Still Busy Doing Warrior Stuffs

Texts with Hubby
Oh, and this year's Warrior Dash viking helmet.
I posted this on Instagram.
Where you can follow me.
I'm Sublurbanmama.
I know, it's a stretch.

Happy bi-yearly blog post!

Last week I was pulled from a sound sleep by the repeated peals of "Mama...Mama...Mama..." from across the house. It was hella early, and as I stumbled in a haze through the hallway to find the origin of my summoning, I could only speculate that the dear child who needed me so desperately was trapped in a sinkhole that suddenly struck our laundry room, or bound and held captive by suburban pirates who wanted to steal the giant container of Starbucks Skinny Vanilla Latte in the fridge, because for what other possible logical reason would the blessing from my womb be waking me at such an awful hour of the day?

I peeked in the bathroom to find my cherished only son sprawled like an octopus about the toilet - his rear inside the bowl with the rest of his limbs splayed akimbo. "Mama, it's about time you got here. Can you wipe me?" (1. Dude. Really? Gross.) (2. He's five. I KNOW ALRIGHT.) (I make myself feel better about wiping his tush by pretending it's my secret Super Hero identity "The Obliterator of Filth".) (Also, I have a Poop Alarm Clock. Don't get too jelly.)

In case you were wondering if my life got any less glamorous since I last blogged, rest assured, I'm still living like a Kardashian. And by that I mean large portions of my day are spent giving attention to the derriere of one family member in particular. *cough* Ezra *cough*

Other than living the Stay At Home Mama dream I am still plugging away with powerlifting. My shoulder is healing nicely, albeit slowly. (2000 Awesome Points for "albeit" usage.) I was officially released from physical therapy in June, and since I'd been there so.freaking.long they named a private room after me gave me two free t-shirts instead of one. #baller #knowspeople

Totally not me because I'm not stupid and
know to get my pop culture info from google
and Urban Dictionary like a responsible 36 year old

While I do miss the people at therapy I'm really really really happy to be back working towards my original goals. One thing injury cemented for me is that I know now I enjoy the strength aspect of lifting more than body building. While I do some body building work for aesthetic purposes (because c'mon, Mama Bear needs some fly lookin' delts)(if you didn't picture me saying that as Regina Goerge's mom, you're reading it wrong) (because I'm not a regular mom, I'm a cool mom) (obviously), most body building I do as accessory work for my big three lifts. There is just something unappealing about doing a million reps of a lift that works one main muscle at a time. It bores me and it is challenging in the wrong kind of way. It makes me feel like, "Oh, this is so not fun and the challenge is rooted solely in making myself finish the set." Powerlifting, where I'm lifting really heavy weights for a few reps, works a bunch of huge muscles at a time and has me all, "OHMYLANTA I WONDER IF I CAN LIFT THIS WEIGHT WITHOUT CRAPPING MY PANTS." (If you have to guess which of those two thoughts is more fun to have I don't even know why we're friends.) Plus? In powerlifting I get to wear a belt, so....

This is the closest I will ever come to being a fitness blogger/social media superstar because the level of embarrassment I had over taking this selfie at the gym was ridiculous. But there is me, in the far away mirror, rocking my capri's and Converse, and documenting that I did lift two hundred and thirty five freaking pounds. Twice.

The hardest part of this year has definitely been maintaining my weight. The hard part is that gaining weight makes me so much stronger. Like, not marginally stronger either. It's like "DAYUM GURL, go on and eat those Larry and Lenny protein cookies Wheaties because = 30# PR's for daaaaaaays" stronger. And that is seductive. What's not seductive is the discovery that my favorite dress no longer fits. So this year I am finding my sweet spot, or window really, of where I'm comfortable being as far as numbers on the scale. (Honestly, there is something I like about saying, "I've lost 100 pounds." I need to weigh 153 to be truthful for that. I also want to compete in the 148 weight class when I'm ready to compete. So my happy training window is around 153 strictly for emotional reasons. And I'm okay with that.)(Kind of. It was also really nice weighing 143 pre-shoulder injury, and I have a hard time not making that my new standard for where I need to be.)(Like, I'll weigh in at 153 and feel like I'm 10 pounds overweight and I get temporary amnesia where I forget that I'm still down ONE HUNDRED FREAKING POUNDS and all I can see are those ten pounds up from my lowest adult weight and I feel like I'm at my heaviest all over again.)(Also? The Kelly that was 253 pounds wants to smack 153 pound Kelly for even struggling with this ten pound dilemma.)(But 153 pound Kelly totally gets it.)

So there is a little bit of an update for y'all! I've gotten so many emails this summer and I appreciate every one of you that take the time to read this little blog! Thanks again from the bottom of my heart. (Which is the best part.)(Because it's closest to my tummy.)(And that's where all the cookies are.) #science

Disney World, Bootkemp, Day-Trippin', the return of The Walking Dead, and an Injury: A short tale

We on a Disney boat, y'all!

One of the great ironies of vacationing with children is often that you need a vacation to recover from the vacation once it is finished. We arrived home last Tuesday night after ten glorious days at Disney World and spent the next three days doing laundry and getting back to normal life. (i.e. consuming copious amounts of water and vegetables that the children were begging for.)("Begging for" is the new way I'm describing "being forced to ingest" as they whiningly requested the mac and cheese and chocolate chip cookies that comprised the majority of their diet for the preceding week and a half.)

We also resumed homeschool bright and early Wednesday morning, which was as enjoyable as you can imagine returning to the real world after doing ALLTHEFUNTHINGS could be. Thankfully we returned home to find our internet was out, so we were forced to school at the public library where we could steal their wifi the fear of an audience of strangers kept the children from completely melting down in their defiance of learning.

On Wednesday and Thursday I hit up the gym because as wonderful and all-inclusive as my Disney experience was, it lacked greatly in the powerlifting equipment area, and I was itching to grab a hold of the barbell. On Wednesday I deadlifted and did back and biceps, and on Thursday I benched and did upper body.

That's when I admitted something was going on. (*enter dramatic suspense music*) This is how it went down:

Me to Ironman Sarah who works in orthopaedics: Dude, my shoulder is being all weird. Like, it totally hurts when I shoulder press. When I'm lifting, once I get it passed my ear I'm totally fine but from my shoulder to that point it totally hurts. I even lightened my weights in front of ALLTHEBOYZ because I was scared I was going to really hurt myself.

Ironman Sarah: It sounds like your rotator cuff. I'll check it out later and be able to tell for sure.

Me: Cool.

*Later on, as I was checking in with Powerlifter Sara and her trainer, Trainer Corey*

Me: So is it cool to lift normally if I have a messed up rotator cuff?

Trainer Corey who specializes in rehabilitation training: HELL NO YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING FUN OR PRODUCTIVE HERE IN THE GYM UNTIL YOU HAVE A SPECIALIST LOOK AT YOUR SHOULDER. I FORBID YOU AND BAN YOU FROM DOING ANYTHING AND YOU ARE PROBABLY GOING TO GET TOTALLY FAT AND LOSE ALL YOUR STRENGTH WITH THIS INJURY.

(Ok, so maybe that is more of what I heard. What he actually said was something like this:)

Trainer Corey: Nope. You need to see a doctor. You could really hurt yourself. If your rotator cuff is torn you could need surgery. If it's not torn but just inflamed and you don't let it heal it could tear. You could be setting yourself up for a lifelong problem if you're not careful. So don't lift anything until you know for sure.

Kelly: THIS IS BS. I HAVE TO LIFT. ME ME ME ME ME ME ME. THAT IS ALL THAT IS IMPORTANT. ME. TRAINER COREY, WHY ARE YOU RUINING MY LIFE???!!!

(Again, maybe this is more of how I was feeling. The actual conversation was something like this:)

Kelly: *stares incredulously* But only shoulder press hurts. Can I bench? *Corey shakes head negatively* *Kelly's voice goes up in pitch* Can I squat? *Corey's head again denies* *Kelly's voice goes even higher* Can I deadlift?

Trainer Corey: Not until you know for sure. You could really hurt yourself.

Kelly: I hate you right now. Why do you have to be so good at your job? (Yep. Verbatim.)

This blog gettin' all medical.

The next day I visited Ironman Sarah in her office where she examined me and declared my rotator cuff was not torn, but was indeed inflamed. I got a prescription to deal with the inflammation, and some worksheets full of rehabilitation exercises to do. That night I trained with Kemper. I'll write a full report of that later (because some FANTASTIC things happened there) and he did more of his voodoo magic manipulations and determined the rotator cuff injury was specifically affecting my Supraspinatus muscle and one other muscle. (I only remember the first one because I was all, "Trust me to hurt my SUPERspinatus muscle because I'm so SUPER," and Kemper was all, "It's SUPRA, Kel.")

Right now drugs, ice, and yes, upper body rest are my besties. I hate it. But you do what you gotta do, you know.

Saturday I attended (as a spectator) my first ever powerlifting meet. I drove a few hours to see Powerlifter Sara compete in the Michigan APF Fall Open. I saw 53 competitors of all ages and sizes squat, bench, and deadlift their maxes. Two days later and I'm still out of superlatives to adequately describe how it was. It was a very good thing. A game-changer, if you will. I will also write a full report on that experience, because the pics alone are worth your time even if you hate powerlifting. Trust me.

Yesterday we went to church, ate a special family lunch at Moe's (dem burrito bowls doe), and, after we settled the kiddos in bed, watched the much anticipated return of The Walking Dead.

It has been a crazy three weeks around here. I had so much fun, but I'm glad to be home. *clicks my Dorothy heels together* Happy Monday!

TBT - Zoology 101

Who remembers this gem? Throwing it back to 2012.


This is why we rule at Family Dinner.

Scene:  We are all noshing on penne with spinach, tomatoes, and bacon. Broccoli is served as a side dish.  The adults in the room have had trying days and are being overly bright to compensate out of consideration of everyone else in the room. Whom they love dearly. The children are all, "Mmmm, bacon." Then, this:

Hosanna:  What's the name of that animal?

Brian:  What animal?

Hosanna:  You know, it's erectile.

Kelly: *snorts Diet Coke out her nose*

Brian: (eyes twinkling) Like it's dysfunctional?

Kelly: STAHP.

Hosanna: The one where in the water it looks like a log floating.

Kelly: *giggles like a teenage boy*

Brian: What did you call it, Nan?

Hosanna:  The erectile.  Why is mom laughing so hard?

Eve:  Oh, I get it.  It's a wrecked tile.  *laughs uncontrollably* AWRECKTILE   AWRECKTILE
AWREEEEEEECKTILE!

Kelly:  Dude.  Stop.  Nan, do you mean a crocodile?

Hosanna:  The tail whips back and forth.  Erectile.

Kelly: *tears coming down her cheeks*  Do you mean reptile?

Hosanna: Um, yeah. A reptile. 

It.Was.Bananas. - How to Lose SIX Pounds in One Night

It all started with a craving for a banana.

I don't eat a lot of fruit. When I do partake it's usually in the form of raspberries or blueberries because they are delicious lower on the glycemic index. I watch my blood sugar kind of closely and count the mess outta carbs, so bananas have been on my "not an everyday food" list for a while. This has not really impacted my life in any great way, since before I started training with Kemper my favorite way to eat a banana was baked in some quick bread and topped with Nutella. Because duh. But Friday found me craving a fresh, real banana in the worst way.

***Minor Tangent totally related to this story***

Pigeon pose with a fold.
Also, if I did yoga outside the chances of me
getting into pigeon pose and *not* getting pooped
on by an actual pigeon are slim. Because I am a
bird poop magnet. (You need to click that link.)

I've noticed lately that I've been having muscle cramps in my abdominals* whenever I try to forward fold during yoga or stretch after a workout. (*Confession = it happened at my last training session with Kemper. As I was contorting my body into a variety of delightful positions to try to loosen the cramp - picture me hula hooping without an actual hoop or any discernible rhythm - I was all (enter my "I'm totally trying not to freak out but this kinda sorta really hurts and I'm worried I might FREEZE UP LIKE THIS FOREVER" voice), "KEMPER WHAT IS THIS THAT IS CRAMPING?!" as I jabbed repeatedly at my abdomen. Kemper was all, "Your abdominals, Dummy." Have I mentioned how good I am at logic?) I've also noticed that my feet are cramping up when I do pigeon pose. (On a really fun day I get into a folded pigeon pose and then it's a giant party because everything cramps at once.) Since I used to get muscle cramps quite frequently during triathlon training, I assumed this meant one of two things: either I was dehydrated or I needed some potassium. With the dawn of the banana craving on Friday, I deduced potassium and decided to listen to my body, making plans to consume a banana sometime in the following day.

Big mistake. Huge. Because y'all? My body is a big fat liar. 

Mine was consumed at 72.5 hours.

It started out a very promising endeavor. Friday is my grocery shopping day, so I bought the most perfectly ripe banana with the plan to have it with my dinner. It was bright yellow, firm, and smelled so fresh. I entered it into MyFitnessPal and arranged all my other food around this one luscious piece of fruit. I counted down the hours until dinnertime when I could enjoy it. Then I received a phone call.

*lightning flashes and the lights dim dramatically because it's time to foreshadow the trauma of the night*

Brian was calling from work to let me know he was going to be home really late. He'd hurt his back again (this happens about once a year) and needed to go to the company clinic after his day ended. "No problem, Babe, you take care of you," I said naively, still unaware of the hellish nightmare in my future.

With the timetable of the night suddenly a bit different, I had to rework the timing of my original food plan. Now I would eat the banana as a snack around 5:00 p.m., take the older girlies to their Friday night teen group, and come home to eat dinner with the littles around 6:45 p.m. 

When 5:00 rolled around I savored the heck out of that banana. It was amazeballs. And I'm not even the type of person who said amazeballs even when it was still current. But that banana was worth every hour I waited for it ... until about 5:30 p.m. when it liquefied every hint of matter residing in my gastrointestinal tract and demanded immediate release from the captivity in my body.

There are no words to describe the next eight hours of my life. I drove the girlies to their event solely because I had no room for rational thought when my brain was just pleading for death for the horrible stomach pain to stop. By the time I got home with Esther and Ezra all I could do was stumble back and forth from the bathroom to the couch, whimpering incoherently all the while.

Esther was a complete rock star during this time. She made sure Ezra had everything he needed as he ate his dinner, and then challenged him to a pajama contest. Which was a genius way for her to get his pajamas on. I hovered in and out of consciousness, but did hear Brian walk in the door around 8:00.

"Oh, Babe, what can I do for you?" he wondered in concern.

"Don't make me talk," I croaked from under a blanket.

Kevin Smith, you gave us Clerks so Imma extend
you a little bit of trust here...don't do me wrong.

The next few hours were a blur. There was a lot of Drama Queen moaning while The Horrible Sickness controlled my body. Finally, around 11:30 p.m., just in time for Jimmy Fallon, I started to feel some relief. I rolled over onto my side without feeling as if I were reclining on broken glass. I smiled at some of Jimmy's antics. I started sipping water, and, because Jimmy Fallon, I even laughed out loud at the ridiculousness that is Justin Long's new movie Tusk. (A man kidnaps another man and turns him into a walrus?! Whut.)

"Say Yes to the Best"
It's like I had no choice.

By 12:30 I felt well enough to try some cereal because I was suddenly hungry as all get out. (Yes, Kemper, the bad cereal on top of my fridge that I feed my children.)(But it was organic cocoa crispies, so it was healthy sugar.)(#hownutritionworks) It must have been healthy because I kept it down (#proof) and I went to bed at 1:00 a.m. because Seth Myers is a terrible late night host.


Saturday morning I woke up at 8:30 and felt completely fine. But when I stepped on the scale later that day I discovered I had lost six pounds in one night. (And yes, of course I gained it back by the next day once I was rehydrated, but can we take a moment to celebrate the only upside (albeit a short lived one) to the misery I endured on Friday night?)

So friends, that is how you lose six pounds in one night.

Recovering From A Binge In 4 Easy Steps

Picking yourself up after a dive off the deep end slight stumble in your quest for healthy living takes a few purposeful decisions. I've found that the best way to regroup and get right back on plan is to follow these simple steps.

1. STOP EATING CRAP. 

Seems simple enough, right? It's totally not. Because you will still want to eat allllllllll the crap. Why? It's delicious. Crappy food tastes wonderful because fat and sugar are stupid good, and when they are combined it's like happy chemicals explode in your brain. Literally. That literally happens. And since they are in your system (because maybe after your binge party if you were to spontaneously evaporate it would be in the form of Iced Cappuccino) your body will crave that mess until you fully detox. So get ready to suck it up and live out a Basketball Diaries-type withdrawl (pretend you're Leonardo DiCaprio)(but without, you know, the prostitution) and just.stop.eating.crap.

Seriously. STOP.

2. Meal Plan like a mother. A really organized, anal retentive mother. Who likes to eat.

Just because you fell into a vat of chocolate covered Doritos doesn't mean that getting back on track needs to be full of Punishment Food*. (*Can all my Fat Mom ladies out there please acknowledge the existence of Punishment Food? This is the super strict diet you follow after you eat too much to make you feel better about your choices while still allowing you to feel defeated and miserable because it is all bland and tasteless. An example of this is broiled, unseasoned, boneless, skinless chicken breast served with plain, broiled asparagus. There are only two benefits to this meal: 1. You can feel like a martyr eating it because you are suffering for a greater cause (this is a popular benefit if you happen to be a bit Drama Queen-esque)(*looks around innocently at who this might be because it's certainly not yours truly*) and 2. Asparagus pee.

Coming off a binge is the perfect time to fall in love with real, healthy, good food again. I plan out my meals for the week and prep them. I choose meals that I really like; ones that I will look forward to eating. That way I'm not tempted to stop and grab something that may be part of my regular eating plan as a splurge every once and a while (not pointing any fingers, but McDonalds Southwest grilled chicken salad, that one's for you). Coming off a binge, the extra sodium, artificial ingredients, and elevated sugars in those splurge meals are not something you need to have messing with your detox.

Here are some of my meals from last week. Don't get too jealous of my food photography skills, plating ability, or adorable orange toenails that sneaked into the first picture 1970's Corelle dishes.

Breakfast everyday. 2 eggs, 2 egg whites. Trader Joe's sprouted bread (you hush your mouth), 1 Tbs Meijer natural peanut butter (not pictured: tea with sugar free creamer)
365 calories, 12 carbs, 20 fat*, 29 protein
*the fat thing = I eat most of my fat during the day. I also eat a high fat diet. Breakfast usually has about a third to a half of my fat for the day, which is both tasty and hugely satiating.

Lunch option #1 = 2 cups of broccoli coleslaw with 5 oz grilled chicken. (Not pictured - Pure Protein shake)
308 calories, 11 carbs, 6 fat, 55 protein
I season the snot out of that chicken with dried herbs and spices and grill it; the broccoli slaw I just saute with water in a non-stick pan to soften it. (You could totally add oil or salad dressing to dress it up, just adjust the macros.) (Fun Fact for Free = My counter top is Corian and may have been chosen (a.k.a. was chosen solely) because the color is called "Granola". Clearly, there was no other appropriate choice for the kitchen.) (And yes, I chose our wall color for it's name: "Sweet Cream".)(This is why I did not go into interior decorating.)

Lunch option #2 = Parmesan meatballs and 1 cup broccoli.
255 cals, 9 carbs, 13 fat, 23 protein.
I can not say enough about this recipe. AMAZING. I could eat this every day. My macros are slightly different from hers because, well, I entered all the info using my own ingredient brands, and then weighed each meatball, so, yeah, #science.

Dinner = Post Deadlift Feast. 5 oz grilled chicken, 1 serving veggie kabob, 1/2 cup brown rice.
381 cals, 29 carbs, 13 fat, 49 protein
Truth? Normally I'd eat double the amount of rice post workout. Dem carbs. But GNC has a sale on Quest bars this month and this is probably what my dinner looked like if I'd snarfed an entire Cinnamon Roll Quest bar on the ride home from the gym. Quest bars - you complete me.

I loved all of this food. It filled me up, nourished my body, and helped me get back on track. I didn't have to think about what I felt like eating, which, really, is only an opening to dwell on foods I shouldn't have right now, and an entirely unhelpful event for my goals. I just ate what I already had. Done.

3a. Drink all the water. Every drop of it. (Unless you live in Toledo and are under the water advisory.)(Then travel with everyone else in your city up to Michigan and buy our bottled water.)(Especially Absopure water.)(Because they pay our bills, yo it's the best water around.)

Water is seriously the best friend a girl can have, post-binge. It rehydrates after all the salty and processed foods have stripped your body. It flushes you out (pardon the pun). DRINK ALL THE WATER. Added benefit? If you drink enough water you will be too busy going to the bathroom to think about sneaking chocolate chip cookies. (Mostly.)

3b. Sweat it out.

Deadlift bruises in various stages. Lifting
ain't always pretty when you're clumsy.
Also - jammie pants sighting #1

I'm going to be honest here, working out is not usually something I have a problem with. Even when I'm shoving treats in my mouth like Twinkies just got discontinued again I'm still at the gym almost every day. I truly enjoy working out. But if this is you who slacks off in this department, get up and move your tush. You will feel so much better after you sweat a little. (Similarly to post-binge eating, this is not the time for Punishment Exercise. You know these workouts. This is not the time to #killit #beastmode #gohardorgohome if you don't feel like it. This is a time to simply show up. Do something you like to do. I did a deload for the first two days post-binge. Per Kemper's instructions I kept my weights high but my overall volume low. I love HIIT training on the rowing machine. So I did that instead of the steady-state cardio my training plan called for. Why? I enjoy it. Good food and exercise are a gift to my body; the post-binge workouts I choose are like Christmas morning.

4. Order crap from the internet and schedule the delivery for your first few days recovery.

Okay, full disclosure: this was totally a happy coincidence. My internet buys just happened to come last week and thank you, Jesus, because it was such a happy moment to get not one, but two packages in the mail.

The first was a birthday present from Lauren (who actually gave me a TYR gift card a whole month before my June birthday because she was worried that with the birth of her first child my birthday would get lost in the shuffle)(she is available for How To Be An Awesome Best Friend lessons). I finally got around to ordering a new suit and swim cap.

The people at Lifetime Fitness will forever be grateful that I finally have a new bathing suit. I also got a sweet Lycra swim cap because I passionately *hate* (yeah, I went there) regular swim caps.
"Hey, Kel, look at you gettin' all fancy staging that shot on your wood floors."
*puff of hot breath on my fingernails, rubs them on shirt*

Also, powerlifter/Youtuber Chelsea Karabin, my internet best friend* (*probably she has no idea who I am) sent me the t-shirt I ordered and I may have flipped balls when it came I was so excited.

Picture me fangirling to Brian, "BRIAN. CHELSEA KARABIN WROTE MY NAME." Also, jammie pants sighting to your left.

One: this is as real life as it gets. Yep, that's my hair. Yep, that's my breakfast pan still chilling out all filthy on the stove. Over my shoulder? Garbage. #Betterhomesandgardens Two: this is the most comfortable shirt I've ever owned. Three: NSV; it's a unisex small. Whaaa?

So that's my official guide to Recovering From A Binge in 4 Easy Steps. To end this, here is a selfie with my sister who is awesome. Just because.

This is totally not accurate. I'm waaaaaaaay taller than her. Also, waaaaaaaaaay taller is the new way we describe about a quarter of an inch.

Happy Monday!

When you *totally* fall off the wagon. Like, way off. Like, fall off the wagon and then get on another wagon headed straight down Gluttony Avenue.

This is the deal.

There are times it's awesome to be a weight loss blogger. When the scale is in your favor, your "after" pictures get accolades, or when people ask for advice and you feel like you have something helpful to share - it's great to be a weight loss blogger.

But.

There are days moments when you fall completely off the wagon and you feel powerless to stop it. In the back of your brain you think, "I'm going to have to blog this crap," because you can't pretend it didn't happen, and you think about allllllll the people that you are accountable to through your little corner of the internet. Instead of feeling inspired you feel crushed by the accountability and guilty that you may be letting someone down.

A DEFENSE MECHANISM.

But here it is: I had a terrible week, and I ate to cope. I ate a lot. And I ate a lot of foods I never eat. Like, once I ate a piece of leftover pizza while dishing out Chinese food because I couldn't wait the thirty seconds it would take to get fried rice in my pie hole. If you are what you eat then this last weekend I was Birthday Cake wrapped in pizza while wearing Lucky Charms and sweating Sweet and Sour sauce. (A.K.A. Everyone's Best Friend.) (Sorry. I know it's not funny, Kemper.)(But I joke around when I'm uncomfortable.)(IT'S A DEFENSE MECHANISM.)

So, how much did I truly eat? I ate a weight gain of four pounds in three days much. It was so bad that at one point Brian, who has never policed my food (even when I've asked), actually took hold of me by both shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said, "KEL. Snap out of this."

I am so disappointed in myself. I was at 143, so close to my Holy Grail of 140. Now I'm hanging out back at 147. This is literally the story of my life.

I hate excuses. An excuse leaves no room for responsibility. An excuse says, "Look at what happened to me," and not, "Look at the choice I made in response to my circumstance." Excuses cut out any opportunity for growth, and excuses foster weakness. They are a way to say, "Don't worry, you poor thing. It's not your fault. Anyone would have reacted that way."

That's a big fat lie. I am not powerless over my thoughts. I am not held prisoner by my emotions. And *I* am the boss of how I react to difficult situations. Huzzah.

I do believe in reasons. I want to know the reasons behind the choices I make. Knowing these reasons teaches me, and helps to prepare me for handling situations, should they reoccur. And they always do.

So, Reasons I ATEALLTHETHINGS last week:

1. I was discouraged. It can all be boiled down to that. I had some really crappy workouts last week. I felt weak, I felt tired, I felt fat, and I felt like I was sick and tired of working my tush off just to be "normal". (Can I get an Amen from all my FAT MOM sisters out there?!) I don't want to look like Barbie. I don't want to be a figure competitor. I just freaking want to *not* look fluffy. Why do I have to work so hard to accomplish this? (*the world's smallest violin is playing in the background*)

I came home from Wednesday's awful workout to indulge in the worst timed cheat meal in the history of the world. I cheat meal every Wednesday night. In hindsight following the plan was not the best decision this time. Next time I'm discouraged I will reschedule cheat meal. I already know cheat meals for me are a really sensitive thing. The occasional indulgence helps keep me on track, but they also have the potential to usher in a tsunami of binge eating, which is exactly what happened this time. My cheat meal turned into a three day nosh fest.

Then a friend's mom died very unexpectedly Thursday morning. She was only 49. Instead of being all, "Wow, I should look at life as a gift and live it to the fullest," I was like, "What's the freaking point of going to all this trouble to track my macros/deny myself pizza/work at the gym? At the end of the day I'm still fat and I could die at any moment." I didn't feel out of control. I felt defiant. I felt like no matter what I do I'm never there. There seems to be this mythical land where I am no longer the Fat Mom, and I work my heart out and it shows on both the scale and my body. I get momentary glimpses of there in my daily life, and normally those glimpses give me the hope I need to persevere. But feeling so discouraged made me want to RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. It's like my brain decided to show my body who was boss by eating my rapidly gaining weight in Combos. Because logic.

"Kel, THEHECK is this?"
That, my friends, is a vegan vanilla LEGO cake with
vegan soy buttercream frosting. And it's purple,
per the birthday girl's request. This is what happens
when you try to get fancy because vegan cake
crumbles, my kids are allergic to fondant, and vegan
buttercream refuses to set.

2. Baking. One of my kiddos had her birthday party on Saturday. Since she is one of my sweet "food allergy" kids, I had to bake her cake from scratch. Then I had to make her frosting from scratch. Then I had to decorate her cake. (Which, I'm not going to lie, was a spectacular Pinterest fail.) Then I had to cut and serve cake and ice cream to 15 people. That's a lot of opportunity for bites, licks, and nibbles. (Or, giant slices of cake eaten when self-control finally reaches it's threshold after you've touched cake and ice cream fifteen times.) Next time I'll chew gum while I'm decorating and ask Brian to cut and serve.

3. I was physically in need of some rest and recovery. I needed to pay attention to my body and take some notes from Wednesday's workout. Eventually I did. I took two full rest days (Thursday and Friday) and went light on Saturday. I ended up squatting my 5x5 program, but only did 135 pounds. I lightened my leg press, hamstring curls, and lunges each to about 75%. I messaged Kemper about deloading, and he told me what I needed to do, which was not actually lighten my weight, but decrease my volume.

I actually wrote Kemper a joke about eating a ton of simple carbs being a part of a proper deload and he wrote back "Haha, I don't think so." I sat and looked at his response for five minutes wondering how I could communicate that I was serious and falling the heck apart. But at the end of the day Kemper is not my babysitter. He's not my AA sponsor. I am a grown-@ss woman and cannot cry to my trainer when I'm in a spiral. I can't expect him to drop his life to hold my hand and tell me not to eat crap food. (Although, now that I think of it, gyms really need emergency training sessions and/or hotlines for people in this situation. #milliondollarideaoftheday)(Kemper, you can have that one for BootKemp for free.)(You're welcome.)(Lollipop gift.)

I know - because I've read my share of weight loss blogs - that this is a common post to read, but it's not one I've ever had to write. It is scary, embarrassing, and shameful. And it's not okay. I know what I want. I know my goals. I know the path to get there. I am worth the time, effort, and hardship it will take to get there. It's not fair that I have to work so hard for something that comes naturally to other people, but that's life. Everyone struggles with something. This is my thing.

I feel like I need to announce, "My name is Kelly and I'm three days back on track," or something. Getting out of bed at 5:30 on Sunday morning to go do abs and HIIT was sooooooooo hard. But I did it, and everything else seems to be following suit. On Sunday I planned and prepped my food, and for three days now I've followed/enjoyed the plan. (*Check my new Pinterest board "dem macros doe" for the most amazing Parmesan Meatballs ever.*) Monday's bench day was awesome; I felt really good so I did my normal training plan, and even did 3x6 at 30# per dumbbell for shoulder press. I dropped in on a yoga class on Tuesday. I feel like I'm me again. It's still hard, but I think it always will be.

I survived this one, friends.

Thanks for the accountability, Internet.


Linking up today for Weigh-in Wednesday with Heather, Ash, and Erin.

Fat Mom Brain

Did someone say, "RIVER OF CHOCOLATE?"

There are moments as a mother when you will completely lose your shizz past any level you ever thought possible. Like, kick a hole in the wall/throw gracefully toss a frying pan to the floor/screaming banshee lose your shizz. In those moments you will want nothing more than to walk away and pretend these little spawn of Satan are not yours, you have no responsibility towards them, and you are free to live in a bubble where, if someone is rude to you, or throws something at you, or ignores your instructions for the millionth time, or hits/bites/pinches his sister again, you have the freedom to just walk away without a care. Permanently.

But you can't. It's irresponsible at best and illegal at worst.

I'm sure a holier person, a Godlier person, a more grounded or centered or patient person would handle these moments better than I do. Maybe they excuse themselves from the room to "regroup" or grit their teeth and pray, "Jesus, take the wheel," as they handle the situation du jour.

But what really happens in those moments, if you are a Fat Mom (which is more of a mindset and less of a physical description, I'm learning), is that you will want to self-soothe with spoonfuls of the frosting in the refrigerator leftover from a recent birthday cake, or fistfuls of the Doritos allowed in the house because they normally don't tempt you, or entire cases of the 100-calorie snack packs you buy the kiddos as treats. (Fudge-striped miniature Keebler cookies? Why, don't mind if I do. Yes, I want all eight packs, thankyouverymuch.)

You will just want to take a fleeting moment and eat whatever you want, macros/calories be damned. Your mind will disengage from the chaos of whatever familial storm is raging, and you will take a mental tour through the pantry to see what you can cram in your mouth because you need to feel better right now.

Welcome to the Fat Mom's head.

In those moments you have a choice. A choice about what to feed. Do you choose to feed your emotions? They are quite demanding. They are loud. They are immediate. They are seemingly inescapable. They are also temporary. Or, do you choose to feed your body? Do you feed your goals? Do you choose to do the harder thing and suck it up, Buttercup, and don't settle for the cheap fix?

Today I compromised. I may have Augustus Gloop-ed the heck out of some junk food in my head, but I did not inhale a quart of ice cream in real life. I may have gone to McDonalds on a rest day and ordered a sugar free vanilla iced coffee, but I did not eat a Big Mac with fries. And today, I'm calling that compromise a Fat Mom Brain victory.

Now, if only I could stop screaming like a banshee.

*sigh*

Baby steps.

Five Things I'm So *Totes* Crushin' On

1. Youtube Fitness Vloggers - Omar Isuf and Chelsea Karabin

Omar's shirts

My allegiance to Elliott Hulse is still strong; however, he's starting to jump the shark a bit for me with his Lean Hybrid Muscle email bombardments. I mean, I know we both equally want for me to come and train at Strength Camp, but he's gotta lay off trying to sell me crap via email, you know?

Chelsea's shirts

Lately I've been binge-watching everything by Chelsea Karabin and Omar Isuf. Chelsea is strong and feminine, and she's everything I want to be when I grow up. It's really been helpful to watch someone live out counting her macros, even if they are really different than mine. Plus her home gym sometimes has twinkle lights, so there's that.

Omar is just freaking adorable, but he's also funny and smart (which honestly seems a bit overkill). I've learned a lot from his videos about training, form, and how to be a bro gym etiquette. Both Chelsea and Omar have apparel lines and I've bookmarked several things from each of their shops for when I don't have four kids and can experience disposable income again.

"I could train the mess outta Kelly. I'd probably be boyz with Kemper, too. Also, don't hate me 'cuz I have no calves."

2. Foam Rolling

Be still my heart - I have finally been seduced by the magic of the foam roll. As a runner I attempted to roll my IT band and it hurt so much I just quit. While it's still hella painful, I have noticed a huge difference in my glutes, hamstrings, and ... calves (who knew?) from when foam rolling and I started goin' out a month ago. I recently began foam rolling my lats and have been using a tennis ball for my left trapezius*.

*Remember my trap injury last fall (from my crutches)(the crutches that I had to use for my broken bone spur)(the broken bone spur that derailed my half marathon dreams and helped me gain 15 pounds)(the 15 pounds that ultimately led me to Kemper)(which was actually one of the best things to happen in my fitness life). Well, that trap injury has reared it's ugly head again. I'm hoping the next time I meet with Kemper he can use the same voodoo magic he used on my hip flexor to help my trap, but until then I've been doing everything I know to keep it from completely seizing up again including, but not limited to, a lot of drugs.

3. New Playlist 

Probably one of my favorite Kanye tweets of all time.
I think it's the "uuuuugh" at the end that seals it for me.

Apparently my master plan to mess with Kemper's head as much as possible continues because I've gotten sick to death of Rage Against the Machine and have moved on this week to some new music that I will play ad nauseam and then swear off for a year. Current lifting list includes (I didn't watch these links so they might be NSFW - heads up) P.O.D., Downset, White Stripes, Awolnation, BoySetsFire, and of course, Kanye. I'm running to Cage the Elephant, Weezer, and Harvey Danger. (Not to get too braggy, but once I invited myself on Harvey Danger's tour bus and scored both a pre-show interview and a photo pass for the show. Because I don't respect boundaries. BAM!)

4. Iced Coffee and fresh Peaches

Or, go to McDonalds. Or, even better, call Sister
Wife Rachel and she will come over with her
home made cold brew iced coffee that will blow your
freaking mind and you will thank Jesus that she is your
Sister Wife.

This summer I am single-handedly keeping McDonalds in business with purchases of sugar free French vanilla iced coffee. OH.MY.WORD is that stuff amazing. (And please shut up about the laboratory of ingredients I'm dumping in my body with each gulp delicate lady sip.) Right now I am drinking them as a pre-workout before my big lifting days because that makes it seem healthier to me only.

Also, peaches. I don't eat a lot of fruit but again, after big lifting days or HIIT workouts from hell, I have been enjoying the mess out of peaches. I keep a stash of napkins in my car (usually from McDonalds, natch) strictly to catch the peach juice that dribbles down my chin as I inhale that fruit on the way home from the gym.

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE summer?!

5. This picture comparison

25 years old, 253 pounds

35 years old, 145 pounds

There is so much about these pictures that I love. In the top picture is a woman who loves her kiddos. She reads them lots of stories and does puzzles and plays tea party with them. She likes to laugh, she likes to dream, and she wants a full life. But she's also hiding. She hides behind a child in almost every picture taken. She would never, ever be photographed with food or, heaven forbid, in any kind of form fitting clothing. 

The woman in the bottom picture just got done with a squat session at the gym. She squatted heavier than she thought possible, and is celebrating with a delicious dinner of brown rice, black bean burger crumbles, and lots of salsa. Her arm is still bruised from lifting a tire two weeks ago with Kemper (which she still maintains was crazy fun). She is sunburned from walking with her kids a half mile to the splash park where she wore her bathing suit in public so she could join in the playtime. She stacked the firewood in the background with her three year old son "for fun". She is distracted by her neighbors dog who just went FREAKING INSANE, and then laughing because life is crazy and wonderful.

Life is crazy and wonderful, everybody. Have a marvelous Friday and enjoy the mess out of your weekend!

I got found out. Go ahead and judge me. I'm not who you think I am, after all.

I honestly thought I could get away with it. It would be my own private dirty secret, and no one would be any wiser. Life would go on, I would be my normal self on the outside, while inside I held tightly to the truth, lest anyone discover what a hypocrite I am.

But then Brian confronted me Saturday night.




"Kel, what is this?" he chastised gently from across the kitchen. I looked up, guilt in my heart and fear in my eyes as I prepared to suffer through this dreaded conversation.

"Honey, I ... I don't know what to say."

"Please just tell me this isn't what I think it is." I hung my head in shame. How many times had I sworn I wouldn't do it? How many times had I made fun of those who made the choice themselves? How many times had I argued against it? Didn't I have, in the very annals of Sublurban Mama, written declaration of my stance against this very thing? I quickly blurted out my defense.

"I know. I just caved to the desire for a ... a change in my life. You can understand that, right, Babe? Besides, I'm making BLT's later this week and I might die if I eat another lettuce wrap."

So hyprocrite. Many ashamed. Much full of delicious BLT on actual bread.

Yes ... yes, that is Ezekiel bread you see in my house. Yes, I paid an astronomical amount for it because BLT's. And yes, the truth will find you out, my friend. So there you have it folks. Please, keep the rude emails to a minimum. I promise I'll be less hasty with my life-stance declarations in the future. (And I'll wait at least a week before getting my "Sprouted Wheat 4 Lyfe" tattoo.)

And a side of pizza

Some happenings...

LAUREN had her baby!!! Deborah Rose joined our world June 8, 2014. She was 9 pounds, 1 ounce and has a ton of hair. Lauren is recovering nicely after a horrific birth experience that she will wear like a badge of honor in about five years as soon as the trauma feelings wear off. My first act as Aunt Kelly was to take Deborah's First Selfie. She can mark that milestone in her baby book.

Other milestones with Aunt Kelly will include:
First Barbell Squat
First Iced Coffee
First Needtobreathe Concert

EZRA is striving for the longest stomach bug in the history of our family. He has spent every other night for over a week now throwing up and poo-ing everywhere. This is disgusting and has made me gag on occasion. Thankfully one of the characteristics of motherhood is that once Nasty is out of sight it is out of mind and I can clean up filth one minute and make myself a delicious breakfast in the next. So, yay survival skills. The weirdest thing is that he is only really sick at night. I discovered a lovely little option on our washing machine called "the sanitize cycle." It is keeping me sane.

I subbed veggies for that mushroom
cap. Because I hate mushrooms,
that's why.

MY IN-LAWS returned from Africa!! They have been living there since February 2013, and I've missed them terribly. We picked them up from the airport yesterday afternoon, visited for a few hours, and then ate dinner at Applebee's. (Where I had one of the best steaks of my life.)(Right?)(At APPLEBEE'S?)(I thought the same thing.)

LIFETIME is closed this week for maintenance. Well, just the fitness floor is closed, but since that eliminates all the weights, cardio equipment, and stretching area that pretty much renders Lifetime useless to me. I worked out at my old gym last night and ran into Trainer Tom. He was all, "YOU LOOK GREAT!" and then asked about my body fat percentage. He guessed it accurately (which I'm pretty sure is his trainer parlor trick) and said he could see a huge difference in my body. I was all, "I'm lifting...heavy," and felt like a total bad-A. Good times.

No Butterfinger candy bars were
harmed in the making of this shake.

THE BEST PROTEIN SHAKE I've ever had was made in my blender for lunch. It was seriously amazing. It's not a clean recipe, and is a pretty hefty meal replacement (it was about 440 calories and 42 grams of protein and was HUGE) but it was such an awesome summer "treat". The only thing that could have made it better was a side of pizza a fun twisty straw.

Butterfinger Protein Shake

1 cup milk (any kind will do, but I used cows milk because I needed the calories)

1 cup water

1 scoop chocolate protein powder

1 cup ice

1 TBSP peanut butter

1 TBSP sugar free, fat free butterscotch pudding mix

Blend and inhale. Or savor. Whatever.

These shoes now belong to me. I spent two days thinking about them after trying them on. It took three Kohls adventures to find them in my size. Totally worth the effort. I'm going to wear them with my elephant t-shirt because of course I have an elephant t-shirt. (Because if I was an animal I'd be a Kelephant.)(Haha.)(Not a fat joke.)(Just a hilarious play on words.)

I am going to enjoy another sunny day here in the Mitten. It is supposed to get really hot and I can't wait to let the kiddos run through the sprinkler while I weed the flower beds, wash the car, and wear a tank top. I LOVE SUMMER!

Party on, Wayne. Party on, Garth.

Facebook Status: Watching Beauty and the Beast at 4:00 a.m. with a *literally* hot 104 degree four year old. Because moms party hard.

This is the third night in a row I've greeted some insane hour by doing ridiculous things (i.e. anything other than sleep at this wretched time of day). Monday morning found me googling "macronutrient calculator" at 3:30 a.m. while waiting for Esther's pukey sheets to tumble in the wash. I am now knowledgeable enough to have an entire eating plan calibrated to my weight, preferred diet, and exercise level. I rocked that plan all day Monday and Tuesday like I was metamorphic. (Ohmylanta, rocked it like a metamorphic?! Oh, geology jokes, I dig you.)

Thankfully, before I got too prideful about my superior eating plan, Ezra has been suffering a seriously high fever for a couple hours now, and I am handling the situation of yet another sleepless night with a whole wheat English muffin and peanut butter consumed about an hour ago. (Because have you ever had a tummy so hungry it hurt? I haven't eaten wheat in who knows how long and decided it was the perfect choice for my "you aren't normally awake at this time and your body is trying to manipulate you into feeding it and you will go ahead and do it because you are an American and you do not negotiate with terrorists instead you give them exactly what they want".)(That is probably seasons four through eight of 24 talking because once President Palmer left office crap went downhill fast.)

Ezra is now tucked snugly on the couch with a Tigger water bottled filled with soy milk (and has moved on to the Winnie the Pooh Heffalump movie) and I have tackled two loads of laundry and a full half an hour of Pinterest. Now that I have accomplished the important items on my to-do list I am free to blog about last night's workout.

I only have one session left with Trainer Mike. Once I finish the whole month I plan to have an assessment post all about Trainer Mike. (It will totally be a Mike vs Kemper smackdown event). Until then know that my time with Mike has been spent mostly on abs and back. This is because I do arms on Monday and legs on Wednesday and I meet with Mike on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so he tries to work other parts of my body. I'm sure he totally loves basing all his training around my workout schedule and this doesn't make me a PITA to him at all.

Last night was a whole new game for us. I missed Monday's workout (because LAUREN HAD HER BABY!!!)(pics soon!) so Mike was free to do whatever the heck he wanted. And? It was hella fun.

I ran a warm up mile on the treadmill and then met Mike. He started me on a quick ab circuit that included 30 seconds of mountain climbers (on towels), 1:30 planks, and 15 medicine ball slams (which are probably one of my most favorite things to do in the history of life). We did that circuit three times.

Then he gave me only one more circuit to do. We were going to do the whole thing three times, resting as I needed.

This is not me. But this is totally what it looked
like last night. Except there was no dog. And I was
 waaaaay sweatier. And my muscles are
slightly less defined.

We started with push ups with rows. Mike has me use the PowerBlock dumbbells for these because they help my wrists. I got in plank position (wide leg) did a push up (which felt more like a tricep push up with the positioning) then alternated a row on each side. (The PowerBlock was set at 15 pounds for each side.) I did that 10 times. We went straight into plie squats with a 25# kettlebell. I could really feel the difference all that heavy squatting has made. Those plie squats weren't a thang.

Next were regular kettlebell swings (@20#), followed by ... box jumps. This was a HUGE milestone, because I've never done box jumps in public before. (Unless you count jumping the benches at the park.) I was so nervous! I did that whole Biggest Loser pre-jump sike-out move twice before I just took a deep breath and just went for it. After my first set Mike raised the height by a few inches. It got so much easier (emotionally) the second and third round.

This *is* what I look like while working the ropes.
Like my hair is all shiny and clean and flows
behind me as you can see above. It definitely
doesn't cling to my head in a mom ponytail while
 sweat drips off the ends and onto my neck
and into my eyes. Because that would be
decidedly not hot.

We followed box jumps with the ropes. Trainer Mike does this totally cute move where he tells me to "GO!" and then pretends to look at the clock so I can do 30 seconds but really he gets distracted by the cute girl doing back extensions on the machine in front of him and makes me do 45 seconds because "you looked like you could keep going." Haha, he's such a joker.

After the ropes was a cool down move of a minute of step ups before we repeated the whole circuit twice more. I really had a blast with this workout. It was a nice break from heavy weights but also just kept going, so I never got bored. I was challenged physically by the push ups and mentally by the box jumps. After all the circuits I ran a cool down mile. Then I came home and ate carbs, so yeah, a day that finishes with a great workout and allthechickenandRICE is a good day.

Now I'm going to go tend to my sweet baby boy (who is now on his third movie of the day - Toy Story at 6:30 a.m. for those of you keeping track)(and who could really care less about my "tending" unless it's to bring him more drinks and the occasional back rub). The girlies will be getting up in another half an hour and the day "officially" begins again.

*sigh*

Is it wrong that I'm already dreaming about a nice arm workout and HIIT treadmill run tonight? Don't answer that.