Session 8 of Meditation Basics on Headspace called for paying attention to my present feelings. It could not have been a more appropriate topic for the day, because before I started the exercise, I was already feeling slightly angry about events that occurred over a week ago.

The instructor simply asked that I observe my feelings, without trying to engage in or interpret them. When I found myself able to do as indicated, it surprised me.

While meditating, I can see my anger objectively without actually feeling it. It is somewhat of a new experience for me. Usually, my emotions seep into everything I do.

So I think this meditation gig is going well. I truly believe, and I am not exaggerating, that breathing is going to change my life.

How? My TMJ is starting to heal, I think. At least I feel less pain. Generally, I stay upset for shorter periods. My resiliency and resourcefulness seem to have increased. And I have already found a solution to the problem I had at work.

Meditation is not completely new to me, which may play a role in my relatively quick grasp of the technique. I remember how hard it was to achieve the right state of mind when I was young, how hard I tried to get there and how trying that hard backfired.

For meditation, you have to unlearn trying. It has taken me a lifetime. I am grateful that I finally seem to be there.

This is anti drug and anti bullying week at work. Today, we’re all supposed to wear red to support the cause.

When they said to wear red on Friday, they failed to indicate why, so I almost decided purposefully not to participate, because of what happened to me that morning. But when I found out that it was in support of bully prevention, I even painted my nails red. I told a friend I would dye my skin and teeth, as well.

This is not to say I don’t support drug prevention. I do. It is just that, in my life, bullying has always been a much more pervasive problem.

As an awkward, anxious child who suffered emotional trauma, I was a very quiet kid in school. My grandmother told me never to tell anyone anything, and I took it literally. I was afraid the more I spoke, the more I reached out to my peers, the more personal information I would leak.

So instead, I said nothing, became deeply isolated, ostracized, and depressed, and all too soon I was being targeted by bullies.

My parents urged me to ignore the behavior and it would eventually stop. But now we know that ignoring bullies is largely ineffective. Bullies don’t stop bullying by themselves. They must be stopped.

I spent my entire seventh grade and half of eighth grade heeding my parents’ well-intended, albeit misguided advice, trying in vain to pretend I didn’t hear the laughter, name-calling, and all other manner of torment hurled my way daily. Once I almost broke down crying in front of everyone, and that was a disaster for me.

One morning in mid-January, I was in Mr. O’Brien’s room with my only two friends, when Jandra, the 5 foot 10, big-haired, woman-shaped girl came straight up to me and demanded my seat.

I had had it. She had purposely attracted the attention of everyone in the class, including my crush, and I was not about to be humiliated again in front of him. With the entire room watching, I told her no.

We engaged in a back and forth insult contest for 45 minutes until the bell rang. Was it ideal? Of course not. But I kept my seat.

Where was Mr. O’Brien, through all of this? At the front of the room, pretending not to hear. At the time, in the early 1990s, teachers mistakenly believed it was best not to get involved. This is also what he told my parents when they contacted the school for help. Now, of course, we know differently.

Did Jandra continue to target me after I stood up to her? Not really. Certainly, not nearly as much.

But it took most of my mental energy to do it.

Nevertheless, and no matter the consequences, ever since Jandra, I stubbornly persist in fighting the good fight against bullying. For me, for you. For underdogs everywhere.

Kids, if you’re reading this, part of me hopes you aren’t, because I’m not really writing in a child-friendly way. But part of me hopes you are, because I want you to know I absolutely have your back). If you’re in a similar situation, you should know that not telling anyone is a mistake. Talk to an adult you trust. Adults WILL help you.

Because of Zero Tolerance laws against bullying and violence that were put in place in the mid to late 1990s, we are now required to take all reports of bullying seriously.

Know that you do not have to face bullying alone, like I did in the dark ages. You have a support network. Your parents, guardians, and teachers are there for you. And they want to know, and they want to make sure you’re okay.

Sometimes, it takes a team effort.

So, in spite of my upset, I will wear red today. I will wear so much red, it will be blinding. But I’m not doing it for my bosses. I’m being a bigger person than I was before and doing it for the kids. Not because I want attention or appreciation, but because, in my heart of hearts, I know it is the right thing to do.

P.S.—Kids at school, if you need someone, I am here.

Mrs. Taylor, Room 1-1

In general, I spend most of my time trying to predict my future or ruminating about the past. When an adverse situation occurs, invariably, I replay it in my mind on loop, or I try to work out what will happen next and how I’m going to respond. It has been this way for as long as I can remember.

This is what goes on continuously in my head “at rest:” on autopilot, when I’m not thinking about what I’m thinking about. So, as you can see, my head is never really at rest, at all. Rather, it is plagued by the dilemma of the day, everyday.

Meditation is helping me to recognize the extent of the problem. Meditation is about mindfulness, being present. Taking stock of what surrounds you in the moment.

It is not about pushing away troubling thoughts (or any thoughts), but simply observing and recognizing them—without judgment—as they travel in and out of your mind.

At least, that is what the introduction to meditation has been.

It is not new to me; I have participated in guided meditation many times throughout my life. But not with any regularity.

I am finding that it is easier for me, now, than when I was younger, to become aware of my thoughts, let them pass gently in and out of my consciousness, and still be able to interpret my immediate surroundings, and how I’m feeling then and there.

I appreciate the comfort of my overstuffed couch, my kids’ art on the walls, and the light from my green dragonfly Tiffany lamp. I note the sound and sensations of my cat’s purring, and the softness of his coat. The familiar and therapeutic weight of his 13 little pounds on my lap.

And, finally, I am finding myself more relaxed, more peaceful, able to manage my anxiety and stressful thoughts without trying to actively control them. Because, let’s be honest: am I controlling them, or are they controlling me?

Conflicts come and go, no matter what we do. It’s how we respond to conflict that matters.

As the old adage goes, “This, too, shall pass.”

Meditation is teaching me to let go of the past and future, if temporarily, and embrace the moment. The present has value, if you can learn how to access it.

There is this classroom teacher. She is one of those folks who unapologetically demonstrates clear preferences, such as with coworkers. These preferences are obvious to everyone because she painstakingly makes them so.

Guess which list I’m on.

Lately, I’ve been very unhappy and stressed at work. I have spent an overwhelming amount of my valuable time, stewing over the teacher’s behaviors toward me: exclusion, lack of acknowledgement, and condescension, to name a few.

I think about it, talk about it, write about it.

Why am I expending so much energy on this woman? How is it helping me?

The answer is simple: it isn’t helping me. In fact, all of this ruminating is actually hurting me.

I am allowing this person to serve as an additional stressor in my life that I do not need!

So what is the solution? I’m not sure, yet.

I know what I tell the kids when their classmates annoy them: “Ignore him.” Sure, Mrs. Taylor. Easier said than done.

Disassociate from the negativity? Think about other things? Redirect my thoughts? Those all work for a little while.

This morning I tried meditation. It is a way to ground oneself in the present, letting your thoughts float through your mind without judgment, focusing solely on the now.

I have always secretly believed that meditation could change my life, if I could learn how to practice it effectively. I’ve just been putting it off for the last 47 years.

Given my childhood trauma, I often tend to err on the side of negativity, which can be very self-destructive. I have never found dwelling on my anger or troubling thoughts to be useful.

But I think I’m not wrong about meditation. It has seemed to help me a little already. Physically, I feel more relaxed. Emotionally, I feel more peaceful. And, though I have been writing about my unpleasant experiences with Ms. Popularity Contest, for the first time, maybe, I haven’t felt any anger in doing so.

There is definitely something to this meditation. If I feel this much better after trying it once, let’s see what a week will do.

For my latest teaching position, I’m paid through an agency, not by the district. This was a conscious decision on my part, and there are benefits and drawbacks associated with it. For example, while agencies pay quite well, they do not allocate paychecks over the summer. It’s all figured into what they pay hourly, which is great, as long as you’re reasonably good at setting aside funds for those periods you don’t receive a check.

Since I just started with them at the end of May, I didn’t amass much of a savings for the summer. I knew I would probably have to find a job to fill the gap between now and September.

So, for the last month or so, I’ve been on an aggressive job hunt. This week in particular, I’ve gotten a flood of callbacks.

One venue I did try was a business I worked for previously. I talked to my former supervisor first, about the specific department I used to work, but he said he was all set.

So then, I saw an opening for a cashier at the front end of the store. Well, I thought, I’ll give it a go. I submitted an application via AI chatbot.

For a week, I heard nothing from that store, so I assumed they weren’t interested. But then yesterday afternoon, I got a notification prompting me to schedule an interview with them. So I did, for that evening at 6:00.

Well, I got there, and asked the head cashier, whom I did not recognize, for the manager on duty, explaining to him that I was there for a job interview. The cashier, a polite young man, radioed the manager, informing her of my arrival.

I don’t know if she was aware that I could hear the entire conversation that took place over the radio, but she attempted to pawn off the interview to another manager. The head cashier was now tasked with locating a manager willing to interview me.

Just to give you a little bit of context, the store was not lousy with customers when I arrived at 6 PM. I’m not saying tumbleweeds rolled by me as I entered the scene, but by no means was the place hopping.

The poor kid radioed manager after manager. Each one had a more ridiculous excuse than the next as to why they weren’t going to do it. One guy said, “I already interviewed someone this morning!” Another simply said, “Nope!” as he walked by us without so much as a glance at me.

I was seconds away from getting up and walking out of the store when the original manager supposed to interview me came and got me. She and I had trained together at orientation for several full days in 2023. She couldn’t remember even my first name.

I was not surprised. She couldn’t ever remember my name when I was there, either.

You would think since I had already worked at this business, and not that long ago (last year), that the interview itself would’ve been pretty informal, conversational? “So, Leah, how have you been? What have you been up to since you last worked here?”

It was not. She stuck rigidly to the questions on the sheet.

Finally, I thought. Someone even more socially awkward than me.

Derek said, and I agree, that it sounded exactly like every comedy TV show we’ve ever seen: Superstore, Parks and Rec, The Office… In fact, as I described the whole fiasco to my family over dinner that night, I laughed so hard I was almost in tears.

Was I angry that no one wanted to interview me? I might’ve been, if I hadn’t been so entertained by the situation. For comic relief, I give it two thumbs up.

Because of my gastric bypass surgery, I’m not supposed to drink at least 30 minutes after I eat something, which is so annoying, and sometimes it feels like forever before I can have my coffee.

But drinking while or immediately after you eat can have multiple negative consequences.

One consequence is that the fluid supposedly washes the food out of your system, so you end up hungry again and eat more food than you should.

Another consequence I did not realize until this morning, when I researched the subject, is that it can stretch the smaller stomach the surgeon has created for you, increasing your capacity to consume beyond what might be most beneficial to you, thereby making the whole procedure less effective.

Still another, I think, is if you eat something sugary and then immediately imbibe, you can actually accelerate the rate at which the sugar travels through your system, which can possibly cause dumping syndrome (throwing up or diarrhea), sweats, etc.

But since I spent so much time talking about this, now it’s time to drink again. See what I did, there?

Here’s to effective time management.

Bottoms up.

• My kids are better than me at almost everything, but it doesn’t bother me, because they’re my kids, and these miraculous beings came from me—were something I created. I am proud that I made something more extraordinary than I am.
• When I was a kid, I had to have the most French fries on my plate of everyone at the dinner table. When my father would get up and go to the stove or the refrigerator, I would steal fries off his plate, thinking he was unaware, and laugh sinisterly.
• When I was a kid, I always wanted a treehouse, even though our backyard had no good trees in it.
• When I was a kid, I always wanted an in ground swimming pool in our backyard, but our landlord said no.
• When I was a kid, I thought an orgy was a lot of food, because my father would refer to grocery day as a “food orgy.” When I was 10, my 14-year-old cousin set me straight.
• When I was 12, I got a pretty severe bout of the chicken pox. For three days I was delirious with a fever. At the same time, I became a woman. It was a confusing week.
• I don’t like and will not eat baloney or onions. If I know they’re in a food, I have to eat around them. Actually, anything with baloney in it, I just wouldn’t eat at all. It is both a taste and a texture issue.
• I ate scrambled eggs with sugar on them right up through college because that’s how my dad got us to eat scrambled eggs, and that’s how I thought you were supposed to eat them.
• I’m afraid of rejection, bats, and elevators in that order.
• I’ve actively studied some form of nonverbal language since I was 13.
• Freshman year of high school, I used to “forget” my flute at band practice so I could spend the entire period reading my senior friend’s psychology textbook for fun.
• I associate almost every song with a color. I always have. I think they call this synesthesia. When I was just a baby, Sheena Easton’s Morning Train: brown. The Beatles’ Long and Winding Road? Dark blue. Jerry Rafferty’s Baker Street: black with sepia. Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely? Yellow.
• Synesthesia has followed me far beyond the 1970s and 80s well into my adulthood: Linkin Park’s Breaking the Habit: red. Lady Gaga’s Pokerface: also red. Neyo’s Closer: green. NIN’s Closer (as a grunge alternative goddess, forgive me for not starting with this Closer): black. Bjork’s Jóga: sepia. Prince’s Thieves in the Temple: indigo. Chris Cornel’s Sun Shower: violet. Imogen Heap’s Hide and Seek: ice blue. And Fleet Foxes’ Young Man’s Game: green. Sorry, I could do these all day and never get bored.
• I have a Diet Pepsi problem, but my real favorite soda of all time is regular Coca-Cola. I never drink it now, but if I drank it like I did when I was thin, I’m sure I would have diabetes by now.
• You’d think it would’ve been an art museum, but my favorite museum in DC was actually the Newseum. They had to shut it down years ago because they couldn’t afford to run it for free like the other museums in Washington. I could’ve spent days in that museum. My favorite exhibit was the photojournalism. So sad and so moving.
• Favorite movies: Spaceballs, Office Space, The Rutles, This Is Spinal Tap, Better Off Dead.
• I was a pretty decent roller/ ice skater as a kid. I just didn’t know how to stop.
• I wasn’t a bad athlete, even in middle school. I could whack a tennis ball into the next time zone with a bat. I did as many sit-ups as the boys. The girls soccer team captain at St. Mary’s told me I should play for them one time in PE.
• For a righty, I do a peculiar amount of things with my left hand, including opening jars and twisting off items. My great grandmother was ambidextrous.
• I frequently dream of my teeth falling out.
• My favorite food is lobster but my favorite food is also pizza. And ice cream. But ice cream now makes me sick because of my surgery.
• Eating very much ice cream makes me sick now.
• I don’t cook as often as I’d like, but when I do, I’m told I do it well.

I’ve been stuck in the 70s since, what, April?

I know why. It’s simple. Too many calories. I’m still tracking well, so I know I’m going way over everyday. I’ve been losing and regaining the same four pounds for months.

I use the Baritastic app. I have two habit trackers, now. I exercise everyday, including two days of strength training per week. So I’m doing a lot of things right.

The problems are the calories and the soda. Although it’s diet soda, it’s still very bad, and some doctors say it actually causes weight gain. I was a damn fool to start drinking it again.

I never stopped missing it. I quit from November to April. April is when I stopped losing weight. I’m not stupid. I recognize the connection.

I can’t just limit the soda. It’s too hard for me. I have to cut it out entirely, and somehow get over craving it. Or I will stay stuck in this rut forever.

For me, it’s a bigger problem than smoking ever was. I couldn’t go back to smoking if I wanted to. I feel like I need the carbonation.

So why not seltzer? Well, maybe. I’ve tried that before, though. Many times. It usually leads back to the soda.

I think all the extra calories come indirectly from drinking too much soda. Artificial sweetener spikes your sugar cravings. It is also not a good hydration source. There are literally zero benefits to drinking it.

Intellectually, I understand all of this. But it’s so hard to follow through.

But I will have to come clean at my next Lindsey appointment, which is this month, and she will tell me I have to quit it again.

The struggle is real, my friends.

I predict that if I stop drinking soda, my calories will decrease and I will continue losing weight.

I think if I keep drinking it, I’m setting myself up to fail. I can’t compete with it. For me to say there’s no connection is just lying to myself. I need to stop buying it. I need to stop drinking it. Period.

I’m not where I want to be, yet. I’m not going to get there unless I make a change.

Another successful school year down for both Desmond and Aislyn.

This year, Desmond excelled in all subjects, getting emails home from teachers about exemplary assignments. He was in two school clubs, one that he organized himself. He has also participated in martial arts and is currently an orange belt. He recently assisted a very good buddy in earning his black belt. I’m sure it won’t be long before he, too, is training for his black belt.

Aislyn continued to also do very well in school, earning top marks and being a positive influence in her class. Known especially for her kindness, Aislyn stood out as an example to all. She generated some very beautiful artwork, too.

Desmond and Aislyn, I hope you had a good year at school, and you should know, if you don’t, how proud Daddy and I are of you both. You are the best kids anyone could ever ask for, and I feel blessed everyday to be part of your lives. I love you both so very much.

For the last 15 days, I’ve been tracking my food accurately again like I had been before. I’m not necessarily crushing it everyday in terms of staying within my calorie limits, but I’m almost certainly doing better than I was, now that I’m counting again. My upper limit is supposed to be 1200 calories. Right now I’m just trying not to exceed 1500. If I can stay under 15, I’ve had a pretty good day for me.

I’ve experienced a lot of change, my friends. I have moved on from 7th grade ELA to a special education position in another district with second and third graders, and, oh, my gosh, it is so very different, but I am okay with it.

The seventh graders turned out to hold a special place in my heart, challenging though they were. Many of them inexplicably did an about face by the end of the year and became quite close with me. I had a voluntary lunch group of girls everyday and a cleaning crew. It is nothing if not a fascinating age. I do miss them. I have a giant card from the whole class, which I can’t show here. It made me cry.

I would have gone back to ELA next year. The problem was that they didn’t want me. They cited my classroom management as the reason. I said it was unfair to judge my skills based on that class, which was known for its difficulty, but it was to no avail. Frustrated with the system, I sought work elsewhere.

I was looking for next year, but the second school that interviewed me needed someone right away, and their offer was contingent on me starting immediately. It was a hard decision, but I took the job.

I explained to the kids that they were not the reason. I hope they know I was telling the truth.

I’ve been in the new school since the last week of May. The kids are darling. You have your heavies, just like anywhere, but sometimes they are the most lovable, once you get over the hump of their testing. It is much less stressful. I didn’t think it would be, but it is.

So that’s it, for now. Just treading water, waiting for another breakthrough.

You’re caught up. Thanks for reading. 🙂

I’m not having much luck on the scale right now; I only seem to be taking two steps forward, one step back. So I’m going to focus on the non-scale victories I’ve witnessed over the last several weeks. Because I have to today.

• Bath towels wrap all the way around me.
• Taking the stairs is no longer a problem.
• I can bend over to tie my shoes without running out of breath.
• The last couple of times I’ve been shopping, many size large tops fit me, and a few had room to spare. Some were even too big!

I started my new gig Wednesday. It seems pretty good. A lot different. Second and third grade vs. middle school ELA. Quite a big jump.

I miss the seventh graders, but I like the little kids.

They made me a huge card. Everyone signed it. I got lots of hugs. Somehow, I was able to win over my toughest girls.

It was not about the kids, my leaving.

Anyway, that’s about all there is.

I finally broke through the 175-pound ceiling this morning. It took getting sick to my stomach and resultant under-eating to do it, but it’s been done, so hooray! 173.8 today. 160’s ho!

I’m trying to decide whether to sacrifice the gym today for “finishing” grading. I say “finishing,” because it’s never really done. Every time I bust ass through what I have left, someone drops another pile of missing work on me.

I think it’s bogus that we’re expected to accept late work the entire quarter. All it does for me is allow kids to blow off their classwork all quarter only to burden me with a large packet of late work just days before or after grades close.

If they really cared about their grade that much, they’d have submitted the work the day it was due. I don’t even assign any homework. I’m more than fair. If they turned in their work as it was due at the end of class, or even within the week, this would be their easiest class.

All I expect is for them to be productive during class. Don’t sit there or wander around the room, doing nothing and distracting everyone else all period.

That’s why I started implementing participation grades. I would make my way around the room to see what kids had done or not done during class. I didn’t even end up scoring the zeros, though I should have, as consequence for blowing off my class. That was the whole point of the grade.

But, no, as I’m too nice, I only ended up using the good participation grades to boost hardworking kids’ averages. So nobody really learned anything from it, except for me, and that is to say I only made more work for myself with the initiative. Though it did bring up certain kids’ grades from, for example, a D+ to a C-. From failing to just barely passing, on the strength of good in-class behavior.

I think it was most helpful to struggling kids who nevertheless try hard with the time and opportunities they’re given.

Had I counted all of the zeros, I probably would have quite a few failing students. As it is, there are only a handful: one or two from each class—none in AC 2. Well, except for AC 1; there may have been four or more in there.

The point of participation grades was to increase productivity, thereby reducing behaviors. In one class, it wasn’t really achievable. Unless, probably, I had had more time and scored the zeros to show them the consequences of their actions.

But, as I say, I’m a wimp, and my lack of follow through on this project could actually stand to increase off-task behaviors in the future, at least in AC 1.

Sorry, I have gone into clinical mode. I once was training to become a board certified behavior analyst (BCBA). I did all of the coursework and some of the fieldwork, but I couldn’t get free or inexpensive supervision consistently. And now my coursework is several task list editions too old to qualify me.

I think I might be better off, though. I would not have been a very good BCBA. I care too much when others blame me unfairly for things that go wrong.

For example, I could write a stellar, air-tight behavior plan. But without treatment integrity (everyone following and implementing the plan exactly as written), the plan won’t work. This means a behavior plan is only as strong as its weakest link.

But, more often than not, when a plan is ineffective, it’s easiest to blame the one who wrote it. This necessitates liability insurance, and, frankly, the very existence of the need frightens me. Through no fault of my own, I would almost certainly land in hot water at some point, and leave the profession out of fear. There are just too many things that can go awry.

Treatment integrity is hard to get 100 percent of the time. Particularly at the pay grade of support staff, you’re always going to have someone who wants to do things the way they want to do them, or interprets the procedure slightly differently from the rest of the team, or is simply unable to follow the procedure, despite their best efforts. There is a significant margin of error.

Even if it’s not directly the BCBA at fault, it is then on the BCBA to correct the problem, if possible, and to recommend replacement of personnel if not.

In a nutshell, it is a heavy-workload, high-stress job, and, given my anxiety, I don’t know honestly if it would be the best fit for me. The raw ability is there, but at what cost? My sanity, emotional health, quality of life, and work-life balance would all likely be at stake in a profession like that.

Also, any lack of follow-through whatsoever on my part would be the kiss of death. So, if I’m lacking the conviction to allow a student to fail as a result of their inability or unwillingness to comply with instructions, then I don’t see myself doing any better as a behaviorist.

My class isn’t difficult. You almost have to try to do poorly in it. If I’ve got a kid failing, then s/he is probably consistently doing nothing in class, other than fooling around and distracting everyone else. Or else not studying for the Wordly Wise tests.

I am probably not going to the gym today.

I hope you have enjoyed my runaway post on behavior and grading. Now it’s time to mind my own productivity and get grading.

I am back down to 175, but stuck there. I know why. Poor planning, poor tracking, soda, not sleeping well, stress.

It could be worse. I could be gaining.

Both my kids have recently had birthdays. My son is end of April. My daughter is end of May. I can’t believe they are already 12 and 8. Next year, my son will be a teenager! Can it really have been almost 13 years since I held my tiny, 5.7-pound baby in my palm? He could sit in my hand, he was that little.

Now he’s almost as tall as me. I give it one more year.

I got my boy this animation tablet I thought was so cool, but we still haven’t figured out how it works. I’ve got to get upstairs and Google it out.

I got my little girl everything Bluey: electric toothbrush, toothpaste, BT headphones, a gaming money card, and a pop tent. So far, surprisingly, of all of the presents I got her, she has shown the least interest in the pop tent. She might be aging out of pop tents. I don’t know. She still likes blanket forts, though.

We had a party for my daughter yesterday. It went well, three little girls came over and played, and they really had a good time, didn’t fight much, if at all. The twins got into it a couple of times over the Papasan chair, but they were easily redirected. Identical twins, both with a long braid in their hair, so cute. And another little girl who liked to play Switch games and paint her nails. Very cute.

Derek made a cake. It was very good.

For his birthday, my son also had a close friend over for cake and I think he stayed over? That might’ve been a few days later. We made scrambled eggs for breakfast, after a bit of a frying pan debacle.

I don’t know how this post became about the kids’ birthdays. I guess I just felt like writing about the kids this morning.

Great kids. The best. Couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for better.

My daughter was crying about having to clean her room for her company, and my son came down and made it into a game to try to get her to help. He is very kind.

He’d make a good teacher, not to say that I’m encouraging that specific field for him. It’s not well-paying, kids can be fresh. Admin can be completely unsupportive, and even make things worse for you, depending on the personalities.

On the other hand, find the right school climate, with good, fair bosses, and teaching can be the best job ever. No one goes into education for the money, anyway.

And kids can be wonderful. I was teary Friday morning because I had a student who also was slightly emotional, didn’t want me to leave, and the boy I used to send to the office everyday, the one who preferred the office to my classroom in the beginning, came up and gave me a big hug.

I got hugs from my toughest girls, too, the ones I never imagined in a million years would warm up to me. I don’t know what I did other than be there. And now I’m sad because I won’t be.

If I had to give any advice to my administrators, I’d tell them to talk to all of those same kids, now. All of the ones who whined about me the most, initially. They are the most changed of everyone. I wasn’t consciously trying, but somehow, I managed to win them over.

They said I’m a teacher they feel like they can talk to. It made me cry, but it made my day.

Had I known how they actually felt about me, I might have chosen differently, at least for the rest of this year.

I truly didn’t believe I had made any sort of impact. Even the girl who rolled her eyes at me all the time helped plan the giant card the 7th grade gave me. And she came for lunch Friday. I thought she hated me.

Is it all just because now I’m leaving? They realize what they had? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Either way, I know now I was loved.

I got a nastygram from admin about leaving before the end of the year. I was told I had put them in a “really shitty spot.” My character and my job performance were attacked.

How about the spot you put me in? An untenable situation I was expected to single-handedly fix. Why don’t I just go ahead and correct global warming, while I’m at it?

And when I didn’t/ couldn’t fix it, I was punished and made your scapegoat.

All you’ve done is to convince me that in fact I have made the right choice, getting out from under you as quickly as possible. You are soul-crushers. Morale killers. Bullies.

I never leave a place because of the kids. You can always count on kids to be kids: unpredictable, irreverent. Adults, on the other hand, have the responsibility of treating everyone, even their non-preferred staff, with respect and dignity. And some of them don’t.

And to that, I say, “Adios.” On to bigger and better things.

My daughter and I play Barbies on the weekends sometimes.

So I’m doing my usual Barbie schtik, which I think is just hilarious, where I’m having a conversation with all the Barbies—little pep talk, if you will—about how, in addition to being beautiful, they are also brilliant, talented, and unique, and Aislyn goes: “Can you just play Barbies and not say anything?”

I laughed so hard, I peed a little.

Shockingly, Aislyn has as much interest in my feminist manifesto as I had in my mother’s everyday-is-Sunday sermons!

When I was growing up, it was, if you can believe this: “Little girls should be seen and not heard,” and “That’s not ladylike.” Aislyn, on the other hand, hears: “Never be afraid to be who you are,” and “You can’t do anything you want to do, be anything you want to be.” I mean, she also hears, “Clean your room,” and “Don’t forget to put on deodorant!” But you get the picture: times have changed.

When I get up on my social equality soapbox, I mistakenly belive that my daughter will be impressed and inspired by her mother’s fierce independence and determination.

What I forget is that Aislyn doesn’t know any different. Not yet. In the younger grades, you are set up with the beliefs that you are innately beautiful, unique, and special with the same potential as anyone else to succeed.

They don’t teach you about sexism, women’s liberation, or the ERA until at least high school. She doesn’t know, yet, that men still make more money than women in every profession except for modeling and prostitution. Doesn’t yet understand the unfair emphasis still placed on women’s looks over all else.

So, at this tender age, Mama’s rhetoric is lost on her.

But can we stop for a minute and appreciate the innocence of this? To her, I’m just preaching to the choir. “Yeah, okay, Ma, let’s try to stay focused on the story.”

In a few years, she’ll learn why Mama worked so hard to try to impress upon her that she is more than a pretty face or a trophy wife. But for right now, let’s just shut up and play Barbies.

I’ve somehow gained back 3 pounds this week. I didn’t think I did that badly, but the evidence flashes before my very eyes in angry little red digits.

Sometimes I start to lose so rapidly that I get cocky and I think I can behave however I want and still get away with it. This is my body’s way of telling me, “Nope.”

I’ve been night eating.

Not tracking well.

Not always going to the gym.

Drinking soda—dah-dah-DAAAAAAH!

Skipping my afternoon protein drink.

Am I stressed out? Sure. My job is stressful. It’s not going to get better. I need to figure out how to deal with that more effectively. More gym.

Work is only for, what, six more weeks? Then it’s over, and I have the summer to decompress.

It’s a small setback. I’ll be okay. Look at the progress I’ve made:

I’m not too discouraged. I can do this. It’s a small hiccup.

Maybe I should return to WW for a while. I haven’t been going. No particular reason. But it never hurts. I always have the knowledge under my belt of what to do and what not to do that came from WW. Plus, sabotage, intentional or otherwise, and environment in general happens in my life everyday. The tools are useful.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I CAN DO THIS!!!!

I’ve got this.

This is happening.

It’s on.

I’m down to 175. From something like 214.

I was in a plus size 3x in January. When I went shopping yesterday, I had size large bottoms fitting me. Size medium tops. Size medium, friends. I haven’t been a medium since 2021, before I took the dreaded Depo Provera shot that blew me up like a balloon and put me out of commission for the better part of a year and set me back permanently. Until now.

I’m listening to Seasons by Chris Cornel. It’s on repeat, I haven’t bothered to fix it. I love this song. I love Sun Shower, too. I love Chris Cornel. You might say he’s slightly depressing. And you might be right. But I love him, anyway.

It was the era and the place he came from: Seattle in the 90s. Not that I honestly know anything about it firsthand. I only knew New England in the 90s, and that was hard enough.

Anyway, I seem to be crushing it right now, knock on bamboo.

They think I’ll reach 147. I hope I can do better than that. 147 is great compared to 175, but it’s still overweight. Even 130 is high end of healthy for me. I’ve got a small frame. You can tell by my tiny, dainty little wrists.

I’ll lose my assets if I get thin enough, though. I’ve already downsized quite a bit. It’s a fine line. Do I want to stay a little chubby to hold on to the goods? Or am I okay with much more modest errr…proportions?

I’m not really okay with either choice. That’s the problem.

The really real problem is I’m not okay with me. I think we all know that. I need to accept I’m beautiful as I am. I know. I don’t want my kids growing up like me, unhappy with themselves. Or only conditionally pleased with themselves.

My daughter eats like a horse. She’s skinny now, but come puberty, it’s going to catch up with her. I don’t want to be like my mother, but I don’t want to ignore a possible developing condition (obesity/ binge disorder) either.

Enroll her in dance next fall. Make sure she doesn’t give it up in college, like Mama did. One of my worst mistakes.

Oh, crap! This post was meant to be uplifting. Wait, here you go:

Well, I tried. You’ve gotta give me that.

I’ve been waiting for this milestone for a long time. The standard-sized, hotel bath towel fits all the way around me once more. Everybody celebrate!

YESSSSSSSSSSSS!

This was my first attempt at Adobe Photoshop. All I did was crop stuff out of the picture, but I couldn’t figure out how to save the finished image to my pictures.I probably saved it to a million other places, but not pictures. The Easter Bunny was generous this year, and creative. He brought slightly different presents for slightly different kids. Now they are fighting about everything while they wait for Daddy to come down.

They also get plastic eggs every year, and EB puts candy and secret messages inside them. Thank goodness, they’re getting along again!

Happy Easter to those who partake. Happy Sunday to those who do not.

Well, my friends, I’ve finally made it to the 70’s. Woot woot!

It seemed to take such a long time.

I haven’t been tracking very well from late afternoon on, that might be why. Haven’t been tracking at all from there, actually, and while I haven’t been binging, I could be doing much better if I was continuing to track the whole day.

I still have my habit tracker app, and it really does help me stay on or close to target—when I use it.

The problem, I’m not gonna lie, is this new job. It is highly time and energy consuming. By the time I get home, I’ve got nothing left in me to finish out the day strongly. But if I want this, and I do, I’m going to have to suck it up and power through. Finish my tracking. Finish recording my habits. I will lose much faster if I do.

So far, I’m not seeing any excess skin, although when I reached goal at WW in 2018, I did have some on my belly, I think. Other areas were fine, though; not misshapen, as certain other areas can be after you’ve lost a lot of weight. I suspect my arms might be a little flabby, but I don’t truly know. I am still doing strength training, which I imagine can only help that.

I’ve got my appetite more or less back, which is in a way comforting, but also slightly disappointing. I thought I wouldn’t really want to eat for a much longer period than this.

I’m not sure how much of it is the emotional desire to eat vs. real, physical hunger, though.

Bottoms sizes are widely variant from brand to brand. For example, I have one skirt that fits great and is a size 12, while in another skirt, a different brand and style, I am almost an 18! Pretty sure my underwear is looser in the bum, though.

In tops, size large generally fits like a glove, but it fits. In some cases, XL is too big, now.

It really depends on the style of the clothing.

Getting up the stairs is much easier and quite a bit faster. I still notice my knee at times, but not like pre surgery. I can bend over to put on socks without getting winded. I’ve been using an extra long bath towel for months, so I’m not sure if a regular towel would fit all the way around me, yet, or not. But I feel like the last time I hit that milestone, I was somewhere around 186.

I can walk faster on the treadmill: 3.1 mph vs. 2.0.

My back size has gone from 40 inches to 36 (I think? At least, 36 fits comfortably.). I’m not discussing my bust size except to say that as usual, without failure, it is the first thing on me to decrease: the one part of me I want to stay bigger. Of course.

I can also see a huge change in my face, though, for the better. Even my neck looks healthier to me.

Altogether, I’ve lost around 30 pounds since January. I can see it.

So that’s the update for now. Here’s to the 70’s. Looking forward to hitting the 60’s over the next couple of months.

Thanks for reading. ❤️

180.4. I am right on the brink of the 70s. Just another day or two. I thought it might be today, but then I gained 0.2. Lately, I haven’t been good about tracking to the end of the day. If I track the whole day like I had been, it will be very easy to get there.

I haven’t been habit tracking, either. Since I started the new job, just about everything else has gone by the wayside. I don’t like that. I need balance in my life.

I need to remember it’s just a job. Of course I want to do well so I can keep it for next year, but even if I can’t, I’ll find something else. I always do.

One way or another, the school year will end. After April vacation, only seven more weeks. I’ll get through this like anything else.

It’s going to be okay…or that’s what I keep telling myself.

Yesterday was the worst day, yet, for me.

I won’t get into it, other than to say there was a whole new level of disrespect from a certain gender, and I did not handle it well. I was angry, and shrill, and found myself in I-can’t -even-count-how-many power struggles.

The disrespect is very hard not to take personally. I have tried really diligently to connect with every single kid in my classes, and most of them have completely taken advantage of me.

So I’m going in today with a plan. I just have to formulate it.

I’m going to try to keep it simple and limit my speech, because it’s only so long before they tune me out, anyway.

They disrespect or disrupt, they get lunch detention. Simple, right? They try to blow off the detention, and I call the office to have them sent down to me. They write themes on the importance of respect. Or how they plan to show more of it in the immediate future. Or which behaviors they think keep landing them in lunch detention, and how they intend to correct them. Oh, I’ll get them writing, alright. It will be their ticket to leave.

I’ll probably have a lot of them for a while. When you’re working on extinguishing a behavior, it gets worse before it gets better.

Should I give one verbal warning before sanctioning detention? Maybe. But it’s a slippery slope. It’s easy to say just one warning, but then have “just one” become two, three, etc.

I don’t think I need to give a verbal warning for disrespect. Maybe disruption.

I should write up a plan and post it in the classroom. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

There, I did it. I wrote two whole policies: one for behavior and one for detention. Now I’m exhausted and I want to go back to bed.

In fairness, Shane woke me up at 1 AM.

This is a literal snapshot of the progress I’ve made since my surgery in January. As you can see, I’ve lost 28.2 pounds.

You can tell by looking at the graph that my weight loss rate has slowed, which is no surprise to me. Since I began Stage 5, which is pretty much all foods except bread, I’ve had difficulty staying inside my calorie range.

I attribute the difficulty at least partially to my change in job status. Now that I’m teaching again, I have far less time for tracking food and habits, so my records are a lot less accurate than they had been. I actually lost my 72-day tracking streak, and have had to start over on a new streak. I’m on Day 15.

I’m perpetually exhausted because I can’t tolerate my mask for more than a few hours a night.

My appetite has returned, so I find myself hungry more often, even if it’s more of an emotional type of hunger than the real thing.

I am more stressed out, which sometimes drives me to eat more, as well.

Working full time, I feel I have no time left for anything else. While I’d love the ability to work part time instead, it is just not a reality for me.

I do still go to the gym almost daily.

I see plenty of non-scale changes, such as clothing sizes, belt notches, and the shape of my face. Stairs are easier. I can bend forward to tie my shoes and put on socks without getting winded.

In conclusion, I am still losing weight, but at a much slower pace than I was initially. I’m doing my best to boost my rate by tracking, but I rarely finish the day under 1100+ calories. I continue to notice non-scale indicators of progress.

The End

By Leah Taylor

Well, we’ve made it through half of another week. I’m feeling like I could go back to bed this morning, but it’s too late. I’ve got to stay up at this point. Maybe I’ve just been sitting too long.

I’m back down on the scale because I’ve managed to winnow down my calories somehow. Low-calorie meals, I guess. I’m hoping this will get me off my plateau and losing steadily again. Once I find something that works, I’m apt to stick with it for as long as I can.

My classroom is looking pretty good, I think. I didn’t think to take a before picture, but next post I will at least try to include a current photo.

I look at new items for my classroom as investments in next year, because the more inviting my classroom is, hopefully, the more likely it is they’ll want me to return. They will see I’ve put forth a concerted effort in making it a welcoming environment for everyone. Obviously environment is just part of it, but it helps.

Surprise, kids, you didn’t scare Mrs. Taylor away. I read five chapters of The Outsiders over the weekend, put together a 10-drawer craft cart to organize my papers, and I am ready to go.

I knew this would be a challenge going in. There were no big surprises. I can do this. I’ve got this.

I’ve got a range of classes. One of them is a cake walk. I have the cake walk first thing today.

While I’m not thrilled that I’ve ended up having to teach math after all (during the What I Need period), I suppose it could be worse…I’m not sure how, but…

If 80% of the 7th grade does well on the fractions quiz we just gave, we can move on to something else, perhaps language arts. But I’m not holding my breath. I had at least one perfectly capable student declare that she was just going to guess because she didn’t care, despite my very candid rationale for the quiz: “This is just to see if we need to continue to work on fractions or if we can move on to something else, maybe something more fun.”

I think I just lack confidence in this area. All of the problems I tried on the worksheet the math teacher gave me, I answered correctly.

I’m better at math than I think I am. That’s always been the case.

Anyway, on to Week 2.

What they told me at the interview was accurate. The position is challenging. But it’s getting easier, for the most part.

I started The Outsiders with AC 4 yesterday. I have always wanted to read it, the kids all claimed to be done with everything else, and, to my knowledge, it had not been read, yet. They actually seemed interested in it, which was great. It was the first time I’ve seen them really focus on something as a whole group. It didn’t last the entire time, but it was long enough to make an impression on me.

Maybe they just need some consistency: the same teacher everyday.

It’s hard to say how this school year will end for me. So far, I’ve had good days and less good days. But I think they are testing me right now, and I need to remind myself it gets worse before it gets better. Just say it in my head over and over. Write it on sticky notes and leave it on my furniture and wall space.

In other news, I have lost a little bit more weight. I am closing in on 25 pounds. It’s crazy how different 25 pounds can make you look and feel. All of the things I struggled to do just a month or two ago, I can do easily again, except stairs. And I think I look a lot different, too. My face isn’t so round at the bottom. I’ve gone down a cup and at least one band size. I can wear 16s and 18s in jeans. I had been in 22. I can wear size large shirts. I was in 1x and 2x.

Looking forward to the weekend, when we will celebrate Derek’s birthday and I can have more time to prep for school.

This title doesn’t really apply to what I’m saying, but I don’t have time to think of another one.

Yesterday was my first day at my new job. Believe it or not, it wasn’t all that bad.

They did have the librarian help me throughout the day. She had taught the class one day a week before I got there. I led, though. That was pretty scary at very first. I mistakenly thought they said I would be observing initially, before taking the lead. But as yesterday approached, the more I thought about it, the more unlikely that seemed to me, even though I’ve done it in other schools. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I just had this feeling that the first day would not be what I expected.

Four out of five classes (including my advisory kids) asked if I was related to Taylor Swift?

Behavior varied widely from amazing to migraine-inducing. But the vast majority of the kids were pretty good.

The other teachers seem very kind and supportive.

If I can be unflappable and not let them make me cry or lose my temper, I might have a good year (I guess they made the last teacher cry. In 20+ years, no student has ever done that to me that I can recall, so, I’m probably going to be fine).

I already like a lot of them. Even some of the noisy ones.

I can do this.

I am skipping the gym today and heading to work early in order to prepare for my first day as the 7th grade ELA teacher at Heming Way Middle School (not a Hemingway fan, just easy to remember). I am nervous as h-e- 🏒 🏒 .

I still have to select an outfit and wipe the gunk off my shoes. I still have a lot of harnessing to do. I have two organizers to build. About a million things to carry from my car to my classroom. I hope it’s warmer today.

Wish me luck today. I’ll let you know how it goes.

As demonstrated by Kermit, today will be my last day at the store as I prepare to move into my new teaching position on Monday. The store manager did encourage me to come back, so I will very likely return on a part time basis over the summer.

I was going to be a waterer at Lowe’s, but that’s really a terrible, monotonous, exceedingly low-paying job with the heat and the sun burns and the bugs. I think I’ll be much better off staying where I am.

For the most part, I like working freight. The only thing I can’t do is top stock the big, heavy boxes. I wish I could, but presently, I’m only able to lift 40 pounds at the gym, so…

And my coworkers are nice. Helpful. Even the one who is sometimes a pain in the neck is usually okay. I have no major conflicts with anyone.

I am nervous about my new gig. Will the kids like me? Will they try to take advantage?

Will the other teachers like me? What will they expect me to know?

How hot is my classroom going to get? It’s already a sauna in February.

Who will mentor me? When?

How long after contract hours will I be expected to stay? I peter out so early. This looks like a job for caffeine.

Don’t get me wrong. There are some definite perks to this non-special education opportunity:

• No paperwork
• No running IEP meetings
• No writing IEPs
• No legally binding deadlines
• No compliance issues
• No direct supervision of paraprofessionals

No meeting facilitation is huge for me. I am very weak in that area because I lack self confidence and come off extremely socially awkward.

No para supervision is also a big one. Having myself started off as a para in my first five years in education, I know what it’s like and I usually get along well with my support staff. But there have been occasions (three) where amicable relationships were not possible, and that sucks up way too much of my time and energy.

And if I do have a problem with a para, I can go to the case manager and have her deal with it. Although it would probably be best to speak to the para directly in a tactful way. At least initially.

But I’m already anticipating disaster where there may be none. It sounds like it’s the kids that need some reigning in.

Maybe it will be fine. Maybe I’ll even be good at it. Maybe this is the subject matter I need and the age group I need to show my competence.

I guess pretty soon we’re going to find out.

In other news, I’ve lost 23 pounds since surgery. I think I could be doing better, but I’m going slightly over my daily calorie limit. Going to try harder to stay inside the lines.

Excellent non-scale victory (NSV) last night: I had to try on a bunch of tops from my dresser and upstairs closet that I haven’t been able to wear in over a year, and guess what? Most of them fit again. Many of them are just regular size larges. In fact, there are a couple of XLs that are slightly roomy.

Closet shopping is my favorite part of weight loss. Heard from Leah’s closet:

• I forgot I had this!
• It looks better now than it did when I bought it!
• I thought I threw that away!

Of course, I experience weight loss pretty evenly, not just concentrated in one or two areas of my body. So everything is getting smaller. I knew this was going to happen. It’s okay.

That’s it. You’re up to date. Have a super sweet Sunday, thanks for reading, and see you soon!

I was looking back at my most recent posts and I felt encouraged to see how positive they were. Winter is particularly difficult for me, it’s the only season I actively dislike.

It helps that it is almost over, that the days are getting longer, and that I just had an operation that almost guarantees I’m going to lose weight for several months, but even still.

Given my depression and anxiety, I have tendencies toward negativity, especially this time of year. It’s nice to see I’m fighting the good fight to think positively. Because sometimes it is a fight.

Am I practicing what I’m preaching? I can say that for the most part, I am. I’ve been focusing on the good rather than dwelling on the not-so-good. For example, I lost the preschool job, but I’m looking forward to transitioning to regular education to see what that’s like. No case management responsibilities, no leading IEP meetings in the incredibly awkward way that I do. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even like it better. Only one way to find out.

The only thing that makes me nervous is the bathroom. I’m supposed to be sipping water all day long. What happens when I need to use the bathroom in the middle of a class?

Hahaha, “the only thing that makes me nervous…” Sure. I’m not at all nervous about working with 7th graders!

But I don’t know. They weren’t so bad in my last teaching job, except for that one day in that one math class I got thrown into. If I make an effort to get to know them, their interests, and so on, maybe it will be fine. Desmond is in 6th grade, how much different can 7th be?

Famous last words.

You have to have a sense of humor with kids this age, I know that. If you don’t, you’re toast. Or they’re toast. Either way, you don’t want toast.

You have to have empathy. I have plenty of that. 7th grade was, by a landslide, the worst, most difficult year of my childhood. Anyone who gets through it in one piece is amazing, in my opinion.

Lori said I did a good job with kids this age. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I can do it. Maybe I just need practice.

Maybe this year, I’ve accidentally stumbled upon the right thing for me. Lord knows it’s happened before.

I’m down another 1.2. I can definitely see a change in my face. There is more angularity, less cheek. I would do a comparison on Canva, but I’ve run out of time.

I’m on Stage 5 now, which means I can eat mostly anything as long as it’s within 10 grams of fat, sugar, 20 grams or more of protein, and isn’t bread or raw vegetables. I’ve experimented with new foods like sweet potato pasta, these giant popped corn discs I got from the store, and herb and garlic tuna without any Miracle Whip. Good stuff.

I’ve started up my strength training regimen at the gym again, but unfortunately, I’ve had to start way back at the beginning because it had been so many weeks since my last session.

But I’m definitely headed in the right direction.

The kids and Derek made Oreo brownies last night. They smelled amazing when I came in the door, but they didn’t tempt me like they would have pre surgery. I know this is temporary, and the temptations may eventually come back, but it’s nice to have for right now.

Gym time!

Well my friends, winter is slowly fading. The days are getting longer on both ends, and the people are starting to rise out of their seasonal funks with spring just around the corner. And stuff like that.

I’m down another 0.8 today. I was stuck for a few days. I think it was a matter of adjusting to my new calorie range, once I had been advanced to the next food phase. That’s right, I am no longer relegated to mushy foods. I can eat pretty much anything, except breads.

I am down to a size 18 jeans, from a 22, so, still in the plus sizes, and it will take some time, but I’ll get there. Size 8 would be great. Size 6 would be amazing, I just don’t know how attainable.

I’ve seen lots of people on the WDH site who’ve lost 100 pounds or more, easily more than 95% of their excess weight. They look really good, so it makes me think there’s no reason why I can’t do the same.

If I lost 100 pounds, that would make me 109. So I don’t even need to lose 100 pounds, because I think 109 would be too thin. I was 109 at 20 and pretty sure I looked gaunt. I would be thrilled to get down to 115-20.

I mean, I did this whole thing to myself. I might as well go all in, right?

I think my chest has already shrunk down a tiny bit, and I see no evidence of weirdness so far. Usually, when I lose weight, it’s the first thing to go.

I hope and pray that I don’t have a ton of extra skin at the end of this. I can’t afford cosmetic surgery. However, it is likely to be a non-issue, because I will probably have friction rashes from excess skin, anyway. My skin is extremely sensitive. So if that’s the case, I’ll probably be able to have it covered by insurance. I just have heard it’s a painful process.

Anyway, believe it or not, I get tired of talking about this stuff and about myself and I am boring myself right now.

In other news, Desmond did so well on his explanatory essay that his teacher emailed us and his entire academic team about it. Isn’t that something? We are very proud of him. I’m so happy that he can write. Not surprised, but very glad. I have the smartest kids.

The preschool position I broke my previous contract for fell through. However, the middle school needs a 7th grade English language arts teacher, so I’m going to give that a shot.

The good news? I don’t have to organize or facilitate any IEP meetings, no time-consuming evaluations or other case management responsibilities to worry about.

The not-so-good news? I guess there are several “heavy hitters” in the 7th grade class that I will have to win over. I already kind of have a plan for this, but you know what they say about the best laid plans. We’ll see what happens.

I got a good feeling from administration. I liked them a lot. I felt like we clicked in a way I haven’t felt with other administrators. So that’s a plus.

The curriculum doesn’t sound too bad. They already have a book they’re reading, and a vocabulary program.

If it’s a good fit, it could potentially go into next year.

I am keeping an open mind. I can’t walk into it thinking it’s going to be awful. Then it will be. I might love it. I don’t know yet.

I can teach kids to write. What an amazing opportunity. Most kids hate writing. If I can get them to appreciate it, I’ll have done them a huge service.

I’m looking forward to getting started.

I didn’t take a picture of my own scale this morning, so instead, you get a gif of this cute little girl. You’re welcome.

I made it down into the 180’s today: 189.8. I lost one pound from yesterday.

I’m not surprised I lost a pound after yesterday’s events. I worked my butt off all day. At the gym I did strength training. Then I did freight at the store for five hours, unloading the worst cart full of large coir mats, which are not only heavy, but also rubber on the bottom, and damn hard to stack neatly on those slanted shelves.

Oh, right. My weight restrictions have been lifted, that’s why I’m able to do all of these tasks again. There’s a possibility I took on too much to start.

I had another follow up with Lindsey. I’m on the beginning of Phase 5 of food, now, which is the lifelong phase, except for breads. I can’t have breads for two more months. But I can eat a lot more foods, including fruits and vegetables with soft skins, and, my lifesaver, chia seeds.

I can’t believe how fast the weeks have flown by. The first few days post-op just dragged on forever, but after I got over that initial recovery period, things really picked up.

They are happy with my progress, so that’s a good sign.

I notice changes, too. My clothes have more give, it’s a lot easier to bend over and tie my shoes, I think I can see a difference in my face, feel a difference in my belly.

I’m tired again today. I may lie down after everyone leaves. I may take a power nap right now, before I leave for the gym.

Have a worry-free Wednesday, and thanks for reading.

Can we be done with this, now? I’m so sick of winter. I’ll bet you are, too.

I’m supposed to work. I don’t know if it’s worth risking my life for a part time job. There’s a storm warning and it said travel could be extremely dangerous. I may call out.

I went in Thursday, but I don’t think conditions were as severe as they’re projecting for today.

If I do call out, I’m entirely missing my workout for the day, because I won’t go to the gym, either, and just working in the store is a workout. I get thousands of steps there. And I sweat like a maniac, unfortunately.

There is the elliptibike upstairs, though. I’ve used it a couple of times when I’ve gotten stuck like this. It’s slightly awkward. I find it better to use as an elliptical than as a bike.

I broke even on the scale this morning. Exactly the same as yesterday. Bummer. I was hoping for another loss. Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.

Am I weighing in too often? Probably. But it helps me stay on track. And I don’t think I become too obsessed with the numbers, even if they go up slightly. I know they’ll probably go back down the next day.

I already feel different, even after just 20-something pounds. It’s easier to tie my shoes and put on socks. Slightly easier to get up a flight of stairs. I think I look a little different, too, in the face. And I swear my little belly roll feels smaller.

I can’t stress enough that it wasn’t huge to begin with. My urologist said it wasn’t bad at all, it just looked like a little bit of life happened to me.

I am praying I’m not left with a lot of loose skin. When you lose weight very quickly, at my age, sometimes that is an issue. Skin loses its elasticity over time, and as you age, it doesn’t necessarily snap back into place after significant weight loss.

My surgeon said to hold off doing anything about it for two years. Insurance only covers medically necessary skin removal. So I would have to have rashes, infections, etc. I figured that would be very easy to demonstrate, since I’m always rashy. I have the world’s most sensitive skin.

But so far, I don’t see evidence of excess skin, anyway. It just looks like things are shrinking. It might be too early to tell.

I read a memoir about a woman who had gastric bypass and skin removal, and she said that the skin removal is painful, and the way she describes the recovery process…it sounds disgusting and complicated. You’re reliant on other people to help get you through it.

I like to think I’m immortal and that my skin has superhuman qualities, but let’s face it: I am almost 47. The last time I lost a lot of weight, I think I did have a little bit of excess skin, just on my belly. It wasn’t a big deal, but I’m never going to have that perfect little, flat, 20-year-old tummy again. Not without reconstruction.

By the time I’m ready for reconstructive surgery, I’ll be 50. Am I still going to want a flat tummy at 50? It’s not like I’m going to be wearing belly shirts to work. Those days are over.

I guess it’s all about hassle, at that point. How much hassle am I willing to go through just to have a stunning body that almost no one cares about anyway because I’m a 50-year-old woman?

But I’ll still care. That’s the thing. I don’t look 50. I don’t look 40, according to some people. Why not milk it?

I can’t afford cosmetic surgery, I think that’s the bottom line. But if I saved for it? But I need that money for so many other, more important things!

Anyway, before I start saving money for specific things, I need to be able to just save money. I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a tangible goal to help motivate me to save, though.

I think I’m putting the cart way before the horse right now. I don’t know how I’m going to look in a year. I may look great, and not have to change anything. I’m getting miles ahead of myself.

I do that, get ahead of myself. I worry about the future all the time. I should practice mindfulness, and focus on the present. I think it would alleviate a lot of my stress and anxiety.

When I get like that, instead of rambling on like I have in this post, I should pause, stop myself, and say, “I’m not there, yet. I’ll figure it out when I get there.” I know this. In my heart, in my mind. It’s just a matter of putting what I know into practice.

I’ll bet meditation and yoga would help me a lot.

From snow to yoga, in just 43 easy steps.

Have a serene Sunday, my friends. Stay safe. Stay warm.

I hope I can do most everything in sequence today. I kind of feel “off” when I flip routines around. And then I wonder if I’m on the spectrum. But you don’t have to be autistic to like routine. But there were all those screenings. None of them have ever definitively said I am not spectrummy.

But I do also have qualities that are incongruous with an autism diagnosis. For example, I am a huge empath. Typically individuals on the spectrum have difficulty with empathy. I think I can read facial expressions and social cues. But that might be due to 46 years of practice and some direct teaching.

But there is definitely something different about me, beyond ADHD. It’s just no one has figured out exactly what it is that makes me different.

I had a dream I was in sixth grade and we were doing something with sponges. I had mine in my mouth and was chewing it because I liked the texture. Then I started to choke on it. I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.

Some people think dreams don’t mean anything, but I don’t know. If that’s true, why do I have the same ones over and over? Losing my teeth. Crazy elevators. Intruders trying to get in the house. My mother still being alive. If nothing else, they seem to be a manifestation of all of my desires, worries, and insecurities.

I didn’t mean to get all analytical and philosophic right out the gate, but here we are.

I’m down again today. 191.2. So close to 190, I can taste it. Actually, it’s 189 I’m most excited about right now. I’m stoked about that 8 being right around the corner.

Already it’s much easier to bend over, put on socks and tie my sneakers. Stairs are still hard, but I do have a bad knee. On the other hand, my knee is not bothering me as much as it used to.

It was a nice Valentine’s Day. I got beautiful cards and a rose bouquet. I got Derek the Whitman’s Sampler of chocolate that he said he’d always wanted. I got Desmond a keepsake keychain with a message on the back, and Aislyn a necklace with a message on the pendant. Not very original, I grant you, but everyone seemed to like what they got.

I celebrate Valentine’s Day because it’s nice to, but I also recognize it as an attempt on the greeting card companies’ part to make more money. Other days hold more significance for me.

I’m falling asleep in front of my screen, so I’m going to take a power nap before the gym. Have a sequential Saturday. Thanks for reading.

I woke up at 1:00 this morning and didn’t end up ever getting back to sleep. Instead, I spent hours on WordPress trying to figure out why there was no navigation on my website and how to fix it. I couldn’t fix the header I had, so I swapped it out with a better one, and that one seems to be working. So you can now see my About page if you want.

From that, I went straight to the gym. Then the kids got ready and left for school, I laid down and fell asleep right up until it was time to leave for my follow up appointment at the bariatric center. Next, I came home and went back to bed, but didn’t sleep much. I got up, ate lunch, made crustless pumpkin pies, which are now cooling, and fielded phone calls. Now, finally, I’m doing this.

My follow up went well. She was happy with my progress: 14 pounds since the surgery (I thought it was more than that, but maybe I’m counting from back before the surgery). My nutritionist will move me up to Phase 5 in a few days. I’m not sure what that is, I have to reread it.

I am excited about my pies. I love pumpkin pie. I hope they came out well.

I’ve felt vaguely ill again all day today. Most days I feel nauseous.

It’s weird. I haven’t done much today. But I did everything I set out to do, so to me it seems like I did a lot.

I do still have to call Lowe’s.

Both cats are on the bed, so I can’t make the bed. What? I don’t want to disturb them! This is the only day I haven’t done it.

So it’s been a backwards Friday. I did everything out of order.

Desmond is home now, so I’m going to go. Happy Backwards Friday!

Also, happy Valentine’s Day! ❤️❤️❤️

I’m supposed to work today. I don’t know if it’s worth the drive. I might not go.

It’s about a 15-minute commute. If it were right in town, then maybe. But it’s not.

I don’t really talk to anyone. I just work alone all day and then come home. People who work there mostly seem nice, I just haven’t engaged with them. It probably doesn’t help that I’m not there everyday.

I might still be tired. I might go back to sleep for a while. The kids have a snow day. Desmond and I are the only ones up, but he’s upstairs.

Maybe I’ll have more to talk about later.

I’m up 0.8 today, which is not that surprising, given yesterday’s menu.

That’s not why I’m in such a horrible mood.

I’m itchy everywhere this morning, including places I can’t scratch.

But that’s not why, either.

I think I only slept four hours, without any mask.

Even that’s not why.

Rejection. It is my biggest fear, and it triggers all kinds of negative emotions. I do not handle it well.

That is all I really have to say right now.

Down 0.2. I feel like progress is slow, but then I remember I’ve been on the scale daily since the surgery. I’m actually losing weight pretty rapidly, as expected.

I go into work today at the store. I’m hoping against hope there are no heavy boxes to deal with, but it seems unlikely, as I only work freight.

If I tell them I have a weight restriction, they might put me on a register. I do not want to get stuck on a register. You have to ask every shopper if they want to become a member of the Rewards Club. It’s not a credit card, thank God, it’s free, but a lot of people still say no. I’m not good at “selling” it. I’m really only persuasive when I’m writing, I think.

But I mean, if I do stationery (ugh, I hate stationery), most of those boxes are less than 20 pounds.

I had a problem last year, after I had sling surgery. I team lifted 50 pounds and my incision scar got infected. They had to repair it and it was painful. It happened several weeks after the surgery, too; you would think I would’ve been in the clear, by then. Nope.

That’s why I’m nervous about heavy boxes. I don’t especially like asking for help. I know it’s probably fine, but I still feel like I’m putting people out. I want to be able to complete tasks on my own.

But I don’t want to end up back in the hospital, either.

It will be fine. Everything will be fine. I need to stop worrying. There are plenty of coworkers around who don’t mind helping.

It will be good to get out of the house. Also, I’ll get in more steps at the store.

Speaking of steps, it’s gym time. Have a turtlish (like a turtle 🐢) Tuesday. Thanks for reading.

Desmond and Aislyn both seem to be feeling better. For Aislyn, we figured out that if we put the medicine in chocolate milk, then add an obscene amount of chocolate syrup to the chocolate milk, she will drink the concoction before the milk sours.

You can still taste the medicine, even when it’s drowned in chocolate, and she complains about it, but she doesn’t outrightly refuse it. It’s probably not the healthiest, but it’s only a few ounces, and if it’s the one thing that gets her over the strep, of course I’m going to do it.

You can tell Desmond is still not 100%, but he’s definitely feeling better than he was Saturday. Luckily, I don’t think he has the strep. That was miserable for him, when had it last year. He couldn’t eat for weeks because of his sore throat. The first course of antibiotics didn’t take, and he had to do a whole second round.

Both kids were up and about yesterday, playing and doing typical kid stuff. They even played together for a short time. Desmond made cookies. I’m not sure if he watched the Super Bowl, because I was in bed early last night. My guess is no.

I love live sporting events like hockey and basketball. Baseball is usually okay, but football, I just can’t follow. I have a hard time watching any sport on television.

Derek is feeling better than he was, but still seems to be hanging onto something. At this point, he would probably benefit from calling his PCP. But that’s just my opinion. I’m not a doctor (or a nurse).

Or maybe it’s viral and he just has to ride it out.

As for me, I’ve skirted all the sicknesses so far. Which is great, because I already kind of perpetually feel ill due to the gigantic change in my body. I even went to the ER and still managed not to catch anything.

It probably helps that I have a teacher’s immune system. My first year in a school, I was sick more often than I was well. Over the years, though, you build up your immunity. Now, if I get sick at all, I’m usually last.

I did have COVID over Thanksgiving, though.

I am down another 0.6 today. I think I can see a difference in my face. It’s hard for me to be sure.

And I’m just realizing I forgot to add Miralax into my protein shake. Now I have to wait 30 minutes before I can drink anything.

That’s all I have right now for updates. Now I must prepare for the gym. Thanks for reading, talk soon.

I figured Desmond would appreciate the sarcasm in this gif. Now, he too is full blown sick. Fever, throwing up, extreme fatigue. No complaints of a sore throat as yet.

Desmond had strep last year, and he had to go through two courses of antibiotics to get rid of it, poor kid. The second antibiotic does not taste like bubblegum. It tastes like dirty floor.

Fortunately, Desmond has an easier time taking medicine than Aislyn. I think his logical brain immediately understands that even if it tastes terrible, it’s going to help.

We don’t know what he has. Strep? COVID? Regular flu? It came on fast, just yesterday morning as a headache, and bloomed to full scale fever and vomiting by night.

I feel so badly for my family.

I’m the last man standing.

It’s important that I stay well so I can work this week. I’m going back to the store at least through February. Need the income.

It’s important, also, that the snow doesn’t get in my way. Retail doesn’t care if it’s blizzard ing outside; they want you there.

I didn’t think I’d lose after yesterday. I went just over 1,000 calories because I had two, high-calorie protein shakes and one too many snacks. But I still went down a tiny bit on the scale.

At least I can say that part of my life is going in the right direction, now.

I feel like I could go back to bed. The keys on my touch screen are blurring and multiplying. I might.

Caring for a sick child takes a lot of energy, especially if said child is afraid of medicine.

I signed up for this. I have to figure it out.

Yes, I went with Seth and Amy. I like Colin and Michael, just not as much, and Tina was not available.

Aislyn most likely has strep. They couldn’t get a swab test from her. Apparently she has a powerful gag reflex. It took two hours to get her to take the very pleasant, bubble gum-flavored amoxicillin because she doesn’t like that, either.

I resorted to many strategies that made me completely uncomfortable before we had any success. In the end it was simply guiding a medicine dropper into her mouth with her help. If only I had done that in the first place.

I’m not at all surprised, and I don’t expect it to be any easier today or tonight, or even tomorrow. She has had issues with food forever. She eats Kraft Mac and Cheese, McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and chicken patties, and that’s about it. She does like fruit, at least.

A wise superior once told me that there are three things you simply cannot force a child to do: eat, sleep, and go to the bathroom. He was always right on when it came to young kids.

There’s no preschool in my immediate future. They decided not to change things at this point in the year. They were going to put me in a social emotional learning classroom, but that also fell through. So now there is a possibility of 7th grade ELA. I haven’t made any decisions, I want to talk to the admin first.

I’ve lost about 20 pounds in the last month.

I didn’t get to the gym yesterday, and there’s a good chance I’m not going this morning, either. Aislyn is having trouble sleeping since she’s been sick, so she may be up, and I don’t want to leave her alone down here.

I’m pretty sure there’s another UNH game today, so I probably won’t be able to go later, either, between that and karate.

Maybe I’ll go to the gym instead of WW. That could work. I hate sacrificing WW, but I don’t know how else I’m going to get my walk in today.

Desmond is going to be taking accelerated math online. I am so proud of him.

That’s all I have at the moment. Have a good night, and a pleasant tomorrow.

I made this from a recipe on eatyourbeets.com. It’s a mixture of ricotta and parmesan cheese and seasonings with marinara sauce. They look nice, but they didn’t come out as hearty as I’d hoped they would. In fact, the cheese mixture was a bit thin and watery.

There is a possibility I didn’t put enough of the mixture into each dish. There were only supposed to be four, and, as you can see, I made five.

It was the first time I’d ever used (or heard of) ramekin dishes, so at least I got those out of the deal. Seems like they might be fun to use for portioned desserts or something.

They did not come out as well as the meatballs I made a few days ago. But they weren’t bad, either. The good news is, I have plenty of leftovers to use as meals.

It might be due to a lack of experience on my part. If it sounds interesting to you, give it a try.

Recipe

Aislyn still has a fever. So she’ll have to go to the doctor today. She was up at 4:00 to go to the bathroom and asked if she could stay up with me. I was in the middle of making a frozen drink in the blender, so I said it was okay. I drank it as fast as I could, given my circumstances, and then we went in her room and I got her back to sleep.

I’m just watching her sleep.

She is so beautiful.

She’s afraid of the doctor because she hates taking medicine. If she won’t take mixed berry flavored Motrin, how am I going to get her to take something less pleasant?

We could never get her to take Dramamine, either. Not even the chewables. She used to get car sick on any trip longer than 10 minutes. We had extra towels in our back seats for years.

I can hear Desmond getting up for school. I kind of want to go out there and check on him. But I’m afraid of waking her up. She thinks she didn’t sleep at all last night.

Desmond and I, knock on wood, are still okay. We just have coughs. As far as I know.

Derek is better today.

I can’t help but worry when people are sick. I’m powerless to make them better. I worry when I’m sick, too, about the people I can’t be there for. It’s safe to say I just worry no matter what.

Susan, my first therapist, when I was 14, said not to worry about things I can’t control. But as an adult, I feel like I’m supposed to be in control of everything at all times. My anxiety.

If something is out of my control, I often feel like I haven’t done enough to gain control of it. Is that crazy?

Anyway, she’s awake again. I should go.

Down another 0.8. Not so backed up, anymore. I’m aware of my calorie needs. It looks like I’m moving in the right direction.

My daughter is sick. She came home pale yesterday evening, coughing and behaving the way she does when she’s unwell: clingy, weepy.

She has a fever. She refuses medicine. I can’t force her to take it, but I wonder if I can sneak it into a beverage of some kind. While I don’t like deceiving her, I’m worried about her health.

Is it purple? Is it clear? I don’t remember, have to get up and check. She doesn’t like the grape flavor. If she sees any purple in the drink it’s game over for Mama.

Derek is also sick. Desmond and I are fine, except that Desmond has had a cough for a week or so, and my throat is tickly-scratchy.

I haven’t been doing my breathing, which probably isn’t great. I don’t want to get pneumonia. So I’m starting that up again today, just in case. Every 15 minutes I have to inhale twice into this odd-looking little contraption and move the small green disc up to the smiley face. It’s hard to explain. It sounds bizarre, though, doesn’t it? I’d take a picture of it, but I’m sitting here in the semi-dark, and I don’t feel like getting up just yet.

My calorie requirements turn out to be right in my most recent after visit notes, which I failed to read again. She must think I’m such a dingbat. 600-800 calories per day. So no wonder I wasn’t losing weight.

The kids have a traditional snow day today. So that means no school, no remote learning, and plenty of time for fighting. Nah, I’m juskiddin.

Actually, since Aislyn’s been sick, Desmond has been very supportive, talking to her, giving her hugs, making her laugh. He is clearly empathetic.

They think I don’t ever see the positive, but I do. They’re both very good kids. I wouldn’t change a thing about who they are.

Maybe we can do some kind of fun indoor project that requires them to call upon their strengths.

You can tell I’m a teacher.

Maybe I will get some cardboard from the store. Kids love cardboard boxes.

I’m going back to work part time at the store next week, at least until March 3. I’m hoping I can manage to avoid any boxes over 20 pounds. Of course I can always ask a coworker for help, but I’m reticent to do so most of the time. I want to be able to complete tasks myself.

That is what I had to do for a while at Lowe’s, though, after a different surgery.

I’ll figure it out. I can’t continue to be out of work until March.

That’s it for now. Have a thrilling Thursday, stay safe. Stay warm.

This post is old. I wrote it back in November, and was afraid to publish it. Now that I’m no longer there, here it is:

I got this table from my mentor, who got a new desk. So, with it, I created Duodesk. Now I have more room to do my planning.

I’ve always wanted this kind of desk.

You might be inclined to take issue with Duodesk. I don’t know why. I almost don’t want to post this.

I just have this weird feeling that for some reason Duodesk might tick someone off and they might try to have it disassembled. Please don’t do that. It’s extremely useful. The social studies teacher has a cool desk.

That’s all there really is to say about Duodesk.

I’m trying to plan my meals for the day using as few calories as possible and I still can’t get much under 800.

I read in one of my cookbooks not to exceed 1,000 calories a day at this stage. Then I read somewhere else only 400-800 calories for the first six weeks. Which would make sense, since I’m not losing weight, anymore!

I did reach out to Lindsey via patient portal, so she should be able to clarify what to aim for.

The problem with calories is they add up. I require so much protein everyday (60-80 grams), and, often, protein-rich foods contain more calories. Not always, but fairly frequently, in my estimation.

Because Lindsey had me switch back to yucky-tasting plant protein, I add a lot of junk to my morning shake to make it taste good: butterscotch pudding mix, peanut butter powder, chocolate syrup, whip topping. It’s all sugar free, but it still has calories. I could probably cut back there. My shake is close to 300 calories. Even if I just did:

• Protein powder: 150
• PB powder: 70
• Almond milk: 40?

Well, that wouldn’t help that much. If I nix the PB, then I’ve saved significantly more calories, but I lose the extra 8 grams of protein. And the shake tastes like butt.

Maybe I don’t need the extra protein. I’m usually always over at the end of the day.

Full disclosure: switching back to plant protein does seem to have helped get things moving again, so she was not wrong to suggest it. It’s just that that’s what I tried to tell them in the first place! There’s something about the whey-based shakes that really disagrees with me. Vehemently.

Apologies. I know this is all shop talk and extremely boring. But writing it down helps me work it out.

My point is right now, now that I’m feeling so much better than those first few days, I am already struggling with the limits of what I can do. It’s hard to eat 3-4 meals a day, bank 60-80 grams of protein and not exceed 800 calories—in my experience, at least. I can’t even imagine using only 400 calories. I was taking in around 400 calories those first days when I could barely eat one meal. That doesn’t seem right. It must’ve been less than that.

Yeah, must’ve been (Rutles reference).

But anyway, I guess I just have to eat foods the way they are and not dress them up with all kinds of extras because inevitably it will cost me.

Snack today? 1/2 cup of black beans. That’s it. Maybe a tiny bit of salsa or something. It’s hard when you don’t like onions. Maybe I’ll just put on a little dab of the garlic hot sauce I used to make the meatballs.

Let’s face it, the food has to be edible. Am I really going to want to eat a half cup of plain black beans? Not really.

It’s an interesting problem. You have to be restrictive…but also creative.

And so, with that, I go to the gym to take my walk. Talk soon. Thanks for reading.

Finally, I went. I’m going to have to stay hyper vigilant to keep things moving, though. I know this from experience.

And, I lost another pound. I was hoping for more than a pound, having been backed up for so long, but it is what it is. Better than nothing. No loss would’ve really bummed me out.

I’m not sure how many calories I’m supposed to be getting everyday. As far as I can tell, they don’t give you a guideline for calories, unless I missed it somewhere in the handbook. I could ask Lindsey (my nutritionist).

Anyway, I wonder if I’m eating too much. I get very close to 1,000 calories most days. Before my surgery, 1,800 calories was an average day for me. So that’s a pretty significant decrease.

I do notice I have much less of a capacity to overeat, now. I am full after half a cup of food per meal. Sometimes even before I’m all the way finished. Water makes me feel full, too. I can’t gulp it down like I used to, either. I can only sip, or I burp it back up. So even if I’m ravenously thirsty, I can’t take big swigs.

Decaf coffee is allowed at this stage, but my creamer isn’t. Even if it was, I don’t think I have the budget for it, anymore. As yet I have not found an even close to adequate replacement for my morning (and afternoon…and sometimes mid morning…and sometimes whenever) coffee. So that’s a little bit sad, but at the same time, I know I’m making better choices overall.

I won’t go back to Diet Pepsi because of what a fellow WW member told me: that one diet soda a day can cause you to gain 40 pounds in a year. Even though I still miss it.

Actually, what I really, really miss the most is regular Coke. It is probably my all time favorite beverage. Because of my weight, I haven’t been able to drink it in decades.

Funny thing, though, I drank gallons of it when I was a skinny girl, and never gained a pound from it then. I must’ve been just active enough to balance it out.

Yeah, must’ve been.

In high school, I did rigorous dance three days a week. But in college? Well, we walked everywhere, that’s the only thing I can think. I mean, I worked out when I felt like it, but I feel like it was sporadic at best.

People used to say I was too skinny. I probably was. But my mother put such pressure on me to stay a very specific size, so I thought skinny=good, and too skinny=even better. It didn’t even matter that I had no boobs!

At least when I have a little meat on my bones, I have a little bit there, too. Not a lot, I grant you. Just more than nothing.

I have a college ID somewhere that was taken junior year where I was so skinny I looked like a drug addict. I was gaunt. Sallow cheeks, huge eyes. I couldn’t have been more than 100 pounds. I looked terrible.

That summer I remember someone at work had indicated I looked bad and I was so upset I threw a pencil straight at his head. But he was right. I did look bad. I looked sick.

I almost think I look better now:

I’ll get there.

What “there” looks like, I’m really not sure. I just hope it’s something I can be happy with for the remainder of my life.

We’re only on Day 18, and I’m already plateauing. I’m supposed to be losing weight like crazy right now. I’m consuming under 1,000 calories a day. That’s, like, nothing. For someone who didn’t have the surgery, it would probably be considered borderline dangerous.

Of course I know why. It’s because my bus isn’t moving. It’s because I’m five days backed up.

I’m so fed up with my stupid body. I’ve done everything to help move it along: Miralax, Dulcolax, Fleet, senna tea, beans, mashed fruit, these horrible plant-based shakes that I hate so much, daily exercise. Nothing is working.

I have been eating bananas in my nice cream, she says, red creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. Look up any article. They will mostly all tell you that unripe bananas, at least, have starchy qualities that make them very binding.

Anyway, all of the kids’ pediatricians have always told us “no bananas.” Unfortunately, they have histories of severe and chronic constipation as well. I suspect they get it from their mama.

So maybe I should stop the nice cream. Or use fresh bananas that are very ripe like I used to do. It tastes better that way, anyhow.

I don’t do a lot of dairy. I use it as a garnish on some foods. I know not to exploit dairy because, remember, dairy doesn’t like me.

This has happened to me before. It happened in 2021 for three solid months. I had two unproductive visits to the ER, a consult with a GI specialist, and a colonoscopy, which, thankfully, came out normal. One entire bottle of Miralax later, per GI doctor, I was “cured.”Except I had to continue taking the Miralax everyday.

I know that chia seeds would help me, but I can’t eat seeds right now. Just prior to surgery, I wasn’t even taking any Miralax anymore. I was just mixing a couple of tablespoons of chia seeds into my food. I was doing quite well with that. That’s why this is such a bummer. I feel like I’ve regressed in that area. Well, I have.

I really am an old lady, aren’t I? I’ve become absolutely obsessed with this topic and oversharing it. But when it happens to you, it’s hard to think about (or talk about) much else. You feel lousy all the time, and it is concerning when something that needs to happen won’t.

So, here’s to another day of trying to get my bus up and going. Wish me luck. Pray for me.

I guess it could be worse.

I tidied up the pantry right after I published that previous post. Didn’t take five minutes.

For those who were confused, it was a post I had started sometime in November, saved as draft, and forgotten about for, like, three months. That’s why it seems a little out of sync.

I have a few of those posts in draft status, that, either I ran out of time writing, or thought may or may not be too stupid to publish. Some of them are just responses to the writing prompts the app generates everyday.

It seems I do a better job writing about the everyday, concrete events than more abstract concepts. I don’t know why that is because I am pretty okay with the abstract. I supposedly have the Abstract Sequential learning style, also. As usual, I am the least common of all of the types, although in this case, there are only four.

I think for me, writing about the abstract…I can do it. I can do it well. But it requires more time and more concentration on my part. Also more revisions.

How did I get here from my pantry?

For someone who hasn’t been very far, I travel all over in my mind.

Sorry about this whacko random post. I have to get out to the gym now. Talk soon, who knows, maybe even something abstract.

All of the games and puzzles and arts and crafts have been assimilated into the pantry, and the pantry has two new overhead bulbs. *Sigh*

Of course, what I’m not showing you is the mess I left in the dining room of miscellaneous odds and ends, loose papers and empty bookshelves. Those are for another day.

You would think from the looks of it that we play a lot of games. We actually don’t. We always say we should, but other things come up.

Also, I buy a lot of games that look like they would be fun that we then don’t actually play. Taco vs. Burrito, What Goes on a Cheeseburger, 90’s Trivia, and so forth.

Dang, this looked like it was going to be a really good post, but it’s been hanging out in my drafts for several months. It’s a lot less relevant, now.

Full disclosure: I wish my pantry still looked this good. Sadly, it does not.

It could be worse. You should have seen it when we kept the recycling in here. We were knee-deep in cardboard and bottles, I kid you not. This is paradise compared to that.

Anyway, it’s a work in progress.

In other news, Desmond was Student of the Week last week in his martial arts class and he was also advanced to a yellow belt. He does a great job, really. Not only is he the most attentive, polite, and well-behaved student in the class, but he’s technically quite good, too, especially having just started in November. I am always impressed when I go.

He was also in the spelling bee at school while I was in the hospital.

I want to enroll Aislyn in ballet or some kind of dance because I think she would love it and be good at it, but I haven’t told her so SHHHHH!

And now I feel bad that it’s taken me this long to report such big news about Desmond. I’ve been so consumed with this whole bariatric saga I’ve hyper focused on just the one thing for weeks on end.

Nevertheless, I am very proud of him. And Aislyn, too, who continues to do well in school and be a positive influence in her class.

I had my follow up visit yesterday. It went well, she advanced me to the next food stage, which is mashed, pureed, soft foods. Start multivitamin, calcium citrate.

But the bus isn’t moving.

It’s a horrible metaphor, and I apologize profusely, but I can’t think of a better one.

It’s been three days. It’s all gassed up, it just won’t go.

I need a driver.

I need a mechanic.

My nutritionist thinks the introduction of additional foods (with more fiber) will help.

She’s also now suggesting I go back to the plant-based shakes, to which I’ve developed an aversion since the surgery, to see if that makes any difference. I’m like, yeah, great. But you know me, “I’ll do whatever” is practically my motto.

This is my life right now, and it is not particularly glamorous. I feel like an old lady, always talking about my ailments.

But I think it will get better, the more food I can eat, especially vegetables.

I took a sampler of Bariatric Advantage Orange Cream protein powder, blended it with 10 ice cubes and 8 ounces of almond milk, added sugar free whip cream and voila! The Orange Creamsicle. It’s not bad, a little grainy. Maybe I didn’t mix it well enough.

I woke up about four times last night, so I figured this last time, at 2:00, I might as well get up.

I have a follow up appointment today with my nutritionist. I should prepare a list of questions because I always forget all of my questions at the appointment. I can’t do it on my phone because it’s a virtual appointment and I don’t know how to share my screen over the patient portal.

But I do have questions. I chipped my tooth early on. I can’t even remember how I did it—an ice pop, I think. And I don’t know if I’m possibly calcium-deficient.

I want to know what to do when there’s no happy medium in the regularity department. It’s always either one extreme or the other. Sorry, but if I’m being really real…

Are resistance bands okay for strength training?

Can I do exercises to strengthen my core?

Will I have to eat sugar free ice cream in the future to avoid dumping syndrome? Can I no longer have regular desserts, like birthday cake, cookies my kids bake, and so on?

Is my end goal reasonable or should I up it?

What does 50-60% of your excess weight mean?

How much am I likely to lose if I keep working at it the whole time?

Am I losing at a good rate so far?

Well, look at that, I ended up with a list on my phone after all. It’s all good, I copied it into a notebook.

Anyway, let’s see if I can actually make it to the gym at my regular time today. Even as early as 7:30, it’s a totally different vibe in there from what I’m used to, and it throws me off. 5:30 is the best time. Even though it’s still dark out and I hurry to my car.

Before we know it, it will even be light at 5:30 for a while. I love that time of year. May. Just starting to get warm.

Before we know it.

I didn’t even realize it, but I’ve been sitting here on my couch for the last 10 minutes with my legs crossed. I couldn’t do that before.

Now I’m going to stop, though, because it’s still not super comfortable.

So far since the surgery, I’ve lost 13 pounds. It’s been two weeks. This other lady on FB lost 18 pounds in only 10 days, but it’s not a race. Well, not a close one, anyway. Nah, but…yeah.

So, what do I do for Milestone 2? Call a long lost friend and brag about it. No. Put away groceries. No, but I will be doing that pretty soon. Maybe get that quilt at OS. If it’s still there.

Seems like something to do with pants would be appropriate. Or legs.

Right now I’m going to straighten out the living room bookcase. It’s been bothering me for some time, now.

I made the mistake of taking a dose of Miralax yesterday afternoon and I’ve been sick ever since.

I forget that my stomach is now a fraction of its original size. One dose of Miralax must be like five.

So what do I do, just drink the tea? Will that be enough? I don’t think so, because it hasn’t been so far.

I will have to talk to my nutritionist.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to the gym today, on account of the weather. To me, it doesn’t look that bad, but who knows?

We have a winter weather advisory through 1 PM, so I guess I won’t go. I may go back to bed. I’m seeing double.

I ordered this:

This:

And a variety of sugar free pudding mixes to add flavor to my protein smoothies. Treat yo self.

I thought if I went out shopping, I would probably spend a lot more money, and this is hopefully just the first of many successes coming my way over the next several months.

I’ve got to go find something to do.

This happened today. I haven’t seen that 1 in over a year. Welcome home!

To celebrate this on-scale victory, I am going to not go out to eat, A) because I can’t, and 2) because it would be counterproductive.

I am going to not walk like an Egyptian on the treadmill at the gym and not care who notices, because I care who notices and I don’t want complete strangers to know I am insane. Besides, is Walk Like an Egyptian even still considered PC?

For those of you who are too young to know or remember, Walk Like an Egyptian was a hit song in the 1980s by a group called The Bangles.

How am I going to celebrate this first milestone? I think it’s important that I do.

I usually celebrate victories by going out and buying new clothes, but that can get expensive.

Haircut? I badly need one. My hair is terrible right now.

My nails are terrible, too. I could get press-ons.

I’ve always thought I don’t need makeup, but I have to say, I did a video self-interview yesterday for a volunteer podcast manager role and I looked so washed out on screen with nothing on my face. I could see where some well applied makeup could really make my best features pop.

PS—I tanked the interview.

I don’t know. I’ve got to figure out something. It’s been a rough several days and something good has happened. I need to treat yo self (it’s a Parks and Rec thing).

Sun Shower by Chris Cornell. I am listening to it now. It is such a beautiful song.

Treat yo self.

Don’t worry, I’m not done treating yo self. I just remembered that came on the radio yesterday morning and I didn’t get to hear the whole thing and I was bummed out. So I downloaded it to my Liked songs.

I’ve got to get rolling to the gym, but I’ll keep you in the loop about how I decide to celebrate this development.

I went to bed at 6:00 PM, so I guess it makes sense that I’m wide awake at 2:30 AM. But instead of snacking like I used to do, I’m drinking my sugar free water enhanced beverage. My dietician told me snacking out of bed is a big factor in regain.

Actually, one of the really cool features of the Baritastic app is that you can generate reports of the data you track. So I tried that yesterday morning and guess what I discovered: not surprisingly, the vast majority of my calories were coming from my creamer. But when I saw the actual number, I about choked on my smooth move tea.

I grant you, that only averages out to 172 calories a day. But it’s still a huge number, overall. Especially for such a tertiary food.

It was also the highest in carbs:

I think that’s pretty significant.

Now that I’ve been off my coffee ritual, I have a choice to make. Do I go back to it as before, drinking several cups a day? Do I limit myself to one or two cups? Or do I avoid it altogether?

Of course the best choice would probably be to avoid it completely, given the high calories. Can I do that, once it’s back on the table? I have the tea, which is kind of pleasant, but not as good.

There must be something more cost-effective I can do…

I will have to think about this.

The kids and I made cookies. The process was kind of a disaster.

The ingredients didn’t moisten at all, so I ended up having to knead them together with my hands to form the dough.

The kids argued literally the entire time over every little thing—who got to pour the mix into the bowl, who got to stir first, who was making that annoying sound with their voice, stop singing, stop yelling, stop this, stop that.

Desmond, the perfectionist, got upset every time he had a minor spill out the bowl. Aislyn, the competitor, got upset that she was never first at anything. There was yelling at the cat for jumping up on the island; I think he was just trying to help.

But even after all of that and much, much more, we got the cookies in the oven and damned if they didn’t come out beautifully regardless. I guess they taste good, too. I don’t know, I can’t eat them.

At one point I did almost forget and put a doughy chocolate chip in my mouth. Don’t worry, I caught myself in time.

I thought it would be a nice activity for a Sunday afternoon that didn’t involve screens. I just couldn’t get them to get along.

When this happens I feel like I have failed them, even though they chose to engage in the behavior. I do that, though. I take on responsibility for a lot of things I shouldn’t. “It’s my fault.”

I don’t want them learning that from me. I don’t want Aislyn to grow up blaming herself for everyone else’s mistakes. Or Desmond. It’s too heavy a burden for anyone.

This post was just supposed to be about cookies. So forget this heavy stuff. Just think about the cookies. Mmmmm, cookies.

I was having not nightmares exactly, but rather unsettling dreams, so I decided just to get up for now.

My stomach is in knots. All of the Miralax, Dulcolax, and senna tea have finally caught up with me, or so it would seem.

I am right on the edge of oneness, a place I haven’t been since my Lowe’s days. Since last winter, probably. It is an important milestone.

I like this time of night. It’s quiet. Peaceful. I can sit with my thoughts and generate actual work. It’s really hard to do any other time of day with all of the different distractions: TV, talking, kids, etc. I can do it sometimes, but it takes a lot of mental energy. It’s almost like a kind of involuntary multitasking, to be writing while simultaneously trying to manage the background noise.

I’ve been following neurodivergent memes on Facebook lately, and it’s interesting to me how much I identify with them. I mean, I read them because they’re funny. But they’re also true. I didn’t even know I was neurodivergent until 2017, but you’d think I might’ve guessed.

When I was a kid, ostracized by other kids, I always felt like I was no different from them and I couldn’t understand why they didn’t “get” me. I actually think, had I known I was in fact a little different from them, it would have been easier for me. It might’ve taken away the pressure to “be normal.” Well, I’m not normal, so don’t try to tell me to be something I’m not.

I don’t know, I’m just guessing.

Well, now it’s time to get up. And here I was thinking of getting back in bed. Nope.

It’s been fun, but now I have to go. Join me again sometime in the Wee Hours. Sounds like a podcast.

In a week I’ve lost 11 pounds, which I guess is not that surprising when you have a huge calorie deficit everyday.

I can’t remember if they asked me about a specific end goal on this journey. When Aislyn was a baby, I got down to 130 pounds, which, don’t get me wrong, was nice. It was in the high end of the healthy range for someone my height. I looked good, felt good.

If we’re wishing for things, though, 115-120 would be insanely good.

But in all honesty, and I know this about myself, I am way hung up on numbers. I think I get this from my mother. When I gained even five pounds, she let me know it. When I came home one quarter with four B’s and three A’s on my report card, she was obviously disappointed. Sixth grade. Can you imagine putting that much pressure on your child for grades that don’t even matter? No college cares what you did in sixth grade.

That’s nothing. When I was in kindergarten, she screamed at me one afternoon for bearing down on my crayons in a picture I had drawn of a robin laying eggs.

I know, she was unwell. That didn’t make it any easier.

Anyway…

What I really need to do is focus less on the number and more on how I feel: how is my health, fitness, confidence? It may be that 115 is too small for a 47-year-old. I won’t know unless and until I’m in that vicinity.

I still have a long way to go. I’m right at the beginning of this happy trail. I’m just taking it day by day.

I overslept this morning. Got up at 6:00. It’s thrown off my whole daily routine.

Actually, surgery has thrown off my whole daily routine.

Even the most mundane aspects of my schedule are now different. Taking my pills, for example, is going to take much longer than it used to. I used to swallow all 10 of them at once with a giant swig of water: 3 seconds. I can’t do that anymore.

I’ve been instructed to take one pill at a time from now on, and nothing larger than an M&M. Anything larger has to be broken down into applesauce. So I have three capsules I have to open and empty into applesauce and eat.

Since I’m not taking all of my meds right now, only the most essential, I haven’t really timed the process, yet. But I’m guessing it will be something like 15 minutes.

Then, I eat breakfast, and I’m supposed to take 30-60 minutes doing so. It used to take me about 10 minutes to eat. Now, it easily can take an hour, if I finish.

I have to get up and walk around at least every hour to prevent blood clots, which is not a problem, as I get restless anyway. I’m also supposed to breathe into this little device every 15 minutes to help prevent pneumonia. I’m not so good at remembering to do it as often as I should.

I’m supposed to get 64 oz of clear liquid per day. 60-80 grams of protein per day.

I’m using my habit tracker app to help me with all of these tasks. I think I’m doing well, now that I’m not so sick to my stomach.

That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Building new, healthier habits. So I guess it’s appropriate that my routines are changing.

I just don’t know how I can get up any earlier!

My system is sluggish, or so saith the nurses. Because I don’t have a lot of food in my belly, not much is happening.

Yesterday I had two of everything: two Miralax doses, two fennel teas, two Dulcolax (I think?). Still, nothing.

Why am I talking about this again? Because my stomach is all off this morning, doing the funky chicken, and I think the two are related.

Other than my wonky stomach, I don’t feel that bad. I haven’t had to take Tylenol in quite a while for incision pain. The incisions themselves look fine, as incisions go. You wanna see them?

Nah, I was going to, I had a picture and everything, but I deleted it. It’s TMI. You don’t want to see my incision scars, ewww.

I suppose I will need a before pic of myself from now to compare to future me. I don’t have one. I don’t take a lot of pictures of myself anyway, and I don’t take any when I’m feeling unhappy about myself.

Also, I will probably not post any before picture until I’ve made considerable headway beyond it. Yeah, I’m funny that way. Well, “funny” would be one way to describe it.

Anyway, thank God I’m feeling better in general. I talked to a friend last night who had the surgery some time ago, and that was helpful.

For me, it’s never a bad idea to reach out to other people for support. I tend to isolate myself and then I really get in trouble. But I should never do that. At any given time, there are lots of people who care about me.

Like, even though I’m a pronounced introvert, I still do okay forming relationships. It’s maintaining the relationships that’s harder for me, especially after I’ve left somewhere. You would think it would be so easy, now with the magic of social media, to stay in touch. For some reason, I still struggle with it.

Might be worth investigating in therapy.

At least I feel like myself again, after several days of what I can only describe as survival mode.

This morning seems different. I’m not so dizzy. I can concentrate. I can get through my usual morning routine, if much more slowly.

I mean, it should seem different. I was able to get in some actual nutrients yesterday. So I’m not really that surprised. Just relieved.

It’s scary when you can’t eat. The thought of my body going into shutdown, well…let’s just not even go there.

It seems as though I’m probably going to get through this. I’m afraid to say it too soon. Have I said it too soon?

I was able to take my meds—pretty much all of them, make my breakfast, make the juice for Desmond and myself.

I am going to need to give myself more time in the morning, however that’s possible. I can only swallow my pills one at a time from now on. I used to take 10 pills like nothing. Any pill that’s bigger than an M&M needs to be broken up into applesauce or pudding. I’m supposed to hold off drinking 30 minutes from meals and spend 30 minutes eating each meal. I’m already getting up at 2:30-3:00 to get to the gym at 5:00. What more can I do?

When Aislyn is older, I can go to the gym after work, and it won’t be such a big deal. But that’s a long way out, yet. She’s only 7.

I can tell even from what I’ve written here that I’m feeling better. This looks more like me. It helps, probably, that I took all my meds when I got up. I can be my best self with the right combination.

Even selecting the correct meds to take on a given day is work when you’ve eaten nothing and have no energy. That’s partly why it’s been so hard these last several days. The other part was that I was afraid to swallow some of my pills after the surgery. Now that I know I can keep down a little bit of food, and break the bigger pills up into the food, it’s all good.

Anyway, I hope this is an indicator that I’m over the worst of it, now, and can begin to feel better. But you know me, I hate to say anything prematurely.

I guess we’ll see.

Breakfast. It was only half the protein I was supposed to have, but I can’t seem to finish a whole serving. At least I was able to eat it all.

I hardly slept last night, so I slept in this morning, missed Desmond on his way out to school.

I guess that’s about all there is to report at this point. The last few waking hours have felt like such a long stretch of time, there seemed like more to say.

I hope it gets better soon, that’s all.

I don’t think I slept but two hours, so after a while I just got fed up and got out of bed. Now I’m sitting here on the couch at 2:00 in the morning. No plans for the day, other than to survive it.

I’m not sure if I should try to eat right now or not. I just had two sugar free popsicles. I could heat up some chicken broth and put some protein in it, just so I have some substance in my body. I’m afraid of what too much liquid at one time will do, though. It tends to make me feel nauseous.

I feel like I’m living a half-life, just trying to get through another day as painlessly as possible. I can’t believe I’m going to be feeling very much better by the time February 10 rolls around and I’m supposed to return to work. It’s really not that far off from now.

Maybe today will be a little better than yesterday.

I was discharged from the ER around 11:30 yesterday morning, after having been there 6 1/2 hours. When I got there at 5, I was so sick to my stomach, in tears. Not long after I arrived I threw up violently. I think it might’ve been the Outshine Popsicles I had eaten. I thought because they were sugar free, they were okay, but I guess they have a lot of natural sugars from fruit juices. Dumping Syndrome already.

They gave me morphine early for pain. I fell asleep. They gave me meds for nausea and had me take an (TMI) enema. They wanted me to take another one at home. Only the first one took, and I don’t feel emptied.

I came home and slept for something like 3, 4 hours. Still no food staying down. Got up for a while, went back to bed around 6:30. Got up to take meds only, until 4:30am. Now, at 6:30, here I am.

Desmond is downstairs, at least, so I’m not alone.

I’m having buyer’s remorse. It’s really scary that I can’t eat anything at all without belching or vomiting it back up. I can’t even drink or sip anything without discomfort. All I can do is chew ice chips. Or sip from a teaspoon. Like soup.

There’s a clinical name for what has happened, but I can’t remember what they told me, nor can I find it in the discharge notes. It starts with an S. So they seem to know what’s going on, at least.

The last few days have seemed to drag on like weeks. Most of the time I don’t feel well enough to do much of anything. Even type. That’s why I haven’t, much.

I feel helpless. I feel a million miles away from my kids. They’re sitting here in front of me right now, but if they need me, if they start to fight, there’s not much I can do. Oh, great, now I’m crying again.

I’m emotional because I’m afraid to take my pills, which they said I can’t take if they’re bigger than an M & M. They said I can break them into my food, but I can’t eat any food.

Smells bother me like when I was pregnant with Aislyn. Bad smell=immediately nauseous.

It’s hard to imagine that I won’t get through it. It’s just scary right now.

I just hope in six months, a year, five years, it will have been worth it.

I’m in the ER. I’ve been here since 5:00. I’m okay. More details to follow later.

I’m not doing very well. I still haven’t gone to the bathroom, and I’m not really keeping anything down. I’m in a lot of pain. Every tiny sip I take feels like a stab in my stomach and comes back up.

I’m going to end up in the ER.

I feel like I should not wait four days to take the enema. I should just take one now. On the other hand, none of the enemas I took in 2021 were effective. They only caused me more pain.

What finally worked for me in 2021 was an entire bottle of Miralax cleanout. But now my stomach is much smaller.

I’m afraid of the noises my esophagus is making right now. It’s clearly angry with me. I’m afraid this whole thing may have been a huge mistake.

I should never have been drinking the whey. I know it makes me sick. They insisted I try the isolate. I knew it wasn’t a good idea.

Now all I want to do is lay down and sleep this off, but I can’t, because it keeps me awake and I constantly feel like I’m going to vomit. No relief.

Why did I do this?

I didn’t take my Topomax last night, so I had nightmares, yelled in my sleep, woke up my roommate, and attracted attention from the nurses’ station. I figured I’d better get up.

My pain is at a 3 or a 4. Tylenol at 6:00

I don’t know what time they’ll discharge me. I passed the cups (water drinking) test yesterday. I’m in Stage 3, the one that happens when you go home. I’ve walked around the nurses’ station 10 times.

Whatever I was on yesterday made me very loopy. I mistook the wall in front of me for the floor and told Derek that Aislyn had left her toys there and needed to pick them up. Among other things.

According to my surgeon, once I’m home I can do anything, just no heavy lifting. At Lowe’s last year, I team lifted something heavy and gave myself an infection. I think I opened up a wound from the sling surgery. Even though six weeks had passed.

I’m going to need to be very careful. Especially with preschool, where you are sometimes expected to lift a 50-pound child. I should think about getting a doctor’s note, maybe, to cover myself.

Derek and the kids brought me flowers last night, which I can’t get a picture of right now, because the light is off. Desmond picked them out.

I’d like to get home as soon as possible. It’s hard for me to be away from my family, even overnight. The nurses have all been nice, though.

I think I can only have clear fluids, shakes, and one snack daily for the next week.

I’m definitely not hungry, but I miss my coffee.

That’s all I’ve got for now.

Happy Friday!

Surgery went well. I’m supposed to be sipping tiny amounts of water from little bathroom cups, but I’m so ravenously thirsty, I want to down it all and ask for more.

They gave me this medicine that’s got me all confused and behaving weirdly toward other people. Dizzy, too. Ah, well. I signed up for this.

I fall asleep just about every five minutes.

If all goes well, I’ll be out sometime tomorrow.

I’ve had my surgical shower, my last pre-surgical drink, and my bag is packed and by the door. I am ready.

Today is an important day. I’m on the threshold of a new beginning. I can’t wait to get started. Someday, not so very long from now, I’ll be able to say, “I was heavy.” Instead of, “I was thin.” I’ll be able to do things that were hard much more easily. I won’t worry about my health.

I’ll visit old workplaces and people won’t even recognize me. Well, not Hutchinson, they’d throw me out. They’re not nice to former employees who come back to visit, especially not if they’re me.

Hondamort is extremely territorial and doesn’t like old workers showing up, anyway, but if I went in there?

I gave her and that detestable fiancée a sympathy card. With personalized notes. I didn’t expect anything in return, but at least have some common decency. Well, I guess that is expecting something in return, though, isn’t it.

I don’t think I ever expected so much as hoped.

That’s fine. Let them. Let them judge and be rude. Let them trample my efforts. They’re the problem; not me.

I have to do dishes again but I forget why. Vision blurry from tr as dermal patch behind my ear.

Eyes crossing. You know what that means.

The kids, for several years now, have been working together to create the Colors Series. They are now in their fourth season: TV Colors. To my delight, both creators graciously agreed to sit for an interview with me. So, here is a look inside the inner workings of Colors and the minds of its co-creators.

What is Colors?

“Colors,” explains Desmond, “is an elimination game where colored squares vote on each other’s elimination. The winner gets whatever the title is. So, for example, if the season is Hotel Colors, the winner gets a hotel. It is based on a YouTube show, BFDI (Battle For Dream Island).”

Seasons

The seasons ran as follows:

• Hotel Colors: February to September 2023
• School Colors: September 2023-March 2024
• Restaurant Colors: March 2024-January 2025
• TV Colors: January 2025-

Aislyn is looking forward to TV Colors. “We like TV and we think it’s going to be really funny. We can also make parodies of things.”

Origin

LT: How did Colors come about?

DT: Aislyn wanted to do a Google Slides presentation and she really liked hotels. It was her idea, but I helped move it along. I’m not helping anymore, I’m just doing half the episode.

LT: Why did she like hotels?

DT: It was February 2023. We had gone to the Fireside and the Anchorage and we really liked them. My favorite landmark: Yellow-Geen Airline and Hotel Red: Seasons 1 and 2 elimination.

LT: Where does your inspiration for the humor come from?

DT: [Points to head] Right here. And Aislyn. Aislyn makes them a lot more humorous and I drive the story.

LT: It sounds like you make a great team.

DT: I think Aislyn and I did a pretty good job on all three seasons.

LT: Agreed. Where do you get your ideas for the funny parts, Aislyn?

AT: We’re thinking of things, then after, we come up with silly things, like Bluey.

Favorites

LT: Do you have a favorite season?

DT: Restaurant is my favorite, followed by Hotel because of its humor, and School Colors, while not my favorite, has room for growth.

LT: What about a favorite character?

DT: Gold and Chartreuse redeemed themselves super hard in my personal opinion. Some of the characters are space fillers but we give them good reason to be in the show. But my favorite character is Redrange. He’s super funny, British, has super powers. He’s the brother of the show’s host, there’s good dynamics.

AT: My favorite character is Carmine because he does really funny things.

What’s in Store

LT: Can you see yourself doing this in the future?

DT: Yes, if I have a YouTube channel. I might post old Hotel Colors episodes and make new stuff.

LT: What about graphic novels?

DT: Maybe. I’ve thought about that since I started.

LT: What about you, Aislyn? Can you see doing this in the future?

AT: Yes.

LT: Do you think you might write stories like these as a grownup?

AT: I think I will.

LT: Who do you look up to?

AT: Mama, Daddy, Gramma, my teachers.

I hope you have enjoyed this exclusive sneak peek into the creative world of Colors. I’d like to thank the creators for their time on this project and wish them the best of luck in Season 4 and in the future.

I had my WW, and then at 11:00 I have work. Both are in Portsmouth, so there’s little reason to go home in between. I thought, what could I do with my extra time?

I could go shopping at Marshall’s, but I’d probably better not.

I could go into work early, but that might feel like a very long day with my plantar fasciitis acting up.

Maybe, I thought, I will hang out at Dunkin,’ just for a bit, take advantage of the free WiFi, since I will be cut off from the internet for several hours, and shoot off another post. So, here I am.

There is this book I’m interested in called “The Let Them Theory,” by Mel Robbins. One of my fellow WW members recommended it today. I previewed it on Audible and it sounds really good. It is about letting go of trying to manage what other people say, think, and do. I think I desperately need that right now. Probably I always have.

It’s significant to me because I have lost people trying to manage them in this way. I don’t want that. I don’t want to worry about things that are out of my control. I think it is partly the anxiety. But also, I worry deeply how people feel about me, and if they will stop loving me.

My mother’s love was extremely conditional. I had to be very thin. I had to have clear skin. I had to be pretty. I had to have straight A’s. She didn’t like my glasses, and was visibly disappointed when she found out I was getting married in them, even though I wore them all the time. She didn’t like my meds. Most importantly, I had to agree with her.

I do worry about losing people. I mean, I lost my mother, I’ve lost close friends. I’ve been hurt. I guess to compensate I might hold on too tightly sometimes.

I have to accept that I am what I am and I can’t change how people feel about me. Or what they do or why.

Well, now that I have it all figured out, looks like I don’t need to spend the $23 on the book. I’m just kidding.

Anyway, I’m going to head off to work, now, get in an extra hour if they’ll let me. Stay safe, locals, the roads aren’t great.

The other night when I was leaving Aislyn’s room, I tripped over her chair, literally flipped my body, landing on my back. Needless to say, I’m in no small amount of pain, now.

My plantar fasciitis flared up so much Thursday I was yelping all the way up the stairs. The stretches really do help, though. They help a lot, and right away.

I’m complaining about my aches and pains, which officially makes me an old person. You’re probably thinking, “Naww, really?”

My surgery is next Thursday. I can’t believe it’s almost here. More on this in another post.

My new job starts February 10. Preschool. My favorite age. I hope it will be a good experience. I can see no reason why it wouldn’t be. Everyone at the school seems really nice.

I guess this post is just keeping you up to date on my very exciting midlife happenings. I’ll bet you are on the edge of your seat with anticipation for info about the next thrilling event in Life of Leah.

I can’t help feeling like the passion has gone out of my writing. Do you feel this? I’m not sure what happened to it or, more importantly, how to get it back.

Perhaps it has to do with my state of mind. Am I depressed? I don’t think so. Is it possible that I have too much free time right now? Maybe.

Actually, I take it back. It’s winter. I could be depressed. Winter is never easy. Dark days, cold weather. It’s made even harder by various other circumstances.

The good news is the days are already getting longer.

I feel as though I have run out of things to write about. Especially since work is off the table. I need a running topics list. But I need it to not get buried by newer posts so I don’t ever see it again.

Somehow, you can pin posts to the top of your blog. I’m not sure exactly what that does, though. Like, does it do what it sounds like it does, or something else? Maybe I should try it.

Anyway, I best be going. I have other posts to write. 😉

leahcomesclean.blog

Remember the Chads from Lowe’s? Singing Chad and Regular (but Not So Regular) Chad? Well, who should show up to one of my seasonal jobs today, but Regular-Not-So-Regular Chad?

It was funny. I walked into the break room and there he was. We immediately both pointed at each other, like something you see on television. “I know you,” we said at the exact same moment.

He was doing the computer training. I asked him what he’d be doing, but he didn’t know, just stocking, he figured, which is what I do. That’s right, they don’t even make me ring. How’d I pull that off?

Small world, huh?

I remember he was pretty funny, if a little odd.

Anyway, I have to go. My break is waaaay over.

It’s that wonderful time of day and, wouldn’t you know it, I have absolutely no idea what to write about.

Normally when this happens, I get up and do something else for a while, or I look at my running topics list. Or, worst of all, I ramble for paragraphs about nothing.

But I don’t feel like doing anything else and I don’t currently have a running topics list for this blog.

I’ve thought of something. Recently, for s & g’s, I took some screenings. They all came back basically the same:

I am having Vocational Rehabilitation Services look into it.

In a million years I wouldn’t have thought this could be possible. Now I’m starting to wonder. I don’t know, though. I really want to connect with people, I just have a hard time doing it.

But do I really want to connect with people? I spend a lot of my time avoiding them, actually.

I am socially awkward.

I often prepare scripts in my head of what I will say before I say it.

I hyper fixate on subjects of interest to me, like analytics.

It seems unlikely that I would have two such neurotypical kids, though, if I had autism.

I can read facial expressions quite well…but I’ve studied body language since I was a kid.

It would explain a lot of things.

I always had good imaginative play skills, though.

I don’t think so. I don’t think I have autism. My speech and language development were completely normal. Motor skills were fine.

But there’s something. They did testing in 2016, and ADHD symptoms featured prominently, but I don’t think that’s the whole picture.

I have an intake today. We’ll see how that goes and go from there.

• Inspired by a program called Reading Rainbow, in 1983, I started my own line of Smurf books from stapled construction paper and crayons. Sadly, I do not still have any of the books.
• My favorite color is blue, but I also like pink, red, purple, green, and orange.
• My “happy place,” where my mind goes during meditation, is the flume in North Conway, where I used to go on vacation as a kid with my family, before my family fell apart.
• My favorite foods are
  • Ice cream
  • Lobster
  • Pizza
• My first cassette tape was Out of the Blue by Debbie Gibson in 1988.
• In 4th grade, I wrote slasher stories. In high school and college, angsty poetry.
• Harriet the Spy is my hero.
• I don’t like:
  • Bologna
  • Onions
  • Mayonnaise
• I don’t like tags on anything: clothes, pillows, rugs, mattresses. They give me the heebeejeebees and I have to cut them off.
• I have recurring dreams about crazy elevators and my teeth falling out.
• I don’t go on carnival rides.
• People I look up to:
  • My cousin Tara
  • My older brother, Erik
  • Wally Lamb
  • Louis Sachar
  • Gabrielle Kassel
• My first CD was Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy.
• My second CD was Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill.
• My third CD was The Smashing Pumpkins’ Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.
• My first school friend (and boyfriend) was Paul McCausky at Holy Angels Preschool.
• I never had another boyfriend until I was 16.
• My first big mutual crush was in 8th grade.
• I’ve never broken a bone.
• I’ve never dyed my hair.
• I’ve bleached my teeth twice.
• I’ve had braces.
• I’ve never had a tattoo.
• I’ve never had anything pierced other than my ears.
• In seventh grade, I came home crying every single day because I had no friends and no one talked to me all day unless it was to pick on me.
• In seventh grade, I had a crush on Matt Divirgilio, and I told my friend Alisa, and she told him someone liked him, and he guessed it, and told everyone at a school dance. Then he danced with my ex-best friend, Amanda. The next day, everyone was asking me, “Do you like Matt Divirgilio?” Not anymore, I thought to myself.
• In 10th grade, I was obsessed with this kid, Arthur Makros. On an end of the year whale watch field trip, my BFF Christina went and told him I liked him. He already knew and was not interested, but he was obviously interested in Christina. I had to watch the two of them flirt with each other the entire next year before they finally hooked up and she dumped him for another guy three weeks later. She probably implicated me somehow in the breakup, because for the remainder of high school, he inexplicably hated my guts.
• I secretly like Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You song, but it reminds me of Charlie Diamantapoulos, who reached across the aisle in religion class, removed my shoe, and threw it in the trash when I refused to lend him a pen.
• I was flat chested right up through my mid twenties, until I started gaining weight and had two kids.
• I used to wear a size 6 jeans.
• I’ve never not been curvy. Even when I was 100 pounds, I still had hips and a butt.
• I am nervous about my upcoming surgery.
• I’m afraid I will never be good enough.
• I’m afraid my dreams will never come true.
• I’m afraid the truth will never come out.
• I’m afraid of wasting my talent.
• I’m afraid of wasting my time.
• I’m afraid I’m not a good parent.
• I’m afraid I’m not a good person.
• In my youth, I never imagined I would double in size.
• In my head, I still think of myself as thin, so seeing myself in the mirror or photos is always a shock.
• I can’t concentrate in a messy room.
• I need complete silence to study for tests or to read with understanding.
• I have difficulty understanding people when they try to talk to me from another room.
• I would rather be home alone than at a party.
• I’m rarely invited to parties.
• I have a hard time keeping in touch with friends.
• I avoid talking on the phone with most people until I can’t any longer.
• I fear that I am lazy.
• I fear that I am boring.
• I fear running out of ideas.
• In 8th grade, to save face in front of a boy, I stood up to the school bully in front of 23 gaping classmates. I have never stopped standing up for myself since. It’s exhausting.
• As a kid, I always wanted a treehouse and a swimming pool in our backyard.
• As a kid, I was always trying to start my own club: writing club, spy club, drawing club, anti-Jaime Picariello club, diet club…
• I wanted to marry Baby Gonzo.
• Because of my mother and grandmothers’ distorted world views, I was conservative, before I really knew anything about anything. I wasn’t an activist in college, but being there completely changed me and helped me discover who I really was, without all the nonsense they had filled my head with. I think it was due to being away and experiencing life without their influence. At my core I’m about as progressive as a person can be, but I’m still not politically outspoken about it. I’m a passive-progressive 😉.
• I loved my cousins, Tara and Amanda. We were close when we were little. We’re not, anymore. I wasn’t invited to Amanda’s wedding. Even though we’re not that close, it still hurt me.
• I don’t talk to anyone I care about as much as I should. I feel isolated.
• I don’t actually read as much as I should.
• I make a big deal about being organized but my house is almost always messy and disorganized.
• I try to avoid collecting items.
• I like to sing but I’m not good.
• I used to love to draw when I was a kid, and I thought I was good until my uncle (my mother’s brother) made fun of my drawings of horses one day while the rest of my family laughed and I cried. After that I didn’t draw, anymore.
• I know a lot of music trivia.
• I hum when I’m nervous.
• I always have a song stuck in my head, playing in the background of my mind.
• I fall asleep at inappropriate times and locations.
• Most men underestimate my age, while some women insinuate I look old: “you have a 7-year-old?” Note: the women who do this are typically older than me.
• I am right handed, but I do a lot of things with my left hand, for example, opening jars, twisting off lids, I used to smoke with my left hand before I quit years ago.
• I cry easily.
• I laugh easily.
• I don’t smile a lot, but it doesn’t mean I’m unhappy. It sometimes means I’m concentrating on what you’re saying or straining to hear or properly interpret what you’re saying.
• I try not to ever yell at my children, but Desmond calls it yelling when I change my tone to disciplinary, which I also try to avoid.
• Some people think I am too permissive, but I am not. I just don’t yell. I think you can manage behavior more effectively in other ways. Yelling is shown to be ineffective.
• When Desmond was little, I tried a variety of strategies to manage his behavior. The most effective ones seemed to be deescalation and waiting him out.
• I was actually pretty good at math when I could focus and practice it. I got an A+ in trig/ pre calculus. I killed it on the Praxis.
• I am not as good at math as Desmond.
• I have a pretty good idea of my limitations…for the most part.

As you can see, the damage to the living room is not as severe as previous years. It’s a more organized mess. Of course, I had already started cleaning a bit before I took the picture.

Desmond and Aislyn made out like bandits again this year. Somehow, they always do.

I spent much of my afternoon on the phone with Aunt Leenie and my brother, Erik, catching up.

It was a good day. Everyone got along.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

I did not build the kitchen. I did build a bar cart, but it’s not in the picture.

The balls look round in the photo, but they were shrink wrapped, and I just opened them last night, so they’re still reshaping. I’m annoyed with the balls. They’re not what I expected. The lines look like they were drawn on with marker, and they don’t bounce well, yet. I should’ve tried to find some in store; I might’ve guessed they’d be shrink wrapped.

They’re foam, but they’re supposed to bounce like regular basketballs. I was so excited when I discovered one at work, that I ordered them immediately. That was back in October or early November. So it’s probably too late to return them if they don’t work.

Of course, there are other surprises under the tree. But I was really excited about that one because Aislyn is always wanting to play ball in the house and this ball would be safe for that.

I had one gift that never came at all, and the seller never refunded my money. So I contacted Amazon and they’re refunding it.

I’m to understand Amazon is not so great, which really bums me out. I’ve become very dependent on them for the things I need: coffee, coal tar shampoo, free shipping. Most items. Although I do my grocery shopping elsewhere.

The tree is Amazon. The couch is Amazon. The walls are Amazon. Our cats are Amazon. This paragraph, courtesy of Amazon.

Can you tell Desmond is helping me cowrite this post?

We are now waiting for everyone else to get up, trying to figure out how to keep ourselves busy for the next hour. I have already been “cooked” in a round of Blooket, as you 2014 kids would say.

Desmond is an amazing writer, already. When he grows up, his writing will blow mine out of the water. I’m being serious, this is me talking.

But I think his writing is as good as it is in part because he comes from a line of talented writers—not to toot my own horn, but, oh well, I did, sooooooo…

His style is so unique. He absolutely grew that organically without anyone’s help.

So, it’s just Desmond, the cats, and me, waiting for Christmas to start.

I like retail. It’s intuitive. It’s repetitive. It’s task-oriented. It’s not difficult or stressful. If it’s stressful, you’re doing it wrong.

If it’s stressful, they probably have you pushing credit without any commission. That’s the only relatively new facet of retail I don’t like. That’s the reason I left TJ Maxx in 2022. I am not a salesperson. If I was I would expect to be compensated for it. With more than a candy bar per signup.

I’m having more wardrobe malfunctions today with a very low cut tank top. I will have to change; I can’t go to work like this.

I can’t believe what I got away with at work back in the day. The belly shirts, mini skirts, high heels. My God. I dressed so slutty.

I wasn’t, though. It was just one way of disguising what continued to be a mostly uneventful social life, even in college.

Anyway, so far, so good on the two part time jobs front. It’s a nice departure from the high stress world of special education, where you make a thousand snap decisions in the blink of an eye. Where you take your work home with you all the time.

I have once again run out of time. Have a nice afternoon. My weekend starts at 4 PM (Friday and Saturday).

Winter is my least favorite season. Except for Christmas and my anniversary, I pretty much hate it. It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s the time of year I really struggle.

This winter, I’ve left a job mid-year. It’s on my conscience. I grew up Catholic, so there’s always something on my conscience.

In fact, if there isn’t anything, my brain will actually work hard to find something to feel bad about. Even something that happened a long time ago. I know, it’s messed up.

And, in fairness to Catholicism, I don’t really blame my religious upbringing for my unusual abundance of guilt. It was kind of one of those unfunny Leah jokes. Spirituality is very confusing for children who are raised by a parent who suffers from mental illness.

My mother considered herself a born-again Christian. And she imposed all of her beliefs onto us. By the time I had graduated college, I was at odds with many of her opinions.

But I digress.

I’ve been trying my best to keep busy, assign myself tasks to avoid thinking too much and spiraling. Part time jobs, organizing, wrapping presents, putting together furniture.

Thinking too much is one of my biggest problems. While I don’t want to push away issues that really do need processing, I don’t want to dwell, either. Knowing exactly how much mental attention to devote to something has always been an area of weakness for me.

Thinking too much generally brings me down, which is why I try to avoid it.

But here I am, thinking about thinking. I think they call that metacognition.

I should start thinking about doing and get my butt in gear. I have more furniture to put together before I go to work. But my head hurts.

Anyway, I know I need to be careful. Because it’s winter, and because my time is slightly less structured right now, it would be easy for me to slide back into depression.

Is that what’s happening? Am I becoming depressed again? It feels very similar to before I went back into teaching. And before I returned to teaching, I was depressed.

While I was teaching, there was no time for depression. Pretty much all I did was work-sleep-repeat.

Is that why I’m having such a hard time staying on plan? I wonder.

Whatever it is, I need to get ahold of the situation before it spins out of my control. This can’t happen right now. This doesn’t work for me. I have surgery in less than a month. I can’t be gaining weight at this point.

I need to lay down with this headache. 🤕

I woke up around 1:00 and read some email. Now I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.

I have to work later today. I both am and am not looking forward to it, because I know I’m going to be tired, no matter what. I always am.

Today is a gym day. I’m so unmotivated. Lately, I’m a sad sack, I know. It is partly biology. Every 27 days without failure. I get all weepy and I don’t know why. Ever since I was 12. One minute I’ll be fine, and then out of nowhere it will just hit me, this wall of sadness, and I’ll start crying. It’s fascinating how reliably this occurs every month of my life. And the second day is always the worst.

Normally, at this point, I’d be up by now, anyway, getting ready to go, feeding the cats, etc. But I’m not ready to get back up, yet. I don’t feel like doing anything but sitting here.

Probably I’m just tired.

To hell with it. I’m going back to sleep.

leahcomesclean.blog

New post: Check Out My Drawers!

I apologize in advance for this post, because it is 100 percent for me.

I’m just going to brainstorm some projects to write about for LCC, get a running topics list going.

And it’s probably going to be so boring, it will even put me to sleep.

But if I want the blog to be successful this time, I need a list to draw from.

So, without further ado…

The Leah Comes Clean To Do List

• The kids’ living room buckets
• Repurposing over-the-door pocket shoe organizers
• Coming soon: master bedroom cleanup
• Finish article: Check Out My Drawers!
• Pantry redo: games, games, games
• Silverware Drawer: The Home Edit
• Evaluation of The Home Edit
• Papers system
• Shoe system
• Systems system
• Evaluation: Chore Chart
• Desmond’s Switch game system
• Aislyn’s bookcase conundrum
• Artwork
• Small Bins Make a Big Difference
• Visit to The Container Store
• When in Doubt, Pass it Out: Donations
• Patching up the Dining Room Problem? We probably need a professional for that one.
• Annual Tupperware Cabinet Sort
• Kids’ Bathroom Redo (I think that was in my old blog, but I probably still have the before and after photos)
• Christmas wrapping system
• Trunk of my car system
• The Technology Graveyard in the corner of the kitchen
• Aislyn’s Room
• Desmond’s Room
• The Upstairs Hallway
• Spring Cleaning: The Basement
• Ghetto Couch: the Miracle of Duct Tape
• Sofa Hacks: Armchair Stations (see below)

• Magnetic fridge containers
• Magnetic fridge shelving
• More ideas
• More ideas
• More ideas

This should keep me busy for a little while. And now I have a valid excuse to drive down to Peabody to see The Container Store! What? I like containers. Is that weird?

I’m really excited about this blog being active again. I feel like I’ll be offering something useful to the world if I can help people get organized. And I can still showcase my writing at the same time. Brilliant, the perfect scheme! Mwah-ah-ah-ah!

Nah, but…yeah.

I started writing a blog post this morning and went off on several tangents, ending up with the beginnings of about three posts, all under one title.

One of them was about the original purpose of a blog post. A blog post is supposed to inform the reader about a topic, share useful information and help the reader in some way. It can provide or promote a service.

If that is the case, what service am I providing with my blog? What wisdom am I imparting? How am I helping you?

<Crickets>

Follow me on my train of thought, if you will. In 2020, I started a blog as a retrospective memoir-type project, chronicling my childhood memories. I expected it to take much longer than it did to complete this project. I think I probably shared much less information than I had originally intended; just the few moments that really jumped out at me as significant. But I only just scratched the surface, kind of summarized. Which is fine. Maybe you don’t need the entire, unabridged story. Maybe I about covered it.

But in what way was I providing a service? I wasn’t, really. I guess you could say I was promoting myself as a writer. The whole reason I started the project was to practice using a content management system and add WordPress to my resume.

When I “ran out” of what I believed were noteworthy stories about my past, I began writing about the present, and my project became more of just a public journal. I did talk a lot about my own fashion faux pas while I worked at TJ Maxx, but that was about the extent of my helpfulness at that point.

Next, I transitioned to Hutchinson and talked extensively about work, work friends, and carpal tunnel syndrome. But again, no services rendered. Just me, talking about me.

I initiated a side project, a blog about home organizing, called Handy Dandy Household Tips, later changing the name to Leah Comes Clean. Here, I wrote actual, well-structured posts on how to effectively manage clutter and reviewed items on the market for organization. Finally, I was doing something that could be considered useful to someone else. However, the project was short lived, as the work was more intensive and the plan was more expensive.

When I went back to teaching, I tried to start a lighthearted, humorous blog about education. That went over like a fart in church. Nobody understood my humor, and people fixated on my admission that teaching middle schoolers is challenging. Are you going to tell me it isn’t?

Listen, I don’t care how talented you are, 13-14 is a tough age group, anyone with a pulse knows that! I didn’t say it was bad or that I couldn’t do it. For the record, I held my own. It was not the children that sent me packing.

But I digress.

Finally, here we are, back to glorified public journal.

I guess it would just be nice if I had something more to offer you than whatever I feel like editorializing that day. The organizing blog could have been pretty good, maybe. I think I might’ve been worried about running out of ideas. I know I was concerned about exhausting time and money.

But I could run the blog for free. It just wouldn’t have a fancy domain, which would be okay, it doesn’t need one. I wouldn’t have plug-ins, which is fine. I wouldn’t post more than once a week, which is also probably fine with all of you, right?

I’m wondering if maybe I should pick that blog back up. I still love to organize. My house could use more cool organizing, storage, and space-saving strategies. It’s the perfect situation for storage: medium size, we have a ton of stuff, lots of storage capacity that we’re not necessarily maximizing, yet.

Something to think about.

One of my favorite things about the holiday season is sitting in front of the Christmas tree in the wee hours, sipping my coffee and writing my posts. There is something comforting to me about lights on a tree.

There’s a gap between the time I got done at my last job and when they want me to start the new one, partly on account of my surgery, which is January 16.

So I’m looking for something in the interim. It’s not been easy, because, though it feels like a long stretch to me, to an employer, it’s actually not that much time, and it’s hard to find someone who will hire me for only a few weeks.

I do have one prospect, but it’s not that many hours. At least it’s something.

I just drank a cat hair. Way to ruin the mood, Shane. Nah, but…yeah.

Since I’ve been looking for work anyway, I have also taken a peek at writing jobs. As always, there are so many great-looking opportunities out there. A few seem like they have my name written all over them.

So I’ll apply, and most of the time hear nothing back, or worse, receive a puffy rejection form letter that’s supposed to make me feel better about not being contacted for an interview.

I don’t know why they do that, now, but I hate it. It seems disingenuous to me. We don’t care that you had an unprecedented number of amazingly talented candidates. In fact, that makes it worse. Say sorry, no thank you, move on.

If you’re that worried about hurting my feelings, you probably should’ve hired me.

A personal heartfelt rejection is fine. That, at least, lets you know you were a serious contender, and it probably came down to some very specific criteria that took you out of the running.

Like, once, I got very close: two Zoom interviews that went well and they really liked me, but ultimately they chose someone with startup experience. They sent me a personalized letter, which I appreciated.

I’m not saying send everyone personalized rejections. That would be impossible. I’m saying, don’t sugarcoat. At the end of the day, a rejection is still a rejection, no matter how you dress it up.

Puffy rejections are another one of those topics I’m passionate about. In fact, I’ve actually responded to some of those letters with much the same passion I’ve demonstrated here. I would love if the puffy rejection trend went away. I will spearhead that effort. Who’s with me?

In fairness, I don’t always get rejected. I have had interviews, second interviews. I’ve been offered a few jobs. Just nothing sustainable.

Maybe the solution is to write part time, build up my experience. Volunteer. I often get volunteer work.

I just can’t help feeling this is what I’m meant to do, in whatever capacity I can.

So I’ll probably keep applying to those writing jobs. How can I not? Few things in life bring me as much joy as writing, other than my family and working with young children. I can’t sit idly by and let my dreams go to waste. I’m the type of person who has to go after them. And so I will.

The creeper hasn’t been around for over a month, now, so I think it’s safe to say she’s out of my hair. I think it’s safe to say I know exactly who she is, too. Oh, well. Good riddance.

When she was here, I felt like she was patrolling the site, waiting for me to write something objectionable so she could go and report it, and even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I felt like I couldn’t say anything about anything, anymore, so I just stopped talking altogether. It made me sad.

So I guess now things can return to normal or almost normal.

Though I suppose I will need to be careful in the future, too. There might be other ladies who think it’s their duty to police me on my own forum.

Of course I think it’s baloney. The nerve, trying to tell me what I should and shouldn’t write.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

That was not the only problem, if you’re curious. But I can’t get into it anymore than that.

I’m tired today. So much wakefulness through the night. So many bad dreams. I don’t know if dreams mean anything symbolically, but I do think they might indicate how stressed or anxious a person is. Anyway, despite medication, they are really a problem for me right now.

But I’m glad I can come back out and play with you guys again, and mostly not have to worry about anyone spying on me. Maybe it will help my anxiety.

I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, and now I’ve run out of steam and don’t want to do anymore. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but the kitchen is big, and the bathroom was a mess.

The living room and hallway still need attention, and the rest of the house goes without saying, I just never get to it.

You would think I was a housekeeper or professional organizer from my last several posts. Sadly, I am not.

I would love to be a professional organizer, and I think I would be good at it. At TJ Maxx, when I worked in the pets department, people raved about how well I merchandised the area. Management, coworkers and customers all commented on how much better it looked after I worked it. I think I have an eye for usable space.

But I don’t think there’s any call for professional organizers in New Hampshire, though I could be mistaken.

There’s not much call for a lot of things in New Hampshire. You can’t easily find a job in publishing, for example. Not even in Portsmouth, Manchester, Nashua, or Concord. Opportunities arise here and there, but they’re few and far between, and often nichey.

I’m not trying to badmouth New Hampshire. It’s a lovely state. It’s full of trees and even has a bit of seacoast. It’s wonderful when you want to get away from everywhere else.

I have many fond childhood memories of summer vacations in New Hampshire at my aunt’s condo in Bartlett, before my family imploded, then the Nordic Inn at Loon Mountain with my best friend Katey, where, after a huge fight senior year of high school, I walked through a screen door at 3:00 in the morning and we laughed and laughed about it.

It’s just not the place you want to be if you’re looking for an onsite job with a major publisher, a career in professional organization, or a headhunter. Or maybe I’m just not great at finding avenues for those things.

Because with literally everything being online, doesn’t it seem like all of those things should be simple to track down?

Maybe I haven’t done my due diligence.

Maybe that should be my next three projects.

Derek and the kids got the tree yesterday, while I slept off a bad head cold.

We all decorated with ornaments. We have so many, we can only put on a selection of them. The kids get a new one every year from Gramma, and now, as a teacher once more, I may get a small handful each Christmas, as well. Particularly from the age I’m transitioning back to.

Anyway, the tree looks lovely. I’m excited to start putting presents under it.

About half the stuff I threw out, and the other half I relocated into different areas. I mean, I could’ve kept the Valentine’s Day paper plates and napkins another year, but I think it’s been five years, now, and I’ve heard that if you don’t use something for a year, you don’t really need it.

The gingerbread house is good until, believe it or not, 2026. I might tell the kids not to eat that one, though, just in case.

I know. Boooooooring. Sorry. I like to organize.

What I need is just a matching set of containers that are part of a system like I had several years ago. Everything was on a convenient spinner. There were 4 sizes of containers but all the lids were the same size. It’s hard to explain, but it was really cool.

There has to be something like that out there now, maybe even better.

That might be my next project.

If I lie down, the gym’s never happening. If I close my eyes, I’ll pound the snooze button for an hour. But I’m of no use as I am. Eyelids already fluttering.

What is wrong with me?

I forgot my pills. That doesn’t help. Sleep quality is mostly still poor.

I can’t stay awake. I just can’t. Need to close my eyes just for a minute.

I closed my eyes but only for a few minutes. Then I got up, took my pills and went to the gym. Now my meds have kicked in and I feel a lot better.

I still can’t help thinking there’s something really wrong when I’ve just been sleeping and all I want is to go back to sleep.

I guess it’s probably the sleep apnea. I don’t get enough CPAP hours.

This post is going nowhere, and I don’t have time to make it go anywhere, so I’m just going to have to leave it as is. Time to get dressed and start the day.

The kids and I have had a productive day, getting a lot of little things done.

See the little metal shelves on the right side of the fridge? I’ve had those for like two years, finally put them together. Took me ten minutes.

Desmond rearranged all of the items on our fridge in true Desmond style—symmetrically.

We reinstated the chore chart and even did some of the chores.

Aislyn picked up her room. It was only a tiny bit messy. I put up a mirror in there that had been sitting on her dresser since last Christmas, which, luckily for her, is at the perfect height for her face, and, less luckily for me, at the perfectly awkward height of…anyway, we won’t go there.

Aislyn also put stickers on my old toolbox from Hutchinson, and I ironed on and sewed a patch onto Desmond’s gi. And I’ve written two or three posts.

Yes, it’s been a busy day.

I’ve started a slow trickle of Christmas gifts into the house. I have a running list of items on Amazon, but I don’t think it’s enough.

I think I need a detailed list of everything I buy and for whom so I don’t go overboard again this year.

Usually I buy way too many presents for the kids. They already have tons of toys and games in their rooms; they don’t need nearly as much as I’ve gotten them in the past.

Really, I should set aside a predetermined amount of money each year for the holidays. It would probably save me hundreds of dollars.

I often know what I should do, it’s just a matter of doing it. It’s the same with tracking food.

If I were better at tracking food and expenses, think of where I’d be right now. Or better yet, if I get better at tracking food and expenses, think of where I’ll be in three years.

It’s all about accountability. And you can’t have accountability without “count.”

Onward.

I’m having a hard time right now. There are quite a few things I need to do, and I don’t know how I’m going to do them like this.

The good news is, no work today.

It has taken me a good 10-15 minutes to write this little bit down.

Anyway, I need to go. Talk soon.

I got half of the games in there. Will have to get the other half another time. It only took about an hour and a half or so.

And yes, I also got my prep work done. So I’m in pretty good shape. Not bad for someone struggling to focus right now.

Here is what I would like to do: I would like to clean out the pantry, trash everything we don’t use, and try to fit all of the games in there, in addition to small appliances and bulk items.

This is what I’m looking at doing instead of lesson planning. I don’t know, I’m just not in the mood, right now.

I’ve been at it for five hours. I had a caffeinated Diet Coke at Olive Garden; I don’t know if that’s what did it.

I have trouble sleeping every night at first because my body is restless like this guy. But it doesn’t usually last this long.

I feel like I have to get up and walk around. In fact, that’s kind of what I’m doing. I’m hot, restless, and itchy. A terrible combination for sleeping.

So I may start planning for the week. Or I may read. Or I may lie down and try one more time, I don’t know, yet. Either way, I’ll see you on the flip side, because you’re lucky, and you’re asleep.

Maybe.

Seriously, be an adult, be a parent, go to work, get a hobby, and leave me alone. Stop lurking, here. What do you want, my soul? You are not welcome. Get out.

I’m dragging, can’t focus, can barely keep my head up. It’s temporary, but every minute of it feels like hours.

I can’t really say why, anymore. I’m not comfortable with this new, extremely local audience to be able to explain. Anyway, I’m shutting down.

I tried to cut and paste some text I had written and lost the text. Now I have to rewrite.

I don’t know what to write. Afraid to write anything because I know I’m still being watched.

It’s like, okay, it’s safe to say I’ll never write about work again. I always kind of knew it was a bad idea, despite freedom of speech, freedom of expression, etc.

But now I’m paranoid to say anything about anything! And let’s face it, that’s pretty much everything. What if it is misunderstood, twisted, or otherwise taken out of context? Or what if it is just too honest?

I feel paralyzed to speak, much like I did as a child.

Censored.

I don’t think it’s fair.

I got up on time for the gym today. It doesn’t matter. It makes absolutely zero difference on the scale whether or not I go.

And even if I get there early, Bike Lady will be there ahead of me and take my bike. There are literally like 10 other bikes she could choose, but she has to have mine, the one I’m comfortable with.

One day I got there before they opened and she was already at the door and when they opened she ran upstairs and put all her stuff on the bike before she even went into the locker room, just so I couldn’t take it.

I don’t call her Bike Lady in real life. In real life I call her something less flattering.

It’s just easier to let her “win” and wait for her to finish. She’s faster than me. Everyone is.

I’m feeling so down right now. I’m all dressed for the gym, but I don’t feel like I have it in me to get up and go. I want to curl up and cry.

I know it sounds like whining. I know there are worse problems than mine. But so many things just seem unfair to me.

I skipped the gym. I’m already regretting it. I find I just go back to sleep on the couch most times. And I need the burst of energy that you get from the gym—especially today.

I indulged in a lot of random junk yesterday afternoon and evening and didn’t track any of it. Stress.

I just want today to be over.

Goodbye, Terrible Tuesday.

Sorry this post is such a bummer. But I’m having a rough time of it and can’t explain how.

I know they’re not of the same parts of the room, but I promise you, the before picture was pretty representative of the rest of the room.

I get hot and sweaty vacuuming the stairs. Besides that, I have to change the bag. Besides that, I hate vacuuming the stairs. So I didn’t do it. They really need it, though, and I feel guilty.

Aislyn’s play date will be here any minute. She’s doing Sudoku while she waits.

She did help me, and I didn’t have to nag at all. Maybe it wasn’t so overwhelming today because it was mostly done. Maybe she wanted to help vacuum. I don’t know. The important thing is she helped.

Anyway, the bathroom needs a hand towel.

Anyway, the fruit tray needs to be put out.

Anyway, I think they’re here.

• Finish cleaning Aislyn’s room
• Nag Aislyn to help me clean Aislyn’s room
• Vacuum stairs
• Nag Aislyn
• Wash dishes
• Nag
• Nag
• Nag
• Put out fruit tray
• Host play date
• Write this week’s work schedule
• Write Wilson lesson plans (realizing I did not bring home the lesson plan templates and my printer doesn’t work)
• Correct math screenings
• Start math lesson for tomorrow

If you think there’s no way I’m going to get all of this done today…you are probably right. Who could? It is a lot. And I don’t even think I’ve thought of everything.

You might think based on the list above that I am a nag. I am not. I absolutely despise nagging. In my opinion, nagging only serves to make the nagee prompt-dependent. But I am out of ideas with this one.

She’s been warned of the removal of screen time if she doesn’t help me. We’ll see if that’s effective.

You might say “natural consequences, let her have an embarrassingly messy room when her friends arrive.” But that would reflect poorly on me, and you know it. The room must be cleaned.

Nagging is only ever effective in the short term. Nagging creates a lifelong cycle of low or no motivation to behave independently and generates the need for more and more nagging.

And that is why I avoid it whenever possible.

I suppose the ideal intervention would be to model the behavior I want to see. Stay on top of the messes and clutter before they accumulate, so we don’t have to have these several hour cleaning events every time someone comes over, or it’s Saturday.

Derek sets a timer and works for 15 minutes. If we did that everyday, all of us, I wouldn’t have to clean house every Saturday. Hmmm…

I had a whole other post going, but a certain realization compelled me to scrap it. So please excuse this short post.

I had tried to get up at 3:30, but my eyes were crossing as I finished the online grocery shopping. That’s usually a pretty strong indicator I’m about to fall asleep.

I seem to need 8-10 hours of sleep a night to feel fully alert during the day.

I haven’t slept 8 hours with the mask, yet, although a few times I’ve gotten very close.

I have to go get showered and dressed, now. It’s Friday, friends. Do your Friday dance, I know you have one.

Extra points to me today for hauling off to the gym when, after yesterday, it would’ve been entirely within my rights to hide under my covers for all of eternity.

That’s all I’m going to say about yesterday.

Though I don’t think exercise is helping me lose weight, the routine is still important.

I’ve been tracking much better the last couple of days. Hard to say if it’s effective because I’ve only just started. But it helps me eat less.

I used to have no problem losing weight when I actually tried. Even as recently as 2021. I’m not that much older now.

Maybe I’m going through the change. But I don’t think so. There is no other evidence to indicate that I am.

I’m sleeping better, too. I’m really not sure what the struggle is.

I just know the struggle is real.

I’m sitting here, trying to stay awake, realizing I haven’t taken my pills, yet. Strangely, I close one eye for better focus. Why does this seem effective?

More scary dreams last night into this morning.

I feel like I need to lie down again.

This is another one of those posts where I thought I had something to say. Either that or I’m just too tired to say it.

Okay, goodnight.

Everyday for the last three days I’ve gained a pound. I don’t think I’m voraciously overeating, but I’m also not tracking everything. So I guess it’s on me. Literally.

I got myself to the gym this morning. I didn’t want to go, I nearly fell back asleep. After all, it seems not to be having any effect on me, so what’s the point?

The point is to establish and maintain the habit for when I do finally start to lose weight again. I don’t know what’s blocking me right now (tracking), but once I figure it out (tracking), exercise will be an important tool to build momentum and keep me on target.

I start out well, then taper off toward the end of the day as I run out of calories. I don’t like being in the red.

I need to avoid the candy at work. It eats up a lot of my budget.

I need to think: I got up early and biked this morning for 20 minutes. Do I really want to undo that?

I need to keep tracking, even if I’m in the red every single day. Then at least I can tell the nutritionist I really tried to be conscientious.

Don’t fear the red.

I don’t know what to say.

So I’m just not going to say anything.

There’s only one answer.

I’m reading this book, Mind Prep, by Connie Stapleton, Ph.D. It’s for bariatric pre-op patients to get ready for surgery.

She talks about healthy and unhealthy relationships with food, and one of her recommendations is to write a letter to food.

So, although it might be cheesy (no pun intended), here goes:

From the Stomach of

Leah Taylor

1 Bad Way

Center Abdomen, Large Intestine 24601

Junk Food

Attention: Ben & Jerry, Dunk’s, Oreos, Vienna Fingers, Kit Kats, Twinkies, Fudge Rounds, Cheetos, cookies, cakes, pies, doughnuts and above all, sugar

3 Danger Zone

Cabinets & Fridge, Kitchens 77777

October 20, 2024

Dear Junk Food:

We’ve been friends for as far back as I can remember. You were there for me when I was a happy and carefree nine-year-old, mindlessly munching adult-sized Tony Lena’s tuna subs with friends, blissfully unaware of those extra pounds ahead of me that would upset my mother so.

You were there when I was a sad and lonely 12-year-old, starved for companionship and my mother’s attention.

You were there when I failed that physical science test in high school, when my boyfriend dumped me for a college girl, before I had any friends at UNH.

You were there when my mother passed, when I lost my job, and both times I got pregnant.

You’ve been around for the ups and downs, a bittersweet constant in my life. While other friends have come and gone, you remain.

One tiny problem, though, and it’s taken me this long—my whole life—to recognize it: you are not my friend.

No cookie on earth can replicate a mother’s acceptance. My mother saw me as a project in need of constant improvement. All I wanted was for her to love me as I was.

No doughnut can compete with a kiss or a hug.

No ice cream flavor in the world is a substitute for a sleepover at your bestie’s.

Friends don’t let friends gain 100 pounds.

You like being around me because I’ve been easy to manipulate. I’ve allowed myself to be pulled in by you. But I’m here to tell you, the party’s over.

So, Junkfood, it was a hard decision, but I have come to the conclusion that we can no longer see each other.

So find another pantry to take up residence.

Find another brain to buy up real estate.

I have let you control me forever. It’s my turn to be in control.

Your Friend (but not really),

Leah

Whew! My intention was to make this letter really over the top tongue-in-cheek. I did not expect it to take a turn for the serious.

Since I started this new job in education, I’ve been mostly wearing the professional clothes I bought a year ago, when I thought I had a different job locked up that never panned out.

Guess what? I’ve gained a bit of weight since then.

Yeah, a bit…

Really, most of the clothes I’m wearing to work are two or three sizes too small for me, and I’m just faking it under long tops and open jackets.

You could say one reason I’m doing this is because I want to save money.

But I think we all know what the real reason is. I am unwilling to admit to the larger sizes.

I’m not embarrassed by larger sizes. There’s no reason to be. Anyway, no one else sees them. They only bother me. They remind me of all the ground I’ve lost.

I used to cut out the sizes so I couldn’t see them. But I stopped doing that because I’d still know, and it’s harder to donate clothes with no sizes.

But I’m often uncomfortable and can’t wait to get home and change.

So I guess the question is, do I stubbornly persist in discomfort? Or do I embrace my outer booty and go shopping in the appropriate department?

Whatever I buy now, on account of the surgery, may not fit for very long, that’s the only thing. Is it worth it to hold off?

This looks like a job for Marshall’s.

I think the kids had a good time, for the most part. They love going in the pools. The inn has two, regular-size indoor and outdoor pools, two hot tubs, and a small wading pool. There is a third indoor pool in the annex, as well. The outdoor pool stayed open even in the rain. We drove around a bit, ate at some of our favorite places, made up goofy songs and relaxed.

If I’m being completely transparent, the kids are four years apart and don’t always get along. But there were many moments of fun and silliness sprinkled throughout the weekend. When I’m not actively troubleshooting the back-and-forth, I choose to focus on those.

They are great kids.

Nah, it’s okay.

We tried to go to Congdon’s for breakfast, but they were closed.

Then we tried The Egg and I, but the line was out the door, and some of us have difficulty waiting.

Finally, we went to The Omelette Factory, and we got their last table without any wait at all. Unfortunately, although the food was quite good, it was very expensive and they mixed up our toast. Oh, and my coffee.

Then we went to the 10,000 Gifts store, which we thought the kids might like. But I think I liked it more than anyone else.

After that, we stopped at Hannaford for some miscellaneous items. The kids argued over who got to drive the shopping cart, nearly running over no fewer than three other shoppers before I had to assertively take over. We got in line at the self-checkout and as we were about to approach a register, this surly employee came from seemingly nowhere and barked, “I was in front you!” And pushed ahead of Desmond.

“Sorry,” I said through clenched teeth, “I thought you worked here.”

How was I supposed to know she was in line and not helping customers? She was not young, and she should’ve known better than to be rude to customers.

I don’t care if she was off the clock. There is no excuse for rudeness. Especially in retail customer service. And yes, I know how much she makes. There is no excuse.

Anyway, that’s all I’m going to say about Rude Lady from Hannaford. I’m on vacation!

I know I know. Look how much time I wasted on this negativity. I should be enjoying myself.

Alright, yes. But sometimes I have to get a thing out of my system before I can relax again. Now it’s gone, yay! I can go about my monkey business once more.

I’m waiting until sunrise to post this so I can get a nice photo from the balcony.

We embarked on our journey yesterday afternoon, following the usual stressors of packing and preparation. We checked in, relaxed in our room for a bit, and went to dinner, where I had a delightful hot lobster roll.

Having gotten up at 4:30, I turned in early while Derek took the kids swimming. They have a heated outdoor pool, which they keep open for God only knows how long through the year. There is also a hot tub and small wading pool outside.

Apparently, though, last night, they had forgotten to turn on the heat in the pool right away, so it was a bit cold!

Anyway, the kids had fun, there were a lot of guests at the pool with other children.

I was able to use my CPAP pretty much through the night for the first time: 7 hours. I would call this a success.

Unfortunately, I woke up the kids when I got up, so they’re awake, too. Aislyn has already asked me what time sunrise is because she wants to go out and see it, too.

Great minds think alike.

Desmond and I often share the same thoughts. It’s so weird, because he thinks very differently from me. He is very black and white and logical. I am very abstract and emotional. It must be that he’s my son.

There’s the usual dose of back and forth between the kids, of course, but other than that, so far, so good.

I forgot all of my charger cables, though.

X-ray showed no concerns. They said it was likely gas or cramps and that those are often hard for kids. In the back of my mind yesterday morning, I thought maybe it could be that, though I had myself convinced it was something more.

Anyway, thank goodness.

I don’t remember the name of the actual procedure. Actually, it might be important to know that. Hmmm…

EGD.

I can’t eat or drink anything until after the procedure, which is not until 11:45. I think I can sip water. At least there’s that.

It’s only for a little while. I’ll survive.

The purpose of the procedure is to clear me for bariatric surgery. It’s to look at the lining of my esophagus, small intestine, and stomach, since I reported a history of acid reflux and heartburn. They want to make sure there’s nothing more going on down there, I think.

As always, I just want my coffee. But doing other things, like writing, helps.

My stomach is starting to growl. Time to get in the shower.

I don’t know what to write in these 10 minutes I’ve allotted myself. I started out with 30 minutes, actually, and spent 20 of those in analytics and reading old posts. And this exposition has cost me another two minutes.

I love working with kids. But I love writing. Last night at my wellness check, I talked a blue streak about my love of writing. For example, I don’t realize how boring “copywriting” sounds to everyone else. To me it is so exciting, and so much fun.

But I am a tried and true, grass roots nerd. It’s okay. As an adult, I’m proud of who I am.

Another example: in my writing groups, I’m having the kids use spider maps to plan a short little narrative about their favorite activities. As an example on the whiteboard, I plotted my own favorite activity, which of course was writing.

They all hate writing, because they believe they aren’t good at it. If I could change that for even one of them, it would make my whole year.

Although I am a good writer, I still feel I should know more about it to teach it.

I feel that I should know more about virtually everything. I’m always looking for more opportunities to educate myself. My appetite for knowledge is the same as for refined sugars: bottomless.

Now it’s really time to go.

I’ve mapped out this week’s schedule and a kind of lesson plan outline, because that’s all there’s really room for in my notebook. More detailed lesson plans must go on separate sheets of paper.

Yeah, it’s interesting how the expectations for lesson plans change over time and circumstance. For example, in college, you’re given one or several different lengthy templates, depending on the class, but they all contain pretty much the same criteria:

• Lesson title
• Summary
• Learning Objective(s)
• State Standards addressed
• Review Concepts
• Introduction
• Procedure
• Conclusion
• Reflection

Such lesson plans, for which, in college, they grade you, can run to 3 or even 4 pages. A unit plan, consisting of five, ten, however many related lessons, can go on for the length of a thesis.

Sometimes administrators ask for a similar format for a classroom observation.

I have to respect the full lesson plan. It makes the lesson comprehensible: understandable to anyone who might come in and see it happening. It is a lot of work, but it familiarizes you with the standards and forces you to think about how this lesson connects to the one before it, and the one following it.

In reality, though, here is what a typical teacher planner looks like:

I might be mistaken, but I think most experienced teachers don’t at least document their planning anymore than what’s written in the box. You reach a certain level of expertise, and most of your planning stays in your head. At least that is what I’ve heard. And I guess kind of what I’ve experienced.

Generally, the more comfortable I am teaching a program, the less I write down, because I already know it: it’s up there.

I can’t imagine writing a 4-page plan for every lesson everyday. That would be something like 16-20 pages a day! Who has the time?

I’ve heard of some districts who require their teachers to submit their lesson plans to their principal every week. How does the principal even have time to read through that much work?

Writing things down does help me commit them to memory, though, so if a program is new to me, I may be more likely to follow a template and spend more time planning on paper. It’s kind of like I’m downloading the information to my brain, in a weird, reverse way.

So that’s my take on lesson planning. You write it all down…until you don’t. After a while you rely less on what’s in the document and more on what you already know.

I was going to go to the gym this morning. I’m up, I’m all dressed for it. But my stomach hurts. I forgot to take my medicine on Tuesday and this is what happens.

Also, I ran into Desmond in the hallway. Groggy, he thought someone had knocked on his door. No, I said.

“Can I go back to bed?”

“Yes, you can go back to bed.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in an hour.”

“Okay, honey.”

It’s harder for me to leave the house when I see my son, I have noticed. If he comes down before I get out the door, I don’t often make it out the door—unless I have to, like for work.

Part of it is I hate to think of him coming downstairs to a bunch of empty rooms and being all by himself. I mean, Derek is upstairs, and Aislyn is in her room, but they’re still sleeping.

It’s funny, because I don’t mind being alone sometimes, and I don’t think he does, either.

Mostly, though, I know that when I’m not here, I’m missing out on time I could be spending with him, and that really bums me out. He’s 11, which means he still wants to be around me.

I want to soak up every minute I can before he prefers the company of his friends. I can’t even believe how fast the time has gone by. Wasn’t he just a little bit of a baby, sleeping in his tiny onesie in his crib? He’s almost as tall as me.

Do I ever miss those days? I don’t know. Maybe sometimes. The way he used to stretch his arms all the way up in the air when I would wake him up to feed him. His baby laugh. The way, as a toddler, he would speak in third person: “Desmond eat tree (broccoli), want grape please.”

But I’m so excited for every new day with him, every new story, project, adventure. I don’t really dwell in the past. It’s fun to remember those sweet old moments, though.

Anyway, I guess I’m not going to the gym. I’m home today and tomorrow for online training workshops. Maybe I’ll ride my stationary bike or even take a walk at break time.

No, not really. Well, kind of.

I read a book, maybe a year and a half ago, called Atomic Habits by James Clear. It was a good book, and it helped me get over my daily iced coffee addiction, although lately I’ve been drinking them almost daily again. Maybe I need a tuneup.

I need that book again. In preparation for the surgery, I have to quit caffeine. I’ve done it before, but it never lasts.

I have to stop drinking soda in general, too. I quit soda before for a few months as well, took it back up in December.

I guess quitting isn’t the hardest part for me. It’s the staying quit.

Caffeine is of no benefit to me, but unfortunately, when I don’t drink it, I certainly feel it. With stabbing pains behind my eyeballs.

I just like the taste of soda.

But I’m willing to give it up. That’s how much I want this.

So tired today.

This has nothing to do with education, but I’m just sitting here, doing nothing.

I came in to have blood drawn. I don’t know what made me imagine I’d be in and out in a matter of minutes.

Well, I will be out in a matter of minutes. Many minutes.

When I got here, at 6:30, when they open, there were already 10 people lined up at the door (I counted), all of them waiting for the lab to open.

Meanwhile, I have a splitting headache from caffeine withdrawal.

I am pursuing the bariatric surgery. That’s what the blood draw is for.

I hope to get it done this year, because I’ve met the deductible, but if I pull it off, it’s going to be right under the wire. I’m hoping my recovery time will fall on Christmas vacation. Maybe they won’t have to find me a long-term sub.

This post is full of useless information. Sorry about that. But it put me in a better mood.

Aislyn couldn’t sleep last night. From the looks of her sign, she is feeling anxious about the first day of school.

I think the movie franchise Inside Out must be pretty good at teaching a range of emotions. I saw the first one, but Derek advised me not to see the sequel in the theater, knowing that I would absolutely ugly cry at the sad parts. But Aislyn loved it.

I asked her what part of second grade she was worried about. She said she hoped everyone liked her.

That’s all anyone wants, isn’t it? Unless you’re a pillar of strength and self-confidence, and don’t need other people to validate you.

Most people, in my estimation, want to be liked.

I told her lots of kids would like her, because she’s awesome, and that you can’t please everyone, so if someone doesn’t like you, there’s always others who do.

I haven’t seen Desmond’s First Day of 6th Grade sign, yet.

I hope they both have a great day.

There’s this young kid I work with who replaced…what did I even call him? I can only think of his real name right now. It was Singing _____ and Regular _____. And Regular _____ turned out not to be so regular. Anyway, the young kid, let’s call him Kevin, replaced Not-So-Regular CHAD! It was Chad, in receiving.

Kevin can’t be more than 19, just a boy. He’s the nicest kid. He always says hello and is so pleasant. I’m sure he doesn’t even know my first name, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just a nice boy.

So we were in the break room and I said, “Oh, there’s no paper towels.”

“No,” he said. “Well, maybe there’s some in the other room.” So he goes and finds a roll in the supply closet. Then he spends like 5 minutes trying to figure out how to load it in the dispenser.

Finally, Dan came in and we asked him, and he figured it out, and we thanked him and Kevin left.

He didn’t even need a paper towel. He was just filling it for me and everyone else.

I don’t know, it just struck me as super sweet. I like him already, though, that’s probably why. He just seems like a good boy.

People like that just kind of restore my faith in the human race. Evan was that way.

For anyone who doesn’t know, Evan was my friend one workplace ago.

We weren’t friends outside of work, so when I left there, we didn’t talk, anymore.

But I hope he’s okay.

My daughter wants to be a teacher when she grows up. I already know she’s going to be amazing at whatever she does.

If I can help it, I try not to brag about myself, unless I’m, say, crushing it at my wellness program. I haven’t been, by the way. You would know from all the bragging.

But I’ll brag openly and liberally about my kids any chance I get. It’s my right as a mother.

Aislyn has a startling amount of emotional intelligence that makes her shine like a beacon in adverse situations. She is the voice of reason when others show distress. She is a peacemaker, a diplomat.

The kindness and calmness with which she speaks to her brother when he is sad or overwhelmed gives me goosebumps. And what she says…all I can think is, where is this coming from? She is miles ahead of her years.

All I can think is, like Desmond, she is an old soul. A gentle old soul.

A couple of years ago, she painted a giant, pink and red heart at school. I tacked it to her wall because I believe a child’s bedroom should be a haven of self-expression, a glimpse of who they are.

I chose the heart because this little girl has the biggest one you could imagine. Don’t believe me? Talk to her a few minutes. She’s a ray of sunlight in a sometimes trying world.

Anyway, she certainly is the light in my world.

It probably seems like I watch a lot of television. I don’t. I watch about an hour a day of our favorite shows: Parks and Rec, The Office, Daria, Freaks and Geeks, before I go up to bed. I’ve seen the entire Friends series probably about eight times over the years.

I don’t often watch new shows. So much of television is now “reality TV,” which I kind of hate.

I’m lying. I don’t hate all reality TV. Some of the educational shows are interesting. Frontier House, a PBS show from the early aughts, was pretty good. The first season of Biggest Loser.

So You Think You Can Dance was my very favorite reality show, because I used to be a dancer, believe it or not: ballet, tap, jazz, and modern. But even that I don’t still watch, and I believe it’s still on.

Despite my limited television watching, I do spend quite a bit of time on my phone. Mostly to read and research, but sometimes to shop.

While I was taking that Yale course for professional development, I read a wonderful article from Psychology Today called The Empathy Trap. I am an empath to a fault, so I identified with the idea that feeling other people’s feelings too deeply can weigh you down.

I have a terrible time not getting consumed by others’ suffering, especially that of friends and loved ones. Just thinking about someone else’s sadness or isolation is enough to make me cry. The thought of almost anyone’s grieving, even my worst enemies, can put me in a bad mood.

I realize how this sounds: like a back door brag, right? It’s not meant to. I’m not trying to broadcast how wonderful I am because “I care too much.” Like everyone else, I am flawed, and for that matter, maybe more so than most.

I actually see my empathy as somewhat of a weakness. My Achille’s heal. It’s hard to be effective with anyone when you’re sharing too much of their sorrow.

The article describes the difference between being overly empathetic and taking someone’s perspective, the latter being healthier, more balanced, and ultimately more helpful to both of you. While you don’t have to be entirely neutral or detached from someone’s struggles, you want to be in a position to be able to support them.

“The Empathy Trap” has already been beneficial to me, before I have even set foot in a classroom. In just my everyday life, several times over the last week or so, I have felt sad and paused momentarily to ask myself: “Is this much sadness appropriate for the situation? Am I over identifying with this person? How might I be more useful to them?

I have often heard that you must take care of yourself before you can care for anyone else, and I think there is wisdom to it. If I’m falling apart as a bystander, how am I going to protect you?

Just thinking about my thinking often makes me feel better. If you can manage to step outside of yourself, even momentarily, sometimes you can see more objectively.

The article has helped me understand that I can care for someone without sacrificing my own needs.

How well I am able to put this into practice on a regular basis is anyone’s guess.

Desmond and Aislyn had some mandatory away-from-screen time last night, so they built this new cat condominium for Shane and Finnigan.

The address is 42,914 (because 42,915 was their old house) Saint Street St.

My favorite part is the name: Tu Vivi E Qui, which is Italian for “You Live in Here.”

Desmond did not mean to draw the Q like a cat. It was a joint effort between the two children.

My kids get their fair share of screen time, so it’s refreshing to see them work together to accomplish something meaningful and productive.

They return to school next week.

I tried to take a picture of Shane in the house.

To be able to teach again, I had to renew my license. Unfortunately, I let my certification lapse, although they warn you not to. So the end of August has been a scramble to accumulate 75 hours of wisdom I could apply to my job as an educator.

Fortunately for me, I was able to accomplish this in about two weeks. Some of my previous activities qualified already, such as volunteering on my kids’ field trips, practicing reading comprehension with my daughter, and that book, Atomic Habits, by James Clear, that I read in 2023. So accruing the clock hours was not nearly as difficult as I expected it to be.

Here are some of the highlights of my research:

Managing Emotions in Times of Uncertainty and Stress

This was a free Coursera class developed by the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence. It was designed during and primarily to help deal with the effects of the pandemic; however, it remains highly relevant post-COVID, as well. In eight modules, you can learn to more accurately identify your own and others’ feelings and how to cope with unpleasant emotions in healthier ways.

This lesson proves itself to be an indispensable tool for any parent, educator, or administrator in that it provides real strategies for self and co-regulation, describing emotions in concrete, measurable terms. It gives you a way to evaluate your feelings of pleasant or unpleasantness, via the mood meter.

The course allows you to better articulate your sadness, stress, or frustration, so you can address it, face it head on instead of running away from it or burying it under food or alcohol. It teaches you how to observe and accept what you are feeling without passing judgement.

Finally, there are helpful suggestions to be able to sit with your emotions, to coexist peacefully with them rather than trying to squash them: breathing, walking, doing something you love, reaching out to family or friends. While these may sound obvious, Yale backs them up with actual research, which, at the very least, should give people hope that these types of activities really do work.

I would recommend this course to educators, parents, mental health professionals, or anyone who struggles with emotions themselves or wants to help those who do.

Mindset

Mindset, by Carol Dweck, Ph.D, is a book about the two different outlooks people have on intelligence and how they affect your life.

The fixed mindset believes that success is determined by innate talent only. That one can only go so far as determined by how gifted (or limited) they are. People with this mindset often dread making mistakes for fear of being outed as incompetent, and may try to conceal them. They frequently prefer to do less challenging tasks where they are confident of errorless performance.

The growth mindset believes that hard work, dedication, and practice will make you better at what you do, and that anyone can become more intelligent or more adept with a high level of discipline. Mistakes are seen as learning opportunities, not failure, and challenges are welcomed.

The book promotes the growth mindset as the healthier way of thinking, and gives countless examples of research that proves that both children and adults with the growth mindset can even outperform those with a fixed mindset.

If I am honest, I am not altogether one mindset or the other, but tend to fall somewhere between. There are plenty of situations in which I can recall having a fixed mindset; however, as a professional student and lifelong learner who is always looking to improve in virtually every aspect of my being, I can say that I work tirelessly toward the growth mindset.

I believe that every child is capable of making progress, regardless of what they are born with, and I am certain that this informs the way I teach. As a special education teacher, I meet students “where they’re at” and map out where I hope to help them go. If we don’t get there by the proposed deadline, I don’t get discouraged. I might break down the benchmark into smaller components, or change my instructional method. But I don’t give up. You can’t.

Mindset is clearly useful for teaching, but I have found it most helpful on a personal level. For example, this morning I banged my head on the lip of the island on my way back up from feeding the cats. My knee jerk reaction was “I’m stupid.” This is very old, learned behavior, established from a 45-year history of thinking that thought again and again in similar situations. My brain is literally wired to insult me when I bump my head. Stupid is the beaten neural path.

Someone with a solid growth mindset, on the other hand, would simply think: “I miscalculated,” or “I must have a lot on my mind if I’m bumping into things.”

My goal for myself, then, is to alter the neural pathways that cause me to have that thought by replacing it with one of those more forgiving, self-compassionate thoughts. The more I observe and self-correct my unhelpful thinking, the closer I am to a growth mindset.

I think anyone would benefit from this book, but especially those in education, business, human resources, sports, or really any profession in which you wish to excel. People interested in self-improvement in general should also read Mindset.

I would add more great professional development experiences, but I think this post is already long enough.

I have to say that this pursuit, although somewhat of a whirlwind, was enjoyable for me. I’m one of those nuts who actually likes professional development. I got a lot out of this lightening round. Hopefully, the next cycle of PD will occur more evenly over three years. But what I learned in just a few weeks was equally beneficial.