Pride cometh before the fall...better wear padding

I was asked at work last night to name something I have done that I am really proud of outside of work. I have to admit, aside from making four babies in recent years, I had a hard time coming up with something that happened in this century. I was stumped, so we moved on. The girl next to me starts into her schpeel about how she was graduating from college in a little over a month and she was so proud of everything she had gone through to get there over the last few years. How she is the first female in her family to get a college education. How she finished her program in four years when they warned her freshman year that most people have to go five.

I have similar stories. I was the first person in my family to graduate from college. I worked super hard and had some amazing experiences to be proud of.

15 years ago.

This has been bothering me a lot since last night. I do stuff worthy of praise. I must. I am busy ALL THE TIME. Somehow cleaning up the mac n cheese Clark dumped on the floor at lunch just doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

And it is not just the pride thing. When people ask me "what have you been up too" I instantly think of my kids and husband and what they are doing or what they are involved in. I love to talk about them and the great things in their lives. After all that IS what I am doing right. Being their cheerleader. Taxi driver. Personal chef. Housekeeper. Laundress. I am not unhappy with this situation either. In fact I love being a mom. I love watching my kids grow and change and being a part of all that great change. It just makes me take pause because I am not answering the question with the answer they were looking for. If this were an essay question, I would fail.


Here is the reason this bothers me: what happens in 10-15 years when they no longer need those things? When they all move out and learn to take care of themselves. Go and get real homes and real jobs and only come to visit when they are in town. Am I going to be THAT grandma who makes huge amounts of food for 3 people just because I now have a reason to cook?

My point is this. What am I doing that sustains Lisha? What more can I do to feel a sense of accomplishment in myself? With the little time and energy I have left at the end of the day, how can I make the most of those moments to fill MY cup? Just saying it out loud makes me feel selfish.


I enjoy reading. I like to knit. I guess finishing a book or a project makes me feel good. But that seems insignificant to me because I have been doing them both for so long, it is just part of my life. Maybe that is my problem. I have let great things become small. I think I need to start to look at life with rose colored glasses instead of the greasy ones I wear now.


In short, I need to be more humble and have more gratitude in my life.


So what sustains you? How do you fill those fleeting moments in life for YOU. What do you say when an old friend or a new boss asks you "What are you proud of in your life? What have you been doing lately?" Me? I am raising 4 little kids who are brilliant and inquisitive and love to explore new things. AND I am working on improving my physical health by working out and eating better so I can keep up with them. Not to mention supporting a husband who is a very dedicated teacher and who will be starting his Masters Degree in a few months. Oh and we are working toward buying our first home in a few months. Talk about taking on a new project!

My Not A Diet

Let's face it. Diets are crap. They are no fun and the only thing I do when I am on one is wish for the day I will be "done". But we are never done because as soon as we quit we put on more weight and then we have to start the whole thing over again. It sucks.



So here is my plan.



I am working out. My goal is 3 times a week but I am pushing for more. I gotta make working in that dumb day care worth my time! Did I ever tell you how much I hate to baby sit? Another day perhaps.



I am watching what I eat. Tonight at 10:30 when I really wanted Alfredo sauce and 5 bread sticks, I ate a salad. Yes I ate a bread stick too, but it filled me up and saved me like 800 calories. The key to this: I am going to eat what I want so I don't fell deprived. I am just not going to eat as much of it as often as I usually do.



I am not making this a goal or a resolution or a deadline type deal in any way, shape or form. That is just setting me up for failure, which I am not good with.



What I am doing is making it my habit. Our country is full of fat people. I don't want to be one of them anymore. I don't want my kids to become one of them either. It is pretty much certain if we continue doing what we are doing that we will stay fat.



I have no distinct weight in mind or time limit on when I will get there. When I can feel confident in my skin and run around with my kids without aching or getting winded I will know I am there.



I am not unrealistic about the body I want. I have stretch marks in crazy places. I have lots of spider veins. I even am starting to wrinkle in places... mostly from smiling. My boobs are sagging..but I did breast feed 4 babies. I know who I am. I would just like to not have excess fat underneath it all anymore. I can change that part. So I am going to.



I am a work in progress and I will never be "done". The moment I think I am is the moment I start to go the opposite direction I want to go.

The "Smith Girls" Reunion

On Saturday I got together with a bunch of my sisters, cousins and aunts--all the women on the Smith side--for a Smith Girls Reunion. But mostly to spend time together with our Grandma Smith. She is going to be 95 this summer. July 4th actually. She is a kick in the pants. Everything I learned about sarcasm came from her.

There were a lot of people there, but also quite a few who did not make it that we wish would have been there. A lot of the Nielsen women were there--both sets. (My dads 2 sisters married a couple of brothers. That is a story for another day) A couple Miller women made it as well. And of course all my Smith sisters but 1 were in attendance too.

Here is the funny thing though. Of all 18 women who made it, only 3 were actually named Smith.

My dad is the only male child in his family and although he had 7 children, 5 of them are girls and all married.

No Smiths there.

His oldest son is married so Rachel is a Smith. They have 3 girls and only 1 boy. But kids were not invited.

Of course there is his wife, my mom, who is a Smith.

And then his mother, Grandma Smith.

The potential for more Smith women is pretty bleak too. When Carson gets married there will be one more. But that's it.

When we go home everyone still calls us the Smith girls. I kinda like it. With as many people in this world who have that name, you wouldn't think it would be much of a distinction. But I am here to tell you that being a "Smith Girl" is well known in our neck of the world. And not too many people can claim to be one.