Lifestyle – Page 4

Year 2, Week 25.5: Work Ethic, for the Record.

While I was half-way through my evaluations of 100+ student writing assessments, I could feel his two blue eyes boring into mine. As if his beckoned mine to attention, I felt my eyebrows begin a dance of surprise, and then suspicion.

“What’s up?” I asked tentatively.
“Nothing. I’m just loving you.”

Who says that? And why does it make me so awkward? All the romance novels I’ve read get this all wrong. It’s like his marriage proposal all over again. When he didn’t laugh at my joke, I realized it was for real. Cue butterflies and sweaty palms.

“..Okayy.. That’s really sweet, but I’m not really doing anything worthy of such an outpouring at the moment.” (God’s grace, anyone? Receiving love when you feel you didn’t do anything to earn it?)

He just kept looking and smiling. He eventually walked away and I felt like I could breathe again. If I had only been drinking red wine at the time, maybe I would have been a bit more suave in my reception of his affection? I don’t want him to feel like it’s not appreciated and dissuade such a courtship.

And then this happened again the next day! But this time, as I was into my 17th essay of the day with bedtime approaching, he had something to say, which I can work with.

“You work really hard.”

It meant a lot to hear him say that. I had been grading so many essays in such a short amount of time, that to hear him acknowledge it seemed to give me even more energy to finish. With a grin, I agreed with him, and affirmed, “Yeah, we do work really hard. I don’t think we’d be together if we didn’t have the work ethic we do.” Future Cody and Ania, I hope you remember that praise goes way further than criticism, especially when babies come into the mix.

Real talk for a second though – I’m also secretly starting to get a little nervous. This whole work ethic/working a lot thing hasn’t just been going on in my own life – he has been getting interrupted sleep himself, having to check for code bugs at midnight.. 3am.. 5am.. It’s been cute to hear him figure out ways to stay in bed but also keep the bright light of broken code away from my sleeping eyes. I also know, however, that the boy is human and the boy needs sleep. SO between the two of us working longer hours than normal, this Christmas will be a very welcome break. This may sound facetious, but I do not want to feel like the computer, or work, or our individual pursuits, are coming between us. But this is what we do – we work our asses off in the winter, hustling among 6 different jobs (between the 2 of us) – so that we can buy plane tickets to explore the world. We climb the mountains with 60 lbs packs up the last 1,000 ft. so that we can enjoy the panoramas together. It’s exhausting, but ultimately worth it.

And, Jesus, it now occurs to me that if I replace “computer” with “future baby,” this sounds like a foreshadowing of what’s to come in a couple years. What’s an added 20 lbs of smiles and poop and cuddles? We can do that.

I want to finish with this.

Let the record state that, in this week of our marriage, Cody did say the following words:

“You know, it’s actually a good thing that I can still function and wake up at weird hours of the night. A baby will need that. I can be that.”

Yes, you surely can be, Cody, baby. 😉

Year 2, Week 24: Thanks, Daddy

This last weekend in Chicago ushered in our first snowfalls and the freezing temperatures. I had to work early on Sunday morning to play at Mass, so the snow was still freshly fallen on the relatively short distance (~2 blocks) between my parents’ house and the church. I was prepared to walk the way (nothing like shock to your lungs to wake someone up for singing). When I drove up to my parents’ house, Dad was already out shoveling the back walk-way. After some exchanged pleasantries, Dad casually asked if I was going to walk or drive to church; I didn’t really think anything of it when I told him I’d be walking. I went inside the house to wrap my fingers around a warm cup of tea. Even though I just left from my home, there’s nothing quite like coming home to Mom and Dad’s. I think even their lemons make the tea sweeter.

When I walked out of the house, Dad smiled and said, “Well, that’s the best I could do with my back.” When I looked, I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how amazing he was, but we’re European and have a hard time saying “I love you” so I just thanked him and told him I’d see him later.

The man had shoveled a straight path as far as the eye could see from our house to the church, so that my feet could have a clear way to Jesus.

And now tell me again that my expectations for my husband may be too high? It’s my dad who gave them to me. He has been my first (and, in many cases, only) example of what it means to be treated with dignity, respect, and worth – as if I’m worth a cleared path on a cold Sunday morning when he should definitely be sleeping in instead. But, thanks to my dad, I feel like I am.

So when Cody went outside to shovel without any prompting from me, I knew the adage is true – A girl finds a man who reminds her of her father. And what’s so exciting for me is that Cody only shows glimmers of what he could be – what I know he will be – and that’s pretty darn remarkable.

Year 2, Week 22.5: How I Won NaNoWriMo 2016

A teacher asked us one year as a “First Day of School” icebreaker what our biggest dream was. I was last to answer, and mine was pretty far-out: “I want to write a best-selling novel one day.”

That became “I want to write a novel one day” and, after hearing my father-in-law tell me with zero doubts in his voice, “You know – you’d write a great book” I decided “one day” wasn’t good enough for me anymore. I hated being all talk and absolutely zero action. I committed to NaNoWriMo – writing 50,000 words in 30 days, with the hope that the first draft of a first novel would be born.

In it’s most basic form of understanding, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month and, in it’s painful form of explanation, it forced me to confront all the ugly parts about the creative process: the doubts, the uncertainty of whether I could even do this, and the temptation to use excuses of “not enough time” or “writer’s block.”

I learned so much about myself in 30 days – here are 6 ways how.

My husband really is my biggest fan. The man stood there like the father he will be one day, demanding I put my cellphone in his hands because it was distracting me. Again. But he’s also the first one to light up in a smile when I tell him I met my daily word count (1,667 per day, to stay on track). He was able to express physically what I felt mentally: pure joy at me embracing what he (we) always saw as my potential.
I learned who I don’t feel like I have to “please.” As a perfectionist, this is huge. I usually do not like sharing ANYTHING until it is ready for admiring eyes, so if you saw my long-faced SnapChats or I sent you a text message asking for prayers or I saw you and grinned, telling you of my progress, that means I am deeply convinced that you would still love me, even if I completely failed and gave up halfway through November. But it’s precisely because I told you that I’m pretty sure I made it. I wanted YOU as motivation because, even though you would have still loved me, I did not want to let you down. So thank you. Ideally, personalized Thank You cards will soon be in the mail.

Special shout-out to my co-workers in the teacher’s lounge who would ask me what my characters were up to that day. In many cases, what we would discuss often-times fueled that evening’s writing.
I learned how to shut off my “inner editor” – that voice that would keep telling me things like “That sentence was stupid” or “That word is so elementary; you’re an English teacher for crying out loud – how could you not be more precise?” By Day 20 when I was 5000+ words behind, however, I didn’t have time for the inner editor. She needed to go, because I needed to write. Fast. (As a result, I also learned how to write faster. Thank Jesus, because I never would have “made it” otherwise).
I learned how to make writing – this often elusive desire and never a concrete practice – a priority. I look back and wonder how I was able to write SO much in such a short amount of time with so many other responsibilities. Turns out that with less TV and way less Facebook and more intentional, prioritized, scheduled “me” time, I was able to do it just fine (and without losing any sleep!). I needed to stop flaking out on that part of myself that just wanted to write. If a part of me kept feeling like the kid that kept getting ditched, well, that stinks, so I had to start showing up.
I really love writing by myself in coffee shops. The vibe makes me feel like I’m legit. Also coffee makes my fingers move faster. Can’t say the same for my brain, but I try.
Students began coming up to me and asking them if I could give them tips for writing a book. Who, me? But I’m not even published yet (Shh, inner editor.. Shh.) One student even wrote her own 30,000 words, with no intention of slowing down. The day she was 3000+ words ahead of me on word count, I knew I had to get back on track. Competition is the best motivation, I’m telling ya – even when it’s against a 14 year old who doesn’t realize she just started a fire under your butt 😀

In short (ha! I’m even more long-winded now than I was before), I guess I just wanted it bad enough. I don’t want Cody to feel like the kid that keeps getting ditched, so I choose to keep showing up to my marriage, too. Turns out the hard work is worth it – and it gave me plenty of material for the first draft of my very first novel.

We’ll see where this gravy train takes us.

Year 2, Week 19: No more “Someday”

Freshman year of high school: “I dream of writing a best-selling novel.”
Senior year of high school: “Before I’m thirty, I hope I’ll have published a book.”
Sophomore year of college: “I’ll start writing when I have more time.”
Senior year of college: “…What is time, really? Is it real? I’ll write when I’m older.”
First year out of college: “I have to focus on being a good teacher, first.”
A week ago: “What if I become pregnant and I only have nine months to write a book before I really don’t have time to write? I am so sick of saying ‘Someday.’ Might as well just do this thing.”

So I started writing a novel, using NaNoWriMo as a guide, mentor, and structured stress motivator. I was tired of Cody always asking every New Years Eve, “So.. New Year’s resolution.. writing a book this time?” Supportive husbands, amiright? I kept telling him that, someday, when I put my mind to it, I’ll do it. I’m happy to report that I am writing an average of 1,679 words a day, for a grand total so far of 11,756 words. I’m thinking of updating my progress here. Don’t ask what’s driving me to write because I think it’s really just my past self’s prayers for future and present me. I’m genuinely enjoying the writing process and have WifeReflections to thank for that.

Very seriously, the messages of encouragement and validation that I have received from so many different people from totally different walks of life have kept me updating this blog week by week. Who knew people would be interested in the realities of my relationship? It is so humbling and magnificent to experience. Thank you.

I don’t mean to make this post seem so short and flippant, but I really need to sleep and prove that I met my word count so Cody will give me my phone back. It’s so past my bed time. Maybe I’ll be so busy working on this “book” that Cody will have to update his very own husband reflection next week. Stay tuned!

Year 2, Week 17: “How Many Kids Do We Have Again?”

Last Thursday we received text messages from some of the kiddos in our lives. One was from a sixth grader who’s just started playing basketball and was excited to invite us to a 7:45pm game the following Friday night, and the other text was sent by our sophomore Poms girl who wanted to know if I could come see her perform at the football half-time show a few hours earlier on the same day.

Of course I said yes. It didn’t matter that my free Friday night just turned into a definitely-not-free Friday night, or that I had told them I’d be there without consulting Cody (FYI the result would have been the same, it’s just respectful to ask whether he had any expectations for the weekend and compromise from there). When I told Cody that I’d be going to our sweet sophomore’s game and then we’d go to our niece’s game later, Cody just smiled and asked, “How many kids do we have again?”

“How many kids do we have again?”

It was a perfect response to something he could have rolled his eyes at, or begun complaining about (“But it’s a Friday night…”). Instead, he so perfectly summed up why it was important for us to go -of course we’d go show our support on a Friday night because we love the young people in our lives as closely as if they could be our own. It’s what we do.

The half-time show was awesome. The girls’ kick line was really impressive and our sweet sophomore’s smile was enough to warm my heart, even if my fingers were frosting over. When I met Cody at home a little while later, we were able to chit-chat about our work-day and then we left for our niece’s game.

A moment I especially love happened during the basketball game. There was a girl who didn’t look like your “typical” athlete on the opposing team (whatever the hell that even means) – and it was clear to us that she was new to the sport, but it was even clearer that she was super self-conscious. In the defense of her authenticity, you could also tell she tried not to let that tween awkwardness stop her, either. With the game tied at 11, we watched that same young girl score the penultimate point and witnessed the glow-up of the century: the big smile, the high-fives from her teammates, and the fact that, with only 2 minutes remaining in the game, she was leading her team to victory. It was quite a magical moment to see. Cody and I both grinned. With all the goodness behind his voice, he quietly said, “Good for her.” I affirmed, “That girl’s weekend is made.” It was a small moment in our witness, but it was a big one in this human being’s experience. The fact that Cody and I both reacted the same way to this girl’s success tells me all I didn’t realize I needed to feel – that, as future parents, we may not always say the same things, but we’re usually on the same wavelength.

Ultimately, however, in hindsight, what wasn’t said is more important than what was.

Here’s what he never said:
“Why did you bring me here?”
“How long is this going to be?”
“This is painful to watch.”
“She is painful to watch.”
“Poor girl.”

Instead, we focused on the positive. So they’re not that great yet? That’s okay. At least they have a reason to run back and forth. And, sometimes -stupendously- experience such empowering moments that even the sleepy adults in the stands notice. I’m just glad it was my husband who noticed right alongside with me. Pretty cool stuff.

Year 2, Week 16: “Bed time is the best time!”

This last New Year’s Eve, Cody and I decided that, in addition to our own individual New Year’s resolutions, we’d also create “Couple Goals.” In that Goals list were things like cooking healthier meals with fresher ingredients, creating and maintaining budgets, and even setting a regular bed time that we’d follow.

It’s this regular bed time that I want to reflect on this week.

I would not be the relatively high-functioning, usually kind and happy-go-lucky person if I did not receive at least 7 hours and 15 minutes of sleep every night (yes, I’ve noticed the pattern and no, it does not make me lame). Waking up with enough dream-juice in the tank helps me do everything I need to do with hundreds of different personalities every day (yay, teaching!). Without it, I am simply a lesser version of myself, and that’s not cool for anybody. I become shorter-tempered and eat way more than I need to. And I am way too much of a control-freak to be ruled by the monster that is Lack of Sleep.

So at 8:30pm, an alarm goes off on Cody’s phone reminding us to clean-up around the house (any clothes on the floor or dishes that need to be washed are ideally tended to at this time). This alarm is boring.

At 9:05, however, another alarm sings, heralding my absolute favorite time of the day. Bed Time.*

*Hilarious, because I remember never falling asleep at my parents-requested 9pm bedtime. I realize now this was their bed-time, not mine. Sorry, Dad.

Sometime around 9:30, I make a big show of diving into all the covers and smile up at Cod as he closes the door for the night. “Bed time is the best time!” I always sing. And he laughs every time and joins me in the sea of blankets.

“Bed time is the best time!”

It’s either the over-tiredness or complete comfort we feel in each other’s presence, but I swear we’re at our funniest right before bed. We crank out the punniest jokes and find ways to make lighter those rougher days. We literally find a way to laugh out the bad stuff.

It’s crazy to point out, though, that I never would have realized how important our bed-time ritual is to our marriage if we had not spent this weekend away from home. I would have continued to take it completely for granted. Instead, my in-laws (parents and grands) commented the next morning on what they heard before we fell asleep after our 2:30am arrival:

We couldn’t stop giggling.

And this is a regular thing – but because I hadn’t had a chance to stop to appreciate it, I kept taking it for granted.

Bed time is the best time because my bed-time is full of security and snuggles and so so so so so much laughter. I believe it’s a testament to how vulnerable and open we have become with each other, and I couldn’t feel more blessed to have it this way.

So if you ever invite us over to your home to spend the night, apparently you will have noises keeping you up for a little while. But don’t worry – I hear laughter is contagious.

Year 2, Week 14: Prayer and Play

This week was the week of miracles – big and small. And it all stemmed from our decision to first let our knees hit the ground and then permit our feet to leap the concrete.

Two weeks ago, we found out some really sad news that Cody’s beloved Nana received an unfortunate diagnosis of cancer. We heard that the doctor told her it’s very likely the cancer began in the torso and then manifested into a tumor, which was not good to hear. This news suggested that the cancer had spread to areas that would prevent the recovery we’d obviously hope for. Cody was understandably broken up by the news.

So I decided to be recklessly hopeful.

I realized the St. Therese of Lisieux novena would be beginning soon, the memory of a woman who lived by the ideal that one can do ordinary things with extraordinary love. Those she lived with didn’t take her seriously as a young woman in the convent, but Therese did her thing anyway. I guess you can say she was the original enforcer of the “kill them with kindness” rule. When she was diagnosed with tuberculosis, she promised a shower of roses. Let me share why this is significant.

The Society of the Little Flower writes, “Shortly after her death, the rain of roses began. Sometimes roses literally appeared, and sometimes just the fragrance of them. Cures of painful and fatal diseases and many other miraculous experiences were attributed to her intercession. Sometimes people found inner peace and regained an inner warmth of spirit and confidence, by appealing to St. Therese. Many miracles and actions of St. Therese do not involve roses. More often than not, marvelous things happen in people’s lives as they ask for her heavenly intercession. The miracles, healings and inner peace come from the trust one places in God, not from any manifestation of roses…. Roses are Therese’s signature. It is her way of whispering to those who need a sign that she has heard, and God is responding. Thousands of people have given witness to the way Therese responds to their petitions and prayers with grace and roses. The grace is more important than the roses.”

I absolutely agree that the grace is more important than the roses, but the fact that roses were every where during this novena convince me this isn’t a farce. We can argue all day about roses being popular flowers, but each day presented a rose in some form.

The night after I began the novena (around 10pm), I remember looking at my bare rose bush in my backyard and hearing my growing cynical voice whispering, “Well, that’s nice. It’ll blossom by the 9th day of the novena. That’ll be a great coincidence.”

After I had prayed the next morning very specifically for a miraculous Nana healing, I was shocked to open my door into my backyard to see three fully blossomed roses on my rose bush. I knew right away I was being listened to – and my faith grew with the petals. I continued to reach out to my closest soul friends and faithful family and I felt my optimism grow, almost dangerously. If this “miracle” wasn’t going to happen, at least I knew I had thrown myself into it. It’s literally the least I could do, with Nana being so far away and my husband’s long face right next to me.

I kept up the praying on the daily, and each day I saw roses in the most unexpected places. Then, on the last day of the novena, we received wonderful news that Nana’s torso CT is clear! The joy I still feel is more relieving than it is overwhelming. First, for obvious reasons that our prayers did something – they truly made a difference. Second, I desperately needed a reminder that God is real. I know we still have more praying to do, but this experience was enough to help remind me and Cody that God really is listening, regardless of what the majority of the world says. You just have to have a little faith.

That was the big miracle.
Here’s the little one.

Last Thursday, I asked Cody if he wanted to go for a walk with me; the weather is beginning to transition to its all-too-familiar blue-grey hue and I needed to feel like I could still go outside if I felt like it. And I felt like it.

After walking in silence for some time, I turned to Cody and asked if he wanted to run for a little while. He grinned and said he will always choose to run if I want to (despite the super nice dress shoes he had on), so I took off at a light jog. Before long, I realized he wasn’t beside me, or even right behind me, so I turned around to see what the hold-up was. He had disappeared, but I didn’t worry – he’s quite the joker. I half-expected him to be running parallel to me on the other side of the block, so I decided to keep up my jog anyway. I would surprise him.

All of a sudden, I heard jingling keys and pumping arms. I turned back and almost tripped because of the laugh that caught in my throat. He was leaping the concrete paths of people’s front lawns and landing on the cool grass, only to let it propel him farther on. I don’t know why I thought this was the funniest image I had seen in a while; maybe it reminded me of when I would run around my neighborhood and be hundreds of feet in front of my friends, feeling the adrenaline of being free. It didn’t matter that we weren’t really going anywhere – just that we were simply going.

This week, prayer made us a little wiser,
play made us 17 and 21 again,

and I swear it made me love him more.

14524565_10154515264096894_8981201215433861681_o

Year 2, Week 12: And the wall came crumbling down

The scariest part was not realizing how tall the wall was getting. The best part was realizing even the tallest walls can be knocked down.

The scariest part is realizing I didn’t even know when the wall started coming back. I say “coming back” because I know exactly when it came down the first time. You’d think it was a few months after we met, when I fell head over heels and sent my single card back to Cupid. It usually happens that way, right? You find The One, trust him with everything you own and live happily ever after. That’s the narrative we hear and believe, but it wasn’t the story I was living. No, my wall was still standing straight, tall and proud, right until a few weeks before our wedding.

I realized I had a choice to make – either continue to protect my heart like I had been doing (But what happens if he leaves!? I can’t afford to spend time picking up broken pieces! It’s better to keep the styrofoam or un-poppable bubble wrap tight around me for as long as I can) OR I can love the man with everything I have and make our marriage worth protecting.

And so with my decision to be open to whatever may come our way, my wall came tumbling down – and the results were better than I had imagined. Because I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable (which basically means you walk around with your underwear showing the whole time and trust the man not to give you a wedgie), I felt more love and more magic than if I had only let him visit me through the window that only opened between 7:30 and 7:45 every morning. If you want to visualize vulnerability a bit more romantically, it’s like giving him a shovel to the soul that is your garden where he can either sow fruit or wreak poisonous havoc. Thankfully, my guy likes apples.

In hindsight, I see the sign clearly marking the construction site for The Wall somewhere between “I’m the happiest wife ever” and “You want to go to Mexico for three months?” But, in the moment, the wall sprang up and the only way I recognized it was when I was surprised to find my old friends (disinterest and defensiveness) had returned. I found in myself…

…a lack of curiosity in things he found fascinating (why should I think it’s interesting if he’s just going to leave for Mexico?)

….muffled laughter and shy smiles (How in the world can he be so happy right now, when our relationship is about to be separated by hundreds of miles?) Yes, I know, the drama queen was alive and well; I’m not proud.

…spending way more time on things I enjoyed versus spending time at home (for distraction? So I could start getting used to spending time on my own, now that he’d be away?)

Long story short, the defense mechanisms were at high alert and ready to fire. I lost my sensitivity, my empathy and, most undesirably, my willingness to sacrifice.

This all led to an unhappy wife and a confused husband.

I reached out to an “unofficial” mentor of ours and he said very simply, “Dinner and communication. Talk at dinner. Turn off the TV and sit at the table together.” And so I threw myself into those little moments. This video helped nudge a small stone from the structure, hitting me squarely in the forehead so I would pay attention.

I would try and squeeze his hand back when it rested on my lap. I would look into his eyes when he was telling me something he found thought-provoking (apparently My Wall keeps eyes from connecting). I would stop to text him “Love you” in the middle of the day (I had stopped, I realized, to “train” for the days I wouldn’t be able to talk to him for days while he’d be away).

And, finally, I put down my own wants when he needed me this week. It was this last experience that shook the wall and struck the largest bricks down. By putting my own worries aside to help Cody (I didn’t get to relax on the couch but drove instead to retrieve him from a train station tucked deeper in the city than our nearest depot), I realized he hasn’t gone any where, and I cannot decide to stop being a receptive wife now just because I’m worried that I won’t know how to be a good wife from far away.

This last month has taught me a lot about myself and my marriage. If you’re still reading (and aren’t my husband or immediate family and friends), I commend you. There’s a lot of yucky stuff in here. But it’s all true. The crazy part is, I haven’t even shared the deepest roots of what we’re working through together. This is just the muck at the surface. Maybe our metaphorical microscope will reveal it in the future. But maybe it just doesn’t need to be. The wall is down for now, and I couldn’t be more relieved.

I love this photo because it's a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody's own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. — I love this photo because it’s a capture of a Sunday that sees some papers to grade with time out buttons that magically appear after I write down some arbitrary grade that is supposed to rate the thoughts of a human being I am only beginning to know. I press the desk on my way to Cody’s own work station on the floor, and nuzzle my head into his shoulder to remind him that his words are the ones I fell in love with first. Instagram @theaniassey

Year 2, Week 9: I choose not to grow a marriage gut

Cody bought me running shoes for Christmas last year. I was grateful for the gift – I was pleasantly surprised that he remembered me saying I needed new shoes to be active in, but I was also a bit intimidated – the bright white, light-weight soles were clearly scolding, “You have to be a serious runner to wear me!” I half expected the B logos to sound the alert – “Fraud!” – the moment I slipped the shoes on my feet.

But on a January day when the temperature finally broke freezing, I put on my fleece sweater, windbreaker pants, ankle socks, and brand new shoes. One of my colleagues had told me a few weeks earlier about how she’s been using the C25k app to start running more frequently. I was intrigued, simply because I realized I needed to start using the shoes that Cody bought me weeks beforehand. The way my friend explained it made it almost sound appealing: The c25k app basically assumes you have had zero running experience – I didn’t – and trains you to be able to run 5k in ~10 min. mile – which I thought would be kind of nice. Cody’s always talking about goals and stuff, so here was one. I could wear the shoes and that’d be that.

So, on a cloudy and relatively warm 37 degree day after work (in Chicago, you take what you can get) I chose to start my C25k training. Walking for 90 seconds and running for 60 almost didn’t seem too bad. I tried to ignore the ears stinging with cold, but I didn’t want to give Cody a reason to think his marriage to my wimpy ears or his generous purchase was bought in vain, so I kept going. I wanted to show my husband that I truly appreciated his generous gift. In the mean time, I was literally giving my heart a much-needed loving after some (much) neglect. I appreciated my warm home when I closed the workout tab on my phone.

Cody received my completed workout report (he’s one of my Runkeeper app “friends” via the MyFitnessPal app). His reaction was so simple: “Hey! Look at you!”

I can’t believe how much his simple comment fueled my motivation to keep going. Never underestimate the power of simple affirmation. Behind his four-word message was an entire high school band where trumpets were triumphantly blaring and I was the one who just scored the game-winning touchdown.

The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me. — The shoes that started it all and the peanut-butter chocolate chip flapjacks that fueled me the day of the 5k.

Because of his support and because of MY choice to slip on the shoes he bought (even though I didn’t think I’d like running or even had the energy for it), I did run my first 5k.

Since that day, I have run a second 5k with one of my best friends, jogged in the sweltering Arkansas sun (who am I?!), and CHOSEN to wake up before sunrise on a Wednesday morning.

So what am I getting at? I guess my main message is that Cody supports my choices.

She needs shoes? Fine.
I decide to run? Awesome.
A 5k? ..that costs how much? Okay.

She wants to go to Montana for 10 days without me?
Well, duh, she should go. But I’ll miss her. The reunion will be sweet 🙂

An improv class? $450? Omg.
Yeah, okay, go have fun.

Did she really just call her new pairs of shoes “school supply shopping”?
She is on her feet all day as a teacher. I get it.

She is working late again?
What a boss. That’s why God made weekends.
I’m glad she likes what she does.

The choice to be active with my husband is also a very important choice we’ve been making. We’re trying to keep our hearts healthy so we can enjoy more years together.

Not to mention the weird motivation that’s come out of nowhere: “Ania, run one more block. It’s so your baby can have a healthy Momma.” My baby is still just an idea, but she’s already pushing me to be better. Crazy.

Just this past Saturday we decided to walk the mile to the local park, play tennis, and go swim some laps in the pool. No marriage gut for us!