I’ve started ordering pizza almost every Friday night, partly because it seems like the thing people do on Fridays, a family gathered around the pizza, sharing it and their time together (I know I romanticize things…).

I don’t necessarily have a strong craving for it each week, but I often don’t know what else to do for dinner. Mom sleeps a lot, oftentimes at dinnertime, so many nights I don’t know if she’ll want dinner or not. That leaves me trying to figure out if I prepare something just in case and then just have the dinner alone if she isn’t up for it or not preparing anything until she gets up later and I scramble to figure something out. Making dinner for one has never been easy for me, so I tend not to bother if it’s just me. “Friday” gives me an excuse to order pizza- no work required, easy leftovers if I eat alone. I order her favorite with mine; usually, I end up eating it on my own…

I’m not sure how it started, but many years ago Mom and I had a Friday night tradition of getting a Red Baron pizza. I don’t know why that was our choice (yes, I do- it was the cost!). Like clockwork, we ate it together in the living room every Friday. That changed over time, starting with us both joining Weight Watchers. On one hand it doesn’t seem that long ago, and yet it feels like a million years ago too.

When I first moved away to go to university and Mom spent some time there with me (I was living with her sister), we had a brief pizza tradition on Fridays then too. I was commuting on the train from downtown Montreal, so Mom would meet me with the car at a train stop a few before my usual stop. It was near a Pizza Hut that we’d go to. I think the first time we did it we saw “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” or “Tuck Everlasting”. We definitely saw both of those movies after dinner at that Pizza Hut on one of those Friday nights! We may have only done it those two times, but our little rendezvouses are some of my fondest memories! It had a sort of redemptive quality to it for the years when Mom was a single, working mother and we didn’t get to have experiences like that of her picking me up from “school.”

That was exactly 20 years ago, almost to the day. Fall 2002. Wow! It’s really hard for me to grasp how time has passed sometimes!

I am immensely thankful for the friendship I have had with my mom. I know I am fortunate for that…. It also makes these days so much harder. I miss having her to pal around with. To share my day with. To have Friday night traditions with. I miss my mom so much. Especially on nights like these Fridays when I eat my pizza alone.

I had to go back to work today. I’m a teacher, and summer is over. It was a stressful and exhausting day for various personal and professional reasons.

I have a lot of guilt about working and “leaving” my mom. It made today a challenge for both of us, and I know I have to “do things differently,” as my therapist says. I don’t have that “differently” figured out yet, hence the guilt. But, not working isn’t a choice right now, so I need to also be patient with myself as we navigate these changes.

Not to mention that even though the back-to-school to do list always feels endless, I hardly accomplished anything today. Surprisingly, however, I am not that stressed about it. In the past I would be silently berating myself and rushing around to do more work after hours. But I resolved tonight that the best thing I could do would be to prepare breakfast for tomorrow morning, have a warm shower, and get into bed. Again, surprisingly, I am in bed much earlier than night-owl me usually ever is. It’s a miracle! And feels so good!

Chalk it up to age or experience, but I have a much healthier attitude than younger me once did. I know that it’ll all get done. It always has. What annoyances and irritations today held are gone, and tomorrow will be new. I feel good about today, not for anything that happened, but because I took care of me. Progress!

And then tonight I took one last bag of garbage out to the curb. I wasn’t going to but decided I should since tomorrow is garbage day. Shining brightly right outside my door was a crescent moon! I don’t know why, but crescent moons always bring me such joy. A little gift from God who also took care of me, and Mom, today. I am thankful.

The NIV version of the Verse of the Day feels fitting,

“You are my refuge and my shield; I have put my hope in your word.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭119:114‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Sweet dreams and better tomorrows!

I have some time to kill as I’m sort of traveling on my own. Really, I came to see my friend in Chicago and forgot she had to work. Oops! So I thought I’d be 2 for 2 in 2020 on this writing thing.

I’ve been to Chicago many times in the last few years, but I have never, not even once, been to The Bean. My friend and I joke about it all the time since that seems to be where everyone else goes when they’re visiting here! At this point I resist going just to keep my streak going.

Last trip here I was checking out of the grocery store, chatting with the cashier about visiting. “So you went to The Bean, of course,” he said. Well. No. Not ever!

Earlier today my friend asked me if I was at The Bean. I think it would have been so funny to go when she wasn’t with me after all these times she hasn’t taken me! I could have sent her a selfie of me there, jubilant that I’ve finally seen the Mecca of Chicago. Alas and hugely regrettably, I didn’t make it part of my day.

Instead, I’ve meandered around town a bit. I walked to a cute coffee shop that I went to last time I was here. The walk was about two times longer than I expected! But it was a nice day and felt good. Now I’m sitting in one of my favorite places here, a brewery with dim lighting and brick exposed walls, having a late lunch and a local beer.

The people right next to me are having a lively conversation, when all of a sudden one of them practically shouts, “We went to see The Bean today!” Of course they did! And they continued to talk about other times seeing it and possibly going again tomorrow on the way to the museum. And here I am, regretting my Not to Bean choices today!

But that’s how travel and life goes. You can’t do it all, and you have to be happy with and thankful for the experiences you have had.

And hey, I kept my streak going! I think it’s now 7 Chicago trips, 0 Beans.

Here’s to following your own tourist plan, even if a lot of it ends up being a lot of lost walking!

For months since Designing Women has been on Hulu, I have avoided watching the 2-part series, “The First Day of the Last Decade of the Entire 20th Century,” because I knew how emotional it would make me.

Well. I decided to include the episodes in my downloads this trip since it seemed timely, for several reasons, to watch them this New Year.

So watch them I did, on my flights today, no less. Part one from Montreal to Toronto; part two from Toronto to Chicago.

On the First Day of the Third Decade of the Entire 21st Century.

And I was right: the waterworks were intense after episode 2 as I practically ugly cried and hoped my seat mate didn’t notice! But I was so glad I watched them today because they also had a message I had forgotten and that I needed to hear today. I was right again {trust myself in 2020!}: those episodes were timely!

It probably seems silly to be so emotionally tied into a sitcom, but I assure you it is a really terrific show! And those are two fantastic, heartwarming, beautiful episodes.

So cheers to all and a very happy First Day of the Third Decade of the Entire 21st Century!

Also. Look at me starting the new year and new decade off writing!! I have not been keeping to my 15-minutes a day blog posts {that I planned to do all the way back in 2018-oops!}, so I’m excited that I did write today, January 1, 2020. And maybe it’ll be a go this year!

My feelings got hurt tonight.

Some people were recognized for something I also work hard for, but I wasn’t included in the recognition. Right away feelings of being overlooked, forgotten, and ignored flooded over me. I’ve struggled with this as far back as high school where it felt like only certain people were ever recognized (they were!). I thought I had moved past a lot of that, but it hit me pretty hard tonight.

Something soon shifted in my feelings, though. I got a lot accomplished at work today. When I got home, I did some laundry, cleaned the bathroom, made lunch and snack for tomorrow, did some unexpected cardio, and then vacuumed the house. As I emptied out the vacuum, I was impressed with all I had done on a Monday!

Then it hit me: I don’t have to worry about what others think. I do what I do for me. I felt relieved to get ahead at work and to do all that I could for my class. I felt happy to have a clean bathroom and floor and clothes, and I felt good to work my body.

After all the hard work, I took a warm shower, feeling relaxed as the saltiness from my exercise washed away. My feelings weren’t hurt anymore. I felt (good) tired and accomplished.

I got out of the shower and pushed my nose in my towel. I had pulled it out of the dryer only minutes before, so it was still hot and smelled fresh. It was like a giant, cozy hug and might have been the highlight of my whole day.

And then I remembered that there are a lot of people in this world who won’t have that experience tonight. Suddenly, I wasn’t hurt or jealous or angry anymore; I was thankful for the simple but maybe not-that-simple-after-all stuff like being able to move my body and fresh towels and clean jammies and warm showers and knowing I did it all for me.

Plus, I did something today I haven’t done in quite a while – I wrote a blog! So, regardless of what anyone else thinks, I am proud of me!

I am hard on myself. I always knew that, but I’ve been learning the last year that, in fact, I am very hard on myself. 

My body. My poor body. It has been dealt the harshest criticisms from Yours Truly. I have struggled since I was at least 10 to accept my body. 

I was a chubby kid. I grew tall early, developed early, weighed “a lot” early. I remember because we got weighed every so often in elementary school at PE so our weight could be written on the back of our report cards. Right there in pen. About 3 times a year. 

I distinctly remember in 5th grade the PE teacher having me record all the weights as she used the old balance scale, pushing each weight side to side. It was pretty clear when she had to use the hundreds weight. I always knew why she had me record the weights. 

By middle school I was very overweight, especially 7th grade. Weighed at PE again. Praying with all my might the kid behind me didn’t hear the teacher say, “Jackie, You can’t weigh 200 pounds.”  

I did. 206. I will never forget that number. 

That was also the year my mom had cancer, and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized that was why I gained so much weight. For 15 years I just blamed myself for… something. 

As everyone knows, kids are super cruel in middle school. It’s a billion times worse if you’re fat. I had family and “friends” say awful things to me too. This is a topic that deserves its own post! 

I think 7th grade was my heaviest, but I was always chubby or fluffy or fat in my high school, college, and early adult years. By my mid-20’s I figured I would always be and would just get fatter. 

Until…

2008  

A Weight Watcher group started at the school where I teach. I was reluctant to join. I was the last person to join and only did because I was strong armed into it when they needed one more person. 

And then it changed my life. Not hyperbole. 

It was challenging at first. I cried, hard, the first night. Then, I started losing. By the time I lost 5 pounds, I was so happy. I had NEVER lost weight on purpose before. I had lost weight here and there but only due to circumstances. This time I was in control. 

I lost about 35 pounds and made Lifetime status in 9 months. At one point I lost 50 pounds. I felt so good and like a new person. It was so much fun to go to my 10 year reunion! Some people didn’t even know who I was!

I stayed at or below my goal weight for 10 years. A whole decade! I even started working for WW. 

Then, with age and life and I don’t know what, I fell off the wagon… Truthfully, just a little. I KNOW I didn’t get too crazy. I know I have only gone a bit over goal. But… I’m ridiculously hard on myself, especially, especially about this. I have made myself feel like a total and complete failure. I’ve been feeling so fat lately. Like I’m out of control and won’t ever regain the control I’ve had for 10 years. Especially after the holidays and all my indulgences when I couldn’t seem to stop eating or drinking. The spiral I can go down about this is extensive! There are clothes I won’t even try on because I’m sure they won’t fit. I don’t know that; I just think they won’t. 

But then I think, hey, I’ve been having fun. The holiday indulgences, the dates I’ve been on… Fun! Plus, when I step back and look, maybe I haven’t gained as much weight as my cruel self tries to tell me. (Imagine that!)

I went to yoga today. I went into the bathroom when I got there, looked in the mirror, and was shocked. 

I liked what I saw. I was okay, more than okay, with what I saw. Of me. Of my body. 

Have I lost some weight being more on a routine after the holidays, drinking more water, moving more, less snacking? Perhaps. 

Or maybe I saw myself for how I really look, instead of the harsh, mean way I usually imagine myself. 

Whatever it is, it felt wonderful to accept myself. To love myself just the way I am. 

I was at the store after yoga and, for the first time in months, I pulled out my WW app to check the points on a snack I was thinking of buying. I’ve avoided doing that for awhile because I didn’t want to be honest with myself. 

Turns out, I haven’t lost control at all. 

And, being totally honest with myself now, I am just right and pretty spectacular just the way I am. Always.