Free St. Patrick's Day Science Lab Activity for Kids

 

St. Patrick's Day Science Lab

A fun, free activity for kids

    Teaching preschool this year has given me lots of excuses to be a little extra when it comes to crafts and other kid activities. But without fail, my older kids come home and ask to do the same activities that I just did with my preschoolers! So this St. Patrick's Day I decided to put together a few fun activities for them, and this science lab activity was a HIT. And good news- you can do all of this with stuff you (probably) have at home. Keep reading for more!

Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. Learn more about them here!

Science for all ages

The hardest part of these activities is trying to cater them to all my kids. They range from 3 years to 8 years old, and they are all at such different stages of learning. This turned out to be a really fun and simple idea that kept all of them engaged, which is a huge win in my book!

What you Need

Let's break this into two parts... we'll call it "being extra" and "surviving". Because I think you can do fun kid activities no matter which stage you're in. So...

Being Extra:

• Food Coloring (red, yellow, blue)
• Pipettes (we use these so much!)
• St. Patricks Pots (we got these from Dollar Tree)
• Baking Soda
• Vinegar

Surviving:

• Food Coloring (red, yellow, blue)
• Cups, Bowls, whatever you've got
• Baking Soda
• Vinegar

The Activity... Finally!

A little prep first: click the "download" button below, and print off the two pages for this activity. Or, grab some notebook paper and list 1-10 on each page. Mark each pot (or cup, bowl, whatever you're using) with a number 1-10. Now, you'll just put a couple drops of food coloring in the bottom of each pot, and cover it with some baking soda so you can't see the color. Make sure you write down which colors you used on your "key" paper.

Then fill 3 cups with vinegar and add red to one, yellow to one, and blue to the last. If you don't have pipettes, you can use medicine droppers, or simply pour a little bit of the color.

Have them observe what color it turns and deduce what the first color must have been. (If you added red and it turned orange, it must have been yellow.) The real trick is when they add the same color and have to figure out what that means!

A couple rules we used:

1. Take turns.
2. Each kid had to try each color once.
3. No touching the pots to try to see the color before you've added your vinegar color.

That's it!

In the end, we checked their answers against my answer key. This turned out to be such a fun and simple activity for each of my kids, and it was so cute seeing them work together. And as an added bonus, my son pointed out that these pots of gold look like witch's cauldrons, so guess what we'll be doing for Halloween?

If you want to join us in this quick activity, just click the download button below and happy playing!

20 Ideas to Get 20 Minutes of Reading Every Night

If I know anything about the public school system, it's that your kids came home from the first day of school with the nightly homework of reading for 20 minutes. Obviously I am a huge proponent of reading, but I also want to instill in my kids a LOVE of reading, not just an ability to read. Frankly, I don't know a single kid who likes reading, "Nan ran, Ben sat, Ted talks" (I know what I said) for twenty minutes a night. Luckily, I believe there is a better way! Here are 20 ideas of ways to check off that reading homework box every night without resorting to the "sit at the table and read your baggie book" method.

Play a Word Game

Scrabble, Upwords, and our personal favorite, Letter Tycoon, are all easy ways to get your kid reading without them even realizing what's happening. If you don't have any of these, you can print off or make your own cards with letters on them and play Go Fish to make words.

Stuffed Animal Note

My oldest usually brings his favorite stuffed animal upstairs in the mornings, so she started leaving him notes for when he got home from school. I don't do it every day, but he is always tickled pink to find a note from her. (And bonus, he's in dual immersion this year so I used this note to help him practice a little Spanish.)

Co-op Bedtime Story

As long as my kids want me to read them bedtime stories, I am happy to do it. But now that my oldest can read, I will randomly have him read a paragraph or a page in the middle of the story, usually during a tense moment where he wants to know what happens next. This also works for kids just learning to read- just have them name the letters, say their sounds, or tell you the sight words they know. For older kids, you can switch off reading chapters or tell them you get to be the kid tonight while they read a chapter to you. (Hint: make sure to ask questions as they're reading. Good reading skills aren't just about sounding out words- comprehension is even more important!)

Scripture Study

Let your kids help with nightly scripture study by reading a paragraph or two. The words and language are generally much  harder, so this is a great exercise for their brains! (Same rules as above apply to younger or older kids.)

Write your own story

Play author and write your own stories! I like to cut up printer paper, staple it into a tiny book, and let them go to town. If they need some help, give them a character or idea to run with. My kids love Mo Willems pigeon books, so in the past we've written our own pigeon books to see what shenanigans we can get him up to. (I say "we" because I can't help myself- I am usually making a book with them. They love it and those silly books usually become some of their favorite bedtime stories.)

Play Teacher

Have your kids play teacher to you, younger siblings, or even pets or stuffed animals. Give them a white board to draw on, books to read for story time, and there will be sure to be plenty of reading amidst the playing.

Pass the Parent Test

Read to them- a short story, chapter from a book, anything at all- and then let them write a test for you to take about what you read them. See how close both of you were paying attention!

Read a Bedtime Story to a Sibling

This is adorable and doesn't feel like a chore for them (usually). If they don't have a sibling to read to, let them tuck in a doll or stuffed animal. 

Make a Recipe

Let your kids help with dinner or dessert, and make them read you each ingredient on a recipe card or blog. (Finally, a use for those long drawn-out stories at the beginning of recipe blogs.) 

Write Letters

Send a letter or thank you card to friends or grandparents. Let them write the letter themselves and read it to you when they're done. Usually writing one letter spawns another and another, and who doesn't like getting a good old fashioned letter in the mail?

Help with grocery or to do lists

When you need to add or cross off something from a grocery or to-do list, let your kids do it for you. Have them search for a specific item on the list to cross it off. Plus, this is one less thing for you to do.

Scavenger Hunt

Quick & easy- there are tons of lists online that you can print off and have kids check off as they find things. This one from printablesfairy.com is perfect for Fall.

Detectives

Similar to a scavenger hunt, write clues and hide them throughout the house, one leading to another until they get to a "prize" at the end. This can be as simple as a final note saying "You did it!" Make sure to save the papers to do again in a month or so- they won't remember.

Make a Bucket List

Usually in the summers I will make a summer bucket list that we check off as a family. This year, my six year old made his own bucket list and it turned out to be the cutest thing. It contained just gems as "go outside with mom" (we just had to go stand outside. That was it.) and "do whatever I want." You can get specific and make bucket lists for seasons, holidays, or even just the weekend, or you can make a general bucket list of things they want to do in their lives.

Calendar

Let your kids help you fill in a calendar for the month. Have them add things you have to do, as well as some things they want to do. (Put that bucket list from above to use!)

Check off "want" lists

Birthday, Christmas, groceries... make a list of items and let your kids read through and check off the things they want. Make sure to include gross or silly things they definitely don't want so they don't just check off everything.

Glue Stories

Print off a bunch of random words and let your kids cut them apart and glue them back together into a story. (Kids will do anything if you let them use glue. It's like magic.) Leave blank papers so they can add their own words, and include plenty of  "the" "and", etc. and phrases like "once upon a time" and "The end".

Letter toys

There are so many fun and cute letter toys- resin letters, magnetic letters, foam letters, blocks- but if you don't have any of these, just write letters on individual small pieces of paper or post it's and then say words and see how fast your kids can spell them with their letters.

Put on a Play

Write for them or have your kids write a script for a play or puppet show. Have them memorize their lines or read them as they act it out for you. Also a good excuse to dress up.

Races

Give them something to read- anything, junk mail, something on your phone, this blog- and time them for 1 minute and see how much they can read. Then time them again and see if they can read even farther.

Bonus tip: Don't be picky about what they read. "Captain Underpants" will get the job done just as easily as Shakespeare and they'll enjoy it a lot more in the process.

What did I miss?? What works for your family to teach your kids to love reading without getting burned out in the process?

Grief

 I haven't posted anything here in over a year, but true to myself I end up writing a lot more when times are hard. It probably comes across that my life is full of anger and frustrations, but I just don't find myself wanting to write much when everything is hunky-dory. Probably because I'd end up using words like hunky-dory. So basically, it's a good thing you haven't heard from me here in a year. 

But boy, what a summer it's been.

Rather than focusing on that, I wanted to share some of what I've learned this summer about grief. I hope this doesn't come across as completely preachy, because full disclosure: I've never been great with grief. I've been lucky enough in my life to not have to deal with much until now. When my cousin died nearly 3 years ago, I went over to his sister's house to be with her. She has always been the closest thing I've ever had to a sister, and I was mourning him too, but I didn't know how to deal with it or what to say. I remember sitting there awkwardly, feeling like I was in the way, when her friend came over to visit and immediately hugged her. I thought, well duh Anndee. You could have hugged her. 

All this to say, I was an infant when it came to grief, and after this summer, I'm maybe a toddler. And now I want to tell you how to do it, like all toddlers do. So buckle up.

The BIGGEST thing is that we need to be there for each other during the hard times. It's easy to avoid someone who is having a rough time, or feel like they don't want to talk to us because we don't know how to help. But let me pull from one of the deepest pits of my soul some song lyrics that changed my life in the 90's:

All you people can't you see, can't you see

How your love's affecting our reality

Every time we're down

You can make it right

And that makes you larger than life

-Backstreet Boys

I know. Legends.

Or maybe it's more appropriate to say: we should mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.

I get that in the midst of a trial or a tragedy, "comfort" feels like basically the least you can do. But trust me, it is so needed. You can't fix the problem, but you can sit with someone while they deal with it, and just not feeling alone is huge. Being able to hand someone your pain when it is so heavy and having them say I can take a little bit of this off your shoulders can change everything. 

I know so much of how we deal with grief is cultural and I have to say... we're doing it all wrong. If you find yourself saying the words, "Let me know if I can do anything", you've made a wrong turn. I know that's the usual response. I know you actually do want to help. But those words are a really nice way to feel like you've helped, without actually ever helping.

"Do you need anything?" Yes:

Dinner. We all gotta eat fifty times a day (or is that just my kids?) so food is always a great go-to even if you're afraid you're just one in a train of many bringing food over. Do it anyway. Money. I know, it's an awkward one, but it's usually true. Gas cards. A clean house. Someone to mow the lawn. Child care. At the very least, a text checking in on how you're doing. 

There is ALWAYS something you can do, but if you ask, most people won't tell you any of that. It's awkward, and we are a people who like to pick ourselves up by our own bootstraps, even though by very definiton that's impossible. So instead of asking, just do something. Show that you are there and willing to help and then maybe they'll feel safer asking for those little things that are so hard to ask for.

And finally, if someone shares with you the hard thing that they are struggling with, don't immediately start listing all the bad things that have ever happened to you, or even worse, to someone you know. We get it: life stinks sometimes. But those kind of conversations usually don't leave anyone feeling validated for their feelings. I try really hard not to be offended by those kinds of conversations because I know I've done the same thing a thousand times, but this is teaching me to be better. You learn so much more from listening than you ever will from talking, and sometimes, that little release is all someone needs.

I've had so many friends through this who I haven't even seen in person for months, but I know I can text them when I'm extra sad and they will listen and just be sad with me. I have people who check in even when they know it's usually bad news, and they haven't walked away yet. I am so, so grateful for those who have just stepped in and helped my family without question. Sometimes the weight of grief makes the whole world seem so much darker, and people who are willing to mourn with you are like a light in all that darkness. 

Everyone you meet is going through something. Let's work to just be a little kinder and lift each other up. 

The Sisterhood of Motherhood

Years ago, I would have told you that I firmly believed men generally have stronger friendships with each other than women do. I spent too many years growing up having difficult and disappointing friendships with girls. By High School, I mostly hung out with boys because it was simpler than dealing with drama that came along with female friendships.
Lately though, I've realized that maybe it's not that girls are naturally bad at being friends... I think maybe, when it comes to having good relationships with each other, we just tend to be late bloomers. When we're young we might be more prone to gossip or be catty, to be competitive with each other about boys or our looks. I'm sure we've all been on the giving and receiving end of talking behind someone's back. Then we get older and something forces us to be more selfless, and to rely on each other way beyond the superficial things we cared about before... and that something is motherhood.

Nothing has bonded me quicker to other women than this business of motherhood. I've been so blessed to have a wonderful husband who always supports and loves me, but you learn quickly in motherhood that you need someone who you can turn to who can say: I get it. I've been there.
You need those friends who you immediately bond with because you have similar birth stories, or your kids are in the same phase right now, or who simply see you struggling with a cranky toddler on a bad day and don't for a second think that means you're a bad parent.
Those friends who can give you a book-length list of ideas to help your colicky baby when their pediatrician's only advice is to "burp her more".
Those friends who text you back at two am because they are awake too.
Those friends who you can complain to about your kids who you love so much, but who drive you so crazy, and they don't tell you to "enjoy it, because it goes by so fast." Some days, it feels like it can't go by fast enough.
Those friends who show up with a meal or a drink when they know you're struggling, but can't even come inside because they have a car full of kids too and those ten seconds at the door are the only time you see each other in months.
Those friends who ask how you're doing, and genuinely want to know. (Even when they realize that question might lead to an hour of tear-filled conversation.)
Those friends who don't question it when you tell them that yesterday, you cried for no reason over a cat food commercial.
Those friends who can mourn with you during a pregnancy loss that leaves you feeling gutted, and would never think to utter the words, "It doesn't matter, you can always try again."
Those friends who have dealt with their own infertility, and even though it looks completely different from yours, they understand the unique pain that is desiring motherhood and having those desires go unfulfilled.
Those friends who understand the anxiety and depression that can be crippling with a new baby, and even if they can empathize they never pretend it's normal or ok.
Those friends who understand that you can love your children and being a mom, and also feel completely lost and not know who you are anymore.
Those friends who help you choose a new haircut when you're having a postpartum identity crisis.
Those friends who check in and offer help even when they are at their wit's end themselves.
Those friends who love your children like their own not because of any blood relation, but simply because they love you.
The minute you enter the life of motherhood, whether that's when those two lines on the test appear or even before you ever have a child, you need friends like that. You realize there is no room in your life for talking bad about another woman, because we need each other. If you don't have those friends, call me. I'll be that friend. I'll share the wonderful group of women I've found, because I'm proud of the deeper connections and friendships I've made. I love when on a really bad day, a small voice in my head tells me to text a certain friend, and I know she'll understand.
We may not have had it all together when we were younger. We may have known or even been the mean girls at some point. But when we grow up and have those little people depending on us, it is amazing the sisterhood we can build.

Remlee's Birth Story

After Dayen and Arie's births,  I was really scared to be pregnant again because I didn't know what I wanted out of a birth anymore. I felt like I had a lot of trauma from my birth experiences, and I still had never gotten the natural birth I thought I wanted. This pregnancy came as a surprise, which made it even harder to wrap my head around trying once again to have a natural birth. I kept thinking I would come around to the idea and get excited and prepared like I had with both the boys, but I never did. The idea of birth just felt daunting and I didn't think that would go away before she was here.

I finally decided to take away the pressure of having a natural birth. I planned on getting the epidural this time, or at least doing a "wait and see" approach- if I felt like I was handling the contractions fine and maybe if my labor wasn't so long, I could do it. But if I got the epidural, I wasn't going to beat myself up over it or feel like I failed.

Then right about the time I hit the third trimester, my friend had her baby in the birth center. I was supposed to be her birth photographer, but for some reason my phone never went off during the many calls and texts I got that night. I ended up missing the birth by about 20 minutes. I felt (and still feel) awful, but I think it happened for a reason, because even seeing her in recovery brought back some bad memories for me. She was a rockstar and had her 10 lb 3 oz baby naturally, and I think it made me realize: this should have been me last time. If this is really what I wanted, I should have been able to do it with how easy Arie's birth was going, but instead some trauma from Dayen's birth led to a hospital transfer and a lot of pain. (I didn't realize until much later that although I was at a 9 at the birth center, I went down to an 8 when we got to the hospital. I felt so scared and was fighting the contractions so much that my cervix was closing during contractions- which is honestly the worst pain I've ever felt.)

I came home from my friend's birth and had a small birthing identity crisis. I texted my midwife and told her, "I need you to talk me down from a ledge. I am seriously considering an induction this time, please remind me why I don't want that." I was expecting a laundry list of reasons not to do it, but instead she replied, "I think you would be a great candidate for an induction." I burst into tears. I think, deep down, it was exactly what I wanted to hear. But I had also gone through 2 pregnancies believing I thought one thing, and now I was thinking about going against that. Not only that, but if I was going to get induced anyway, then I didn't want to wait the usual 2 weeks past my due date that my babies tend to come. My midwife said she would induce at 39 weeks. I cried some more about that.

In the end, I decided to set an induction date, and if the day came and I didn't feel good about it, I wouldn't do it. I did lots of research, which in all fairness, showed different outcomes than what many people believed when I was pregnant with Dayen. Inductions didn't actually lead to a 50% chance of a csection. Still, it was terrifying to choose when I had always let my babies come on their own. I didn't want to use pitocin, I didn't want to choose my baby's birthday, and I didn't want to end up with a csection because of something I chose.

In the days leading up to the induction date, I felt nothing but peace about it. We decided to go in the night before for cervidil. I had been at 2 cm for 3 weeks, and I thought even if I could dilate another centimeter in the night, that would be a little less time I would have to be on pitocin. We checked in at 6 pm and had the cervidil in by 7:30. We had a pretty restless night where I was having Braxton Hicks every few minutes, so I was hopeful that was a good sign that I was progressing. But at 6 the next morning, I was only at a 2.5. I had it in my head that there was a good chance the induction just wouldn't work, and even though it would have been really hard to go home without a baby, I made sure my midwife knew I would choose that over a csection for failure to progress. So we basically couldn't get an epidural or break my water, or I'd be on the clock and have to deliver.

We started the pitocin at 6 and the contractions picked up pretty quickly. I was eating breakfast at 8 when I suddenly had a really strong contraction that made me feel really sick. I told the nurse I was going to throw up, so she left to get some anti-nausea medicine while I threw up so violently my ears and throat hurt the rest of the day. I told Caleb not to look at me because that's basically the only mystery we had left in our marriage, but that's out the window now. Having babies has a way of making you as grossly vulnerable as you can possibly be.

Luckily the nausea medicine worked pretty quickly, but when they checked me again I was still only at a 3. My midwife said she wanted to break my water to get things moving, but I panicked because that felt like the final decision that would lead to a csection. So we decided to wait until I progressed a little more, but honestly, I still fully believed I wouldn't progress and we'd be going home still pregnant.

After that the contractions got a lot worse. I didn't do any kind of preparing for labor this time, thinking that my past preparations for a natural birth would all come back to me in labor. Although the pitocin contractions weren't quite as bad as back labor with my 9 lb baby Dayen, or 9 cm contractions with Arie, they were still really strong really fast. There was a definite difference between when your body goes into labor naturally and when it's being forced by pitocin. To make things worse, whenever I tried to sit on the yoga ball or squat on the ground to do any kind of pain management during a contraction, we would lose the baby's heartrate on the monitor. I basically had to sit perfectly still so we could make sure she was handling the contractions ok. As they got stronger, I started feeling really emotional and frustrated through them. I just wasn't prepared for labor, and I was feeling so frustrated with my body that my choices were a) go two weeks overdue or b) induce. Why couldn't I just have one magical, random 38 week baby?

Caleb saw how frustrated I was getting and suggested that I get the epidural and let them break my water. We had talked about how he had felt promptings during my previous labors and never felt like he could voice them because everyone else in the room seemed to know more about birth than him. So I told him if he felt that this time, I wanted him to speak up. He might not go through the physical part of labor with me, but I've always said I'd rather do it myself than have to watch my spouse go through it, and he has carried a lot of trauma from our birth experiences too. So I texted my midwife and told her, "I think I want the epidural, but I'm still really scared this is the decision that will lead to a csection." She said, "I think that's the right decision. If I'm wrong, I will make it up to you by making sure you don't end up with a csection." It was exactly what I needed to hear, so we called in the nurse and asked for the epidural.

By 11:00 I had the epidural and they came in to break my water. I was at a 4. Everyone kept saying she would come that afternoon, but as soon as we were alone Caleb and I agreed that we should plan on an all day labor and a middle of the night delivery, because that's just how things go for us. So we turned on Impractical Jokers and relaxed and took a nap and just settled in for a long day.

At 1:00 my midwife came back to check me again. I told her I wasn't feeling very good, just felt kind of "off", and she smirked like that was what she was expecting. I knew she thought I was in transition, but I didn't believe it. She checked me and smirked again, and I said, "What? Am I at 4.5 now?" She said, "Nope, you have 2 centimeters left. I'll be back in an hour and we'll have a baby!" I didn't even have a response. I think I sort of went into shock and a combination of that and being in transition made me start shaking really hard. I had never had a labor even close to this short, and honestly I had never really processed the fact that we were about to have another kid.

The nurse came back an hour later and I was fully dilated and ready to push. I couldn't stop shaking, and as soon as my midwife came in I just started crying. I looked at Caleb and said, "I'm not ready to have 3 kids!" and they all laughed because... too late. I pushed maybe 3 times and she was here! With my boys I had always pictured the emotional moment when they were finally born and I got to see them for the first time, but I had always been so exhausted by then that I couldn't really process it. With Dayen especially, I remember looking at him and thinking, "Huh. Look at that. A baby." This time, it was exactly what I always pictured. I was fully alert and crying when I saw our daughter for the first time. I always felt like I really had to work to get my babies here, but this time it was so easy and awesome and even 3 weeks earlier than I'm used to!

It looked nothing like what I thought my "ideal birth" would before I ever had kids, but it ended up being my favorite birth by far. I'm so grateful for a care provider who listened to me and helped me have the healing birth that I needed, even if it looked different than I ever expected.

And today, I get to say to my cute, 5 day old baby something that I never thought I'd get to say to my kids: Happy due date! Trust me when I say, I am so glad you're already here.

Remlee Ann Fonnesbeck

May 27, 2020

2:36 pm

6 lbs 14 oz

19 3/4 inches

It Takes a Village (with torches and pitchforks)

The other day, my mindless Facebook scrolling led to an article about how it's unexpectedly difficult to be a stay at home mom. Of course, that make the working moms lose their crap, which made the stay at home moms feel attacked, and it was basically the wonderful representation of humanity that you expect all comment sections to be.

Except for one thread, which was a group of women about my parent's generation. It started off with a post saying, "I don't know what girls these days are always complaining about. I was a stay at home mom for X number of years and I never felt this way! I loved every minute of it." The rest of the comments were women agreeing with her that they didn't understand it.

So, if you've ever thought this, I'm here to try to help you understand it.

The thing is, we are living in completely different times. I'd argue we've gone back to the dark ages, regressed back to a time when basic civility towards people was unheard of. People are tarred and feathered via social media these days, and honestly, I'm not sure it's much less painful.

Case in point: I saw a post on the Tremonton Classifieds yesterday (which I can't find now because the entire group has been shut down.) about a mom who found a 3 week old baby left alone in a car at the Kent's parking lot. She broke a window, got the baby out, and called the police. When the parents came out, they were apparently upset about the window. Oh, and then she went home and posted about it on Classifieds, and that's an important part of the story so stick with me.

I get that terrible things happen. I am an Enneagram 6, but I don't actually think I am. 6's are mostly known for their anxiety, and I truly don't believe I ever would have tested as a 6 before having children. Since having my first, I live in a constant state of anxiety. Every sketchy person at WalMart is trying to kidnap them. There's going to be a mass shooting in every crowd we're in. It's a terrible way to live! Tell me you would have enjoyed parenting back in the day if you felt this way all the time. And we tell new parents to ask for help, to sleep when the baby sleeps, to watch out for postpartum depression, to ask for help ask for help ASK FOR HELP. But guess what? The help is scarce. Sometimes it's impossible to find. And it's a fine line between asking for help before it's too late, and people shouting on Facebook that you should have your children taken away.

I mean, can we just be a little more careful with how we say someone should have their children taken away? Can we agree that's the extreme solution no one is actually rooting for? Facebook is not a place for a jury of your peers, but each post like this is calling someone out and putting them on trial and frankly it's not usually anyone's business.

When my second baby was about two weeks old, I took both my boys to the park. I was drowning in guilt over turning my three year old's life upside down, and how we weren't getting enough sunshine and therefore enough vitamin D, and trust me when I say a trip to the park is always about more than a trip to the park.

My three year old is naturally anxious (gee, I wonder where he's learning that from) but he decided to be brave and climb to the top of the highest slide. Once he got there, he froze. He screamed and screamed, unable to go forward or backward he just stood at the top, immobile. I was holding my new baby in my arms and watching nervously. I hadn't even brought the wrap for the baby. The carseat was in the car. I seriously considered just setting him down in the sand.

But the crazy thing is, there were people around, watching all this happening. No one offered to help, they just sort of watched.

So, I did what I had to do, or what I thought I had to do. I started climbing up after him. This slide, of course, was at the top of a completely vertical climb, which I was doing one-handed. When I was halfway up, my foot slipped. My heart completely dropped. I was going to fall with my baby.

I flung my arm out and managed to catch myself with my arm. I felt like it was broken. I had a giant bruise for weeks. But my baby was ok. And only then did a dad from across the park come running over and offer to help.

At the time, I was humiliated. What was I thinking, putting my baby in danger like that? What was I thinking letting my three year old climb up there? What was I thinking even leaving the house that day? But now, I just think... why did it take a dad, in a park full of moms, to see my need? To offer to help?

We are so quick to judge another parents situation. So many of the comments on that classifieds post were, of course, ripping the parents apart for leaving their baby in the car. But all I could think was: there are about a thousand reasons that could have happened, and we're only hearing one side of the story. All I could think was, I've done stupid things all the time, in the name of pregnancy hormones or sleep deprivation or just plain not knowing any better. But this is already the hardest job in the world, so why can't we ever just reach out and help each other?

It's supposed to take a village to raise a child, not to take one away from it's parents when they make a public mistake.

I'm so tired of worrying that other moms are judging me when my kid is screaming in the store. I'm tired of the playground and storytimes being a place we glare at each other instead of trying to make friends. I'm tired of hearing that if someone is going to make a mistake, they shouldn't have had kids in the first place.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe, those parents thought you know that baby we just spent nine months making and a very difficult and painful day delivering? Well he's been keeping us up all night, so we should go meander the aisles of Kent's and leave the baby in the car because we don't care about him.

I don't believe people are that black and white, that bad or good. I believe we're all trying our best. And frankly, I'm glad there are people in the world like the lady who saw that baby and cared. I love to think that there are other people looking out for my children, too.

But can we just suspend the judgment? Can we stop posting about it on Facebook for validation, or because we're angry? (Ok, I'm a little angry posting this, so go ahead and call me the pot or kettle, your choice.) Could we maybe instead try to see each other as fellow humans going through something really hard?

Because I love being a mom. I can't imagine my world without my boys in. But sometimes I wish I could just be a mom twenty years ago, instead of today.

We are making this Mom thing way too hard

Someone has to say it.

It's 2019... and we are making this mom thing way too hard.

I know I should probably try to be inclusive and not offend the fathers out there, but in this case I really am just talking to the moms. Because to be honest, I don't think I've ever seen a dad post that he has had serious dad guilt from being sick all weekend and not spending enough time with his kids.

So, some hard truths that we never talk about during play dates (mostly because we're being constantly interrupted by screaming children) but that I feel I need to share in the hopes that someone else will stand up and say they are feeling this way too.

We're supposed to get this right the first time. So we go crazy. We do endless crafts, we read countless parenting books, we entertain them every moment of every day. Pinterest has made us throw elaborate birthday parties for a one year old who takes his nap right when family shows up to party. Social media makes us think our four year olds need to be in four different kinds of sports and we are massively failing if they aren't on a third grade reading level before they start Kindergarten. It's just too much, and it's so much more than other generations expected of themselves.

You will never. clock. out. I didn't get that. Because I was a nanny for 8 years before I had kids, so I thought I knew all there was to know about parenting, and I thought I'd be a great one. That was when I got off at 5:00. I have been on the clock for 4+ years now, and the worst part is, no one is paying me anymore. And while we're going with the work metaphor here, anytime your kid remotely misbehaves in public, or for a babysitter, or acts like anything other than the angel you've been desperately trying to raise them to be, it feels like you got a bad performance review for a job you haven't even clocked out of for 4 years. 

We only see the places where we lack. We never celebrate the things that make us great moms. I love doing fun activities with my kids, but whenever I post one of them, I get a bunch of messages from fellow moms saying, "I wish I was as fun of a mom as you are" or "I never do stuff like that with my kids." Who cares? They'll be fine. You do a hundred things right that I'm getting wrong. Once in awhile, we have to give ourselves a pat on the back for even just keeping them alive this long.

Admit it: we're judging other moms. You can probably name several occasions where someone unfairly judged you as a mom, but if we're being honest, you can probably also name times you (at least in your own head) judged another mom. Internet trolls always immediately jump to the parents whenever a child is hurt- of course it's their fault. But we can't live in fear of what others are thinking of us, because finding your own path as a parent is hard enough without struggling blindly to follow someone elses.

Sometimes, kids are turds. Can we just admit that? I know, they're young and immature and there's a thousand psychological reasons and I was a turd as a kid too, but when I'm exhausted and starving and need a shower and my kid throws a tantrum because his graham cracker is broken, I just don't care about the rational reasons he's acting that way. I don't want to hear that I need to sit and hold his hand and show him how to be calm, or distract him with an elaborate art project. I want to hear someone admit that wow, living with kids is like living in an insane asylum. You're not the crazy one, they are. 

We are raising kids in a different environment than ever. Even our own parents didn't have to worry about screen time and the dangers of the internet the way we do- so where do we turn for knowledge and advice? The internet. And while we're looking up all the dangers facing our children and how to be a perfect parent, we're spending too much time staring at our phones which is apparently ruining our kids forever anyway.

We are the most important, but we don't matter. Even while telling us that moms are the most important piece of the puzzle to have a functioning society, we're being told in the same breath that we shouldn't put ALL our eggs in this basket because one day our kids will grow up and move out and never call us and we'll have nothing left. It's like an artist spending their life on an oil painting they know they will someday burn. I've said it before: this is enough. It's OK if this is the most important thing you ever do. But it's also OK to hide in your room with a book once in awhile, or work on something just for you. You still matter.

You're not supposed to be resentful of this. Because you've watched your friends and family suffer through miscarriages or infertility, or maybe you went through it yourself, and you told yourself no matter what, you would never for a second resent becoming a mom. But then... you do. And you can't say that. You can't even think it without feeling like the biggest scum on the earth. But how can we expect ourselves to look at every bad day, every single trial of parenting day after day and just smile through it? Some days are just hard. Heck, some months are hard. The first year of Arie's life I think I lost half my brain cells from lack of sleep. It doesn't mean you don't love them, or love being a parent, to admit that this is the hardest job out there, and that sometimes, you wish you could go back to the person you were before you had kids.

We're supposed to do it all without a village. Back in the day, it wasn't just a saying- it literally took a village to raise a child. Everyone lived in close quarters and helped each other. One person in the village could be great at entertaining kids, while another was great at teaching patience, and it didn't all fall on one persons shoulders all day, every day. There's a reason I get lonely and stir crazy all day at home with two kids, a reason I have to sit with my husband and just talk to an adult to decompress. We were never meant to do this alone, but that's the way society is these days. 

We go through this difficult challenge of parenting alone, while being judged by strangers everywhere we go, and watching everyone else's fake, perfect parenting wins online. We read the scary statistics about all the dangers and challenges facing our kids, and we go to bed every night with this enormous weight on our shoulders.

We have to cut ourselves some slack. We have to cut other moms some slack and not be so judgmental. We are all doing our very best, and look around: your kids are doing just fine, too. We are supposed to feel some joy as mothers, not just anxiety and guilt and fear. We are making this mom thing way too hard.

10 Years

On June 20th of this year I celebrated 10 years since my baptism into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

Other than my bangs, I made some pretty great decisions that day.

I had written this blog post months before, then never finished it and decided not to share it because I felt like I'm not saying anything new or unique, and I didn't want to come across all preachy.

Then today in church I was kind of suffering through the usual Sunday why-am-I-raising-my-kids-in-church-again? blues (you know- kids screaming, Cheerios flying in all directions, not hearing a word anyone at the pulpit is saying) I leaned over and asked Dayen if he wanted to go up and bear his testimony. To my surprise, he instantly said yes.

So of course, I had to kick myself for asking in the first place. But he did give a talk in Primary a few months ago and did a great job, so even though I knew there was a high chance that he would say something naughty into the microphone for the whole ward to hear, we went up there together.

Basically, he said a bunch of nonsense then whispered amen, after which I realized I probably had to bear my testimony too so I fumbled through something that probably made even less sense than his did. But as we were walking away, he grinned at me and said, "Can we try that again?"

Then I came home and saw this picture online:

And it just hit me how important this is. The decision I made to join the church ten years ago felt impossible then- I was facing so much opposition. I lost friends, I ripped apart my family relationships, and some days it feels like I did it all just so I can suffer through a sacrament meeting that I couldn't even listen to.

But that decision mattered. It causes a ripple effect through my family for all time. My decision will affect my posterity forever- and it especially affects my sweet little boys every day.

This is just still new for me.

Nursery, Primary, Young Womens, I never got to do any of it until I was an adult. And I think I've been waiting since my baptism to someday feel like less of a convert. But it's been ten years, and I'm starting to think I never will. 

Because when you join the church in Utah, you're always just a little bit different.

So, here's the post you almost didn't get to read, some bits of knowledge I've picked up over my last decade in the church.

#1- For Members: Converts (probably) don't get the "Culture" of the Church
Case in point: I spent the first few years after my baptism standing in silence while people around me said the Young Women's theme I never learned, or talked about Trek (which sounded terrible- was this church trying to torture its members?) or Linger Longers, Visiting Teaching, having a beard at BYU, and on and on and on. You don't realize when you're immersed in it your whole life just how much about the church isn't doctrinal stuff that missionaries teach converts. I was confused, but it also made me feel like there was a line in the sand: like because I wasn't raised in the church, I would never actually be the same as the other members who had gone to Primary and been baptized at 8 years old.
When you're around a new convert, try to put yourself in their shoes and think about what you take for granted that they might not know. Right after I met Caleb, we were at a fireside where the opening hymn was "Praise to the Man." We were in a stadium full of people who all knew the lyrics... except for me. I was embarrassed, that line in the sand glaring in my face, when Caleb noticed and pulled out his phone, pulled up the lyrics to the song, and quietly handed it to me so I could sing too. It was simple, but it made a huge difference for me. (Obviously. I married the guy.)

#2- For Members: Agency
For sure, the biggest question I get asked whenever someone hears I'm a convert is, "So did anyone in your family join too?" And I get it, because that would make a really great talk in sacrament meeting, or one of those videos in between conference. I found the church, so slowly every nonmember I know should join too because I made it look so awesome.
That does happen, but more often than not in my experience, it doesn't.
Growing up even as a nonmember in Utah, I knew (or thought I knew) a lot about the church. It's not like any of my family members didn't know about it and I was introducing them to something new. But I did feel a lot of pressure right away, like because I believed it, I should be the one to convince everyone I love of the truthfulness of the gospel, too.
But it doesn't work that way, and I firmly believe it isn't supposed to. Sure, God may use you as an instrument to bring others to him. Yes, we should be examples, and live in a way that makes others wonder what is different about your life. And ok, we should all be missionaries. But, and I can't say this loud enough: It is not our job to make anyone join the church. That's why agency is so important. So on that note....

#3- For Nonmembers: We aren't trying to trick you into joining the church
This is touchy for me. Because I think me and every member of my family could give you a mile long list of the people who tried to get us to join the church growing up. And a lot of the time, it wasn't done in the most loving or appropriate way. I know they had the best intentions, but it was always hard as a kid to have someone be friendly, and then stop talking to me when I couldn't come to mutual with them.
So don't get me wrong, if anyone I love wanted to join the church, I would be the first to throw a party and arrange the lessons and drive you to church every week if you want. But that is never my intent. I respect your agency and right to choose for yourself, so I will never drag you to church, try to trick you into listening to my beliefs, or assume I already know what you believe.

#4- For Members: It's not about "Good" and "Bad"
I remember in High School, a girl found out I wasn't a member of the church and in shock she asked me, "So if you're not a member, why don't you drink and party and stuff?"
There's that line in the sand again, and here I come to destroy it.
Because I joined the church at 18, I feel like I can say that my morals came from my character, not from my religion. I never had any desire to drink. I lived the word of wisdom before I knew it. And lots of other people do, too. What's more, is a lot of my friends who were members of the church were the ones sneaking out to party.
So let me say this loud for the people in the back: Being a member of the church doesn't automatically make you "good", and not being a member doesn't make you "bad."
I have had several, let's call them Come to Jesus moments, with fellow members of the church about this, because for some, it is ingrained deep. For example, when I was called to Young Womens, one Sunday one of the other teachers was teaching about dating, and she casually asked, "So should we date people who aren't Mormon?" and the girls, like robots, responded, "Nope." And I had to jump in and say WAIT. That is not what we believe!
The For the Strength of Youth says about dating, "Choose to date only those who have high moral standards and in whose company you can maintain your standards. " That doesn't mean that a nonmember won't share your standards, and it doesn't mean that a member will. Even after we were 16, there were boys who said they couldn't date me in High School because I wasn't a member. One told me on the way into his house to meet his parents for the first time, "Oh by the way, I told them you were a member so they wouldn't kick you out."
It would have made such a difference to me if I had just been treated the way I deserved based on my actions rather than my religious affiliations. Especially at that age, when I couldn't choose to be baptized even if I wanted to.
So please, please, don't be the parent telling your kid they can't play with nonmembers. Tell them to find good friends and be kind- that is all that matters.

#5- For Nonmembers: Members don't always know the "Truth"
Here's something I loved instantly about this church: we are encouraged to seek out truth, to ask questions, and we are told we can receive personal revelation when we come to God with our questions.
And guys, I had a lot of questions.
But I also had an instant trust of anyone who was already a member of the church, especially when a lot of my friends were recently returned missionaries. I loved (and still love) talking about the gospel, delving deep into doctrine with anyone who would listen, but there were several occasions where someone said something that I was shocked by, and I thought, Does this church really believe that? Some of the things I heard were enough to make me want to leave the church, and many people do.
But that's why it's so great that we are encouraged to ask questions. I angrily asked others, even prayed to God about the things I had heard, and I gained more understanding, and even learned that some of the things were outright lies. Ten years later, there has never been anything I've learned that I haven't been able to find an answer to, and that is part of what helps my testimony grow every day.

#6- For Members: Other Churches are More Friendly
Before my baptism, I went to a lot of different churches, and although I did end up joining the Church of Jesus Christ, I hate to admit that I didn't join because the members were friendly. In fact, in my experience, they were the least friendly of all the churches I went to.
Sure, in Utah, many of the other churches were much smaller and more likely to notice a strange face. But every other church I went to, almost every person before or after church would come up and talk to us. As soon as the sermon is over, everyone jumps up to shake everyone's hand, even the people they see every week. I love and miss that kind of fellowshipping. A friendly hello goes a long way in making people feel welcome.
And I promise, you don't have to sit on the same bench every week. The world will not implode if you venture to the other side of the chapel. :)

#7- For Both: Ignorance
It's OK not to believe the same things as someone else. What's not OK is being ignorant about what someone else believes, especially if you want them to hear what you believe. Though I've felt that line in the sand at times, it also means I've had a foot in both worlds, and I have to say: I've seen it a lot and on both sides.
Going to different churches opened my eyes so much to the fact that we all believe a lot of the same things. As my kids get older, I really want to bring them to other churches to teach them what others believe. I took a religious studies class in college that was one of my favorite classes, because I find it fascinating all the different religions and the common threads that tie us all together.
But I have had more encounters than I could count with people telling me what I believe is wrong, people who quit talking to me when I joined the church, or who suddenly think I've lost my mind for joining. And on the other side, I've seen many members turn up their nose to something that comes from another church.
It's not about getting people to believe what we do. We don't need to argue our point to be heard, we need to listen and hear someone else's point of view.
Don't tell me what I believe is wrong. ASK ME what I believe. You might be surprised.

#8- For Members: Are you a Convert?
At the end of the day, that line in the sand really doesn't exist because of one important thing: we should ALL be converts. It doesn't matter if your parents dragged you to church every week, or if a missionary showed up at your door one day and introduced you to a doctrine you'd never heard before. At some point, we all have to choose whether we believe it, whether we're going to live it, whether our testimony has been carried all these years by someone else, or if it's our own.

Mom Life

My house is a mess. I spent 3/4 of the day cleaning, but it's still a mess because of the tiny hurricanes who live here. I try not to care about the mess, but I'm me and I do, so it's an eternal struggle between me and my messy house and my crazy children.
But oh, these boys.

My days are on repeat, like groundhog day but with more diapers and a lot less Bill Murray. I used to have dreams and goals and aspirations, but they are on the backburner while I spend my days keeping two other humans alive. And it's hard not to feel like because I don't have a career, I don't do much. Let's face it, some days it's hard to think that changing diapers and making lunch is contributing. Sometimes I have to ignore that nagging feeling that I gave up being myself to be a mother, and then I see their cute faces and think...
But oh, these boys.

I am tired.
No, scratch that. I am a level of tired I didn't know was possible 5 years ago. Every breath I take is a yawn. Some days I feel like I am walking through jello.
But oh, these boys.

Some days feel like a waste of makeup. Most days, I would be excited if the UPS guy came to the door, because that would be the closest I got to another adult all day. Every day, I am grateful for sweat pants and chocolate chip cookies and Netflix. I don't know what fits anymore, and I definitely don't know what's in style these days.
But oh, these boys.

Even when I do see other adults, all I do is talk about my children. I see the glazed-over eyes when I tell one too many "listen to how funny my toddler is" stories, but I can't help it. They've made me socially weird. I don't see how the whole world doesn't see what me and their Dad and their Grandma's see.
Because oh, these boys.
Sometimes it feels like I am just a mom. But I am their mom. And oh, boy. I couldn't ask for more.

Weight Loss Rules

Breaking news: I have the hottest new diet program you have GOT to try.

All you do is follow a few simple rules.

Rule #1:

Go buy some clothes that fit.

No, seriously. Go get some pants that fit you comfortably. Don't punish yourself for the size you don't want to admit to yourself you are. The size doesn't matter: your comfort does. You, whatever size you are today, deserve clothes that fit. Stop punishing yourself for gaining weight. Stop telling yourself that those smaller pants will somehow be the motivation you need to lose weight. Sure, maybe someday they will fit again. But maybe not. In the mean time, you still need clothes that fit. If you don't, then when you are invited out you will find an excuse not to go because you don't have anything cute to wear. You will put off living your life because you are in a transition period- this isn't your goal weight, so life can't start yet. If you don't do anything else, get some clothes that fit. This is your permission to do so, guilt-free.

Rule #2:

Get rid of your bathroom scale.

Your scale doesn't know you. It can't tell when you are losing fat but gaining muscle. It doesn't know to be extra sensitive because you just had a baby in the last year. It can't tell if you just drank a lot of water today or ate your way through a box of Cheez-Its.

The scale leaves you feeling frustrated when you think you've been doing great but the number doesn't change. So instead, celebrate the non-scale victories. Did you go all day without a cookie, or a soda, or whatever your personal kryptonite is? Victory. Did you walk up the stairs without getting winded? Victory. Did you get a random burst of energy during the day and want to dance around your kitchen with your kids instead of sit around and be lazy? VICTORY. A victory that matters. A victory people can see. Your scale doesn't know anything.

Rule #3:

Love yourself. I know, could I make that one sound any more like a hippie? Probably not. But this is what it's all about. Eating healthy isn't supposed to be a punishment. Eating like crap isn't a reward. If you like yourself, you will take care of yourself. You will learn to go easy on yourself, to remember that sometimes, you are going to fail. You are going to have hard, stressful days that make you want to quit on yourself. You are going to wonder why you don't just fall back into the same old habits. But instead, you will look in the mirror and think, I am still enough. I am not at my goal weight, but I am enough. My life is enough. My weight isn't really what matters. I am what matters.

I saw a quote the other day that I can't stop thinking about. It said:

You are not alive to just pay bills and lose weight.

How many years of your life are you going to waste worrying about your weight? There is so much more. Let's find more in each other, and more in ourselves. 

Baby #2

Fall must be baby time because it seems like all my friends are having babies, and a lot of them are having their second babies. Auric turned 5 months old a couple days ago (what is happening?!) so it's made me think a lot about what I wish I knew before he came along, and what I've learned since then.
So, here you go. All my months of wisdom to do with what you wish.
By far my biggest fear with having a second kid wasn't that it would be too hard or too tiring (oh young, naiive Anndee, not worrying about sleep deprivation. Those were the days.) it was that I was somehow ruining Dayen's life by having a second baby.

Is that just some weird fear of my generation? Because it seems like people used to be able to have multiple kids and feel fine about it, while me and my friends are over here feeling some weird mom guilt over our #1 not being our one and only anymore.
For months before Auric was born, I felt like I was in a constant state of panic over the limited time I had left with Dayen. I became Disneyland Mom, and every day was a fun new adventure that felt like it was happening for the last time ever. And oh, the guilt. I would look at him and think, You have no idea I'm about to turn your life upside down.
Boy am I glad that I was wrong. And here's why:
#1 Babies Sleep A Lot
I forgot that, for the first year, babies sleep a lot. They nap all day at first, then like 3 times a day, then 2... I'm convinced this has less to do with the fact that they are growing and more to do with the fact that if moms didn't get a chance during the day to shower once in awhile, we'd completely lose it. But now, nap times are an easy way for me to schedule one-on-one time with my oldest. Those moments of just us together didn't die with the birth of another baby. And when Auric is awake, he just adds to the fun. He chews on a car on the floor while Dayen and I build a race track. You make it work.

#2 Changes in You
I was sure that having another baby would change my relationship with Dayen. I honestly believed deep down that I couldn't love them both enough, or the same, and I was so afraid I either wouldn't bond with the new baby because Dayen would always have a three year head start on him, or that I would somehow replace Dayen in my mind and love the baby more.
If you're hormones are telling you this too, just stop it. If anything, you learn to love that baby more and faster because you already know what it means to be a mom. You can appreciate it more this time around. And your love for that first born will never go away. How could it?

What I wasn't expecting, was how much bringing home a new baby would change my perspective of Dayen. My mom once told me that we always expect more out of our first borns than our other kids, and I didn't believe it until we brought Auric home. Not only did Dayen suddenly look like a giant, but it was like something flipped in my brain and I thought Ok, Auric is the baby now, so Dayen needs to be a grown up. I tried to hide it from him but I would get so frustrated when he did totally normal toddler things. I felt like the baby needed me constantly, so my three year old shouldn't need me so much anymore.
I thought it wasn't affecting him until one day Dayen was watching TV and holding on to my leg like he couldn't let me go. Although he never showed any anger or aggression toward Auric (he's always been a really sweet big brother) he was clinging to me like I was slipping away, and it broke my heart. So I left the baby home with Caleb and took Dayen to the park and still have to remind myself every day that he is only three. He gets to make mistakes, he gets to be obnoxious sometimes, he gets to throw fits over nothing, and I will survive it. I think.

#3 Don't feel bad for your first
Overall the thing that has changed my thinking is that I realized Dayen isn't the one I should be feeling sorry for: it's all his siblings who get the bad end of the deal. Dayen got to be the lone shining star of the family for three years. He had our undivided attention, and then I actually felt guilty taking some of that away. Auric is the one I should feel sorry for, and if his hand-me-down spit up stained clothes aren't proof enough of that, I don't know what is. When he is three, will he get the same long, drawn out bedtime routines that Dayen has? Will I worry as much about spending one-on-one time with him? Especially if and when other kids come along. Dayen will never suffer the wrath of the middle child. For that reason alone, don't feel bad for your oldest.

Maybe this is all things you already knew and this didn't help at all, but ultimately this is the point I want to make: squash that mom guilt right out of you. It's not serving you. Everything is going to be great. Hard, tiring, and crazy sometimes, but great. Pinky promise.

More than your weight

It's kind of a fad right now to be "real" on social media. Being "real" means you occasionally post a selfie without makeup, where you still look really cute, or post about one of your struggles that you have been telling everyone IRL about anyways.
I don't think those things really count. So I'm going to attempt to be really real with you for a second.
Right now, 3 months-post-second-baby, I weigh the most I have ever weighed in my life. 
And it doesn't take long to realize that for that simple fact, the world wants you to feel like garbage.
And if I put all my self confidence into that number on a scale, then it's true: I must have less worth right now than I've ever had in my life. Right?
Ugh. It's hard. It's hard to break out of that cycle of believing that your worth has anything at all to do with your pant size.
It doesn't.
And I won't pretend to be some perfect, totally self-actualized person on the subject. But since no one else is really saying it, I will.
IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER.
Your health, yes. It matters. Your comfort? Sure.
But there is SO much more.
There is your endless list of talents. The things you do better than anyone you know, but you don't spend much time thinking about that because you're spending too much time (and "too much" really, is any time at all) thinking about your weight, wishing you looked like someone else.
There is your family. Parents, siblings, husband, kids, pets, whatever you have. They matter. They matter so much more, but let's face it, sometimes they get pushed to the side while we focus on getting swimsuit-ready, or obsess over that relief-society arm.
There are millions of books to be read, movies to be seen, conversations to be had, hobbies to be tried, pictures to be taken, lives to be lived and those things, those moments, have absolutely nothing to do with your weight.
Nothing.
Are the people who love you most going to love you more if you lose weight?
Of course not. And if they do, then find new friends.
Your life is not being lived in a "before" photo. We've all seen them. An overweight, unsmiling person, who claims that when they had that extra fat on their body, they were completely unhappy. It's like they weren't born until they lost the weight. THEN they started living. So we see that, over and over, and we think, I can't wait. I am going to lose weight, and then I can start living too.
I can say, even when I weighed my lowest (which was like, 7 lbs, and that's just totally unattainable) I was never totally happy with my body. And this voice in the back of my mind reminds me of that all the time. My goal weight looms in front of me like this beacon, but I know that even if I reach it, I won't suddenly start loving all my flaws. I won't ACTUALLY be a better person. I'll just be a skinnier person.
And the more I think about it, the more I am convinced: it just doesn't matter.
So go ahead and focus on you. Take your me-time. Exercise, if you like to exercise, and eat good food because it's good for you. Quit soda because it made you feel bad. Eat treats only on a special occasion.
But stop, stop thinking your life doesn't matter when you're "fat".
It matters just as much.
You're living it, right now, whether you are happy with your body or not.
So be happy with it. Love yourself. Go kiss those babies that gave you some extra weight, enjoy that brownie instead of shaming yourself for eating it, and don't believe the lie that if the number on the scale creeps up, the things you do won't matter quite as much.
You are worth so much more than your weight.