, I did not ask “Do I like myself in this?”

The physical distance of a mile today feels like a cop out but the emotional mile was incredible!

Day 27, Saturday:

Today was my perfect day.

I was adamant that we head to a park to bike though I didn’t say why. After biking our mile, I ran to the truck to grab a tote filled with apples, carrots, cucumbers, nuts, almond butter, dried fruits, and waters. In the bag next to to the tote was a zipped up picnic blanket, perfect for a spot on the grass.

After our picnic lunch, Freddy and I watched our three year old athlete scale the side of a climbing structure in the park. She climbed robes with arms and legs and crawled across rocks and walked 90-some steps up to the top of a corn crib and back.

CornCrib_201705

Look at her face! She is so happy. I love these kind of memories. These are the same ones I hold onto from my youth. Family together outdoors. It’s so right.

Day 28, Sunday:

The whole family walked together tonight and while Freddy and I may regret naively stretching Emma’s bedtime (We do. We definitely do regret that), the walk was so nice. Freddy and I even found ourselves holding hands, swinging them back and forth. *sigh*

 

 

 

*anything in this particular case is anything that a person has chosen to do that may cause discomfort associated with a positive outcome