Here's the latest Glass Heel article!
http://www.glassheel.com/work-life-balance/lifting-puppies-101
It's pretty funny, if I do say so myself. Quite the experience!
=)
From the Sidelines... The life of a 40s something mom, sister, wife, friend, critic, Starbucks junkie, writer, coach, and a million other things. With this blog, much like life, comes the good, scary, funny, sad, exciting and all those other truths that too many people are afraid to write about. Enjoy!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The Squishing of the Boobs.
I'd dreaded my 40th birthday for as long as I can remember, and not for the typical reasons. See the closer I approached 40, the more nagging I heard from my mother to get a mammogram. And I understand why. With both of my parents being adopted (I truly only know one biological grandparent), we have no family medical history. I can't mark "no" on the form when being asked about my family's breast cancer history. I simply don't know.
I've always been pulled toward Breast Cancer Awareness--I've been doing the Race for the Cure for eight years--this October will be the 9th. I've seen a close friend lose their best friend to breast cancer at a very young age. I babysat my friend's kids when he went to the hospital, for the last time, to see his mother who died from breast cancer. My mom has friends with breast cancer--some who died, some who are survivors. It's a scary thing.
When I turned 40, I didn't get a mammogram. I was terrified. My mother told me how painful it is--literally squishing the boobs until they are like pancakes. She mentioned I'd have to hold my breath--another thing I suck at, which is why I can't swim to save my life (unless it's the doggie paddle--I rock at that).
When I turned 41, I didn't get a mammogram. I was terrified. My mother once again told me I needed to go, but then added her terrifying stories to the mix. Yeah, right. That's going to get me in there. By this time my sister had also gone. Her stories weren't as dramatic, but still it didn't sound like a pleasant experience. I was too scared to go, so I didn't.
This year I turned 42 and said, "Screw it, I'm going." I made the appointment on Monday, and have been terrified ever since. I named the day "The Squishing of the Boobs" and started the countdown right away. The appointment was scheduled for this morning at 8:10--I had to be there at 8:00. Yesterday, the panic started setting in. As I was taking my shower, I tried squishing my boobs--how bad could this hurt? UMM, HELLO! It hurt! Screw this. Ten minutes after I got out of the shower my boob was still sore. This was not going to go well. Every time I looked at the clock I would think, "By this time tomorrow The Squishing of the Boobs will be over" or "Only 10 more hours until The Squishing of the Boobs." I've been dreading it.
Around 3:00 yesterday afternoon, Kaiser called me to reaffirmed my appointment time and to remind me not to wear any lotion or deodorant. I guess those things can skew the test results. "Hey this is my first mammogram and I'm terrified," I told the lady on the phone. "Don't worry, Meredith," she assured me, "It's really not that bad. There are some amazing ladies working tomorrow and I'll let them know it's your first mammogram. It's going to be just fine." Yeah, right.
I woke up this morning, jumped in the shower, and headed over toward Kaiser. "You okay?" my husband asked me. "Yes, just scared," was my reply trying to focus on anything but The Squishing of the Boobs. My daughter sent me an email (she's at her dad's) wishing me luck at The Squishing. When we arrived, we headed over toward Radiology. "Is this your first mammogram?" the lady behind the desk asked. "Yes," I told her. "I can tell by the terrified look on your face," she said. "Try to relax, it's really not that bad."
There were two other ladies in the waiting area, and Kent, and me. I couldn't believe these women could be here without any support. Much braver than I. When the radiologist came into the waiting area and called my name, Kent asked if I wanted him to go. "No, I think I can do this," gave him a kiss and headed toward the galley. I swear I took a deep breath as the woman showed me the changing room. "I'll be right back, and don't worry, it's not that bad."
She came to get me and we headed into the room where The Squishing of the Boobs would commence. There was this big machine with this metal square for the boob to rest. Then there was a square plastic contraption that would press down on the boob. "Hey, you look nervous. Let me go through everything with you before we start, so you know exactly what to expect." This lady was so kind, so nice--I can't even begin to tell you the patience she extended toward me. She had me put my hand on the metal square, then lowered the plastic square. I could feel the pressure. She told me I'd hold my breath because it helps keep everything still. She told me she wasn't going to squish it pancake style and that she preferred mammograms to paps. And I've been handling the yearly pap forever. "Okay, I'm ready," I told her.
She put these bandaid like things on me--this was so they could see where the center was on the pictures. And then The Squishing of the Boobs began. And it wasn't so bad. It wasn't that painful--honestly, my squishing in the shower was way worse than the machine was. What I didn't know was they'd also have to so sideways pictures--the only difference was in my positioning. I literally had to side hug the machine, which I was okay with since the machine did not inflict the pain I was expecting it to.
And then it was over. And my years of worrying were put to rest. I thanked the lady profusely. And I let her know how her kindness really relaxed me and helped put my fears to the wayside. I'm no longer afraid of the mammogram machine. I can insure good breast health for myself because the fears have been destroyed.
One day when my daughter is approaching the 40s, I'll let her know getting a mammogram is not painful, it's necessary, and it's nothing to fear. Until then, I'll be going and getting them once a year--except this time there will be no countdown and my husband won't have to be in the waiting room...
I've always been pulled toward Breast Cancer Awareness--I've been doing the Race for the Cure for eight years--this October will be the 9th. I've seen a close friend lose their best friend to breast cancer at a very young age. I babysat my friend's kids when he went to the hospital, for the last time, to see his mother who died from breast cancer. My mom has friends with breast cancer--some who died, some who are survivors. It's a scary thing.
When I turned 40, I didn't get a mammogram. I was terrified. My mother told me how painful it is--literally squishing the boobs until they are like pancakes. She mentioned I'd have to hold my breath--another thing I suck at, which is why I can't swim to save my life (unless it's the doggie paddle--I rock at that).
When I turned 41, I didn't get a mammogram. I was terrified. My mother once again told me I needed to go, but then added her terrifying stories to the mix. Yeah, right. That's going to get me in there. By this time my sister had also gone. Her stories weren't as dramatic, but still it didn't sound like a pleasant experience. I was too scared to go, so I didn't.
This year I turned 42 and said, "Screw it, I'm going." I made the appointment on Monday, and have been terrified ever since. I named the day "The Squishing of the Boobs" and started the countdown right away. The appointment was scheduled for this morning at 8:10--I had to be there at 8:00. Yesterday, the panic started setting in. As I was taking my shower, I tried squishing my boobs--how bad could this hurt? UMM, HELLO! It hurt! Screw this. Ten minutes after I got out of the shower my boob was still sore. This was not going to go well. Every time I looked at the clock I would think, "By this time tomorrow The Squishing of the Boobs will be over" or "Only 10 more hours until The Squishing of the Boobs." I've been dreading it.
Around 3:00 yesterday afternoon, Kaiser called me to reaffirmed my appointment time and to remind me not to wear any lotion or deodorant. I guess those things can skew the test results. "Hey this is my first mammogram and I'm terrified," I told the lady on the phone. "Don't worry, Meredith," she assured me, "It's really not that bad. There are some amazing ladies working tomorrow and I'll let them know it's your first mammogram. It's going to be just fine." Yeah, right.
I woke up this morning, jumped in the shower, and headed over toward Kaiser. "You okay?" my husband asked me. "Yes, just scared," was my reply trying to focus on anything but The Squishing of the Boobs. My daughter sent me an email (she's at her dad's) wishing me luck at The Squishing. When we arrived, we headed over toward Radiology. "Is this your first mammogram?" the lady behind the desk asked. "Yes," I told her. "I can tell by the terrified look on your face," she said. "Try to relax, it's really not that bad."
There were two other ladies in the waiting area, and Kent, and me. I couldn't believe these women could be here without any support. Much braver than I. When the radiologist came into the waiting area and called my name, Kent asked if I wanted him to go. "No, I think I can do this," gave him a kiss and headed toward the galley. I swear I took a deep breath as the woman showed me the changing room. "I'll be right back, and don't worry, it's not that bad."
She came to get me and we headed into the room where The Squishing of the Boobs would commence. There was this big machine with this metal square for the boob to rest. Then there was a square plastic contraption that would press down on the boob. "Hey, you look nervous. Let me go through everything with you before we start, so you know exactly what to expect." This lady was so kind, so nice--I can't even begin to tell you the patience she extended toward me. She had me put my hand on the metal square, then lowered the plastic square. I could feel the pressure. She told me I'd hold my breath because it helps keep everything still. She told me she wasn't going to squish it pancake style and that she preferred mammograms to paps. And I've been handling the yearly pap forever. "Okay, I'm ready," I told her.
She put these bandaid like things on me--this was so they could see where the center was on the pictures. And then The Squishing of the Boobs began. And it wasn't so bad. It wasn't that painful--honestly, my squishing in the shower was way worse than the machine was. What I didn't know was they'd also have to so sideways pictures--the only difference was in my positioning. I literally had to side hug the machine, which I was okay with since the machine did not inflict the pain I was expecting it to.
And then it was over. And my years of worrying were put to rest. I thanked the lady profusely. And I let her know how her kindness really relaxed me and helped put my fears to the wayside. I'm no longer afraid of the mammogram machine. I can insure good breast health for myself because the fears have been destroyed.
One day when my daughter is approaching the 40s, I'll let her know getting a mammogram is not painful, it's necessary, and it's nothing to fear. Until then, I'll be going and getting them once a year--except this time there will be no countdown and my husband won't have to be in the waiting room...
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Great Day To Play!
Ahh! Today was perfect from the get go. My husband and I decided to take a day, just for us, to celebrate our anniversary. We started the day at the gym--but not just any gym. We headed over to the 24 Hr. Fitness at Lowry. This was the gym we would go to when we were just friends, and then when we began our relationship. I remember when we first started working out together--Kent would always push me to the limit. I loved that about him. That I was able to lift more than I ever thought imaginable. He'd be there to spot me, to encourage me, to be my friend. As time went on, and our relationship blossomed into more than merely friendship, it was where we'd meet every morning between 4:30 and 5:00. Funny how I wasn't too tired to get up and go to the gym back then...
When we'd finish our workout routine, we'd head over to the Starbucks at Lowry--which is exactly where our second stop of the day was. They knew our drinks by heart four years ago, but now the barista's have changed--even though the feeling this place evokes has not. We took our coffee and headed over to another favorite spot--Washington Park.
I love this place. I love the neighborhood, the houses, the ducks in the pond. I love how we have "our bench," which is right next to "our tree." I never tire of this place. Today we sat on our bench, sipping our coffee, talking and laughing and being so ridiculous. Great morning.
Our bellies started rumbling, and it was time to get a bite to eat. Neither of us had ever eaten at Snooze, but both have wanted to for quite sometime. We tried taking the kids there a few weekends ago, but the line was literally wrapped around the block. This time there was only a 30 minute wait--which was SO worth it. Seriously delicious! We can't wait to go again. And their coffee cups are unbelievable. I'm literally going online to order one. They have this little nook for my finger and my hands perfectly wrap around the mug. I love them! Unfortunately, so does the rest of the free world and Snooze can't keep them in stock at their store--thus, the reason for ordering it online...
After coming home, cleaning up from the workout, and spending a little time with Gator we did what we've been wanting to do for a while--get new tattoos! The last one I got was December of 2010--the Believe on my foot. This time I wanted a sort of tribute for me and my children. So I found this tribal eucalyptus tree--which symbolizes protection. There's ivy climbing along the trunk to symbolize faithful love, attachment, and tenacity. Finally, I wrote their names and had them underneath the trunk. Kent got a tribal tattoo on his left arm--no meaning other than he really liked it! =)
Monday, March 26, 2012
Happy Anniversary, My Love.
Each year I feel closer and closer to my husband--he's truly my rock, my best friend, my love. As cliche' as it sounds, it's true. I still have the emails that he sent to me when we were just friends, talking about our day, our kids, our lives. I love the way he listened--the way he wants to know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, who I am. He supports me, isn't threatened by my intellect or by my intrinsic motivation. He encourages me with all I strive to be. He's my number one fan--and I'm his.
I'm so proud of him. I love the fact that he's not afraid to go after his dreams. I love how incredibly loyal and kind he is. I love how silly we are. I love the fact that when we go on double dates, especially with friends who are dating new people (I won't mention who this may be...Tina), and I take on the role of interrogator, that my husband laughs and accepts that's just who I am. I love when he shakes his head and says, "I can't believe you just said that" or "Did that seriously just come out of your mouth?" or just shakes his head with that chuckle that only he possesses.
I love that it's taken him so long to open up to people around us. He's himself no matter what--another thing I love about him. I love that we can have completely opposite points of view, and he never belittles or tries to talk me out of things. I love that we can discuss our views, and learn a little from the other. I love that he appreciates my independence--and doesn't try to take that from me.
I love that he starts the laundry, cooks dinner, vacuums or does whatever needs doing. I love that he respects my hatred of roses and gives me flowers when least expected. I love that he gets up to greet me should I arrive home after him. I love that we go grocery shopping together every single Sunday, and make the list together too.
I love that he loves to read. I love that he doesn't absolutely detest chick flicks. I love that he appreciates the passion I bring when watching the great Green Bay Packers. I love that he's a man's man and does all the repairs around the house or for the cars. I love that he's a dog guy. I love the words he writes to me in cards that mean a lot. I love the way he'll leave them on the bathroom sink, just ready for me when I awaken. I love the way he wakes me up to give me a hug and kiss good-bye in the morning.
I love his sensitive side that very few get to witness. I love the way he is with his friends--the way they love him and he loves them. I love the way he invents new sayings--like ride the lightening. I.E. Gator you better sit down or you'll ride the lightening--referring to the zapper, should he misbehave.
There's so many things I love about my husband. I'm one lucky girl.
Happy 2nd Anniversary, my love. I love you very much!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Forbes Article #2!
Yay! Another article posted on Forbes! Here's it is...
http://www.forbes.com/sites/glassheel/2012/03/23/living-the-dream/
http://www.forbes.com/sites/glassheel/2012/03/23/living-the-dream/
Monday, March 19, 2012
They Say It's My Birthday!
Ummm, when the hell did this happen? Seriously. SERIOUSLY!
So tomorrow, when I awaken, I'll be 42. Oh yay. Let the celebration begin. *insert applause here*
On a more positive note, I had a great birthday weekend! My wonderful dad baked me the most delicious chocolate cake. My wonderful husband cooked a fabulous Irish dinner and will be taking me out for my b-day tomorrow night. My wonderful family spent the day with me. Nice! =)
Tomorrow I will happily await my children's call to wish me a Happy Birthday. I will enjoy an amazing dinner at Carmine's. I will continue to wonder where the last 20 years have gone. And when the day is over, I'll wake up, still feeling 20, still not recognizing the wrinkles that are developing on my brow, still plucking that annoying hair that keeps showing up on my chin.
Whew. 42. I'm embracing this age with vigor and excitement! Okay, that was a bit much. But hell, I am excited about the new role in my life. I'm no longer the naive, ridiculously stupid 20-something. I'm no longer the trying-to-survive and keeping-it-together 30-something. I'm in my 40s. I'm IN my 40s, dammit, and for ONCE I'm not naive. I'm well-educated. I'm doing what I love. I'm making a decent living and yes, MY LIFE IS FINALLY TOGETHER! If nothing else, that's a means for celebration. Took me long enough to get here, but I'm HERE! So yeah, I'm 42! Okay, this is looking brighter.
So Happy Birthday to me. And besides, I'll always be younger than Joelle (my MUCH older sister). haha (She's going to love that one.)
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Spring...Please Stay for Awhile.
It is so beautiful out--and has been all week. There's nothing like walking through the neighborhood with my husband and Gates on these warm, springlike evenings. I love our conversations, or sometimes just quiet walks that we have. Gates, on the other hand, is like a puppy on crack. I swear he goes 10 miles to our 1.5. He runs around in circles, back and forth, back and forth. And god help us all when he sees a bunny. Our dog has some serious issues. The cutest part though, where cars even slow down to look at him, is when he sits at the corner to wait to cross. It's just so damn cute. Tomorrow I'll take a picture.
My son is my child that loves to be outside--it's where he is as I write this. When I was on my way to the gym today, I called the kids to make sure they made it home safely. Marissa was telling me that Brandon locked her outside of the house. "WHAT!" I yelled and had her put her brother on the phone. He started to laugh, in that prankster-on-the-prowl way that he does--telling me he'll tell me all about it when I got home. Hmmm...
Dinner was yummy--French dip, roasted potatoes with onions and green beans, and broccoli. Oh how I love my crockpot! Once I had everything ready, we sat down at the table--with me ready to hear how Roo got locked out of the house. She was still fuming a bit when Fuzz starting relaying the story.
"Mom, it's beautiful out," he began, "and she wanted to just sit in the house and watch T.V."
"I was watching a movie, if you don't mind," she snapped his way.
"She said to me she didn't want to go outside. I kept bugging her and she told me there's no way I could get her to go."
"So what did you do?" I asked, knowing he was up to something.
"I grabbed her Ipod, ran outside and put it out there. When she ran out of the house, I ran back in and locked the door."
I just looked at him and shook my head.
"See what I have to put up with!" Marissa said, with her brother laughing next to her. He's such a pain in the ass, although he was right--it is beautiful outside and they both should be out there instead of in the house.
After dinner, Marissa went back to her movie and Brandon called a friend to hang out. And that's where they are, hanging outside in the dirt somewhere. He actually brought his remote control Jeep to maneuver around out there. I love that he loves to play outside still.
So my son just walked in the door, and I discovered that no, he didn't play with his remote control Jeep. Instead they tore around in his friend's Jeep--rallying around. Oh well, at least he was outside! =)
My son is my child that loves to be outside--it's where he is as I write this. When I was on my way to the gym today, I called the kids to make sure they made it home safely. Marissa was telling me that Brandon locked her outside of the house. "WHAT!" I yelled and had her put her brother on the phone. He started to laugh, in that prankster-on-the-prowl way that he does--telling me he'll tell me all about it when I got home. Hmmm...
Dinner was yummy--French dip, roasted potatoes with onions and green beans, and broccoli. Oh how I love my crockpot! Once I had everything ready, we sat down at the table--with me ready to hear how Roo got locked out of the house. She was still fuming a bit when Fuzz starting relaying the story.
"Mom, it's beautiful out," he began, "and she wanted to just sit in the house and watch T.V."
"I was watching a movie, if you don't mind," she snapped his way.
"She said to me she didn't want to go outside. I kept bugging her and she told me there's no way I could get her to go."
"So what did you do?" I asked, knowing he was up to something.
"I grabbed her Ipod, ran outside and put it out there. When she ran out of the house, I ran back in and locked the door."
I just looked at him and shook my head.
"See what I have to put up with!" Marissa said, with her brother laughing next to her. He's such a pain in the ass, although he was right--it is beautiful outside and they both should be out there instead of in the house.
After dinner, Marissa went back to her movie and Brandon called a friend to hang out. And that's where they are, hanging outside in the dirt somewhere. He actually brought his remote control Jeep to maneuver around out there. I love that he loves to play outside still.
So my son just walked in the door, and I discovered that no, he didn't play with his remote control Jeep. Instead they tore around in his friend's Jeep--rallying around. Oh well, at least he was outside! =)
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