The Struggle is Real

     The struggle is real. That's probably the one popular saying that's come out of the past few years that is probably here to stay. Let's review some of the trendy sayings, shall we:
     Ain't nobody got time for that...
     Hey, girl (Ryan Gosling)
     Eyebrows on fleek
     We got lit
     Anything with the word "adult" or "adulting"
     Bye, Felicia
     Listen, Linda...
     I don't always..., but when I do...
     Turnt up
     Flying through the sky, Little Einsteins (oh wait, that's just in this house...)
     ...and, of course, my favorite: the struggle is real.
     I'm sure I'm missing so many more quotable quotes, but I'm not necessarily ashamed of that. Why do I love "the struggle is real"? Because it resonates with me, like it does everyone else. All wit and humor aside, I feel that people look at me and forget that it takes work and effort. I love me some food, y'all, and I just discovered Netflix last year, so yeah...it takes a lot of work for me not to become a lesson on sloth and gluttony.
     In short, I've always struggled with body acceptance, I've been multiple sizes, I've had multiple lifestyles, and even though it would be so easy for me to throw up my hands and surrender to St. Taco Bell, I can't fully give up. I've not been my best the past couple of months, and I've made terrible decisions knowingly. I've just been like, "meh, I know what I need to do; I just don't feel like it right now." And boy, does it show! Everyone is like, "I don't see the problem. You look fine." That's all well and good. I'd hate for people to be like, "Whoa....what happened to you??? Did your insides explode?! Is there any food left in the world?" People can be sweet. But when I start talking about how I need to get my act together, it always turns into a conversation where people comment on how I can eat anything, that I'm naturally small because of my short stature, I can't possibly understand what it's like to be unhealthy, so on and so on. That is so not true.
     I get it. People meet the me now, not the me that I hide or have hidden. But I have been there; I am still there. I have to be mindful every single day. I can't miss workouts. I have to fight temptation like a cat staring at the new blinds. Not today, Adalida, not ever!! It's never easy for me, it's never second nature, and it's never one perfect fix. Some people can find the magic solution that helps them maintain a healthy lifestyle; I, however, am in the front seat of a roller coaster. It is what it is.

     The constant through everything, though, is that I absolutely LOVE helping people during their healthy lifestyle journey. I recently gave the idea of making it a full time career more than just a second thought. I feel like I am relatable: I have succeeded, I have failed, I am covered in cellulite, I now I have my little kangaroo pouch that comes from motherhood and improper abdominal exercises, I still love fried cheese and diet soda, I think wine is lovely, and I always have such a great want to help people. Believe me when I say that I totally get it when you say the struggle is real. I struggle every single day. But I'd much rather struggle than give up. I get results. "Well, Abigail, that's easy for you to do; you're not working this year." Nah, I got results when I was working a full time job, a part time job, had a baby when my husband was stationed overseas, cared for the baby when he was stationed overseas again, maintained a decent house with four animals, and orchestrated a move to another state. I hate to be corny, but if I can do it under those circumstances, anyone can find their own level of success.
     I know it can be intimidating. I know it can overwhelming. I know it can be daunting. I know it can be scary. I also know that it is completely worth it. I'm here to help. Resolution season is upon us...seriously, when is there a better time to start?
     This week has been great: I've been mindful of food options, portions, and snacking. I've been taking my three favorite supplements every day and feel amazing. I'm giving myself two months to get back to my June body, and I know I'll do it. However, that doesn't mean I want to do it alone. Anyone wanna join me...?
   

Time + Jesus = Clean Counters

     Okay, I know that I usually write about losing weight, so here it goes: blah, blah, blah, unhappiness, BEFORE PICTURE, yay, yay, yay, excitement, AFTER PICTURE. Feel good because you got what you came for? Good! Yay! Let's move on...
     I'm literally writing this past 9 pm on a school night, though that doesn't really apply to me right now (insert sad face), but I truly felt this fit the FRUSTRATED part of the "frustrated" part of my blog title. This entry will be short and sweet...I know, right?! I never thought I'd see the day.
     I had to share a home cleaning practice that works for me. Now, I kind of feel that I have the slight advantage to living with all things chaotic devoid devastation. As you know, my husband is overseas. He was stationed overseas prior to our move-out date. Yep, Abigail had to move a house of stuff with a one year old and four animals to the great groundhog harboring state of North Carolina. He was great; he took thirty days of leave prior to his arrival date to haul loads to NC. My parents came down three days prior to clearing to help with the rest. Lori, Jamie, and the very pregnant Morgan made sure my pull behind trailer was ready to go. So...yeah, a house of stuff was moved over three moves which means that organization on the receiving end was little to be desired. I was so grateful that everything was in the presence of groundhogs to care about the order in which it was received.
     Fast forward to today. I am now in my house (<--a foreclosure that has been under remodel for quite some time, thanks to my amazing family--Papa, the contractor; Nana, the Clara keeper; Opa, the painter/Dairy Queen provider; Uncle Mutt, the floor layer; the Aunts plus their children, the movers/cleaners; Uncle Coco, the nursery assembler; Mamaw and Papaw Nina, the Clara entertainers. The project still isn't done, but family made what has happened happen).
     Boxes are everywhere and partially unpacked, and my main priority is to clean these DAG'UM HARDWOOD FLOORS!! Do you know how many days I've been working on the floors? Do you know how many boxes are still unpacked? Do you know how many peepee diapers have been mistakenly left behind? TOO MANY. My girlfriend, Brandy, has come over twice now, and each time I have apologized for the state of the house; I've literally been in it a week. She's been great about overlooking the chaos. My method to unpacking/cleaning house had to change because what I was doing was not working. I was basically modeling what this viral mom shows to be the true reason why it seems like nothing actually gets done though we don't quit moving. But, tonight, I found my groove:
     1: I followed my husband's advice and set a timer. I set it for thirty minutes. For thirty minutes, I was to do nothing but to put stuff where it goes.
     2: I blasted music. I usually try to clean house to the background noise of the FoodNetwork, but I'm too addicted. Music, Pandora Christian Contemporary, keeps me pumped.
     3. THE MOST IMPORTANT STEP: I worked left to right. I started on the far wall in my kitchen and kept moving. If it needed wiping, I wiped it; if it needed placing, I placed it; if it needed scrubbing, I scrubbed it; if it needed assigning (items that have yet to find their home due to the move), I ASSIGNED IT!!! Do you know how much I got done in thirty minutes??? More than I've gotten done all week!!!! I can finally see my counters, things are where they need to be, decisions are being made, a process is taking place....yay; however, my floors are still dirty...sad face. NO SAD FACE! That's okay! Clean floors do not unpack three boxes and clear away clutter. The floors will have their thirty minute time, but not tonight, and that's okay.
     I feel like if we all took a breath and just worked left to right for small intervals, tasks would get completed better. I was determined to clean the floors tonight, but tomorrow I would've woken up to clean floors plus dogs prints because those are inevitable when owning labs, and no counter space to make my coffee. Tell me, which scenario would start a better day? So, yeah, if you're feeling overwhelmed with a task, just work left to right. When I was placing my daughter's toy back in her playroom just to see that it needed to be cleaned as much as the kitchen did I feel the itch to straighten it up for a few minutes before returning to the "left to right process" taking place on the kitchen counters, ABSOLUTELY! Did I give in? NO!
     On a better night, I could've repeated the thirty minute interval practice two more times, and so much would've been accomplished, but I'm happy with what's been done. My method prior to this, what I was explaining to Brandy earlier, was to bring a box from the basement and unpack it. That sounds simple enough, but it doesn't always get unpacked in the sense that things go where they need to go. Stacks occur, then clutter occurs, then anxiety builds up, then you become fixated on floors!!!!
     No matter the frustration you have in front of you, just work left to right.

        I so wish I had a before picture, but this is what can happen in just thirty minutes working from left to right. What seemed overwhelming is now complete. Breathe, set a timer, blast some Jesus love, and work left to right.
   

Being a Mom Sucks

     Momming. Mothering. Mommaing (<-that last fake word sounds Asian). It's hard, point blank. There are plenty of things that one prepares for when procreating because one has watched multiple sitcoms about all the possibilities that may happen when said creation is actually here: one is prepared to diaper a frozen turkey, scold single friends about using the baby as a way to pick-up hotties, get covered in all kinds of body fluids, dread any noise over the baby monitor, fall asleep while the baby entertains oneself with a bag of flour and a switch blade, forget the baby in an elevator, bus, or trolly; as you can see, the general public has been warned about parenthood in the most realistic scenarios. But even though I felt somewhat knowledgable about to expect, there is something that no one actually said out loud...it sucks.
     I knew I was going to gain weight that would be impossible to lose, forget about sleeping ever again, be a slave to someone other than myself, rid myself of all things resembling social life, have the patience of a ticking time bomb, and live in a mound of toys and laundry. However, there are other things that totally suck. And when I say suck, I mean SUCKS, like sucks slushies! You know how you get really excited about that slushy that you haven't had since you gained common sense, but you felt a little squirrley at the Sunoco and got one. Once that amazing cherry flavor that doesn't actually taste like cherries glides over your tongue with a red dye that won't let you deny this treat later coats your pallet, you suck it down! We all know what happens when we do that, right? Our brain tries to kill us; we lose all ability to look like a functioning person, wait for the pain to subside, and then do it all again. That pain sucks, y'all! So yeah, back to my point, well, five points to be exact. I reached into my sleep deprived brain and conjured up the five reasons why I think momming sucks slushies (some of these could also be applicable for dadding).

Five Reasons Momming Sucks from Least to Worst:

5. Prison
     The moment I had Clara, and I'm talking before they even wiped her down, I knew the probability of me going to prison increased about 118%. You know what's going to send me to prison? Murder. Isn't that awful?! How in the world could I murder someone? It's not even in my nature to fathom something so terrible...oh wait, correction...it wasn't in my nature. I literally became momma bear when I held my cub, and I will shred any threat to pieces. The funny part about it is how easily it gets brought into conversation. Someone will ask me: "Isn't having a child the best? Did she just change your life?" And I have said on numerous occasions, "Oh yes, I never thought I was capable of murdering someone until now." The person to whom I am talking agrees with me! They're like, "Oh goodness, I know what you mean." It's a like a sadistic secret all parents keep to themselves. They all turn into Dexter.

Hurt my child and die. So yeah, going to prison sucks.

4. Bubble
     From what I gather from living life, living in a bubble is frowned upon, and that sucks. I want Clara to learn life's greatest lessons, like how to divide the Kit Kat into layers before eating it or how knowing all the words to The Little Mermaid is not a weird habit but a precious gift of knowledge, and I feel like I could teach her these things just fine while bubble dwelling. I want to protect her from all things ugly, all things painful, all things harmful, and all things that could destroy her innocence. Life is suppose to lived and experienced, and my job is to make sure that she's properly prepared to handle various scenarios. Well, I don't wanna!! I want to keep her my precious girl and protect her by raising her in a bubble, but I can't, and that sucks.

3. Headlines
     Have you seen headlines lately? Oh em gee, I can't even stand to watch the news anymore. Everything is bloody sad, and since having Clara, it rips my heart out every single time. I literally can't expand on it because it makes me sick to my egg white filled stomach. I have become an irresponsible American and have avoided all news, and I rely on biased shared posts from social media. Clara and I lived in a glitter covered world full of puppies, kitties, Elmo, Mickey Mouse, and raisins. I quit watching the news, and that sucks.

2. Tears
     I have always been hyper emotional, and I'm sure Reuben probably created a term for the level of emotion that I feel all things, but until that's shared, let's just say I feel very strongly all the time. I never thought it could get worse...it did. Nothing is the same anymore. I literally cried through Sing the other day because the gorilla was trying to get to his son, the koala was doing all the work to honor his dad, the elephant parents were there for the daughter elephant when she was crying, and the little pigs were so happy to see their momma perform. Who in the world would see Sing as a tear jerker? Moms. I guarantee that moms lost it during that movie. My emotional thermometer is always in the red. I am a basket case because the love for my child is so ridiculously overwhelming that I feel it in every situation. I have become a tissue carrying, cry at the drop of a hat weirdo, and movies will just never be the same...and even though I'm pretty okay with it, other people aren't, and that sucks.

1. Born
     Guess what? When you give birth to your child, there is no putting them back, and that sucks most of all! I hated being pregnant, like I was the worst pregnant person in the world. I had heartburn that would literally fill my cheeks when I slept, I became addicted to nasal spray, I threw-up for nine straight months but still gained 60 pounds, I got significant bald spots, and I lost anything that resembled intelligence. Once she was here, though, I wanted to put her back. I wanted to absorb her and experience her all again. Giving birth to Clara was one of the best parts of my life, and I only get to do that once, and that sucks. I have become this weirdo who says things like, "I just want to crush her up and snort her. I want to turn her into lotion and slather her all over me. I want to turn her into a mist and inhale her. I want her to fill me, stay in me, and let me love her with my entire body." I also went through this weird phase where I wanted to have all the babies. "Yes, I feel great just having one, but now I want nine thousand babies...tomorrow. Give me all the babies. I love all the babies." And I do, I love all the babies so much. It's frowned upon to kiss a stranger's baby, and though I understand why it is, that kind of sucks: "Let me love your baby!" Back to my point, there is no putting Clara back in me, so that I can do the best part of life all over again, and that sucks.

     Gaining weight is evidence of life. Sleeping will go back to normal. Toys resemble fun being had. Laundry means that we're doing pretty well in life. Raising Clara is a gift only given to me by God himself. Momming is hard, but it's the best thing in the entire world. I can't wait until Reuben gets back, and he can truly experience the life of dadding because our child really is awesome. And even in the midst of all this awesomeness, there are some things that just suck slushies. Stay out of prison, y'all.

My New " Reason Why"

     Spring Break is coming up.

Summer is just right around the corner.

     I can't bend over to tie my shoes.

I'm training for a race. 

     I need to zip up that wedding dress. 

I'm hosting a fitness challenge. 

     I don't know what my belly button looks like.

My jeans hurt.

     I feel miserably unhappy.

I'm not allowed to wear sweats to work.

     My husband deserves better. 

The thigh chafe is at a whole new level of warmth.

     My sweat smells like Taco Bell. 

My labored breathing has developed it's own recording label.
     LuLaRoe doesn't have enough patterns for a different outfit everyday.
Food tastes good.
     The majority of the population has the ability of sight.
Doughnuts...
     I now live stateside again.
Doughnuts...and pizza...
     My skin hurts.
Doughnuts...and pizza...and all things breakfast...
     I can't stand looking at myself in the mirror.
Doughnuts....and pizza...and all things breakfast...and put it all in my mouth...
Wait...what is this?...entering unfamiliar territory. Wait, can't breathe...HELP ME! ALL CONSUMING...WHAT IS THIS??? DROWNING....DROWNING...CAN'T BREATHE...HELP...TEARS...SMILES...TEARS AND SMILES AND CAN'T BREATHE...AND OH, MY GOSH...SHE'S HERE...

...MY EVERY REASON FOR EVERYTHING HAS COME AND HAS ALREADY ROCKED MY EXISTENCE. WELCOME TO THE WORLD, CLARA MAE NEWTON!

     Y'all know me. I'm pathologically addicted to all things weight loss and fitness. The irony that I look like every before picture ever is not lost on me; it just is what is it. What fun would it be if I changed now? Who would you call a hypocrite? I'm okay with wearing the hypocrite title. Anyway...moving on...
    For years, I always had some bogus or on rare occasions an actual legitimate excuse/reason in my back pocket as to why I was doing what I was doing. If you're new to this blog, then I thank you, but you might want to read some previous material to truly understand the psycho behind the words. And yes, I spend a good 90% complaining about things that are in my control. I'm aware of my own pettiness...and typos. The typos are intentional, for no other reason than I am just too tired to care. You'll also read that I love going down random rabbit holes, and I'm terrible at segways, so I usually just stop and pick up where I meant to be....
     I HAVE A NEW REASON WHY! That is not news to y'all. We've been celebrating the arrival of Clara for almost a year, and for those who were not aware, babies were not supposed to be possible for Team Newton. Well, once we started planning for a beach house, God chuckled to Himself, and blessed us with a tummy nugget.

I look more composed than I actually felt.

     When I was pregnant, and I absolutely hated being pregnant, I thought I knew how it was all going to go down. Let's just say that I find myself eating my own words almost daily. I love this little baby! I know that might seem like a common sense comment, but for real, I LOVE HER! Her little existence has made me rethink a lot of my "certainties." All that I am certain of now is how much I love my family. I'm also equally certain of how easily annoyed I am by "parenting/mom" columns. Facebook ads and google suggestions have gone awry, and I am assaulted by words more often than not. And the one that tugs at my heartstrings most is "My reason, not my excuse."
      I promise I'm not one to get all hyped up and start trolling on advice columns, but that statement doesn't sit well with me. I fully understand the power behind the words and what they mean, and I am completely aware that a lot of people throw personal health and maintenance to the side after children. I am super excited, supportive, and motivated when I see parents working out with their little ones around, and I am one of those parents. However, I feel like that mantra can be destructive.

Clara nursing at four weeks old...just completed a brutal workout

Juggling baby girl after 17.2

     I was going to have "after baby celebrity results." I was going to jump right back into my fitness regimen and be back to my normal self before Reuben returned home. I was going to put that baby in the stroller and log miles daily. I was going to do every at home fitness video I owned during nap time. I was going to track every calorie and take advantage of the "breastfeeding weight-loss." I was going to give "snap back" a whole new meaning...and then this happened...

...and those are all different days! My schedule was shot! I was a slave to her napping and breastfeeding. I watched the entire series of Friends over a four day period...I lived on the couch. Soooo....yeahhhhh...I had to re-evaluate reality and weigh what was really important. Her napping was really important. Me being present in her growth was really important. Attending to her needs when she cried was really important. Playing out the exhausting "fourth trimester" was really important. Being a constant for her was really important. Sitting around and feeling badly about my looks was really NOT important, but that's what I was doing, and I felt awful about it. I should have been grateful for my miracle, not upset that I was still in maternity jeans. I even looked at her and said, "You're supposed to be my reason, not my excuse..." and boom...clarity. That statement can mean anything; it doesn't have to provide new moms full of guilt. Here's the spin I put on it then and continue to believe: Clara's my reason...
to be a mom
to take a 1,000 pictures a day
to bring up baby talk whenever
for being exhausted all the time
for being hyperemotional
for celebrating all things baby all the time
for spending hours looking at baby clothes
to make a mess in the middle of the living room
to waller
to brag
to believe
for changing my life plans
for moving back home
for relying on my husband now more than ever
for peeing myself when jump roping
to seize every chance for a memory
to budget
to figure out some form of organization (<-yet to happen)
to question society
for loving more openly
for wearing pajamas all weekend
for tickles
for being obsessed with poos and boogers
to celebrate milestones
to incorporate more veggies
to rush out of my classroom at the end of each day
to be a better me, no matter what that entails
for giving it all to God all the time...
     I have a new reason why for all things. She's the new fuel to Team Newton's fire. "My reason, not my excuse" is no longer laden with guilt. Is working out important to me? Yes, but that's always been the case. Is being healthy a priority? Of course, I want to be a good example for her. But don't be surprised to learn if I have an entire day, week, or month where I do nothing but love on my child and husband while making memories. She's my reason why our family is complete, and that is priority number one.

Disclaimer: I know this entry reads like a cat on acid soaked catnip, but when you feel all kinds of feels all the time, it's difficult to put the right thoughts down and sound educated. This, apparently, was the result. But I feel like I may have gotten my point across...maybe...ehhh, at least you see cute early Clara pictures :)

Look Who's Back...Back Again...

     August 24, 2014, yep, that was the last time I wrote/posted a blog post. I'm not going to waste your precious time trying to explain why that is. By the time I was done pouring my heart and soul out to you, you could've created at least ten viral memes, and by all means, how would the world function if I denied you that opportunity? Let's just chalk it up to the notion that I've been busy.

     I will give the cliffnotes of those missed years...

    2014--I embraced CrossFit.

    2015--Reuben ran by my side during my third marathon.
            --I did my first CrossFit Open.
            --I partook in the Zone Challenge hosted by my gym.
            --I got pregnant (say what?!)
            --Reuben left (boo)
 
    2016--I did CrossFit for the remainder of my pregnancy.
            --I completed my second CrossFit Open.
            --I gave birth to the most amazing little girl.
            --Reuben came home from overseas and met our daughter.

    2017--Abigail decided to reclaim the person she used to be and blew.your.minds...

Guess who's back...back again...

(Well, maybe not as of February 2017; give me some time. Minds will be blown...by, hmmm, let's say, March-ish...definitely by April)