To The Woman Who's Mashed Potatoes Saved My Life............

When I was pregnant with my first child, my little bitty daughter, I decided I would like to have a birth without the use of pain relievers or other interventions. Just to make things clear, I'm not here to advocate for 'natural' child birth or not.....I don't really care what you choose to do and that's another post for another time anyway (maybe, if I feel like it, probably not though). So there's no need for me to explain why I decided to go this route but I did and it's somewhat important in understanding how mashed potatoes saved my life.

So, while I was pregnant some things happened and my Doctor saw it best that my labor be induced. Which required the use of pitocin which makes labor (already hard) even harder, and I've done it both ways so I'm confident the devil actually brews pitocin in the pits of hell and that labor is in fact significantly harder with pitocin. If you haven't picked up on it yet, my labor and delivery was hard and I was tired and hungry and also pretty proud of myself and felt deserving of a feast. But alas, if only childbirth were the hardest part of parenting. I stay in the hospital a few days, and finally get to come home.

Upon arriving home, me and my newborn fell deep in love and cuddled and I nursed her and rocked her to sleep and NONE OF THIS IS TRUE. I was still tired and hungry and struggling to nurse and my baby was also tired and hungry and struggling to nurse and my husband was also tired and hungry and struggling to know how to continue to provide encouragement to nurse to the both of us. Through our church, we were signed up on a list of people who had recently been in the hospital and there are people that volunteer to bring you meals. It was like magic. People brought us meals, food, good food that we didn't cook but we ate and we didn't leave our house and we didn't get dressed but we ate. So I continue to struggle with nursing and my confidence and wherewithal are deteriorating. However, just in the nick of time a lady knocks on my door. A woman in her late 50's maybe, attractive, well put together, wearing a red coat and tasteful makeup, is standing outside on my front porch with a bag full of food. I'm in a robe and feeling sad (because motherhood) and not feeling in slightest bit social, but this woman comes right in my house without even asking. Right in my kitchen!

In my kitchen where she proceeds to turn on my oven, take out all of the food she has prepared which is pork tenderloin with a cherry reduction sauce, cooked carrots, sour cream mashed potatoes, strawberries, fresh whipped cream and some fancy hot chocolate that is not powdered but chocolate shavings that you whisk into hot milk! I'll never forget this menu as long as I live. She takes all the things out and places them in my oven or refrigerator respectively. Then she takes the hot chocolate and very casually says, will you look at this hot chocolate? It's so fancy, from some fancy store in the mall, William Soma something......anyway, you know how it is when you're trying to learn to nurse and you're so tired and so hungry but you can't really have coffee......anyway, my daughter's thought this hot chocolate really hit the spot. And then she left.

By some miracle, my baby is sleeping and the food is warmed. My husband makes us each a plate. I take a bite of those sour cream mashed potatoes, and life is breathed back into me. Those mashed potatoes saved my life. The hot chocolate and strawberries and whipped cream! After this meal, I believed I could live to see another day of motherhood.

I often think of this meal and that woman and how it made me feel. Whenever there is a sign up sheet to serve a family a meal, or when a friend or acquaintance has a baby or a stay in the hospital, I can't sign up fast enough. My menu, while slightly different is heavily influenced by this woman and is always the same: Maple glazed pork tenderloin, asparagus, sour cream mashed potatoes, chocolate pie, strawberries and fresh whipped cream.

So to the woman who's name I never caught, thank you for serving me one of, if not the best, meals of my life. This meal not only served me but many, many others along the way.

               

POWER YOUR OWN

COMPARISON IS THE THIEF OF JOY

We've all heard this. We all know this. We all know we shouldn't do it, for our own sake, because who really cares about anyone else. But are we aware at how deeply comparison can root itself into our lives??

Forgive me if this post seems a bit all over the place.....well, because I can see the the idea reaching into almost every aspect of life. Hopefully I'll delete both of these lines when I edit.

Power Your Own. This 'tag line' came to me when a lifter was extremely upset about the progress that had been made or not been made. What struck me most were a couple of comments. 1) "I'm sure you all are sick of hearing about this, seeing this, going through this...." 2) All I want is to look like like 'that' when I lift (in reference to another lifter). The first thing I thought was, "sick of what?"....which brings to me to my point. Comparison is the thief of joy. By comparing, we rob ourselves of the journey. We rob ourselves of learning. We rob ourselves from actually getting better at anything.

I have two young children. When it comes to learning, through my own life and through their lives, I can tell you that it doesn't matter how many times I try to tell them not to touch something hot, not to do something dangerous, not to do it this way or do it this way or do it that way. NONE OF IT MATTERS until they figure it out on their own. Their greatest growth and greatest moments come from struggle. The point of this is, I can't REALLY compare my own experiences to theirs and expect them to learn from it. It is my job as a parent (as I have decided anyway) to lead them down a path of discovering the power that exists within them. When we are young, adults have all the answers, They make every choice for us. Don't know what a word means? Ask your teacher. Don't know what to wear? Ask your Mom. Don't know how to change your oil? Ask your Dad. This becomes ingrained us from birth. We hammer dependent thinking into our children from the get go. Unfortunately this bleeds over into adulthood as comparison. Hmmmmmm, I'm a 30 year old adult with a college degree, I suppose I should have a 9-5 job and be married and have/or think about having children. BUT, what IF you don't wanna? Well I say, if you don't wanna, you don't gotta. BUT, if you don't, and let those societal 'rules' weigh in on you, let those friends of yours eat away at you, and let that social media get to you, you are letting comparison rob you of joy.

The same goes for lifting. I am guilty of it. Probably really guilty of it. I wasted a bunch of time chasing records and comparing myself to others as opposed to actually getting better. I also spent a bunch of time giving away credit for anything I did (still guilty of this). This is two different ends of the spectrum, but the other end rarely gets addressed and is something I think is a chronic trend among female athletes in particular. I haven't noticed it so much among male athletes, but it probably exist. Female achieves something great, she is awesome, everyone is paying attention to her. What's the first thing she does? GIVES EVERY OUNCE OF CREDIT AWAY. I encourage you to pay attention to the questions that are asked and the answers that are given in the media. She writes a recap, or a post or whatever with paragraph after paragraph of why everyone/everything else is responsible for her success except her. I'm kinda over that. I like having coaches, programming, training partners and all of their opinions, but at the end of the day, I'm the one that has to do the work. No one else is going to lift the weight, no one else is going to eat the food, no one else, not even my competitors, are going to motivate me become a better lifter except ME. I've accepted that responsibility, and I'm freakin pumped about it.

A fellow lifter, Dani Overcash, recently wrote a recap of her last meet, and it is exactly what 'power your own' means. It is your own identity. It is your own experience. It is accepting and believing in what you're capable of and being unapologetic about it. The moment you stop comparing yourself to others, the moment you decide you will only focus on yourself and your journey, that is when you will discover confidence. That is the moment you will stop robbing yourself of joy. That is the moment you will begin to power your own story.

#poweryourown