The Square Root of ADHD is ME

My little baby-girl daughter who is 7 years old got her diagnosis: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) with anxiety. My 9 year old son puts his arms around my daughter and says, "I got you. We got this. I will take care of you forever. I promise."

His compassion fills the room. 

My husband I have known for months -- maybe even a year -- that my daughter has ADD. My son's therapist alerted us last summer and we informed the school in Sept 2014. They didn't listen. Girls manifest differently than boys. We explained this to anyone that would listen and they didn't. Now we know. This is not something I wanted or needed but it just IS. I would rather know and help her then not know and continue to let her feel frustrated. I never imagined that she was Hyperactive as well but my husband and I slowly began to suspect something new and exciting was developing this summer.  After both children exercise at the pool for over 4 hours a day they still NEEDED the extra 2 hours of swim time with me, from 4-6pm, to settle them properly for a smooth transition into nighttime. 

My daughter looks confused. Her brow is furrowed. 

"You are just fine, baby-girl. We are all here to help you and make you feel good" I say and reach for her hand. She stands up and looks at me. My words are not enough. I can tell by the way she is looking at me. She blames me. It's in her eyes. If there is a reason for something - anything - I own that answer and I have to make it understandable to her. That is what she expects. I can see clearly from her facial expression that I have not comforted her to her satisfaction.

"What did I do wrong?" she says and I see her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"Nothing" I say to her just above a whisper.  She looks at me. She takes my hand.

"You. Are. Not. Wrong." I say slowly and deliberately.  

"You did nothing wrong. Neither did I. We are not wrong. We think faster and about more things than other people. We are better -- enhanced. I was diagnosed at seven also" says my son.

He has a way of making her feel better when I cannot. 

"You did nothing wrong" I say again. I look at the doctor and he sits up straighter.

"I am diagnosing you with ADHD. That means we all believe that you think in a way that we can label as ADHD" says the doctor to my daughter.

"What is a diagnosis" asks my daughter. Her voice dripping with fear. Her eyes are big. Her anxiety palpable.

"It is a label. The diagnosis for the wall is that the color is yellow" explains the doctor.

"I understand that" she says in a small voice. I see her shrinking. We have crushed her. She won't feel good about this. I can feel it. We needed to know. She didn't deserve to feel so frustrated. I don't want her to waste years on insecurity like I did. I want her to know that she is amazing in so many ways and that the world doesn't need to validate that. She can know that for herself. She has to learn to own her awesomeness so she makes the right decisions.

"Mommy doesn't like labels. She says I am not a "tomboy" or "girlie girl" I am both. I am more. I am a funny artist that can dance and sing. I am an excellent swimmer who can speak French. I am smart and kind and super fun. I am really good at the hula-hoop. What is the label for that?" challenges my daughter.

"You. That's the label" says my son thoughtfully. I kiss him on the cheek and my daughter hugs him. My husband smiles.

"Asking a child to exist in a setting (social, classroom, hockey, dance class) and expect them to compete at the same level, as a non ADHD child, is like asking the child with ADHD to play dodge-ball blindfolded. The blindfolded child will never know where the ball is coming from but they are expected to react as if they are not blindfolded" says the doctor.

I never thought of it that way.

I sit there and look at my beauties. Smart, sweet, strong, funny, and healthy.  They are rarely quiet and still. Life around them is rarely calm.

The doctor continues to ask questions and everyone answers together. I want my daughter to be heard. There is no Oxygen in the room for her or me. My son directs the conversation. He answers questions like he is "the father" and not "the brother." I look to him and say "stop" silently. I say "stop" at least 10 times a day to him, always silently, as I do not to attract any unneeded attention to him or me. After the tenth "silent stop," I begin to question the dose of his medication. Is it high enough? Maybe he metabolizing his medication too quickly? Currently, his ADHD is FULL BLOWN and we are also experiencing a healthy dose of REBOUND. 

The room feels smaller. My daughter stands and says "I need to move." We walk into the hallway and follow the doctor inot another room. 

A few days later I was sitting in the Principal's office. School starts next week. My daughter is going into second grade. After discussing the diagnosis the Principal says, "at least she wants to please. That is great."

"I don't think that is necessary great. It makes everyone's lives easier but that is not her role in life" says her therapist. I love her BTW. She is a crusader for my daughter. I might have to leave my husband for her if she asks. 

"What I mean to say is, she wants to be part of the community and that will help her learn how to be a great part of the greater community. She is also a natural leader and likes to be in social control but she has to also learn the rules and what is expected of her" says the Principal.

"That is true." I say, "she has to learn when to please and when not to. She doesn't have to make everyone happy. I am more concerned that people make HER happy because she is already too kind to those who don't deserve or haven't earned it" I say. I look to her therapist and she nods in agreement.

Welcome to a new GIRL power!

Porn at the Pool

This week I began my work-out in my new size 16 bathing suit. After a few moments of jogging I started having issues. I side-stepped my way to the deep end so I could address my bathing suits' multiple malfunctions.

"My bathing suit is simultaneously rolling up and down." I say to my girlfriend.

She laughs, "How is that possible?"

How is that possible? It's called my belly. My suit is rolling up over my stomach until it stops at my breasts. Every jump under the water is way more fleshy than I want observed. My bottoms are rolling down from my waist, over my hips, and thankfully stop right above my cookie. I continue to jump but manage to maintain no cookie exposure. The suit looks great and feels great but it is a 2-piece nightmare. I guess these are 2-piece problems. I am a 1-piece lady overexposed in a 2-piece world. The other ladies with 2 pieces have flat bellies. That might be a crucial difference. 

"It's like a porn show under here!" I say and roll the suit down and up while simultaneously frog jumping in the water. I want to keep my heart rate up but I am preoccupied with not getting arrested for indecent exposure.  I begin the wide side to side steps and move my arms in small inner circles. I love this exercise and my new triceps are the benefit of this particular exercise. I look down and swear I am about to have a nip-slip at any moment. I move deeper and laugh at myself. Another woman turns and I see she is adjusting in the water. I think her whole left breast popped out. 

Good times! Good times!

Here is a picture a friend took of me last night at my children's swim meet. The squash is impressive but all I see are my awesome arms, thigh, and youthful neck.

Show me your fat

I never use the word FAT or SKINNY in my house. Those words are toxic. I believe that a person can be "FIT" or "working their way to becoming more FIT." I want my children to love themselves and their bodies. I want them to approach food in the right way -- as fuel to energize their bodies to get done what they want to. Food is not a reward. Not every meal has to be their favorite or an event. Food should taste good and be good for you. 

My son and daughter are watching me work-out daily. Our summer special "4-5pm" swim used to be me playing with the two of them in the pool - barreling my son as he spins in my arms lengthwise or chasing after them and calling them packages from foreign lands (usually Paris and New York.) Which is great exercise but it is clearly not enough. I would tone in the summer but now I am shrinking -- almost like a slowly deflating balloon from the top down. My arms are more muscular. There is more muscle under my lovely softness. The laps are a game-changer.  The laps come first, at least 4 days a week. They take 40-50 minutes to complete. 

At first I wrote Unfortunetely. Then I erased that. It is not unfortunate that it takes that long. It just does. I accept that about myself. I am only competing against myself.

After the laps are done I play with them even though I am zonked. I love to carry them in the pool (combined weight of them is is 150 lbs) and I pretend that I don't have a bad back.  Which I don't in the pool!)

They have both expressed their displeasure with me not giving them every moment of me that they want. That too is part of the process for all of us. Taking time for me has become essential to me and them. They will learn that a person has to love themselves so that can love others.  A person has to take the time to exercise so they can feel good the rest of the day.

The other day my daughter asks me, "Where are you fat? Where is your fat?" I took a breath and walked her into my bedroom. 

"Why do you want to know?" I ask. I want to see what she is going to say.  

"Because I want to understand" she says. I walk across the room and close my bedroom door.

"I saw a mommy at the pool that is bigger than you" she says.

"How did that make you feel?" I ask. Deadpan.

"Happy. I don't want you to die of being fat" she says.

Like a knife through the heart. I am really proud of her honesty and trust in me. 

"I won't let that happen" I say and give her a big hug.

She jumps on the bed and sits down.  

"Show me your fat" she says to me. Her little girl voice is filled with questions and openness. She is a little girl. Mine. 

"Ok" I say and take off all my clothes. 

I stand in-front of her and say, "if I can pinch the flesh than that is fat. Unless it is loose skin because there was fat there and now there isn't anymore." 

Warning: GRAPHIC content

I start at my feet and move quickly up my thighs. For the first time in a LONG TIME I can't pinch any significant fat or skin on my outer thighs.  The saddle-bags are gone and they took all the extra flesh with them. Almost miraculously. Even my inner thighs are in much better shape. But I found some fat and showed her.

I then happened upon my ass.

As a white girl with a FLAT white girl butt there has never been anything exciting about my "junk in the trunk." An ass-man would never look my way. Now a breast-man ... well that is an entirely different story. When I gain weight I get a second ass.  And not in a cute way. My second ass sits on top of first my ass. It starts about halfway up my first ass and acts like a fat shelf for my first ass. I went to pinch the second ass and to my surprise the SECOND ASS WASN'T THERE. 

I asked my daughter, "Can you pinch fat on my bum-bum for me?" 

"Nope Mama. Your bum-bum is FIT!" She says and she is totally engaged. She then lightly spanks my bum and giggles. I turn around to look at my ass and she squeals as I go in circles making everything silly.

"I love when we talk like this" she says. There it is. I WIN! This is why I do this. FOR her. I want her to never stop talking to me about what is important to her. She is tragically forgetful and disorganized. She is wickedly tall and this bothers her sometimes. She wants to be cute. She is 7. She is cute. But she doesn't believe it. By putting myself out there I hope to gain her openness and future trust.

Back to pinching FAT ... I ended my journey at my stomach and started pinching left, right, and center. 

"I see the fat on your stomach Mama. I understand now" she says.

I wait ... silently .. to see what she will say next. And here it comes

"It's a like a belt only in the front" she says. I wasn't expecting that.  She gets up and hugs me. She kisses my belly and says, "I love the Mama love."

"I love you" I say. 

"Will I get fat?" she asks in fear.

"Not if you eat smart and exercise" I say.

"If I eat and never exercise then I will get fat?" she asks.

"Yes." I answer quickly. I want to impose the idea that she has exercise her whole life.  People with ADHD have a proclivity to be over weight as adults with weaker endurance levels. If I teach her now the importance of exercise and why it makes you feel better inside she will continue this great habit her whole life. She will never struggle like I do now. My struggle is weight-loss, stress, and their ADHD.  When ADHD entered my home, I happened upon a change in me that will save my life. I can only parent through example. If I am not moving as well and showing them that it does make me feel better they won't believe it. They are contrary-by-nature.  My daughter and son will think differently about being fit and understand why it is important to have this balance. A balance I never had as a child.

Eventually she will see how she can manage her stress and anxiety with exercise.

"Thank you for not lying to me" she says.

"I will never lie to you. You can always believe me and come to me with every question that you can imagine" I say.

Here she is achieving and believing in herself and her abilities. 

ADHD is everyday

I went to the pool twice today in-between thunder claps for Aqua-Fit and laps. I needed to work-out and I couldn't. The work-out releases my stress. I used to use food. Bags of chips, cream cheese bagels, french fries, etc. Now I don't. Now I work out. I had a little hissy fit when I couldn't get in the pool. My son suggested that I work out on land. I can't yet. I need to weigh less to protect my knees. I recovered from this manageable tragedy on my return to pool when I knocked out 10 laps.

I do this because it makes me feel better. It manages my stress. I have stress. I am a New York Jew. Stress is my Oxygen. We all have stress. But stress will kill me if I don't get it in control. I do this for me. I do this to lose weight. I have 40 pounds to go and I will sit comfortably at 185 pounds. There I said it. I own it. Do the math if you need to.

The work-out also helps me to work out my mental stress. I am running my life to raise a self-aware and strong son and confident and independent daughter and nurture a marriage to a man I love.

My story is my own. It is:

1. Enhanced
2. Riddled
3. Defined
4. Shaped

by ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). Not my own but my children's. 

I have come to learn that having one child with ADHD is EASY to manage. It wasn't at first. It also isn't "always" easy but there is a certain balance that can be achieved when only one child thinks as fast as those with ADHD do. Or feels as passionately about something that has to happen RIGHT now or they may forget. 

The PANIC in their forgetfulness is real. 

I have heard the pleas.  I didn't get it because I don't have ADHD. But my children do. When only one child is persistently argumentative .. or consistently contrary ... that can be managed because the other sibling ISN'T. 

The cage-match in my head is constant.

I balance egos and emotional-wellness the way OTHER people blink. I do it all the time. I have to lift one up while making sure that the other one isn't pushed down. I can't be sarcastic. Have you any idea how hard it is to tell a New York Jew that she cannot be sarcastic? Sarcasm is in my BONE MARROW. But it is not healthy to speak in a way that doesn't demonstrate the proper social queues to children who don't necessarily have the ability to access those inherent queues.  Because they are NOT intrinsic to an ADHD mind. Let me tell you, I am not a patient person. I have learned how to grow patience like tentacles that I wrap my family in because that is MY JOB. I protect them. I make mistakes daily but most of my mistakes are new ones not old ones.

Swimming laps helps my mental cage-match.

ADHD is everyday.

My son was diagnosed about 2 years ago. We paraded him to the best Specialists in Montreal and took advantage of every program that was offered. Two years later and we are in a very different place. He has achieved and matured. He is more self aware than most grown men. But it never goes away, it can be managed, but not always successfully and never without substantial effort on his part.

My ordinary world (yes, Duran Duran is playing in the background) doesn't just have one child with ADHD. It has two. We are all working our way towards a diagnosis for my delicious little daughter. Her struggle is different than my sons. It is quieter and filled with a different kind of daily frustration.

Asking an ADHD mind to behave, think, and conform to non-ADHD standards is like asking my to fly. It's not happening.

I take this stress that lives inside me and work-out. I swim and silence myself and my mind. I breathe in and push my arms out in front of me. I breath out through my nose and see the bubbles under the water. I look at my fingernails (which I paint in bright pink or red) and push my arms back to my sides. I take another breath. I do this till I am exhausted. It happens around 24-26 laps. I am then relaxed.

The cage-match in my head is silent now. I hug my beautiful babies as they battle to be heard. They can have the Oxygen. I don't need it. I smile because I am too tired to be stressed.  I let their boisterous and passionate love roll all over me. I feel full and content. I see another mother and her two silent children sitting next to her quietly playing. For a moment I think that must be nice. Then I look at my children. My daughter is singing me a new song she made up and my son is hugging me. They love me and I cherish them. I can't imagine them being any other way.

Aqua-Fit Instructor

My lifeguard who leads Aqua-Fit wasn't there today. A male lifeguard subbed in. I wasn't feeling the kind of burn that I wanted to feel from his instruction. He was trying hard but I wanted to make sure those 30 minutes counted. Take a moment ... play that back. I wanted to feel the burn so I knew I was getting the right kind of exercise done. I spoke up in my regular Candace-like fashion and suggested moves that we have all done before. I essentially took over the class and this other lady added some great killer moves to the routine. 


I had this total out-body-experience where I saw myself leading the class. I saw myself excelling at something physically-related. I could tell everyone what to do. I am excellent at that. I can keep up in the water. 

I can totally keep up with everyone now.

I rode that high home and ate an awesome salad. I drank 2 glasses of water. I drank a cup of tea. I feel motivated. I know I will crank out another 5 hours of work and end the day swimming some laps. I will then be too tired to be stressed. I won't over-eat at night because I will be too tired to do so. I will fall asleep by 10:30pm easily and again be too tired to have my mind race. 

I will eat a yellow tomato from my garden with my dinner tonight. Nope. I just ate it. It was Amazing! The yellow tomatoes are sweeter than the red.  Just eating one makes me feel better. Smarter for making a better choice. My son chose that plant for our garden for me this summer. He knows I like tomatoes and the yellow color makes us all think of my mother. She loves the color yellow.
It was a great day. The small things made all the difference.

3 Things I have learned in 30 days

1. If I do not swim laps or do Aqua-fit everyday I am stressed-out. 

2. I must work-out especially when I am sore. Within 10 minutes of starting the work-out the soreness goes away and I feel even better.

3. People concentrate when they work-out. I have seen this happen and have never experienced the need to do this. See my previous post about this called "Zumba Legs." While exercising, which I do like 2x a year, I like to look at others and smile, make a joke, or pant in mutual effort, but never have I ever wanted to be SILENT and FOCUSED.

What has changed? ME.
I have spent the last month working-out almost everyday save 2 or 3. I have lost 9.5 pounds and have gone from a size 18 to 16. The previous 15 pounds I lost are just the same I gain and lose every year. Thanks to Facebook I figured that out. The summer 9 pounds that I have lost since June 14th are ALL NEW AND MINE.

What am I doing?
Aqua-fit and laps.
Aqua-Fit 3-4x a week for 30 minutes and I swim 24 laps every day. It takes about 30 minutes to finish the laps. The first 10 suck, the second 10 feel smooth, and the last 4 I earn.

One day I did 30 laps. I have yet to get back to that. Someone else at the pool did 30. I was inspired and then felt internally challenged. 

One day last week I didn't work-out and I felt edgy. Or as my cousin Raquel observed, "You're f#ckin insane stressed."

I was stressed. I thought I hid it well. Clearly I didn't.  We walked for an hour and a half that night. I felt great afterward and couldn't really walk the next day. But I still Aqua-fitted and did 24 laps. I am stronger. I am not tired anymore at 3-4pm. I am playing with my kids in the pool now everyday. 

These new feelings and experiences are refreshing for 41 years old. I have spent 40 YEARS not working out. I told my lifeguard at the pool about the stress build-up. The another lifeguard replied "that's what athletes feel like. We need to work out and then we feel good."

"OMYG-D, I am starting to feel like an athlete?!!?" 

Back to SILENT and FOCUSED:
I appear to do neither well. Especially the silent part. Yesterday I worked-out hard. That statement in my mouth sounds funny. Not authentic. But it was true. I jumped higher than I ever have before. I pushed my arms in the water and made waves till I felt the burn. I took those 30 minutes and said:

THESE BELONG TO ME. 

These 30 minutes are when I focus on being healthy and moving to live. These 30 minutes are the minutes that I take to make myself strong and make myself healthy.  

During the work-out I went silent and counted. I breathed and focused on not holding my breath. I stood straight and sucked in my stomach. I learned to hold in my gut, breathe, and count concurrently. I focused on me. 

I finally understood what I saw in other people's eyes when they worked-out.  I became silent. Mindful. 

Kissing my Frenchiest French Friend changed my Karma

I posted a meme of a lazy Polar Bear on FB. My friend, who I call my Frenchiest French Friend (which I say with ALL DUE respect) responded and sent me a small video of a Grizzly Bear climbing a ladder and jumping into the pool. 

Small digression: My Frenchiest French Friend has a luscious French accent when she speaks English. She speaks beautiful English. I have known her for over 3 years and I still do not pronounce her name correctly. I miss about 5-10% of what she says, not because of her accent, (which btw I am totally unable to decipher accents) but because I am fairly convinced that I am almost completely deaf in my left ear at this point. So basically I am screwing myself daily by living in Quebec where everyone speaks French. My Father always said to challenge myself daily with what is hardest for me. Living in Montreal, Quebec with all the French and all the accents leaves me flummoxed daily and fulfills this challenge. 

So where was I?  The Grizzly Bear.

I jokingly responded that she was comparing my grace and style with a Grisly Bear. It certainly wasn't a body hair kinda issue. Which I want to say that she NEVER WAS. I was using my awesome self-deprecating humor to keep the joke going. She said it was for the kids to enjoy.

The next day we are talking and I totally misheard something she was trying to say ... and I might have made fun of her ... who knows ... we all make fun of each other ....

Then ...

Last night during CANADA DAY we sat in the rain and 65F degrees at the pool to root and cheer for the kids at their first swim meet. A huge amount of water falls on me and I am soaked. She remained completely dry in the same front row. She laughs at me and said, "Karma!"

I walk over to her and say, "Do you know what Karma sounds like?"

She says no.

"Ha Ha Ha!" I say, "I better change my Karma" so I lean down and give her a kiss on the lips. 

"I am sure now you did the trick" she says. 

Note: She won the raffle last night after buying $10 worth of tickets that was the length of my arm. I am telling you ALL OUT THERE ... find a lovely french-friend and give her a kiss!

I awoke this morning to having lost 6 pounds in 2.5 weeks while working my A-S-S off for it. I think that kiss helped my fat realize how hard I have been working!

... or it was the Karma ...

Sore Mermaid

Summer is my season of renewal. The pool has been open for two weeks and I have been there everyday save 2. I started with 10 laps in the pool and everyday I add 1 lap until I can hit 20 laps. I am now there and have completed 2 days at 20 laps. My goal is 40 laps in the same time it takes me to do the original 10. Water aerobics has just begun and I have gone 2 days in a row. I feel the difference in my stomach under my fat. My fat is still there, especially in my stomach, but there is a strength in my stomach. It is almost as if my fat has lifted up - it is more confident. Not sure if that is a good thing? Forcing myself to work out with a better posture helps. When I am jumping in the pool making sure I land flat footed helps.

I am also drinking Chai tea. I thought it would be too spicy but it isn't and it is quite robust.

I have lost 2 lbs in 2 weeks and I earned it. It should have been 4 lbs for the effort but my fat hasn't caught up yet with my efforts. Husband said there is muscle developing. That is good. 

Here the conversation I had with the pretty 18 yo female lifeguard at my pool:

Lifeguard: "You are doing well with the laps. I think you could do more since you are increasing so quickly. You underestimate yourself."

Me: "My legs feel so heavy. I have been committed for 2 weeks and they still feel heavy. I am walking like a old lady."

Lifeguard: "You are building muscle. It is good. How do you feel in the morning?"

Me: "Fine. Will that get better? When will I feel stronger?

Lifeguard: "Yes. It will get better."

Me: "When I was lazy, which started in 1984 ... my legs felt much lighter. Isn't that strange? The issue is ... it is harder to lift my legs over my head. You know what I mean?"

Lifeguard:  Laughing outrageously. "Yes. I mean no. I don't know."

Me: "Of course you don't. You are young and healthy. I am just saying I like when it is easier to do that."

Lifeguard: "I'm sure you do. But this workout is better."

Me: "No, not really. The workout with the husband after 18 years is better."

Lifeguard: "True. True. Combine all three workout for the most effect possible."

Me: "Are you trying to kill me?"

Lifeguard: "No. I am trying to make you bitchier. You said the smaller the ass .. the bitchier you could be. You are so nice, none of us can figure out what you would be like as a bitch!"

Go Summer GO!!!

Everything averages out when gravity is on my side.

I heard an expression: You are a tomorrow person. That means every time you want something new or when you have to make a change you say "tomorrow I will start" or "Monday is the best day to begin a new life change." I don't think that is an accurate description of me.

I think I lack basic will power. I know I do. I lack will power when it comes to food. Maybe I am addicted? I could control myself when I was preggers with the babes, though. 

Facts I know to be true: 

I hate to sweat.

I love to dance.

I am a terrible dancer.

If I sweat when I dance I don't care.

I love to swim. I wish I was a mermaid in the water.

My weight plateauing (the "ing" implies motion or momentum as in a state of change -- not a constant) is not an excuse anymore.  I am obsessed over my lack of progress when I have made so many great changes.

How do I change more? To say that I have to change when I am finally at the point in my life where I do love me, is hard.

FACT: I feel great before I eat. But once I do, once I make a bad choice, whatever that choice is:

1. too much salad dressing
2. croutons
3. a slice of bread
4. any CARB from grain, whatever it is ... 

I don't feel good anymore.

But I do not like falling asleep at 4pm on a Sunday because I drank a Sprite and ate some chips. I don't want my daughter to tell me about a woman, she saw one day, that was bigger than me. 

Why is she looking for that?

And since she saw someone that was bigger than me -- then my size is justifiable to her now? I am not that big. I am over 200 lbs. I said it. I am also 6 feet tall. If I was in New York I wouldn't even stick out all the much. In Montreal, adults in there 40's are super fit. Most women work out and most men are part of an adult sports league. It is just how it is done here. 

I have thighs that lack a gap between them. But I am always in the pool playing with my kids and not sitting on a chair tanning or gabbing. I shame all the other moms that way and it is AWESOME. I am present with them in the pool. Everything averages out when gravity is on my side. I don't feel defined by my size at the pool - in the pool - with my kids..

My mom was overweight my whole life. I went from embarrassment to acceptance really early on. I also promised myself that I wouldn't be fat by the time my kids were young.  Or I would at least solve the problem before they noticed. I don't want them to be teased because of me. I don't want to be the source of sadness or stress for them.

Now my son is 9 and my daughter is 7 and I still haven't managed to rid myself of the last 40 lbs. The last 40 lbs that have defined me for over 20 or maybe 30 years, The 40 that would are the difference between diabetes and no diabetes. At some point I will run out of time and it will happen,

All I can is make the right choices all day and all night. Everyday.

It is 2pm. The danger zone. I ate the salad for lunch and now I am ready for a 2nd lunch. The Starburst in the kitchen are calling me. I couldn't care less about the chocolate muffins. Thank goodness for small favors. If the lemon cake was still there - that might have been a problem. I reach or a ... yogurt. 

Okay. Well done. Now I will walk the dog for the 3rd time today because she loves it. OOH what if I walked the kids to school? I might not make it back again. But I can try.

I love how your belly shakes when you laugh

I enter the room and everyone gasps in awe because I look so killer. I am wearing red heels and a v-neck something that shows off my decolletage. I walk around smiling and talking. I know everyone in the room but cannot seem to recall any one conversation. Everyone's financial achievements is palpable - the diamonds, the clothing, the recent vacation tans. At least I am perceived thin. I achieved that. I finally look good. I walk over to a mirror to check my lipstick and then I am in a store trying to find food for the kids to eat. All I come across are tomato sandwiches (which I know the kids will never touch.) I ask for something else and all the lights turn off.  I leave the store with no food for the kids.

I wake up and realize that THIS was my morning to sleep in an now it is 8:28am. If I go back to sleep I will have another weird dream.

All day when it comes to food I think DO THE RIGHT THING. Drink water, drink tea, stay away from carbs from grain, no extra sugar, more vegetables, no chips, only drink 1 Sprinte/7Up/Ginger Ale. It is EXHAUSTING.

I almost-ish have the food thing down. I have to find a way to make myself move more. And I need to get it going before it gets too hot.

I spoke to a friend of mine from college. She has always been inspiring because she keeps herself is such killer shape. I remember her in college and she always felt better taking a run and getting out of her head for awhile. Now she is a working mom of two with a myriad of things to contend with on a daily basis. Her stress is at an all-time high right now and in order to heal she has to go back to the basics.

Sleeping
Eating well
Exercise

I find myself thinking about what makes me different from these friends of mine? The ones that love to run. The thought of sweating to me sounds awful. Am I alone on that one really?

Why can they put down the cheese popcorn and I cannot? What drive do they have within them that says I would rather have a 26 inch waist then a chicken cutlet sandwich once a week?

Last night my son was telling me a story and we kept laughing together. Afterwards he said,

"I love how your belly shakes when you laugh." 

I wish my belly didn't shake. I was gutted again. I recovered quickly because I didn't want him to think that he had made me sad. I cannot tell him that. I have learned that to I have to love my body with all its curves and extra curves, and bumps, and scars in a way that shows both my children that they must love themselves. Always. Over anyone else. Over EVERYTHING else.

And with my honest beret on I have to say that when my daughter tells me that my butt it is cute (and that is the least cute thing about me aside from my feet,) I have to agree with her.

They will learn through my example that they are both smart, funny, creative, artistic, kind, and beautiful because I tell them that they are everyday.

Zumba Legs

Show up and shut up. Be present. Stop making excuses. Stop doing the things that you NEED to make excuses for.

I am not in optimal shape (I don't want to use the word thin) because I like to eat at the wrong times. The truth is I feel better when I don't eat at all.  Once I start it is every two hours on this new regimented plan. If I keep to the plan, I eat well.  If I don't have enough protein at home or salad, then I deviate. 

By adopting the new tea & lemon water regimen for the past 4 months I took off 15.5 lbs. I have not lost an ounce in the past 2 weeks. Why? I don't move my body enough. The lemon water picks up my metabolism. That helps. This week I have the morning shift with the puppy. First walk is 7:15am. I take the dog for a longer walk at 11am. I should take her for a longer one at 1pm as well - just to move. She doesn't need it but I do. I have hit a plateau. PLATEAU. I hate that word when it relates to weight.

I Zumba'd with the kids during a school fundraiser and couldn't walk for at least 2 days afterward.

"Zumba legs" I said when I wobbled down the stairs.

I did more exercise in one night then in the last 6 months. But it felt good. Great. I have never liked to exercise. I never found these endorphins that really healthy in shape people talk about. Even when I was in shape at 16 I never felt them. I just felt my awesome shapely thighs and loved how I looked in clothes. At Zumba I was sweaty and happy. I felt young and cool and I did it with all the wrong moves. I liked the sweat.

The Zumba scene was interesting. I am not modest and never have been. I am not conservative either. I have always been a people watcher. When the ladies Zumba'd they were really into it. They were focused and in control. The time spent was going to be paid for in sweat (FAME!) The ladies stared at the instructor and moved their bodies in totally immodest ways. In between the songs the ladies would look at one another, chat, giggle, perhaps repeat a move, and then pant in anticipation of the next song. Once the music started again they all refocused. I don't have that type of control or focus but that's okay too. Because I am awesome. I danced and sang along probably (most definitely) too loudly. I just made sure to keep moving. The kids had a great time and we felt good doing it all together.

Now I have to do this again. Or something else. Today when my daughter comes home I am going to try to teach her to ride her new bicycle. That's me. Being present. Trying every day.

I also drank a Ginger-Ale when my stomach hurt after lunch. Then I drank 64 oz if water to flush the sugar away. The Gingle-Ale was awesome. It tasted great and did the trick. The water afterwards made me feel better about my choices. It's a battle.

When are you due?

I haven't been "due" since November 2007 when my belly fat was deemed socially acceptable because it was in fact my daughter. After her birth my inability to lose my fat-baby (which has been there since the late 1990's) was judged as decidedly lazy and undisciplined by mostly thin people.

The winter is finally over here in Montreal; that means; the coats are off, the sweaters stay in the car, the pants turn to skirts, shorts, and dresses, and the boots are replaced with sandals, flip-flops, and ballet flats. It is a rebirth of flesh and sunshine. 

I am eating healthy and walking more. I feel good in my skin. I have lost weight, toned a tad, and have that New York spring in my step. I am wearing a dress and ballet flats. It is 78 F. 

I walk into the Marche de L'Ouest in D.D.O (which is a small shopping mall filled with different kinds of stores: specialty foods, butcher, fish monger, flowers, gift items, and a new tea shop.) I walk past the new tea store. The tea hostess is offering samples of their new exotic green tea. I drink green tea daily. I am their market. Green Tea is my only source of caffeine. I take a sample from her tray and she says,

"You shouldn't drink that. When are you due?"

It hurts EVERY TIME. 

Do I just look at her and say thank you? Thank you for assuming my fat was a baby. Thank you for your thoughtfulness in protecting my unborn fat-baby. Thank you for reminding me that no matter how awesome I feel walking in here you managed to slay me with 4 small words. Do I say thank you and pat my fat-baby and give the hostess back her tea? Can I make up an imaginary fat-baby that has a gender and a due date? Maybe my fat-baby has an awesome conception story? Do I engage and tell her that I am not expecting? Then I have to see that look on her face. It is the same look every time. Terror mixed with embarrassment with a sou-son of pity because I am clearly fat enough that the assumption was made in the first place. 

Is it more important that I care about her feelings and subsequent reaction when she just crushed mine?

I cannot control where the weight disappears from on my body. I am on the right path. That is was matters. 

When will the sting come out of those words? Why is it that those words are only spoken by thin people?

Here I am with my kids, no make-up, all me. Truly happy and not feeling like I am "due".

Mother's Day 2015

This weekend was Mother's Day. I slept in and enjoyed the children and husband. We planted a bit in the garden and it was low key. Just the way I like it. The husband took the kids to the park for two hours and I got to chill. I cooked extra hamburgers the night before so I could eliminate the need to cook. I ended up making KILLER steaks. I used the Asian marinade on the steak and BBQ'd them.

Here is my daughter, 7 years old, I see this as our love in a series of three moments:

And here is my 9 year old who says we can still snuggle till he is like 10, maybe 11 that the most.

Not my finest moment

Last night the children were punished for causing a major ruckus upstairs (crashing, running, and doors slamming noises) when my husband and I were having dinner. I went upstairs and discussed their selfishness and handed out punishments of no iPad and no computer. They could play quietly in their rooms and would also lose their stories. They could not play together.

Within 10 minutes the notes came down the stairs .. pictures of forgiveness, letters of apology, requests from them both to just be together and play quietly.

An hour later we commenced the bedtime rituals sans story telling. After the tooth-brushing my daughter pulls me into her room.

"He was really upset so I stayed in his room to make him feel better" she says.

"That is not what I asked you to do" I say.

"It was more important to make him feel better than to listen to you. I'm sorry. That is my choice and I make the right one. He needs me more than you need me to sit alone and think about selfishness" she says.

She is right. My 7 year old just laid me out.

"You told me to always pick him over everyone else. You said: if he is sad, and I can make it better, I should. You said: it is us against the world." 

"Yes. This is what I said. Do you want to tell me what actually happened now?" 

By the time we heard the real story of the crashing water bottles, running, and slamming doors we realized that this was a #parentfail.

"He was stung by a wasp today. Then he saw a bee in your room. He got scared because he didn't want to get stung again. He threw a water bottle at it, we ran, we screamed, and I slammed the door to keep the bee out."

I was WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

Then I went to my son. The 9 year old.

"I wasn't going to get stung again, Mama. Not on my watch" says my son.

"I get it, I am sorry. I was wrong. I will always admit when I am wrong. I am really sorry. Look, it has been 3 years since you were stung. I guess your were due" I say and try to laugh off the sting. He is not really having that.

"Do I have bad luck?" he asks.

"You have Russian luck" shries my daughter from her bedroom.

"What's Russian luck?" asks me son.

"I have no idea. It must be harsh. Russians have a harsh but morbid sense of humor so I would assume their luck must follow the same path" I say.

Looking at me skeptically, "tonight was a good lesson, Mama. This would have made a really funny episode for the first season of my show." 

"But, I look really bad in this episode. I didn't listen enough. We all learned lessons tonight" I say quietly.

The hugs abound and everyone gets tons of kisses. My daughter runs in and does a "happy dance" to say goodnight to my son. At the end of the dance she hugs and kisses him.

My son says, "We should record her dances for posterity."

"Do you like when she does this?" I ask.

"I love it, this is the footage that we can run while we credits are rolling at the end of episode."

Every meal doesn't have to be a treat

The phone rings and it is my mother.

"Candi, my medication bills have hit over $500 this month" says my mom in desperation.

And we have the same conversation that we have had for years. The food choices that she makes are killing her slowly. She is Diabetic, over-weight, and has wicked-bad Arthritis. Despite being a Diabetic for 30 years her "insides" have really maintained themselves. 

This is a perfect time to mention that my Grandmother is at least 95 years old, lives in her own home, and still has the figure of a 16 year old dancer.

"You have to eat to feel good. You can't LOVE to eat anymore!" I say.

"I don't know how. I haven't figured it out. After all this time, I feel like I am not wealthy enough to be over-weight. I cannot afford the Insulin" says my mother.

And there is it. She cannot afford her medication. But if she controlled the food going in, as much as she worries about me and my brother (we're in our 40's), she could be FREE of all this stress and financial-obligation. She could just be healthy. 

"There is no magic pill" I say to her and more to myself. I say it a lot. It is all about choices. New choices ... grilled eggplant on the BBQ ... Bad choices ... cheese popcorn! It always come back to the Cheese Popcorn with me?!!?

Choosing to recover and try again .. every single day .. for every meal.

For at least two decades, I would eat lunch and plan for dinner. I am not proud to admit that. 

I can CHOOSE to no longer be ashamed. I choose to set myself FREE!

"Every meal doesn't have to be a treat" I say to my mother.

"I feel like the universe is telling me something, Candi. Daddy didn't live long enough to know what this all feels like. He chose to eat himself to death at 59 because he couldn't see living any other way" she says.

"He missed out on the grand-kids. He missed out on a lot, Mama. Considering the genes you have, you can choose to not miss out on anything" I say.

I don't want to miss a moment.  Tonight I am making grilled baby Bok Choy. 

Living the dream every day.

How 2 chocolate cookies took me down

I walked past the chocolate cookies a million times. Cookies are not my thing. Cakes aren't either. I make brownies at least every other week and never touch them. Sweets don't really get me going. Now Cheese Popcorn is an entirely separate beast. I like it salty! When I can finally give up all the salty treats ... I will finally be thin. One day it will mean enough. (WOW! Pulling no punches here, I do claim to be the Honest Wife.)

I ate correctly all day. I started the day with my lemon water. Half and hour later, I ate Greek yogurt and a cup of tea. I went back to work and walked the dog an hour later. I  drank another cup of tea and made an oatmeal.  Lather. Rinse. Repeat. This is how it goes lately but it is working. I have energy and I am not tired from 3-5pm. I am also a tad hungry at all times and moderately full from time to time. I also have no stomach aches now. 

If you have known me for 5 minutes or forever you will know that I always have stomach aches. I remain looking well-nourished despite the fact that I really do not eat that much anymore. Sins of the past ... it takes 5 minutes to gain wait and 5 months to take it back off ...

Back to my day. Around 11:30am I had an apple. I followed that up with a lunch of Tuna salad with avocado and lettuce.

Then there was the crackers - Saltines. AWESOME with tuna. I didn't have mayo and I used avocado as my fat. I gave myself 4 crackers and I ate 4 more. My protein to carbs-from-grain ratio was so high I felt in the clear. The day went on and then it was 2 o'clock. I was full energy but I was hungry.

I walked into the kitchen to make more tea. I had walked the dog three times today so I decided 1 cookie was fine. It was amazing. I ate it slowly and savored each bite. I prefer the non-chocolate dough parts. They are chewy and sweet. I nurtured that cookie. 

Is this what thin people feel when they eat 1 cookie? Is this what discipline feels like? 

I then went back to work. After 10 minutes I desperately wanted a second cookie. I didn't even consider having some yogurt or a fruit. The grapes in the fridge were way too tart and they made me sad since they were HUGE and I expected them to be sweeter. They felt like a purchase-FAIL. I also had Strawberries in the fridge but I was saving those for the kids.

I drank more water and more tea. Fast forward another hour and I was exhausted. My head was cloudy and I couldn't look at my computer screen for another moment. I saw the crumbs next to my tea. I don't even remember eating the 2nd cookie.

The truth was before me. 2 Chocolate cookies had taken me down.

It all started with a duck

I moved to Montreal and the different kinds of food in the grocery store were simultaneously amazing and terrifying. After my eyes would scan past the pork (no pork eaten here) they would land on the chicken, beef, and fish. I would try to glaze-over the packages of brains, livers, and hearts. I wanted to cook new things. I wanted to expand my go-to dishes for dinner. My old time favorite go-to is Turkey. Nothing better. In Canada, Turkey is priced at a premium.  Clicking my heels three times I remembered that I was no longer in the land of milk and honey where everyone ate Turkey called America. I was in Canada. Here they love pork and fish and they hate turkey. I am joking as I say this. Not really, but maybe a little.

I learned the hard way. I used to eat ground turkey all the time and now the cost was prohibitive. My leaner lifestyle was at stake and now I went back to steak (couldn't resist!)

Every time I went to the store, the new proteins before me mocked me. There were new things to try and I was being a wussy American. 

One day I bought a duck. I said I can cook this canard. It sat in my fridge for 1 day. I then put it in the freezer because I was intimidated. It sat in the freezer as I cooked many roast beefs, chickens, and hamburgers. Then I saw a leg of lamb. I love lamb. I bought it and said I will ask one of my Greek friends what to do.  How best can I cook this? I bought a new giant pan. For days I compared recipes and techniques. 

Many said to cook the lamb "slow and low".

Others proselytized "shallots, red wine, and mint sauce on the side".

I also consulted my Moroccan SIL and she set me straight. She is a killer awesome cook. I went for it. I was cooking something new and exciting and major. The prep was awesome, the aroma from the oven all day (I went with slow and low) was sumptuous. The lamb was awesome. I proved to myself that I could do it. I could do anything. I just had to believe that I could.

I had come a long way from cooking chicken in soy sauce and onions circa 1996.

Empowered! I opened the freezer and my eyes landed on the sad canard. I called Miami-made and asked how she cooked her duck. She loves duck. She orders it whenever she can. She is my duck expert. I listened and even watched a few videos. I ghost of Julia Child mocked me. 

Cooking the duck was a lot for work, and a VERY greasy clean. It was delicious. I have not done it again. Only because the work to clean-up-ratio for that little meat and no leftovers = not worth it again.

I want to try and cook new things and see what works. Today I put on a pair of shorts that fit me 4 years ago when I was about another 15 pounds lighter. Which means the new eating lifestyle is working. I am getting stronger and leaner and smarter. 

I bought some dill, parsley, garlic, and shallots yesterday. I am playing around with some new sauces. All these fresh herbs are so good for my nutrition and well being, 

Think differently.

Try new things.

13 weeks in, 2 sizes down, and 15.5 lbs lost and the spring has just started.

You can eat yourself into any weight

My friend, Miami-made, has all these fantastically amazing friends that she talks about. Today she shared a story about her friend that just opened another restaurant.

The Restaurateur said to Miami-made, "You can eat yourself into any weight on any diet" and that stuck.  Stuck with her and with me. I doubt I would get super fat on a vegan diet and overload on Hummus and Guacamole. But then again, I am compulsive so who knows?

Each of my family members has their own dietary concerns. I am the only one who is ACTIVELY trying to lose weight. My children and husband have no need to lose weight. My children do not eat enough vegetables. I am trying to meld the two - everyone eating healthier and me eating less and moving more. 

The past couple of months have been more trying on them than usual. In the past I would cater to their needs and hide the vegetables. I made wicked pasta sauces with beets, sweet potatoes, and broccoli. Now I make broccoli bites and roasted broccoli and broccoli melts. They are seeing what they are eating and they have to overcome what it looks like and see if they like the taste. 

The kids come to the dinner table wondering each night what vegetable goodie I have worked up for them. I try really hard. WAY harder than my mom ever did. She used to made mashed potatoes from a can of flakes. So this week has been a lesson in eggplant and now we are moving onto sugar snap peas.

"What did you get at the store, mom?" says the son.

"Some beautiful purple eggplant, some amazing bright sugar snap peas and some exciting shiitake mushrooms" I reply.

"Why are the mushrooms exciting, Mama?" asks the daughter.

"Because that is how the chefs talk on her shows and she thinks the ingredients are beautiful, amazing, and exciting," says the son.

This week we featured: baba ganoush, eggplant chips. eggplant cubes, and a stir fry. The baba ganoush worked and I roasted the eggplants wonderfully, skin-up. The kids weren't fans but they tried something new. They liked the eggplant in the chicken stir-fry but that wasn't super exciting.

Now we are onto sugar snap peas and I made a killer spicy side dish. Once I buy some black sesame seeds and roast them I can take a picture.

Eating the vegetables will make everyone healthier. 

So how do I lose weight at the same time?

Not eat past 8pm is good start.

Drink more water.

Move more.

Skip the carbs from grains every chance I get.

When I serve the chicken and rice. Skip the rice. Or make the portion the size of your fist. If I serve Naan and the children have 2 pieces, then I eat 1/2 piece. 

It is the carbs from grains that kill me. If I avoid those I lose weight. The husband and the children do not have to suffer as well. Unless they are my taste-testers, and then everyone suffers (MUAH!!)

Keep chasing that healthy lifestyle. I'm 41, my Grandma is 96, so I figure I get to make it until at least 101. That's 60 more years to go! Here are some of my inspirations: Grandma Barbara, son and daughter.

My Wedding Day - My heaviest

When I got married in 1997 I weighed a lot. Over a quarter ton! 23 and morbidly obese.

There are many reasons and bags of chips, sour cream, soda, scallion cream cheese, and fries to blame for this. I lacked all control and was spiraling downward into a depression that was bigger than me.

On my Graduation Day in May 1996 my father told me he was dying.

The truth is my father has been dying since the day he was born. He was obsessed with good and bad health and didn't treat his body in the right way. My father was 6'7 and weighted almost 400 lbs. He was a mountain of a man and his personality matched his physical stature. He ate what he wanted and his only restriction was keeping Kosher.

When he told me he was dying it was different this time. His eyes were glassy and his face flushed. He had high blood pressure, Diabetes, and high Cholesterol.

But I was 23, and at 23, your dad who is 58 is invisible. Your 6'7 father is larger than life itself.

But he wasn't and he had a massive stroke 6 months after I graduated college.

I was already engaged to my now husband of 17 years and my father was permanently disabled by the massive stroke that left him practically speechless and immobile on the left side.

I buried myself in food. I loved my fiancee but I had no love for myself.

The UGLIEST truth
It was a Monday and I was working at Penguin Putnam in the village. For lunch I took myself to MacDonalds and ordered 2 Big-Mac Super sized meals. I sat down and started to eat. A co-worker runs in (to this day I still do not know how Catherine O'Shea found me) and told me that I had to go to Scarsdale immediately. My mother had called and the time had come. Dad was dying.

What changed within myself?
I buried my father in 1998 and I was a newlywed. I was surrounded by the love of a man who didn't care that I was HUGE. We moved to a 4-story walk-up in Park Slope, Brooklyn so I would have to walk myself to health.

If you stop at the top of each of the stairs, who cares? If you have to stop in the middle of the stairs, it doesn't matter. He stood by me and let me find myself again slowly.

Since that day in 1997 I have never eaten MacDonalds, Burger King, or any other depressing fast-food again. I reclaimed myself.

One day at a time.
One pound at a time.
One inch at a time.

I am now standing as a SUPERHERO does. That was hard to tell, hard to face, but important for understanding my journey to better health.

This is Sean and I on our wedding day - 1997 - My personal heaviest. 23 years old.

Seven years later ... 30 years old.

Eleven years after marriage, and pregnant with my daughter. 33 years old. 100 pounds lighter ...

 It is a JOURNEY. I will be on it for the rest of my life.