Goodbye 2011 ... And to a Large Part of Me

I think the calendar year is constructed well with spiritual and secular holidays. For Thanksgiving we give thanks; into Christmas where we remember our Creator, shortly followed by the turnover of the calendar into a new year. It's reflective. It's rejuvinating. It's a tangible line in the sand for one to step over and start again.

In reflecting, what stands out with the kids is Karissa's wonderful year of growth and milestones, while Kole ramped up his potty training, comprehension and vocabulary. We have introduced the concept of a "big boy" to Kole and are losing grasp with the things that made him a cuddly little baby and toddler. Karissa now has a small plate of what we eat - as her bottles and bottle washing gear, begin to collect dust and clog up our cabinet space. Every time we turn around we see some toy that doesn't belong. Something that somehow escaped a bedroom closet, or stash space in the living area.

It's a rattle, or a teething ring, or a finger puppet. It's something for a little itty-bitty baby, and now depresingly out of place.

Kathy is a better mother than she'll ever give herself credit for, but has recently come to the conclusion that she is ready to re-enter the workforce on a part-time basis. She will work two days a week at her old X-ray job, then every other week she will work three days in a week. Five days every two weeks. Semi-permanant daycare has had to be established. The home and lives of the people therein continue to evolve.

And then there's the daddy. Good year. The higlights, outside of every day and hour spent with my wife and kids, has to be attending the Rangers ALCS playoff games against Detroit. I've been a Rangers fan all my life, and covered them every day as a reporter on the Budweiser Rangers Report on Channel 5 for four years. I cover other sports for a living now. I go to no fewer than 100 live sporting events every year - but I'm never allowed to be a fan, even if I want a team to win. The Rangers were a different territory. It wasn't for work. It was on the doorstep of the World Series. Luckily, cousin Brent is far more successful than I am and could afford playoff tickets and invited me to three ALCS games. I'll never forget the clinching Game 6. Being able to cheer like a kid again - screaming and jumping in my seat like a mental patient off his meds. I cared about the Rangers in the World Series. I wish I could say I didn't. But, I did. It sucks they lost. But, being there when they clinched the ALCS and made it to the World Series was an experience I'll treasure.

Now, on to the part that is the most personal I've ever blogged about, and toughest to admit.

In February, I turned 40. Quite a milestone. At that time, I had a 2-year-old and a 5-month old. And without stepping on a scale, I knew I was well over 300 pounds. A scale didn't need to tell me. A scale some time before informed me that I was 280, then 285, then 290, then 295. Then I stayed away from the scale. But, I knew. Whether it was 301 or 311 was essentially insignificant. I knew I hit a number that was not only undesirable and unattractive to the superficial world. It was dangerous. It was irresponsible. Being the breadwinner in a household of three precious others, I had collateral damage all around me. It was ignorant and selfish. It was lazy.

Was there a breaking point beyond just looking into a mirror? Of course there was. March 4, an American Eagle flight from DFW to Des Moines for a championship event at Iowa State. I was seated and reading a book while the boarding process continued. As a flight attendant began shutting overhead bins, she came to my seat and said, "Can you buckle your seat belt." I then clumsily marked my book and put it in the seat pocket in front of me, then did that squirmy dance where I look for the straps of the seatbelt from underneath my loins, yanking and tugging them out.

All the while, the flight attendant stood and watched and waited. I quickly glanced at her and made eye contact. She was giving me that look of partial pity and partial impatience. I then realized that her previous comment was not a statement of instruction.

It was a question.

Not, Can you buckle your seatbelt - pretty-please with sugar on top? It was - Are you capable of fastening that belt around your ample waist and belly? My face had to have been as red as it ever has been in my life. Not red with embarrassment. Red with anger.

I grabbed both sides of the seatbelt, scooted back in my seat, inhaled, and clamped the two ends together with no slack to spare. I smiled back at the flight attendant, like, "Happy?" Before stepping away she leaned in and in a hushed voice said, "Let me know if you need an extension."

I stared at my open book for the rest of the flight but never read a word. I just fumed. An extension? That's a tool used by people who buy clothes at Big & Tall shops, motor through a grocery store on a Rascal and take the fatty ramp to the all-you-can-eat buffet. No matter how I wanted to view myself and my generous love handles, it was clear that society and the medical field was viewing me as obese. A heart attack waiting to happen.

For the next few months my brain would stew. I knew my weaknesses. It was not sweets or fried food or fast food. It wasn't a food classification. It was volume. It was portions. Even if it was healthy and low-fat, I'd pile it on and lick the plate clean and go back for more. And with little ones in the house, empty calories are everywhere - Doritos, Oreos, etc.

Women must wonder what is going through their husband's mind when they talk and talk, and the husband is zoned out, mind somewhere else. We get accused of tuning them out. Comedians, men and women alike, can live like a king making fodder of this interaction. Many, many nights, I would come home and be completely tuned out and zoned out. I would get busted tuning Kathy out. It made a tough time tougher. Yes, I know I should have talked about it. But, I didn't want to. I wanted to grovel. I wanted to stew. I wanted to plot. I wanted to do something about my weight that was bullshit proof. I tried to do as much of this thinking as possible away from home, but sometimes I couldn't help but to let it follow me through the door when I should have been paying attention to the others inside.

I knew my weaknesses and strengths. I tried gyms and fitness centers and couldn't make it fit my schedule. I wasn't going to realistically stick with a plan that was based on eating pre-packaged low-cal crap. I didn't want to sit in meetings, participating in Pity Parties and heaping false praise on strangers just to get the same in return. I had to start a regular workout regiment. But how? When? I got two little ones and a wife who is routinely stir crazy from them once I get home from work and often wasn't up to cooking right after one or both kids refused to go down for a nap - and I don't blame her.

It took me a few months to find those answers, research them, and plot a plan of attack. I didn't need New Year's Day for mental moxie and a phony resolution. I had that. Another frustrating piece of this puzzle. I just needed all the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. And after Kole's 3rd birthday in June, my work schedule lightened up. The weekend after Kole's birthday was a little RV get-away that Kole, myself and my dad took to Lake Whitney. When I got back, the door was wide open for at least 6-8 weeks where my work was about as close to a stand-still as it is all year. Lots of down time, half-days and half-weeks. That's when the plan was going to be enacted.

On June 30, I stepped on a scale for the first time in a long time. I weighed 307 pounds. I really felt like it could have been more. I began a high-protein, low-carb/no-carb diet of less than 1000 calories per day. I drank at least one gallon of water throughout the day. After a couple of weeks, I began going for walks around the neighborhood. It was early July and the DFW area was in the midst of a record heat wave. The summer saw 70 days of at least 100 degrees, 40 of those days were consecutive and included the entire month of July. Many days clipped over 105. In the late afternoon, when the temperature was peaking - but the kids napping - is when I hit the pavement and began going on extended walks. I slowly increased my distance and time spent walking. Soon enough, I found myself walking more than four miles in relentless 106 degree heat without even a whisper of a breeze.

On August 5, just before Kathy and I's 6th Anniversary, I weighed 276. I had dropped 30 pounds in July alone. Down another 10 pounds in August. Then another 10 pounds by Karissa's 1st birthday on Sept. 22 - officially the 50 pound mark, in just under three months. I've lost another 10 since then, while enjoying the holidays and all the solid and liquid treats that come along with it. I've attempted to at least maintain my weight, if not losing, and have done so. I'll hit January 1st at least 60 pounds lighter than I was on July 1st and a full 10 fewer inches around my belly.

Work was cranked up and busy by September, but I was walking - and occasionally jogging - after the kids went to bed, around 8:30. I discovered podcasts, and found some programs I actually enjoyed listening to, as opposed to the same 16 songs on shuffle every day. I challenged myself: Jog all the way to that light pole, then walk no further than that corner before jogging again for at least a 60-Mississippi count.

I stayed firm to my calorie intake and portions. Kathy and the kids deserve credit for tolerating me. Most nights, I ate something different than the rest of them. Overall, they were good sports and helped make my journey tolerable. Every night as Kole got in his PJs, I got in my walking shoes and earbuds. More recently, a jacket and hat and gloves join the mix. "Daddy go for a walk" he'll say.

Yep. Going for a walk. Walking away from an early grave. I've attached some before-and-after photos, but I'll end with two stats: In June, on a routine dental check-up, they nearly wouldn't clean my teeth because my blood pressure was 152/98. At last check, on Dec. 9, it was 118/72.

I have no New Year's resolution except to be a better husband and father and to enjoy life more now that I'm not toting around the 60 pounds I started the year with. I won't worry about busting a button on an XXL shirt, now that I'm loosely draped by my old XLs, plus some new Christmas ones. Although, by my birthday in February I do have a goal weight in mind. We'll see.

Karissa Update

Karissa went in for a 15-month checkup and a shot. She weighs 21.4 pounds, which is in the 25%, and is 32 inches long, which is 90%. So, in other words, 75% of American babies her age weigh more, while only 10% are longer. Tall and slender. I think she got the best of both of her parents' attributes. For now.

Verbally, she's a bit behind the curve. However, her coordination and much of her physical attributes are very advanced for her age.

She is healthy. She is happy. She does gymnastics on the sofa - she is now climbing on all the furniture and has a weird sense of when she's at the edge and about to fall off, and quickly self-corrects. She kicks and throws balls with enthusiasm, while Kole even now is still getting the hang of it. 2011 was an eventful year for her - four months of it spent in a cranial corrective helmet. Her other updated stat from the doctor visit is a 44.5 cm head circumference, which is 15%. She is long out of that head contraption, her hair is growing longer and more girlie, and she is the most beautiful little girl in the history of the world.

Christmas 2011: Santa is Here

I don't believe that Santa Claus is a lie. Santa Claus is part a fantasy, a vivid world of make believe, which is something that children do and handle very well. It's a wonderful part of childhood.

Kathy and I have different memories of Santa Claus as kids ourselves. I remember a handful of Christmases where I really wanted something, waking up in the morning, and seeing some or all of them around the fireplace. Cookies reduced to crumbles. Milk glass drained. A house that was bereft of toys and Christmas energy, after a night's sleep, had been transformed. I remember it as a magical, beneficial childhood experience.

With that, we played up Santa to the hilt with Kole this year. For three or four weeks leading up, St. Nick and an army of CIA-trained elves were watching with arms folded and a tapping foot making sure he was being nice, and was not too tolerable of naughty behavior. Not sure how much it helped, but it was a useful tool every now and then to straighten him up for a bit. Really, at 3-and-1/2, Kole still wasn't sure what he wanted for Christmas beyond "toys". We still have a challenge of rotating toys he currently has, since he quickly bores of them, plus he has access to all of Karissa's toys, which he gleefully takes ownership of.

Christmas festivities began two weeks ago with my mom's family at our house. Mom and Pa Gedy, aunt Doris, Kelley and Kelly and the girls were in from Midland, newlyweds Shanna and Paul, Ben and girlfriend Stephanie. I wish there was more of this event that I could write about. Again, I'll be writing at the end of the year about a large physical transformation I've gone under this year, losing 60-plus pounds. Suffice to say, I can count the number of spirited beverages I've had since July on both hands. I have become a lighweight. So, it didn't take too many Sangria wines to promptly knock me on my kiester. I was having a great time, then things got a little foggy and the next thing I know I was being led to bed. In hindsight, there's nothing more embarrassing or idiotic than not having control of oneself. It's really not that hard. So, I feel like a jackass after all of that, but we did have a great time together. Kole got to see his cousins Riley and Reagan, which happens few and far between now, and that's what I was happiest about. They are his only cousins, and unless a small miracle happens from Kathy's brother or sister, they will be his and Karissa's only cousins. I hope their relationship together is as strong and meaningful as Kelley and I had with our cousins growing up.

We had a Chinese gift exchange, but the more interesting gift was one we collectively gave to a family in need. At Thanksgiving, everyone gave at least $20. Some gave more. The hope was to give that gift collectively to a family who probably wouldn't have a Christmas otherwise. Through our church, I was led to Austin Elementary in Grand Prairie, where I was led to our helpful angel, school counselor Tonya. She extends herself every year beyond what the GPISD is paying her to know who in her school needs help, then brokers families like ours towards them. I did the leg work with Tonya in finding a family of four kids, ages 11 to 5, three girls and a boy the youngest. The dad works two jobs. Mom is out of the picture. An aunt watches the kids wile dad works a night job. Grandpa also lives at the home but apparently isn't much help. That's the sketch I was given. The kids are all qualified for a government assistance for breakfast and lunch at the school, and all are on the receiving end of an annual coat drive that our church orchestrates each year. This was a family we were looking for and we were able to provide them with $300 in Wal-Mart gift cards, to be spent on Christmas or whatever they needed. Kathy and the kids and I went up and met the family and the dad, Roy. Everyone was thankful. It's something I hope we do every year and I hope our kids learn to appreciate.

Next was Kathy's family on Christmas Eve - Grandma, Uncle Dewayne, Aunt Dawnell and her husband John. We again had everyone at our house, ordered pizzas, exchanged gifts and played Taboo. Mostly it was watching Kole and Karissa open and enjoy their gifts. Dwayne got Kole a Hot Wheels race track, one that electronically can keep the car going on a continuous loop, over and over and over again. At one point Kole was standing, holding his tinkle gear, doing a small dance. We asked him if he had to go pee-pee. Yes, he had to pee-pee. We told him to go pee-pee in the potty. He then expressed concern for leaving his racetrack and didn't want Karissa interfering with it. We assured him that we would keep Karissa away and he could safely vacate his track and not have to worry about it. Kole still showed hesitation at leaving. Then, he lowered his pants and underwear to his ankles, still standing at the track behind our sofa in the living room. He then inched away from the track, then turned it into a full sprint - or as fast as 3-year-old legs can go with pants and underwear shackling his ankles. He disappeared into the loo, reappeared 17 seconds later, and was on a desperate sprint back to the track - where he then, and only then, was able to safely pull up his pants and resume watching his Hot Wheels go round and around. Karissa was given great toys, but had just as much fun in the trash, walking through and throwing around the bits and scraps of wrapping and tissue paper.

Taboo was boys against girls and the boys won. We all had a great time together, but it was Christmas Eve and we had kept Kole from napping so he may crash on the night we were expecting Santa. It kinda backfired. Kole was punchy by 9:00, tired to the point of being a little delirious. We got Karissa off to bed and she was asleep in no time. God bless her. With all the challenges that Kole can be surrounding sleep, Karissa snoozes away almost on command and stays in good spirit through the day. Kole got then put out the chocolate chip cookies and milk for Santa. We moved our fireplace guard. Karissa can't have access to the fireplace or else she'll try to eat the lava rocks. So, we keep a piece of cardboard duct-taped to it. That was removed on Christmas eve night, and you could tell Kole was still a bit curious about everything but excited. I'll attach the picture here of our attempted pose of Kole and Karissa in front of Santa's cookies and milk. Karissa was not prepared to understand that cookies just sitting out on a table were not for her, and pushing them further away from her just to take a picture was as good as eating it in front of her face with a smile. She burst into tears and made several failed attempts to scramble onto the table for the cookies.

It took Kole a while to cooperate and fall asleep, but Kathy and I eventually got the presents out and set up. It's something I'll have a fond memory of. It's the first time I've been a part of something like this for our kids, and knowing my memories of Christmas, it was especially eventful. This year, Santa brought gifts for all of us. Wrapped Christmas presents weren't going to last very long under the tree any earlier because of Karissa's easy access and stealthy curiosity, so the tree was bare underneath up until this point. In fact, because of the same curious little girl, the tree itself sort of had a noticeable equator where the main decorations were in the northern hemisphere, while the southern hemisphere was sans the glass balls and decorative ornaments. Christmas will be an evolving process, but this year all the presents came on Christmas eve when the kids hit the hay, all wrapped.

On Christmas morning, we got Kole up around 7:15. He walked to the living room bleary-eyed and stumbling. But, he quickly caught the enormity of the scene. His first reaction was to look around, left and right for Santa. We had to inform him that Santa had already left and was now safely back at the North Pole. Kole continued to take in the sight of the presents. And his eyes kept going back to the plate of cookies, now a plate of crumbs and milk glass empty. He smiled and contained his bewilderment. It was official: Santa Claus is not some harmful lie. It's a great theater of make believe, it's traditional and cultural, and it's fun for the parents too. Soon enough, Karissa was awaken and she joined the fun. Presents were opened and a litter box of wrapping paper was quickly established in the floor. Later in the day we went to my dad and Kay's, where Alison and Mike and his kids plus Kay's niece and husband were there. A traditional turkey dinner was served and there was seemingly a desert for every side dish. The kids destroyed presents and we all had a great time. But that, like so much of Christmas Day, seems like a sad anticlimactic ending to at least a two, sometimes a three, often a four-week build up. I was fortunate that going back to Thanksgiving, I saw all of my family and first cousins with the exception of cousin Jason, a missionary doctor in the African country of Mali.

Without singling out any one gift, everyone got something they wanted for Christmas, and then some. We got and we gave, we spent quality time with loved ones, we snapped more pictures than a Japanese tourist, we helped a family in need, we watched "Elf" no fewer than 10 times (that's not sarcastic), we acknowledged Christmas as a celebration of Christ's birth, we ate like we were on vacation and some of us drank like a college kid at Spring Break. It was a very, very Merry Christmas for the Fletchers in 2011.