pick up

Almost eight years ago I stepped off of an airplane late on a Friday night and met my fiance, now husband, in the waiting area. He was standing behind a pillar towards the back of the open room, the same pillar he stood behind each time he met me for a too short visit. He greeted me with the same loving smile and hug he always did. The familiarity conitnued as we headed out to the car. I scanned the parking lot and could not find his car. I searched and searched as he walked confidently through the darkened lot. Before I knew it, he was stopped in front of a very large pick up truck.

He didn't. Oh, but he did. And there it was. A huge diesel pick-up truck. 

Now, as a girl raised in New Jersey I could count on one hand the number of times I had been in a truck. I was embarassed to climb into such a big vehicle and felt out of place. This was so unfamiliar to me. It was so big, and loud, and just different. Different from anything I had ever known.

I remember that ride home from the airport like it was yesterday. TED felt so far away sitting on the other side of this huge vehicle. When I told him how far away I felt he told me to scoot closer and ride "redneck". Needless to say, I was clueless but scooted over and smiled at this man I loved so much who was so at home in this truck. It was a part of him already, he just belonged.

With each trip I became more familiar and more comfortable, not with the truck, but with all that it stood for. It was a representation of this man I have chosen to walk through life with. It wasn't showy, definitely loud, but not showy. It was strong and protective, just like him.

Today, I find myself drawn to the white truck sitting in my driveway. It is a piece of my man. A quiet representation of so much. I find excuses to drive it. I strap car seats in to the back and comfortably take the wheel of this truck. Me in a truck.... without hesitation... by choice. I love sitting in that truck. It is my time with him, even when he isn't here.

tick tock

TED leaves in about two weeks.

That thought hangs in the air no matter where I go. The ticking clock. It doesn't matter where we go or what we do the time is getting closer. It is the same clock we have known before but it always seems different. I forget about it, pretend it isn't part of our world until the time comes when the ticking can not be ignored.

I was talking to a good friend, who's husband will be deploying with Mike, this morning and as we lamented the upcoming send off we both kept returning to the same point... more than anything we are just going to miss seeing and being with them. The rest will come. The kids will continue to grow, we will stay busy, we will survive sometimes even thrive but the missing piece will loom in the background.

That is the hardest part to explain to someone who has never gone through a deployment. The missing piece, the emptiness. The moments on the couch where he make fun of your choice of TV show. The smile that spreads across his face when the kids greet him after a day of work. Just having him here. Nothing really prepares you for it and no matter how many deployments you go through it never gets easier.


Nothing will stop that ticking clock so we will stay busy and enjoy every moment. I will store every smile, every hug, each moment we have until time runs out and a new clock takes it's place. The one that brings him back to us.

That clock is my favorite one of all.

reclaiming me

Before I got pregnant with Logan I was thin, painfully thin. I obsessed over every single bite of food I put into my mouth. I looked great but it was tough. So it should be no surprise that when I got pregnant I let loose, the man at TCBY knew me by name, we ate out, I thoroughly enjoyed the fried chicken at the school I was working with... I think you get the point. Needless to say, all of that eating resulted in a BIG pregnancy weight gain. The thing is, I was so small to begin with everyone I met, who didn't know me pre-preggo, thought I was adorable and ALL belly. Not so much,

After I had Logan it took me about 6 months to get back to a weight I was comfortable with. It wasn't the same as my pre-baby weight but it was one that allowed me to live my life not obsessing about food but also not embarrassed to be in a picture.

Fast forward two years and we are moving to RI. My comfortable weight was beginning to creep out of control. Poor food choices, little exercise and I was right back to the weight I was the day I brought Logan home from the hospital. I was miserable, so disappointed in myself, yet lacking the motivation to really do anything about it. I talked a great game, I was going to start this diet, or that diet but I never followed through. Then I got pregnant again.

Once again my willpower went out the window. Difference was I was no longer the once skinny girl who to strangers now looked "all belly" I was getting huge. It was embarrassing.

Nine months later my beautiful baby girl arrived and I was heavier than I had ever been. I once again swore that I would take it off quick, I would try South Beach, Weight Watchers, workout, run, etc, etc etc. I tried and gave up on everything except weight watchers and that is only because I can be half serious about that with no real consequences (well except for the monthly bill on my credit card). Every Monday morning I would look TED in the eye and talk about how this would be the time that I got serious. I should have just recorded it and played it over and again because saying the words was getting me nowhere.

Today I stepped onto the scale after pre-deployment leave and lots of excuses and the number staring back at me stopped me in my tracks. What am I doing? Why do I keep doing this to myself? I am the only person who can change me. I can't talk about it I have to do it.

So here I am... doing something about it. I entered a VERY ugly weight into Weight Watcher's weight tracker and I ordered Turbo Fire. I know it won't be easy but I want to reclaim ME. I want to pose for pictures with my husband and children without any thought as to what it will turn out like. I want my children to see that exercise is something that BOTH of their parents do on a regular basis. I want to take my husband's breath away when I walk into a room. I want to be happy when I look in the mirror.

No excuses and no re-dos. This time I am serious. I want me back and I am going to work hard to do it.

Wish me luck.