Why don’t you ask for Help? Why didn’t you call me? You should have called me! Sound familar? These are all well known lines that I have heard more times than I’d like to count. Everyone wants to know why I won’t ask for help. Every single mom I have spoke with recently has said that they struggle with asking for help just as much as I do. Why is that? Why do we continue to struggle after we are told to reach out?
We don’t want to be let down.
Let’s be honest, you have offered to help someone or said “call if you need anything” The moment that phone rings and help is requested
we can’t provide the assitance needed. Being a mom I have been there. I have asked for help and been shut down. This makes me nervous to ask for help. I don’t want to be let down by those who have. offered help.
Society has this man shaming trend. Everyone is a better parent than everyone else.
“What was he doing awake by himself? He doesnt wake you up first?”
“NO Suzy, I let my three year old Run rampid every day of the week and he has to fend for himself.”
Maybe if we stop judging or being condescending to every mom who has a bad day or a parenting mishap there would be more of us who ASK for help.
This is a big one for me and some people may call me crazy for Feeling this way, however it is 100% Valid! Look at our news headlines now days! I am terrified that others will not accept or understand my children.I am so scared they will not understand or love my Special
special needs son the way our family does and that terrifies me.
I hare felt guilty in so many ways. Guilty for leaving my kids behind. Guilty for in convincing some one. Guilty for not being
able to handle it all. Guilty for being tired. We just feel guilty.
There are many times I have locked myself in my bathroom and cried because I did not want to be seen as weak. When people look at me I don’t want them to think that I wasn’t strong enough to be a mom.
These are very real reasons why we don’t call you. These are the driving force behind our lonely struggles. If you see an
overwhelmed mom and her struggle don’t wait for her to ask for your help, because she never will. When you see that struggle say
“let me help you, what do you need, how can I help you during this time.”
I am a little obsessed when it comes to workout wear and I have been since I became a personal trainer in 2011. The new trend is leggings with “scrunch” butt or the technical term ruched leggings. I looked online for these super cute leggings and could not find any that I was comfortable buying. The ones I found were a small fortune and I wasn’t sure if they would even fit right. So I decided to make my own.
It wasn’t that hard for me because sewing is like my thing. But the easiest way to make them is to sew elastic into the seam of a pair of leggings you already own. Or you can 100% make them from a pattern and just add stretched elastic to the rump seam.
The pattern that I choose to use was the Patterns for Pirates peg leg pattern, you can find all sorts of hacks for this pattern on their very own website here. I cut everything out as normal and before I put my waist band on (double in width for high waist) I sewed a piece of elastic in to the rump. The elastic measured 2 inches shorter that the rump seam and I stretched it along the seam so it was perfect length. I will post a video in more detail of they DIY soon.
For the matching bra I used the Brazi pattern for the cross Brazi. This pattern is found here.
Material is from Joann fabrics and can be found here.
I set out to find answers on google and found nothing, but frustration. My son was diagnosed with ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) in Fall of 2017. Although I knew the diagnosis was coming, I was still at a loss for what was yet to come. “How do I make sure we are doing everything we can to make sure he succeeds?” This question was always afloat in my mind. January of 2018, Raylan started school in hopes to seek out the early intervention he was in dire need of. Shortly after, Raylan started school, a parent recommended this book to me. The parent raved about how it had made things so much clearer and helped them understand more. I was reluctant to really dive in and read it. I was still adjusting to my son’s new diagnosis, our life with IEP’s, and our other 3 children. I was not ready to read a book that would blatantly tell me something I already knew.
However, once I picked it up I could not put it down. I started to read it as a paperback. When we had to travel to IL, as I drove I listened to every single chapter by audiobooks. On the return trip, I listened to every single chapter a second time. I put book marks in my paperback and reread the sections I had book marked in the Audible book. This book changed my life, my thought process, and made me even more proud to be a mom of a child with Autism.
There’s one topic the author covers in this book which made me take a step back… as ever work with your child. The author mentions that we are the professionals when it comes to our children, that it is perfectly normal for us to stand up for them and say, “no” when we deem necessary. This was something I struggled with. I as a mama am an advocate for my kids. I will argue, stand up, and not back down until I am certain my kids are taken care of in the way that is right. When it came to Raylan’s, medical I would argue tooth and nail when I knew what was right and wrong. I fired a couple therapists! I was that mama who rattled everyone’s cage if I thought they were treating Raylan, wrong. Some people would say that is not OK, because doctors/therapist are the professionals, but not this author. And not I. In Uniquely Human, there is an entire chapter about parents being the professional when it comes to their children. This was affirming to me that all those times I didn’t back down, I was doing the right thing. Many things that the author wrote about in Uniquely Human, is incredibly eye opening and made complete sense to me. Raylan is indeedUniquely Human. The title of this book was perfect!
While reading this book it was more than I ever could have expected. The author is well versed and knowledgeable in ASD, he writes from a professional as well as a personal viewpoint. He has a personal connection when he writes with individuals with ASD such as Temple Grandin. He shares stories of parents and teachers who work with ASD, making it easy for the reader to connect on a personal level. Many instances written about in the book, I have experienced myself.
If you have a child with Autism, are working with children that have Autism or you are just interested in learning about kids with Autism, I highly recommend this book. It was eye opening for me and I hope it will be for you.
As I laid in my bed half asleep, he put a cup in my hand. Being only a quarter awake I crawled out of bed as he took me by the hand.
This morning was probably the 1000th time Raylan woke up at 3 AM just ready to take on life.
As I laid in my bed half asleep, he put a cup in my hand. Being only a quarter awake I crawled out of bed as he took me by the hand. He led me into the kitchen and showed me the fridge. Unwillingly I opened the fridge and his little face lit up as I grabbed the milk and he burst with giggles. I melted.
Here I am exhausted and I should be frustrated, but by now I am used to it. I hand him the glass of milk so he takes a sip. As I turned around to put the jug back in the fridge I hear the sound of liquid spilling out. Raylan poured all the milk down the kitchen sink. He decided thats not what he wanted, he wants the juice on the counter. I sighed and put just a little juice in his cup. He laughed and began to try and jump with excitement. Little man really wanted that juice.
He then began to blow bubbles into his cup which was exciting for both him and I. Yes its 3 am, I’m absolutely tired, why in the world am I excited about the fact he is making noises or a mess by blowing bubbles into his cup?
Here’s why. When Raylan starts to form new sounds with his lips that is cause for celebration. Every little move that his lips and mouth learn, helps us in the uphill battle of him one day speaking.
Raylan is 3 1/2 and has never said a word audibly and has never babbled. We’ve yet to hear what his little voice sounds like. He doesn’t mimic nor try to form words, he is just quiet. When Raylan needs something, he often leads us to what he needs. Recently he started to bring you a cup if he is thirsty.
So yes bubbles at 3 AM was exciting and I never even tried to discourage it. I just laughed with him. We smiled and he requested more juice. I quietly gave it to him and waited. He once again began to blow bubbles. That sensation of moving his lips is an exciting accomplishment. So I just sit back and wait until he’s done. He hands me his cup in request for more, but this time I gave him water. He dumped it down the drain. I grabbed his little hand and we both walked out of the kitchen. He wasn’t quiet ready for bed again so we played a bit longer. I should be begging him to let me sleep, but I would wake up all over again just to see that giggle after he blows bubbles in his cup.
Toned muscle, low body fat, and bad-ass abs! 2013 I walked across the stage to complete my first and last competition. I had a snobby ass attitude to go with my purple crushed velvet competition suit. My friends and family cheered as I walked across the stage and completed my well rehearsed routine. It was my time to shine. It was my time to sell it. I was in fact a mom of 2 who lost 80 lbs and defeated the “mom bod”. Yes, I was a bad mamma jamma!
In fact the words bad mamma couldn’t begin to describe my downward spiral and loss of self identity. My kids 5 and 3, my husband serving our country in Afghanistan, and me drowning my self in workouts and secret binge eating. The words “You need to look the part” pumped like a heartbeat in my head. I was not worthy yet to be a tier two personal trainer, because my body fat still sat at 20%, you couldn’t see muscle striations, and I wasn’t doing enough. I needed to push more and I needed to eat less. I needed to be more than myself, because my self wasn’t good enough. I needed to look like the women in “Muscle and Fitness Her’s” Magazine. I needed to be able to say I was a fitness model. But really I was just a momma looking for a sense of accomplishment. I needed to prove doctors wrong about my strength. Doctors whose opinion should not have really mattered to me. Doctors who were long since out of my life. “LEG DAY NOV 21, 2012-100LB sumo dead lift! Get it! They told me nine years ago I wouldn’t! ha” I posted and bragged on instgram. What the hell did it matter what was said 9 years ago? I proved them wrong the first time I ever road a BMX bike again and that was in 2004, less than a year after my car accident.
Why was I steady trying to prove greatness. As if I needed anyone’s approval besides my family, who I abandoned so I could workout and binge eat in secret. I pushed everyone aside and thought of no one, but my self. I was a selfish nightmare who was constantly seeking approval of people who didn’t matter. Everyone loved me, but me? No, I hated myself. I hated that I wasn’t small enough, I couldn’t lift enough, and I still had stretch marks. I was never good enough.
I wasn’t a good mom and I failed at being a good wife. I failed at every aspect of life, but I sure did “Look the part.” That’s what mattered to me? Who was I kidding? Who was I trying to impress?
My kids didn’t want someone else to put them in bed at night because mommy was completing her 90 minutes of cardio and her 60 minute weight lifting session. No they wanted their mom to read them a story and sing them a song, but mommy was too busy posting “flexy” pictures on instagram and striving to look the part.
They wanted mommy to take them to the park to play, but mommy was too impatient and had too many workouts to write. That’s right I was a bad mamma jamma. In fact a horrible one, I greeted my husband with anger over skype, meanwhile he was serving in Afghanistan not guaranteed tomorrow. Yeah, I was bad mamma jamma. He built me up and I tore him down.
2014 I lost twins to a miscarriage and it didn’t matter if I looked the part. No it didn’t matter if I looked healthy, because I really wasn’t. Improper nutrition and secret amenorrhea took its toll on me. Who cares that I was really healthy as long as I could lift and compete? All of that training and carb cycling for what? I wasn’t fooling myself anymore. I was not healthy at all. In fact I killed my self in the gym and hurt those close to me for nothing. I trained to look like something I wasn’t. I couldn’t fool my body by the way I looked. Now, it was not a fact that my “fitness” habits had any bearing on my miscarriage, but I am sure they didn’t help.
Since 2014 I haven’t trained to look the part. No I have trained to be healthy. I have trained so I can keep up with my four kids. I have trained to hike up a couple thousand feet and recover without regret. I eat to fuel my body and not shape it. Yeah, I don’t “look” the part anymore. I look like a mom who loves to be with her kids, a wife who adores her husband, and a woman who loves her self with all her flaws. No, I don’t have that bad-ass six pack anymore or that 12% body fat, but I do have endurance and strength to carry 2 kids plus essentials up the side of the mountain. I don’t have 25k of personal training revenue a month any more, but I do have the time to spend raising my family. No I don’t look the part anymore, I am the part. I am the trainer who loves training clients to feel and move better. To teach them that the real value comes from feeling and moving better, the looks are a bonus. When someone tells me they want to look like some one else, I discourage it with every fiber of my being. You don’t need to look like someone else, because you were never meant to be someone else. When someone tells me you don’t look like a mom, I tell them looks are deceiving.
Photo credit Krystal C. Photography
Photo credit Krystal C. Photography
Photo credit Krystal C. Photography
Photo credit Krystal C. Photography
Photo credit Krystal C. Photography
“To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself.” Bindi Irwin