Postpartum and Pumpkins- a fitness update

It could be that I'm sitting here with a big bag of chocolate and carmel flavored popcorn in my lap (Thanks a lot, Boy Scouts), but I can't seem to get back in shape after this baby. It has only been three months, but with the others I was in better shape by now (at least I was with Merit...and possibly Abel). Perhaps it's because this baby is a girl or maybe it's because I turned thirty while pregnant. I don't know, but I'm not diggin' it. In the past, I could either eat healthy OR workout and stay at an acceptable place in my mind but now it's clear that I will have to do both. Which works out nicely because I just finished the last of that popcorn.
Some have asked me what I'm training for--just life, I guess. I'm having a hard time balancing everything in my life (in case you haven't picked up on that major theme of my blog) and so creating fitness goals and accomplishments are toward the lower end of my to-do lists. I'm just working on number one: trying to keep all the kids alive and relatively psychologically unharmed.
My first love is running. I don't love it while I'm doing it, but I always love it afterwards. It has rebuilt my core each time I've had a baby and it is the best stress relief this mom of four could ask for. It makes me feel alive. It reminds me that I'm so thankful for this body. It makes me want to take care of it even more. So while I do like to do races, it's not a huge deal to me. I've done a few 5Ks recently and have gotten an itch to try another half marathon soon, too.

Kacy's 5K record: 26:52
Kacy's Half record: 2:21:36

I think that's why I would like to try another half--because I know I can break that record right now in the shape I'm in. I'm entertaining the idea of running one in November, but I also need to make sure that is in the funds! Racing can get expensive, huh? I try to do races that are raising money for causes that I'm passionate about. A loose goal of mine is to make the most out of this fall running season.


Many of you have asked me to share my fitness progress and workouts with you during the postpartum period. My biggest secret is to just get active. It doesn't matter if the time you dedicate to changing your body isn't all at once. That's the biggest struggle when you have kids around. You try to spend at least 30 consecutive minutes working out, but someone needs their diaper changed, someone clotheslines someone else cuing tears, or someone sends a ball rolling right under your feet in the middle of your burpee causing you to face plant. It can be so frustrating if you're looking at a clock--so don't. Just as Rome wasn't built in a day, your body won't be either. If all you have are small increments of time then use what you have. Furthermore, get creative! Use the playground, do squats as you dry your hair, move constantly as you fold the laundry, DANCE! Lately, I've been using the pumpkins we have decorating our porch right now and so I thought I'd share one of the exercises with you-

For more peeks at some of the stuff that inspires me to get fit, see my fitness board on Pinterest.

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.

But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.

I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.

I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work its way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me rare, but much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.

But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.

I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.

I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work it's way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

When Your Purpose is Tied Up in Someone Else

Is the title too melodramatic? I don't mean it to be. I just woke up before the sun, busying myself with getting everyone prepared for their days and I felt the familiar tug of longing. Everyone is taken care of so I can finally sit down with a warm cup of coffee and this keyboard and try to get all of this out in a way that won't ruffle feathers. If you think this title is pathetic or want to spout feminism chants at me then I hope you'll pause and imagine what it would feel like to truly know that about yourself.
I had a few years of my life that I had the stereotypical mindset of many psych majors--"I want to help people!" There's nothing wrong with that. It sounds great, but many of my professors would encourage me to think of another reason for wanting to study psychology. I can see why they would say that now.
After I graduated, I got a job working as a counselor to drug addicts. I knew it would be a challenging community to tackle, but I had no idea how much it would drain me. I embarrassingly quickly gave up on trying to change these people and developed this mindset-

and I knew it was time to hang up my hat. I turned in my notice and applied to graduate school. My plan was to study marriage and family therapy techniques and focus on what I thought (and still do!) was the most important catalyst for change, the family.

By this point, I had met J and we were pretty serious. He was deployed so I had plenty of time to work on this degree. He got home from Iraq a year later and my purpose began to shift in my eyes. I put my studying on hold to welcome him home, set up our lives together and get married to a man in uniform. When he was away, I knew it was because he was doing something important. He was training people who were heading off to war. He was serving. If he was stateside, he was a link in the proverbial chain and he was needed therefore I felt like I was doing something important. Being married to the military is a difficult task at times. You have to hold the fort down while they're gone. You might be given roles to help support all the wives that are left behind during a deployment. You might me appointed to help with fundraising for your significant other's company. The point is that I developed a bit of identity in being an Army wife and thus Mrs. K and Captain J was born. That was something for me. I love to write and starting that blog gave me an outlet. It also allowed me to make a little money and that gave me the feeling that I was contributing in a small way. Still, I hated that I started something I didn't finish so I continued to study to obtain my graduate degree from a different school.

My kids came along, one right after the other, and I settled into the idea that my purpose is in them. I know it is. But that makes for some lonely days. Now when my husband goes off to work as a civilian and has to work long hours, I don't have that cushion that makes me feel better about it because he's off working to help keep America's soldiers safe. So I'm annoyed. I look around and see all these beautiful kids and know that I should be doing X, Y, and Z to prepare them to be contributing, functioning adults and more importantly, to introduce them to the only One who can give them purpose in this life. But man is it lonely. I know I have plenty of mom acquaintances who know this, but because my kids are so close together (not school age) and one of them has special needs (lots of weekly appointments), I know that my job is here at home. I don't get paid for the work I'm doing and therefore I don't always feel like my job is contributing. There's nothing wrong with being a mom and having a job. Just as there's nothing wrong with being called to not have a job outside of my kids. I struggle with my calling. I've always been envious of those people who have always known what they were supposed to do with their lives- teachers, pharmacists, whatever. I know my purpose (at least for now) rests solely in four little hearts. It doesn't make me any more or any less than anyone else, but I do struggle with feeling slightly empty. When you don't get to go to the bathroom by yourself, shower, spend time getting dressed, be able to study the bible alone, or especially just have ten minutes where no one is asking anything pressing of you, you start to internalize that you don't deserve help. You are the help. You do it all. You exist for everyone else. There's nothing special about you. That's why it becomes lonely. I'm surrounded by little people who need me and a bunch of others who probably don't even see me until I lose my mind and quit washing the dishes, the laundry, or the babies.

But I just try to speak truth into my own life when I'm feeling this way--

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interest...have the same mindset as Christ Jesus..." *He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant! (see Philippians 2:3-8)

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." (Galatians 2:20)

My purpose is as a wife and mother right now and that's okay. Maybe that will change and maybe it won't.

Whatever you are called to in this point of your life, work at it as if you're working for the Lord (because you are! See Colossians 3:23).

I work hard. I love hard. I have to die to myself daily. That's the hardest part. The selfishness is strong in me, but I know my children deserve the best so I'll keep fighting these feelings of loneliness, emptiness, and longing. Sometimes all it takes is picking my sweet three month old off of her play mat and looking into her big innocent eyes, watching her coo and kick, and remembering that this is what life is all about. I can slow down for today. It's Friday after all and I've been solo parenting all week long. I'll just scoop up my kids this morning, hold them and show them how loved they are by me and their Heavenly Father. Because this stage of my life is important, too and I will miss it when it's gone. 

Feels like '98

Can we talk about this?

We know the mainstream media strays away from good news. Perhaps that's why that momentous occasion wasn't discussed. Despicable.

Anyway, I was sooo that obnoxious TN fan on Saturday night calling everyone and singing Rocky Top. It was much more than a game. It was eleven Saturdays over the stretch of many years of losing to the team that you were trained all your life to hate (slight exaggeration- only slight). It was eleven years of saying, "We'll get em next year." The last time we beat Florida I was a totally different person. In 2004, I was a freshman in college....

I didn't have degrees, babies, my husband. I hardly remember who I was in that photo above, but I remember how ecstatic I was in that moment when we realized we won. I was as happy as I look! And this past Saturday I kept saying, "Is this really happening?" It was hard to process, coming from a girl who used to enjoy weekly season tickets and hardly missed a game growing up. I haven't been able to go to any games between moving around with the Army and having children, but I always kept a watchful eye on my Vols. Even when I lived in Alaska and didn't have tv (and probably wouldn't have ever gotten to watch a game anyway), I would sign in to the world wide web despite the four hour time difference and munch on wings and beer at 8am as I watched the football symbol go back and forth and the score numbers going up and changing as the game went on in Knoxville. It felt like a lifetime away from me. In those moments, I sure wished I was on ole Rocky Top down in the Tennessee hills.

This Saturday was a homecoming. 

Here's the best article I've seen on it: Why The End of the Streak Should Matter to You by Loudon's own Tyler Wombles 

It has always been great to be a Tennessee Vol, but it was extra great this weekend. And my how things have changed!

So excuse me while I do my happy dance. The streak is over! The duck pulled the truck. 

How I Do It

There are countless posts that go un-published here. Most seemed too complainy and others were too dark. You know, there's so much you don't see behind the scenes of our lives and I hope I'm not alone in that. I try to be transparent, to let the copious amounts of people who say, "I don't know how you do it" in on the fact that I'm far from perfect. I struggle emotionally, spiritually, and with just about every facet of parenting. Every day I'm reminded how unbelievably hard it is to be a parent in todays world. There's a spotlight on all the time that flashes toward me when I send the kids outside to play to grow up as we did or our parents did, away from computer screens. They're in the mud, they're running through the tall grass where snakes could be. They're creating their own games and probably being a little mean to one another, too. Then the spot lights whips around to the other side of the spectrum, the helicopter part of many mothers. People criticize when you are three steps away from your kid on the playground, ready to catch any possible fall. They wonder why you want to get involved when they butt heads with a kid at school. It's a catch twenty two. No one is ever doing it right. 

If the stress of trying to measure up with the world isn't enough, imagine how much I dwell on desiring to please an Almighty God while battling the sin that is in my nature. I see the actions of my kids and feel as if it is a direct reflection of me, of our family. This weight is heavy, y'all. If there's one thing I know I'm doing as a stay-at-home mom, it's that I'm daily showing my children my own desperate need for Jesus. They see me in the Word and they see me failing. They hear me asking for forgiveness when I lose my temper with them and they hear it again when we're praying. I screw up all the time. Just as Paul said in Romans 7:15 "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." I want to be a certain type of mother- a pinterest creative type who schools her children happily and inspires in them the desire to be outside, work with their hands, and get to know God. The mother I want to be has her children memorizing verses of the Bible, hiding God's word in their hearts from an early age. She does this all while juggling appointments, hearing equipment, and unending patience with her special needs son. She also manages the house and welcomes her hard working husband home with open arms and serves him readily, too. Does this woman exist? I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know. 

I just want to be holy and blameless before God at the end of this life. I want my kids to grow up to be decent human beings and to become disciples and fishers of men. That's why I'm here. I don't want to fail at this. And every single day I go to bed feeling like I am. That's why this is hard. The rocking multiple little ones, wiping noses and bottoms, preparing food that noses are turned up at, washing a million items of clothing a week, cleaning spit up off the floors hourly, and all the other things you couldn't dream up that my children could get into- those are challenging. But when I step back and look at the whole picture, I realize that none of that matters if my kids don't grow up and decide to follow Jesus. If they don't know him, it doesn't matter that their butt had a $15 diaper on it. It doesn't matter if I grow all their food from the ground in our backyard. It won't make a difference if they were potty trained at two or ten. If we don't have Him, we have nothing.

So this is how I do it. It's one day at a time. One hour at a time. Trial and error. Lot of prayers. Forgiveness. Perseverance. Grace. 

I'm really hoping I'm not alone in this....and if I am, well, maybe just keep that to yourself.

Postpartum Progress (Part 1)

Hey, friends. I've been writing this blog post in my head for awhile. I've had time to think about it each time I went to the gym or for a long walk when I was very pregnant. I thought about this process for nine months as my body grew with our growing daughter. I definitely thought about it at week 39 when I went on a run at nine months pregnant. During my entire pregnancy, I was adamant to stay active because I knew it would help baby and me. Postpartum rebound is here. I'm happy about that! It feels good to know that I can lose weight and tone again. But I'll be honest, it hasn't gone as I expected. The weight isn't falling off as quickly as I hoped. But that is part of the process, right? And so when some of you asked me specifically to document my postpartum progress (Hi, Katie!), I knew it was time to start writing it down. I've been snapping photos for documentation purposes, but I didn't post them until now because I don't feel like I have anything to be proud of yet. It's difficult to feel proud when there's so little time to exercise my body, sweat, and have something to show for it.

The hardest part of getting fit with four children is relying on other people for my fitness. It probably sounds like a cop out to you...and maybe it is. But I truly don't think I can workout with all of them here. I try and it's so ridiculous. Do a few moves, change a diaper. Do another, wipe a noise and break up a toy scuffle. Insert screaming and you don't have a relaxing, sweat burning workout at all. It's more of a mental exercise in not throwing in the towel and checking yourself into the nuthouse. When I workout, that's my ME TIME. I enjoy being alone for an hour a day and running, lifting weights, or anything of the sort. It gives me something to work toward. As a stay at home mom, your job is never done. Never. So I cleaned the kitchen and it's sparkling? Well, now it's lunch time so I have to prepare food and clean it all up again...and while I was cleaning that kitchen? Yeah, you guessed it. The children were destroying the downstairs. With running or lifting weights, I can set a mile goal or make out an exercise plan and ACTUALLY ACHIEVE IT. It gives me just a tiny break of sanity as a list maker. Maybe you're one of those people, too who find enjoyment in checking off something on their list of things to do? Well, by the time I check off laundry, clean kitchen, clean toilet, whatever....it's time to write it down again because it's not ever done. A workout for the day IS done. At five weeks postpartum, I'm still stuck in a bit of a rut because I feel like I need a babysitter in order to get my sweat on! And if you know anything about my life, you know I don't have those much! Ha.

But in order to be successful, I need goals. Because I'm supposed to wait until 6 weeks postpartum, I've been taking it fairly easy. As I approach being cleared for exercise, I've been thinking about some goals. Here are my stats:

Weight: 131

Goal: 120

Lost to date: 19 lbs

What have I been doing?

Mostly running (ok, pathetic jogging and mostly walking)

The plan?

Raise my self esteem by exercising and remembering what this body can do! I AM proud that I've carried four children in my womb and now I want to focus on creating a capable body again, one that can go hike 10 miles in the Smokies if I feel like it without getting too winded. I want to not be self conscious when I'm in a bathing suit and trying to play on the beach with my kids. I definitely don't want to pass along my abysmal body image to my daughter (or three boys for that matter). The plan is to feel good...and I truly don't care about the scale. I just use it as a reference point.

How will I get there?

Well, for the month of August, I'm focusing on baby steps. Little, achievable goals are what I'm starting with.

1. Drink 8+ glasses of water daily

2. 50 miles in August

3. Grace

Grace means that I remember that I just had a beautiful baby girl and the changes in my body are more than worth it. I've gotten back in shape three times after a baby and I can do it again. One foot in front of the other.

Time to get to work! I'll share workouts, progress, and additional thoughts on health and fitness as the months pass by.