Resurrection and Reinvention.

You assume, of course, that I'm referring to Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and the Queen of Pop, Madonna.

I mean, they're sorta the poster children for Resurrection and Reinvention, don't you think? Or does the title belong to the artist formerly known as 'The Artist Formerly Known as Prince?'  I suppose it's a toss up because lord knows he's come back from the dead a time or two.

But you'd be wrong. I'm actually referring to something entirely different. After months of inactivity I'm breathing life back into this lowly little blog. A rebirth of sorts. It's no secret that I love to write. I love to share my thoughts and I honestly love blogging. But it is a giant time suck that needed to sit on the back burner for awhile so I could refocus on my family. Sometimes we just need a shift in our priorities to bring the notoriously elusive concept of balance back into our lives. If there is one thing I crave (besides fancy cheese, girl time and constant change) it's balance.

So why then, you ask, am I hopping back on the blog wagon? THAT, my friends is a very good question! I've been given a very exciting opportunity along with a small group of equally lucky ladies by RockStar Mom Stefanie Van Aken and her buddy Adam Gentz, founder of The Strength Center to 'Reinvent' myself. In a nutshell, we just scored 8 weeks of unlimited access to tremendous Personal Trainers filled with knowledge and serious muscles, hard core group classes, body fat assessments, nutrition counseling and more! All for the bargain price of zero dollars!

Freakin SA-WEEEET right?!?

Especially since we're inching closer and closer to summer and we happen to live in a town that's hotter than a whore in church which means that I, for one, spend an obscene amount of time in the skin tight, unforgiving Lycra better known as a swim suit.

I've come a long way baby since this post, where I disclosed my abhorrence and eventual acceptance of my marshmallow belly. I'm in a really good place both physically and emotionally with my body image and to be honest, after popping out kids like a t-shirt gun at a basketball game it took me a lot of serious conversations with myself to get over the puffy parts. I still make wise cracks about my crepe paper belly skin and every 28 days I've absolutely had it with my love handles. But I've worked hard over the last couple of years both physically and mentally to feel good in my own skin, and you know what, I actually do. It's the best gift I've ever given myself.

I've learned a thing or two during these last two years as well.

For starters, being accountable to someone or something is the key to my success. It's a lot easier to lace up your running shoes at 5:30AM when you've got a half marathon hanging over your head. Similarly it feels way crappier to bail out on your girlfriend than it does to stand up a Reformer (Pilates machine for you non Pilates junkies) that couldn't care less if you show up or not. So I've agreed to share my journey during this reinvention via Facebook as a part of this challenge.

But, to go back to the original question of 'why blog,' I'm going to take it a step further, resurrect  'A MilliAn Little Things' and document my reinvention complete with before/after photos, successes, perceived failures, intimate details, dirty little secrets and all. I've definitely got mega hesitations. It's scary to be vulnerable and put it all out there; Even for a perpetual over sharer like myself. But experience assures me that the added accountability to a cyber audience will be the extra little push I need to pull up my big girl panties and crank out one more pull up, one more mile, one more kettle bell swing.

I've also discovered that I am way more capable than I ever gave myself credit for. Running tempos with women I'm totally in awe of and actually keeping up with them has been an enormous self esteem boost. And when I finally pulled off a true 'teaser' in Pilates without cheating I thought I'd pee my pants in excitement. Each time I overcome a new hurdle it reinforces that I am a Masterpiece in Progress that only gets better with age. We all are!

I can't let this 8 weeks slip by without grabbing the proverbial bull by the horns and hanging on for dear life. I don't want to regret a missed opportunity. I'm curious as to what will happen if I totally submit myself to this challenge. I want to find out what I'm made of.

I'm pretty sure there is a B.A.M.F. inside of me just waiting for permission to make an appearance.

Permission granted. 

Pretty Green on Both Sides of the Fence

Man alive the time, she's a flyin', and not just since my last blog post! (If I haven't already provided full disclosure on my special gift of procrastination consider this your fair warning.)  Believe me my unintentional blog avoidance is not due to a lack of material to share; On the contrary actually. We've been pretty dang busy over here for the last few weeks! Even now I'm trying to figure how I could possibly recap our mid summer extravaganzas in the amount of time and patience I have available and quite frankly I don't have enough of either right now to do it justice. Suffice to say it's been a super awesome travel, friend, pool, play date, bike/scooter, book & movie, wine & cheese, ice cream sandwich, flip-flop, bathing suit, fun in the sun filled summer that I hope to recap as opportunity allows. We're doing our part to make sure we don't lose a minute of wasted time unless it's time we enjoy wasting but somehow this summer is whizzing by me like New York traffic. Maybe it's because for the first time in a long time I don't have any little babies rendering me home bound to avoid heat stroke. Maybe it's because my little guys are *actually* getting along more than they're fighting. Maybe it's because I can count the number of hours I've spent in the past month with my first born on two hands and it feels like she'll be catapulted into the 7th grade before I've had enough time to soak her in. Maybe it's because the end of summer marks the beginning of this wild ride on the triathlon circuit and I just don't quite feel ready. Whatever the reason, I'm really having a hard time letting go!


In a past life I worked as a Recruiter and Operations Manager for a large military subcontractor that hired civilian medical personnel to work in military hospitals and clinics. Regardless of the 'extreme hours to ridiculous pay' ratio I found the challenge extremely fulfilling. I adored all the traveling, the constant interaction with people and the fast and furious pace at which it all shook out. I loved that job even though it literally sucked the life out of me. I loved that job even though it ate away at the precious and fleeting moments I had to spend with my sweet baby girl during her toddler years. I loved that job even though I fantasized about the green grass on the Stay at Home Mom's side of the fence knowing full well SAHM's were married to doctors and lawyers who made a gazillion dollars and they spent their days perusing libraries and museums with their privileged offspring. Obviously a single mom like me could never even consider that option.


After I married and welcomed my second child into the world I happily gave up the craziness of my former work life to raise my family. I was over the moon! Ecstatic! And it didn't even take a doctor/lawyer/gazillionaire to pull it off! I'm not even exaggerating a little bit when I say it took me a good three years to settle into my new role as 'just a mom and wife.' It felt a little bit like whiplash actually. I felt like I didn't know myself at all anymore. Sure I could recognize and at least partially convince myself of the significantly bigger and more important job I was doing by growing, birthing, nurturing, educating and blah blah blahing these four gorgeous creatures, but it didn't feel as big and important. I certainly wasn't setting Thames on fire. It felt a little bit like I'd been pricked with a thousand needles and all the 'me' just slowly drained out; A Shell-O-Meg left behind robotically maneuvering through June Cleavers to do list day after day. Okay, okay so maybe I've never greeted frank at the door in a pleated skirt and apron, roast in the oven and a perfectly coiffed hairdo. Hell half the time I'd barely showered and considered dinner homemade if it was heated in the oven rather than the microwave. The point is the green grass on this side of the fence was sort of itchy and took a lot of getting used to.


Even now that I've sort of recreated myself again, a comfortable little homemaker cap upon my head (a masterpiece in progress one might say) I cannot deny the stinging desire I have to keep my hands in the 'real world' so that when all of my kids finally do enter school full time I'll have something more than the bliss of domesticity to fill my suddenly quieter days. However right now my days are far from quiet and there is nary enough room to swing a cat in our schedule let alone carve out productive work time.


And here enters the ridiculous conundrum that is my life, and perhaps the life of many moms who work from home. I have the best of both worlds, yet sometimes it gets the best of me.


I absolutely L.O.V.E. my job as a Volunteer Director. I am sincerely honored to attach my name to the amazing group of human beings that come together and selflessly give their time and energy for the benefit of others. I like the challenge, the organized chaos, the satisfaction I get from watching these races come together full circle, and it's damn good fun.


I also L.O.V.E. my job as a mom. In those little instances where I witness the generous and loving spirits of my sweet babies and think about the ripple effects they'll have on the universe I swoon. To call motherhood an incredible journey is a gross understatement. But it is a serious challenge for me to tick-tock between the two roles sometimes. I'm pretty sure the heart of the problem lies in this simple fact: I'm happiest doing exactly what I'm doing at any given moment. Sort of like an object flying through space staying it's course until something changes it's direction, I love my time in 'mommy mode' until I'm bumped into 'work mode'. Then I want to hunker down and enjoy my ride as a worker bee without being bumped back into mom mode. I just happen to find the 'bump' itself *super* annoying! In reality this quasi analogy is nothing more than a nicer way of saying 'I don't want to work right now, I want to play with my kids!' and then saying 'I don't like to be interrupted and I need my kids to go to school so I can get something done around here!' Right now I'm living in the void between these two places and all this teetering is causing me a little strife.


The truth is it's been such an awesome summer. I usually get to enjoy the last few weeks with my kids preparing them for their new school year and squeezing out lots of last minute shenanigans before we all settle into a new regimented fall routine. This year our first race falls in September rather than November and I don't have the luxury of seven hours of kid free time to depend on yet. I'm patiently waiting for school to start and the annoying little 'bump' to do it's thing but finding I need more of a violent shove to get it together. Reality is a good one. With two World Championship Triathlons right around the corner it's officially time to jump in with both feet and get cozy...I'm in for the long haul this season! 

Now that it's right in front of me, I'm suddenly super excited to play in the grass on the other side of the fence again! If only these kids would get the hint and stop sucking me back into all the fun their having so I could focus!!

Stinky Cheese and Spider Monkeys

Le Tour de France has officially begun marking an exciting time in the House de Lowery! This means my usually hustling, bustling hubby parks his cute little fanny in a tall, sea grass armchair, feet resting on an ottoman, and builds his virtual office around him like a fortress so he won't miss a single moment of the action packed, 3 week televised extravaganza!


The kids, piled on his lap and hanging from his arms like little spider monkeys, soak up his knowledge and mumbled factoids about polka-dotted jerseys and French landmarks like little sponges. Watching them ooh and ahh over hairpin turns and crashes in the peloton is part of what made me fall in love with the TDF in the first place.




You see? I mean c'mon!



Well, that and the athletes razor cut calves and quads. I actually like the fact that they 'knock the bark of their trees' despite that redneck macho men bag on them for this girlish practice. Cyclists' chiseled, hairless legs are downright lickable no matter what Jeff Foxworthy might say.  The shrunken bird chests and spindly arms that apparently do great things for aerodynamics however, do absolutely nothing for me. Still, what's not to love about a perfectly sculpted lower half shoved into thin spandex shorts? Sometimes leaving things to the imagination is overrated!

Whatever the draw for each of us, gathering in the family room to cheer our favorite teams and riders through stage after stage has become somewhat of a Lowery Family Tradition and I'm a bit of a sucker for tradition.


For 98 years the TDF has winded and twisted it's way throughout France and surrounding countries attracting some of the best cyclists and teams from around the world. The New York Times has called it "arguably the most physiologically demanding of athletic events" comparing the effort to "running a marathon several days a week for nearly three weeks", while the total elevation of the climbs was compared to "climbing three Everests." It's like witnessing the ultimate test of the human spirit challenging you to believe in the impossible.


Waaaaay back in the olden days, before a white dress, a gaggle of kids, and responsibilities, Frank and I started to plan a trip to see the Tour in person.  I was beyond excited to experience the sights, sounds and tastes of France. I would wear my hair in a lose chignon and we'd sample funny smelling cheeses from corner markets, buy fresh sunflowers and stick them in our bike baskets as we wound our way down cobblestone streets. We'd run alongside Lance Armstrong, American flags whipping wildly over our heads and cheer him to what would become his 6th TDF victory. After 3 or 4 glorious day Frank would take me to a top of a bridge, get down on one knee and ask me those 4 little words in the most romantic city in the world. Of course I'd whisper yes, hand against my chest and jump into his arms while he spun me around and around under a sea of stars. Maybe even the skies would open up and warm sprinkly rain would fall around us. It would be magical.


Three weeks passed while potential itineraries and cute little B&B cottage photos flew back and forth via email. We hadn't anticipated come January that a bout of nausea and a sudden obsessive craving for spaghetti would bring us our first son; A shotgun wedding quickly replacing our dreamy French excursion.


It goes without saying that I'd take my sweet Frankie Tankie a million times over a trip to France. That boy, with his big, deep brown eyes and spattering of freckles has a vice grip on my heart. But every July when our TV's are perma tuned to Versus we reminisce about the trip that never was.


So last summer, when the "someday...maybe's" filtered their way back into our conversation, we decided that the 100th Anniversary of the Tour de France would be the perfect time finish what we'd started all those years ago. It is almost surreal to have this grand vision back in our peripheral; we've been so consumed with building a family and a business and a life that our fancy French rendezvous had taken a serious back seat. Like waaaaaaaay back. To the bumper. And somehow, the object in my mirror is closer than it appears! With only two years to go it's high time we get back to our research. I can hardly wait for it all to come full circle!


Perhaps I'll still wear the chignon, eat smelly cheese and pedal over cobblestone. Lance may be absent but something tells me nice legs and spandex laden asses won't be in short supply. And I'm pretty sure Frank and I can find some way to occupy ourselves on a rainy starlit bridge. Lord knows after 8 years and four nosy children we've mastered the art of making our own creative magic!


What you wont find in July 2013 is a living room fortress, that gaggle of nosy spider monkeys, or a plate of spaghetti within a 30 mile radius.