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Bacon cheeseburger with a side of cheese enchiladas…

I’m a talker.
If you come within listening distance of me, there is a good chance you will know more than you ever wanted to know about my life in a VERY short time.
BUT.. I’m also a complainer.

I learned a few years ago that if I don’t tell people what’s going on, it doesn’t give me an outlet to complain and thus, makes me deal with the situation better.

I didn’t tell ANYONE I was pregnant with Miles until almost 20 weeks. I didn’t tell anyone about my divorce for almost 4 months. And this time I haven’t told many people about my journey to reclaim my body before I start on my 2nd surrogacy journey.

Because doesn’t it always kinda suck to lose weight? And get healthier?? I know I’d WAY rather be a couch potato and eat whatever I want. (Today that would be a big huge bacon cheeseburger with a side of cheese enchiladas.)

I’m a month and a week into this journey. I HAVE TO get healthier before getting pregnant again (in 2 short months). I HAVE TO stay healthier this next pregnancy.

So it’s been 15 weeks since the day I got home from the hospital. I am officially down 28 pounds. (But down 15 in the month I have been ACTIVELY trying to get healthier.

I feel amazing. 15 pounds isn’t that much. But it’s made a huge difference to me. I put on a pair of jeans 4 digits smaller. Just returned 5 new shirts I bought so I could get a smaller size.

I have about 2 full months left before we are on to Surrogacy round 2! Nothing like losing a bunch of weight just to get pregnant again!
So now that you know.. don’t let me complain! :)

“Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us…”

I sat in Sunday school today.

Honestly, one of my least favorite places to be. The chairs are hard, it’s always cold. I’m uncomfortable physically.
I am NOT a scripture scholar. There isn’t one scripture story I can have an intelligent conversation with you on.
The teacher of the week says “Everyone knows this story, right?”
I roll my eyes… Even though I’ve made a deal with my self to stop doing that at church.

My scripture app is open on my phone as a read through our lesson of the day.
My neighbor thumbs through her book and I think about how much easier it is for me. On this phone. (plus, I can sneak in a little facebook time when things get boring.)

We stop to discuss a passage..
“Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us…”
I chuckle silently thinking about the irony of being on that brink.

I drag my finger down the screen and highlight it so I can remember it for later.
I see out of the corner of my eye that she marks the same passage in her book and starts writing next to it. I don’t know what she’s writing but I know how personal this passage is to her struggles.

That lightbulb turns on.

One day, her children will have her book of scriptures. At some point in their lives they’ll come upon that passage. Perhaps at a time they’re feeling like turning back. And they’ll see her words. Mine? They’ll be highlighted in something called an iPhone. Something that may not exsist in 30 years when my son needs to read my thoughts.

So today, I renew my vow to stop rolling my eyes in church, but also make the conscience decision to bring the physical books of scriptures with me every Sunday.

If only for the reason that my words might comfort my son in his time of need the way they comfort me now.

Just enjoy it…..

A cooler packed for a picnic was my co captain.
Miles was snoring in the back seat and I played eenie meenie minie mo with the canyons.

It’s been a rough week for the two of us
(let’s be honest, it’s been a rough month, YEAR. Spotted with highlights but still, ROUGH.)

We just needed to get away. I realized as I hoped on the freeway how lucky we ate that we have SO much to choose from here. At the prompting of a friend I reached for my phone and turned it OFF.
I can count on one hand the amount of times my phone has physically been turned off. (don’t worry, I lived to tell the tale.)
Icurved into the canyon, and maybe said a little (tiny) swear word as I noticed I was behind a dirty dump truck that already had its flashers on. I looked to the left and to the right trying desperately to find a way to pass him. When something said as clear as day, “Just enjoy it.”

So I did.
20 miles up Big Cotton Wood Canyon. Only reaching 25mph ONCE. On a hill. He offered to let me pass 5 times. I didn’t. I saw a family of deer. Rushing streams. Cute little water falls. Trees. Sky. I just enjoyed it. Until we both turned off the road in opposite directions at the same time.

I spent the next 3 hours pushing a 30 pound toddler, in a stroller, around Silver Lake TWO AND A HALF TIMES. (in inappropriate footwear.) We stopped to play, feed the squirrels and we narrowly escaped being eaten by a family of ducks.
(I’m slightly (A LOT) afraid of living poultry. Not all birds. Just the ones people routinely eat. Chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and recently discovered Quails. See? Just poultry.)
We ate our lunch on a log by the lake. (I packed a salad for myself and no fork. That was fun.) We fed most of our pretzels to the squirrels. We ran over and under and around fallen trees. We had a blast.

I don’t think he even noticed I wasn’t on my phone. I’m sure he didn’t. (because I kept shoving it in his face for pictures. (it was on airplane mode at that time.))

But I noticed.
We didn’t fight, we didn’t argue.

We just enjoyed it.

4. When to try harder and when to walk away.

The sunroof was open shining the early afternoon bight sun onto my newly red hair, my cup holder held the largest Slurpee I could find.
Slurpee’s are the key to my happiness.
In case you were wondering.

The disembodied voice blaring over the radio started talking about a list.

A list of 30 things every woman should have and know by the time they are 30.

Something struck me.
These are REAL, attainable things.
I found myself nodding along.

And while this list was written in 1997, I feel like it was written for me.
YES. I want to have and know these things. Not by tomorrow, not even by 30 but wow. Yes.

Secretly (except not so secretly because I just said it..) I want to write a post about each of these things.
My mind jumps at every one of these situations..

By 30, you should have …
1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age — and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account — all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.

By 30, you should know …
1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
8. Where to go — be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat — when your soul needs soothing.
9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30


Who she is…

It’s Tuesday. I pull up to the same copy and print shop I use every tuesday.
The staff is young. All my age, maybe younger.

The manager always seems flustered. I give her a sweet smile. She has no idea who I am. She calls me my bosses name. She thinks I’m her. Secretly I hope she’s googled my boss and thinks I’ve accomplished everything she has. I answer my phone with her name every time I see their number on the caller ID. Why do I do that? Gosh that’s going to be awkward one day.

The boy that works there. He’s cute. I never noticed before today. Or maybe I had but didn’t care.

I walk through the door today in an exceptionally good mood. My goofy smile greets his. He’s helping an older gentleman. No doubt in the middle of the transaction,  he steps away to find my order.

I realize in these brief moments how happy I am.

I feel like myself again.
That’s a strange thought.

Who am I?

It’s so foreign to me.

A single mom.
A part time employee.
A brunette.
Someone who birthed another persons baby.

Every one of these things I wasn’t a year ago.
So who am I to say I feel like myself AGAIN?
I guess I feel like the new me.

I walk with a little skip in my step, out of the store.
I like this new me.

But I frown thinking of that first word. A-L-O-N-E.
It’s my least favorite state of being. Well, maybe second to D-E-A-D.
But is dead really a state of being? Or a state of NOT being.
That doesn’t really matter..

I’ve been asked a lot about what my future holds. (if you have a crystal ball, I’d like to know what my future looks like too.)

“I’m ready to be a surrogate again soon,” is my standard answer.
“Will you have any more of your own kids?”
Why does everyone ask that?
“My future is pretty uncertain.” I can recite this speech while doing ten other things.. “WHEN I remarry, I’ll have more children if husband wants them.” ( I hope he does.)

Gosh, there’s that thought that pops up again.

I ADORE being a surrogate. BUT, it’s not the easiest thing to sashay up to an attractive man and announce “Hi, I’m pregnant. But don’t worry. It’s not mine.” (someone suggest I add, “the best part of the situation is that you don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant.” I’ll think about adding that to my pick up line repertoire.)

I’ve actually mentioned it a a few single gentlemen in the past year.

Exactly ONE thought it was fascinating and noble. (did he say noble? If I hadn’t been putty hanging on to the way his lips moved as he spoke and his hands, those hands, I might remember. I remember exactly what he was wearing, does that count? I wondered if the leather jacket he was wearing was soft and supple or that hard stiff leather that somehow makes men feel more manly. And the collar, why was I drawn to the way the color sat on his neck? Do you understand why I can’t remember if noble was the word he used?)

I struggled to keep my knees strong as he gazed. It’s probably just the way he looks at every girl, I try to insure myself. I’m not legally divorced,I’m pregnant with another couples baby. Surely, he doesn’t even know he can pierce through me. He probably just has one of those “looks.” If the way he speaks is any indication. I’m sure his smoldering look is just part of the package. Not something saved for me.

The next time I brought it up, I sat surrounded by people I felt instantly comfortable with, I swallowed the giant lump in my throat and told him (a different “him”) that I was due the week after her. (The girl at the end of the table.) She’s noticeably larger than me. He practically sprays pepsi across the table, turns to me and shouts “YOU’RE PREGNANT.”  the kind of shout that makes the busy restaurant hush quickly.
I’m not just pregnant, I’m REALLY pregnant. After 30 weeks, kinda pregnant. I guess I hid it well.

Well, that didn’t go so well. But better to tell him here than in bed later. (i laugh at my thought. Like it would have gone that far..)

This is no easier than I thought it would be.
I should probably just stop watching the pot.

The me that is here now.
I like her.
I hope she finds what she’s looking for.

(What is she looking for??)

That crystal ball, I’ll take that now, please.