The softest smile you can find.

A bowl-full of craziness!

Ummm…….no flash photography please.

My camera.

Learning something that I used to love….somehow I will be able to love it again.

People will ask what my motivation was for getting better.

I wanted to get out of the hospital for sure.

Walking again has always been something I tried to do.

But mostly, the number one thing has always been my kids.

The kids that make me laugh.

The kids that make me try one more time.

The kids that never allow me to give up.

The kids that love me regardless of my weaknesses.

The kids that are incredible.  That mean so much.  That are my whole world.

You ask what motivates me.

Stupid question, really.

So, I wrote this whole post about the horrors Peter put me through this weekend.

Seriously.  Home Depot…rakes…sweat…it was like the trifecta of hell.

But, some great things came out of it.

And by “great things”, I mean other than the spectacular AWESOME that is an arm cramp.  Cause, if you haven’t had one? Try it. They’re truly special.  Give them to your friends for Christmas. They’ll thank you for it.

Ok, on to the great things.

It was totally worth it, but if you tell anyone I said THAT I’m going to deny it to the death.

I need to learn to love my body.

I’ve had this body for thirty-five years and it’s never fully made me happy.

The shoulders are too broad.

The hips are too narrow.

The belly is too squishy.

The feet are too wide.

The legs are too short.

The chins are too many.

And I have this child.

She’s eight.

She is everything smart and funny and bright and exhilarating in the world.

She has the eight year old version of this same body.

And? SHE.IS.GLORIOUS.

I need to stop telling her that she’s NOT.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by constantly mentioning how I need to lose weight..which I do, but she doesn’t need to hear about it.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by picking at my muffin top.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by wincing at the ole’ bingo flaps.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by bitching about how the pants aren’t too long, my legs are just too stumpy.

I need to stop telling her she’s not glorious by telling her I hate pictures of myself…when everyone tells her we look so much alike.

I need to learn to love this body.

Because she shows me how beautiful we are, every day.