The Mother Freakin’ Sleep Over

I know! I know! I know! “What happens at the MFP’s house…stays at the MFP’s house.” BUT…I have to let the world know that I have the most amazing, beautiful, fun friends in the whole universe.

I have friends that will dance with bunnies, draw on bodies, sing with giant spoons, sport a new “do”, dance in my living room, try on sundresses, bring delicious food, kick my arse, and read directions when I no longer can. My friends will sit on the front step in the wee hours of the morning, take fun pictures, giggle, share secrets, paint fingernails, and sprinkle each other with glitter. These gals will do yoga and ballet on my sidewalk, try new things (sometimes more then once – just to make sure they don’t like it), plus bring me flowers and candles that give me fond memories of my grandma. They will guess how many vacuums I own, let me fall asleep on their lap, and leave love notes around my house to find when I wake up.

This is what my life is all about. It’s about not being afraid to share who I am and letting people share themselves with me. To my friends who made it to the Mother Freakin’ Sleepover….I love you! To my friends who could not come….I love you and missed you!

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Extra Baggage

Okay. I am about to admit something to the whole world. It is something that is hard for me to admit, because while my true friends see me up close and personal, some of you only know me by the internet or what you remember about me from a long, long time ago. Here it goes…..

I AM OVER WEIGHT! I am not talking the just ten pounds, or “firming” up kind of over weight. I’m talking forty-pounds-of-WAY-too-much-fat kind of over weight. I have been embarrassed by it since I became over weight in the summer of 1992. For those of you who have not followed my blog, that is the summer I was pregnant, was in a car accident, fractured my spine and pelvis, suffered nerve damage, and lost my baby.

I have been careful about pictures I post and tag myself in on Facebook. I have even been careful of actually meeting some of my Facebook friends in person. Some of you I still would not have met in person if it wasn’t for your little surprise meetings…Lord knows what you all would say about me when you see more then a face shot. I could not even think about the judging and the crappy things that might be said behind my back. “Wow! She sure the hell got fat.” But today was a miracle:

Today I was in my third car accident. (If we don’t count the time I didn’t have my license and my drunk father decided I “needed to learn how to drive” on a gravel road by Lake Sara and went into a ditch.)

Today I was stared at by someone in another car. I waved and hollered, “What the heck! Why are people staring at me!” My eight year old responded, “Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful.” I giggled. My fourteen year old step-daughter chimed in, “Well, you are pretty.”

Today one of my friends who also struggles with her weight admitted that she did NOT un-tag herself from photos on Facebook. That she is who she is. She was at the MFbbq and if she un-tags herself then she would “disappear” from the event, like she was never there. I admired her and respected her so much that I had no words to say to her. I was in awe of her inner beauty (and honestly she is really super physically pretty too).

And last, but not least, today a friend who is in the “just ten pounds or firming up” category was called fat. And to that I say…..srsly, what the…?!?!?!?

So, no more un-tagging or not tagging for me. I am still losing weight. It is weight that I gained a long, long time ago. It weight that I have lost and regained and will someday permanently release and let go of. I am who I am and…

I am the Mother Freakin’ Princess. I have weight to lose and friends to gain, lives to touch, and reasons to make people smile.

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The Inner Princess

As you can tell, I have an inner-princess. She’s been with me my whole life. When I was young we were almost inseparable. It was difficult for people to tell us apart. Many times people would confuse me with her, saying things like “You are such a pretty princess.” or “Just look at you in that dress, what a little princess you are.” I didn’t mind the mix-up. I always thought my princess was pretty freaking awesome and wished I was able to let her out every day. The older I got, the less people saw of her. It was time to grow up and become an adult. It was time to leave the dreams of big parties, fancy dresses, and prince charming behind me. But inside me, she still remained.

I’ve been letting my inner-princess out more often again. Wearing my tiara to classy places like Costco, Target, and play dates at the park. The reactions I get have been much more positive then I had imagined. People smile and some times make really cute comments. The fact that I can brighten someone’s day just by wearing a tiara and smiling at them makes me giggle. It has started to make me think about our inner-selves. I am certain I am not the only one with something great inside of me. We all have it. We all have that super hero waiting to come out. We were made to be spectacular. We were made to do good things. I was born to be a princess, and all I want to know is what’s inside of you? What kind of super hero do you have itching to get out? Let your freak flag fly and give your super hero a chance today :)

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Lost and Found

Have you ever lost a friend? Not because of something cruel or any sort of wrong-doing, but just because you let them slip away? I have. I’ve lost several. I miss them all and think of them often. I wonder what they are up to, if they are enjoying life. I wonder if they are struggling and needing a shoulder to cry on. I wonder if they remember me, as I remember them.

Thanks to Facebook, I have been blessed to find several of my lost friends. This weekend I was even able to reclaim one of them person. We got to swap old memories, dance, sing, and celebrate each other. It has made me incredibly happy to have found this friend and I am determined to never lose her again…I love you Christine Martenson-Wiorek, thank you for being my friend.

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Behind the 10k

I ran a 10k race this weekend. When I was at my race I looked around at all the runners and thought of their stories. I wondered why they were running. Did they have something to prove? What were their challenges? How did their training go? I wondered which of the runners had stories like mine. I wanted to know how many of them fought for this race. I wanted to know how much this race meant to each and every one of them.

For you see, I haven’t always been a runner. In fact when first I signed up for cross country running in seventh grade, I’m not even sure I knew what cross country was. I remember my dad chuckling at the thought of me running every day after school because I was the kid who walked most of the mile run in gym class. Even during the first part of that cross country season I walked during my races. Something changed for me mid-year. I found out that I could run and I did enjoy it. I became strong and fast. What started for me as a way to spend more time away from home became a sport that I loved. In my new found love of running I was part of an amazing team. My cross country team was made up of great, fun loving people. I was happy when I ran and I could see myself running for the rest of my life. I began to have hopes and dreams of some day running a marathon.

After high school, I took a break from running. I was busy trying to figure out how to be an adult. I had a job and stuff to do. While I never totally forgot my dream of running a marathon, my focus shifted. Then Friday night, July 24th, 1992 my dreams of running a marathon were taken away from me by force. I was in a car accident that broke my pelvis, fractured two of my vertebrae, left me with nerve damage, and toes that no longer worked. Worse of all I had been about thirty six weeks pregnant. I was due to have my first child in about a month. On July 25th I gave birth to my still born daughter, Shea Marie.

I spent years in depression. I was in so much physical and mental pain I sometimes still wonder how I survived. I was told by doctors that there was nothing they could do for the nerve damage, but slowly, year by year, I started to heal. There were eventually times I didn’t need a cane to walk. There were eventually days where I didn’t burst out in random tears and cry myself to sleep at night. I started to dream of running again.

Each year I would strap on my running shoes and try. It was hard. Physically my body didn’t want to work. I would run a block and my foot would cramp up. I would spend the rest of the day fighting the massive cramps in my foot and crying from the pain. I pressed on. I forced it time and time again. I had decided that I would run again, that physically I would heal.

It has taken me almost sixteen years of small victories and painful setbacks, but I ran my first race since high school this weekend. I was nervous and afraid. I ran the whole way and while my time was a far cry from where it used to be, I’m proud. I finished my race and proved to myself that I can do it. This race was not only for me. I dedicated this race to my daughter, Shea Marie.

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