Making A Life Changing Decision..... fun! fun! fun!

Hello, everyone!  This is my first post of 2014 because it took me this long to find the courage to write it.  Actually, the writing part is easy.  It's that some of the photos that are a bit traumatizing.  They're not so flattering.

Last July I downloaded a bunch of photos from my camera and I saw THIS little bit o' hideousness:

I looked at it and thought, "What in the hell have I become?"  There were multiple photos of me with my mom and Allie and each one was worse than the next!  I have a truly hellacious one that I'll save for later.

I started looking through other photos and NOTHING was appealing.  It all was bad, bad, bad.  At 2am, I found myself feeling like I was going to explode.

I had tried every diet, program, regimen, support group out there, with the exception of Phen-Phen.  I was too scared to do that.  However, I wasn't too scared to be a part of research!  I participated in a "clinical trial" testing a new diet medication that was supposedly holistic.  I hope for their sake that I was part of the control group! On a business trip I tried Xenadrine and nearly had a heart attack in my hotel room.  Anyway, if you want to throw a "program" name at me, go ahead..... chances are really good that I tried it.

So, back to 2am.

On the side of a webpage was an ad for Take Shape For Life.  What was that?  It was something new.  New to ME that is.  It's been around for eons.  I clicked on the ad and read everything I could find on it.  This was literally my last chance.  There was nothing else.

As I told Justin about this in the morning, I started to cry.  I didn't want to be a fat person anymore.  I didn't want my daughter to be embarrassed by me.  I wanted to be able to keep up with her and not feel exhausted.  I didn't want to be out of control anymore.  I didn't want to be so disgusted by myself that I didn't look in the mirror when I got out of the shower  anymore.  I didn't want to be so ashamed that I didn't even want my husband to hug me anymore.

So, I enrolled in Take Shape For Life and BAM!  A miracle occurred.

I lost weight.  For the first time ever I lost more than 8 pounds and it felt easy.  At first it was a little challenging, but let me just say that when you get on your scale and the numbers keep going down, you don't want to quit.  I was skeptical that this was going to be a permanent change, but the numbers kept getting smaller!  When I saw that I was 25 pounds lighter, I was doing the forbidden dance of joy all over my living room.

As most people know (because I didn't shut up about it), I got sick at the end of September.  I had to make a number of changes in my medication and what I was eating.  By the end of December I was so eager to get back to Take Shape For Life that I couldn't wait for January to start so I could jump back into the lifestyle.

And from September to January, I gained 4 pounds.  That's it.  Keep in mind that there were those two holidays that provide an endless supply of baked goods during that time.  And I did actually eat some.  But I had learned so much beforehand that I had actually changed my eating habits, which is one of the main goals, and I didn't spiral out of control.

On January 1st, I went back on the program and lost the 4 pounds plus another 3.  Seven pounds and the month isn't even over yet.  It took me EIGHT MONTHS to lose that on Jenny Craig.

I know you're thinking that this is all one big sales pitch, but it's not.  I'm actually training to be a TSFL Health Coach because #1) My coach (an awesome, inspiring guy named Justin in California) played an enormous part in my success and he thought I had the ability to do the same for other people  #2) I truly believe in this.  It works!  I'm proof and I want other people to know about it.

You can take it or leave it.  That's up to you.  But I'm only half way to my goal and if you would like to join me in losing weight and becoming healthier, I'd love the company and I'd love for us all to support each other.  I have an incredible group in California who opened their arms to me and they are always willing to welcome new people for encouragement (or if you just want to bug out about something).  I love them.

Next week, I'll be doing a Grand Opening of sorts.  If you know anyone who may be interested in joining me, or if you are interested, please let me know.  Call, email, text, Facebook me.  Smoke signal, pigeon carrier, and snail mail are also welcome.  :-)  You'll see more information next week.  Wish me luck!!

(Note: I will be continuing with my pet sitting business, for those of you who wondered!   How could I ever leave???)

In the meantime, here are some more photos of my big "Expedition To Health/Departure From FattyBoomALattyVille"

Me and Allie June 2013.  I felt like my face was almost a perfectly round circle!

This is me with Allie in September 2013, exactly 2 months after I started

This is the truly disgusting one I mentioned.  My thighs were so big that they started touching each other half way up my legs.  I realized at this point that my arms were not made for polo shirt sleeves either.

I can  no longer wear these pants without them falling off when I walk.  I have a huge collection of "vintage" Tommy Hilfiger jeans in size 14 if anyone is interested.  I used to have to do squats in these to "loosen them up" so I could sit down without making myself sick from the tight waistband

This tank top was usually too short to tuck in from my "fat rolls" around my waist.  On the second half of my journey, I plan on getting rid of the final roll and getting everything else a bit more toned.

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

A Weight Loss Milestone.....whew!

I finally have hit the "25 pound" milestone.  It certainly took awhile.  And it was effing brutal at times.

I will never see those numbers ever again.  They are ugly, mean numbers.  Right now, I am creeping up on a number that I haven't seen since high school.  When I get there I think I'll just ease up and linger there for a little bit.

However, Operation Fattypants is not complete.  There will be future assaults on the fat that hasn't left! I think that the lingering a bit at a certain weight will help.  The fat cells will let their guard down.  Then I can sneak attack the sonsabitches just when they think it's over!

Anyway, someone asked me last week about the most helpful thing I did for myself that isn't being sold on every a diet plan.  That was a stumper.  I had to think about it for a bit.

Then I remembered a letter I wrote.  I wrote it to myself back in July.  My desperate, old self was writing to my encouraged, new self.  I highly recommend this to anyone before they embark on trying "one more time" to get in shape, especially if you've tried a gazillion times like I have.  

It was hard to start, but then I thought, "I need to speak to myself as if I was talking to someone I love and care about."  So, I imagined that the person I was writing to was just that.... someone I love a lot.  Unfortunately, I didn't envision my current self because, well, I didn't love myself much back then as you will soon see.

I carried the letter with me and took it out when Peanut M&Ms, amongst other things, were calling my name.  (Those M&Ms are noisy little bastards.....especially during PMS)  At times when I didn't have it with me, I still heard me reminding myself of this pep talk.  I needed me to kick my ass from time to time and I did.

I'm actually going share the letter here.  I kind of flip flopped on whether I should do this at all, but what the hell!  A few days ago I was giving you my State Of The Breasts rant, so this isn't any more personal than that.

Maybe.

Dear Vicki,

I'm writing a letter to you in the future but when you read this, it will be written  in the past.    I sit here looking into the future with hope, and also with fear of failure.  I keep hoping that the person I become (you, right now) will have the strength to continue through when things get tough.....because I know they will. 

You will feel lonely or angry or sad or resentful and all of these thing will make you want to eat something that isnt part of the plan right now.  You will think of your comfort foods (donuts, everything little debbie, peanut m&ms, pancakes, etc) and something inside of you will say "If I can eat this, I will feel better.  And its just ONE time.  I'll go back to eating right later today."

Here's the thing.  That food will make you feel numb for a little bit.  But then you will feel anxious and depressed.  You will feel like you let yourself down and your body will feel like its growing fat cells as you sit there.  You will be tired, lazy, grumpy, etc.  And you will feel unattractive to yourself and others.

Please dont do it.  I'm begging you not to.  Give us a chance.  Let us have a shot at being thinner and feeling good physically.  Give it one seriously good try!!!!  Please????  I dont want to be like this anymore.  

You are my only hope, so Im writing to you to try to convince you that you can get thru this without that food.  That annoying cliche' is really true.  Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.  Nothing.  That bite of candy or cake feels good for 10 minutes.  Feeling fit feels good ALL DAY.  From when you wake up until when you go to sleep.

You don't want your daughter to have a fat mother.  Not even a chubby mom.  You want her to see your example and strive for that.  You will be able to keep up with her and do things you cant do now with her.  Do it now, for the future, while there is still time to do this type of thing.  As she gets older, you need to be more physically fit to keep up.  Don't get left behind.  

People start getting sick around your age.  Heart problems, cancers, etc.  Losing weight will help prevent this.  Just like quitting smoking helped reduce the chance of lung cancer (and doesn't that feel good to not have to worry strongly about that?) losing weight will help reduce a bunch of other things.

Right now, I look in the mirror and Im disgusted.  Gross.  I see fat rolls on my stomach.  I see cellulite on my thighs.  I see fat hanging over my bra.  My arms are slabs of meat.  I am a fat person.  Look at the photo from the july 4th fireworks.  You look enormous.  

Who is that person????  That's not who I think I am in my head.  Why because Im so disconnected from my body.  My mind still thinks Im a size 8 or something.  And Im a 14 going on 16 in reality.

I feel unattractive and don't want to even be hugged  by my husband.  He is being neglected because I am fat.  How awful to be that way over something you have the power to change!   He will leave you eventually if you keep this up.  Not because I'm fat, but because he feels unloved by someone who pushes him away due to embarrassment.  You CAN change that.

Dont give up!

Does the food taste bad?  Do whatever it takes to get it down.  Its not forever.  Just a few weeks!  You've eaten worse.

Are you bored with the food?  Its just food.  And you are trying to get rid of the importance of food.  If you keep at it, you wont care about how boring it is.

DId you cheat already?  Well, move on.  Do something to make up for it.  Extra exercise.  Eat less later.  Whatever.  Just fix the problem and get back on track.  I am counting on you.

Go have some water.  Take a walk.  Write.  Read something enjoyable like a kindle book or a funny blog.  Move around.  Do something else besides giving up.  I know you can do it.  You survived a whole mess of way worse things.  You will totally get thru this too!  And when we reach the other side, its going to feel great.  And we will have each other to thank for it.

I love you.

Yourself

Daily Musings and Random Ramblings

Hello, friends....both domestic and international.

Periodically, I look at the demographic chart that Google sends to me and I'm always amazed by who has stumbled upon my little piece of the blogosphere!

Now, don't panic.  There isn't a map of your street, with a little arrow pointing to your house that says "this person right hither just read your blog".  It's much more vague.  It narrows it down to countries, states and sometimes cities.

What I'm dying to know is how international people ended up here.  So, if you're from one of those other countries here on Planet Earth, I'd love to know what brought you to my blog.... and whether or not  it was an accident.  I'm itchin' to know what people in places like Germany, France, Australia, Canada, Russia and China clicked on to get here.

And as far as Latvia goes?  Well, hello there!  And welcome!  I had to look up where you were in my atlas.  (That kinda says something about the educational system here in the US, doesn't it?)

Operation Fattypants is going well.  Fourteen pounds have disappeared.  I still really want cake.  I'm just not having any....and I'm a wee bit sad about that. Sniff! Sniff!

Food portion sizes are completely ridiculous these days.  Some places serve eight times the normal serving of what we should be eating.  That's 800% more than what we should eat.  And a Bloomin Onion from the Outback is over 2500 calories?  It was 70 calories prior to bloomin' it!  No wonder we're such fatty-boom-a-lattys.

Even more frightening is the fact that I am so excited that I officially have relocated to a less crappy  section on a BMI chart!  I was doing the Forbidden Dance of Joy when I discovered this information.

Justin and I were sitting in bed on our iPads and I turned to him and said, all proud of myself, "Oh my gawd!  I just checked my BMI and I'm not Obese anymore!  Now I'm just Overweight!"

That there was a statement I never thought I would get excited about.  I'm thrilled to be in a new division of fatness.  (We are just full of action packed excitement over here.)

Speaking of losing stuff, would someone like to tell me where that sweet little baby of mine went to and who is this feisty-fresh little creature that was left behind in her place?!

Things I never thought I would hear Allie say:

"Calm down.  You don't have to be loud."
"Go!" (said while pointing elsewhere)
"I don't like you any more."
"Don't you tell me what to do!" (hand on hip, shaking finger at me)
"You're a very cheeky mommy!"
"I'm not talking to you any more." (as she turns and stomps away....for three seconds)
"I love playing with my grandchildren."

Say what?

Of all of the things she says that make my eyebrows shoot half way up my forehead, that last one freaks me out the most.  Her who?  Grandchildren?!

Me: "You have grandchildren?"
Allie: "Yes.  A boy and a girl."
Me: "Really?  How old are they?"
Allie: "They are just babies.  They are sooooooo cute."

When we ask their names, she usually gives us names that are probably popular in colonies on other planets like Mars or Saturn a hundred years from now.  Today the grandchildren were named Tanah and Ramah.  Nothing silly like Zingzong and Donkeykong.  (I totally would've taken that route)

This would seem like a silly conversation if it wasn't for a conversation I had with a Nun when Allie was one day old.  She walked into my hospital room, introduced herself, looked at Allie and said, "She has an old soul."

Granted, they are not strange words.  You hear it all of the time.  But for some reason, I thought it was shocking coming from a Nun.  It almost implied reincarnation.  I wasn't aware that the Nuns were into that these days.  Those wild and crazy wives of God are going all New Age I guess.

The fact is that we often forget that Allie's only two.  She's like a little grown up in a toddler body.  The things she says to us just don't seem to match up with her age.  When Justin asked her how she slept last night, her response was, "I slept well, thank you."  My response to the same question?  "Like crap."  I'm not as polite and delightful in the morning.

When she tells us to "calm down", she says it in this low, soothing voice while touching my arm.  In the moment, it really pisses me off, but when I think about it later, it seems very mature.  Too mature.  Freakishly mature.

What in the hell is she going to say to us when she's a teenager and we are REALLY bugging out about something?  With all of the therapists and psychological knowledge in our families, I can see her getting all "Frasier Crane" on our crazy asses.  We will keep her busy for quite some time.  Probably into her NEXT lifetime.

Dreaming of another lifetime......

Skinny Faces and Nasty Bitches

"Wow!  I can tell you lost weight..... I can see it in your face!"

Just what every person wants to hear.  The area where the most change has occurred is in your face.  Fabulous.

I was really hoping it would be my giant ass or tree trunk legs that would be the first place affected.  Even better, if I didn't have to suck in my gut and still feel a fat roll, I'd be thrilled!  But noooooooo.  My face looks thinner.

F*&%ing hell!

I even would've been happy if my boobs looked smaller.  They've been a huge pain in the ass since I was a teenager.  Wearing the "grandma bras and sex killer lingerie" is the pits.  (A woman at a department store actually referred to my purchases as being "grandma-ish sex killers" once.  Never went back there.)  By 41, I've just given up.  It takes me back to the sensible shoes thing.....sometimes comfort is worth sacrificing style.

Operation Fattypants is still going.  You thought I would've crapped out by now, didn't you?  The coconut cake and chocolate chip cookies still call, but I send them straight to voice mail.   Sorry, no time for you!

I'm ten pounds down and still shrinking.   Slooooooooowwwly.  But I can feel a difference already.  Who would've thought ten pounds would make a difference (other than in my face...oy!)?  

Yesterday I was lamenting the fact that all of my skorts were falling off when I wear them.  Then what little is left of the "cool person I thought I was" many years ago clicked in and said, 'Maybe that's a sign that thin people don't need to resort to the skort, Vic.  Is the skort still in style???  I haven't seen people wear them...um...anywhere lately.  I wonder why that is??"

My inner cool person is a sarcastic bitch.

Speaking of bitches.... last night we were watching "Big Brother" on CBS and we are always shocked by  how even more horrible these human beings become week after week.  It gives me a smidgen of anxiety.  What a surprise.  Me and anxiety.  Who woulda guessed?!

Before I go on, yes, I watch cheesy reality shows.  My DVR is stockpiling them for me.  Andy Cohen is my DVR's pimp. He makes a new show and I find myself up at 1am, with toothpicks holding my eye lids open, glued to the TV. All of those Housewives and the Millionaire realtors are hanging out patiently, waiting to rot my mind, late at night after Allie is asleep.  

But Big Brother is by far the worst of them.  I'm not proud.  Loyal, but not proud.

I've watching since the inception of BB and I go back for more year after year.  Big Brother After Dark kept me entertained during the insomnia phase of pregnancy, so I kinda owe them.  (That's my pathetic excuse of the moment right there)

This year the women are embarrassing.  Three are racists who think their comments (which are heard live by millions of people) are "no big deal".  Another one has tried to start a romance with four men, desperately trying one after the other until one of them took the bait.  (He has since dumped her and moved on to one of the racists.)  One is a master manipulator who uses her skills in politics to shmooze everyone and fool them into thinking she is on their side.  And one is a complete bully, whose mission is to force her housemates into doing what she wants, or she scares the shit out of them.

Not one of these women could be a role model for Allie.  They are dreadful.

And yet, there are two who I find endearing.  One is a highly sensitive yoga instructor who is a terrible  liar, a devoted friend, and everyone thinks she's a dope.  The other one is an attractive, intelligent african american girl who is antagonized by racist comments and tries desperately to stand up for herself, which everyone in the house finds to be annoying.

Out of this collection of women, the only people I would want Allie to learn anything from are The Dumbass and The Annoying One.  That's what the others have pretty much labeled the people with scruples.  How lovely.

Before having Allie, Justin and I used to have conversations about having children and often the same statement came out: Do we want to bring a child into a world full of so much hate?  My only response was, 'If the good people start dwindling, who will stop the others from taking over?"  

So, in turn, I have now declared my Big Brother viewing to be research.  R&D.  Research and Development to prepare myself for what kind of people are out there waiting to corrupt my little princess after we have worked so hard at teaching her to be a kind, loving little soul.  

We need to prepare her to fight the meaniepants bitches from "taking over".  Fight the good fight!  Speak out against the injustices of the world!  Have a cape and a mask!  Wear gold bracelets that deflect bullets!   Make friends with the Wonder Twins so you can report back to me how they actually activate their powers!  Rule Gotham dammit!!!  (I took it too far)

How about if she just hangs out with Shaggy and Scooby (ruh-ro!), and makes friends with the girls that the evil ones have labeled as dumbasses and annoying?  They may very well be misrepresented.   Someone should find out for sure.

In the meantime, she can help house train Scrappy until they get it all figured out. 

My little crime fighter

The Babies = Weight Loss Theory

Where did this past week go?  It's like a big blur to me.  I know stuff happened, but I can't remember much beyond talking to furry beings for a good part of my day.  Oh, wait!  I do recall some nice weather.  Thank you Mother Nature for showing some mercy.

Operation Fattypants is still in effect.  Eight pounds gone.  I'd say "lost" but I'm not planning on looking for them.  This isn't a cat.  8lbs have vacated the premises and no one is in hot pursuit.  No one is going to be putting a photo of those 8lbs on the side of a milk carton with MISSING and REWARD IF FOUND printed near them.  (Do they even do that "missing persons on a milk carton" thing anymore?)

For the first time since I was pregnant, I got on the scale and the second number has changed to a rarely seen digit.  Prior to that, I hadn't seen that number since 1997.  A whole other century ago!  Way way back in the olden days.

Now, some of you might be scratching your heads.  That last paragraph was confusing in regards to the timeline.  I can explain.

26 years ago I weighed ABC.  After that, I "blossomed" up to ADC.  There was this whole Every Diet Known To Man experiment that I had going on for about 23 years where.... um... nothing happened.  Stationary/static fatness.

Then I got pregnant.  

I was determined that I was not going to be a woman who had a baby, gained 80lbs, and then spent the next 10 years blaming pregnancy and birth for being a chubster.  The doctor gave me one speech about weight.  ONE.  He said, "This is not an excuse to eat everything under the sun.  You're eating for one pregnant woman.  NOT two people.  One. pregnant. woman.  I'm not going to mention your weight to you again unless there's a problem.  If I don't say anything, consider yourself within healthy limits."  That was all I needed to hear.

This is where my occupation began working with me physically.  (It took long enough!)  I was walking all day while carrying this little package I couldn't put down.  To boot, this additional human being was sucking up 500 of my calories by just existing.

I gained twenty-one pounds.  For the first time in my life, my doctor was telling me that I was the poster child for healthy weight.  With a BMI of seven trillion for the past two decades, I sucked up every one of those pats on the back and beamed like a beacon.  I was so damn proud of myself.

Allie was born and a month later I got on that scale and saw a number I hadn't seen since I was twenty-five!  What followed was what any other woman in disbelief would do after weighing herself. 

I got off of the scale, shook it, put it back on the floor and got on it again.  Same number.

I took the scale into another room, stood on it and stared at the number.  Then I stepped off, flipped the scale over, took the batteries out to reset it, and tried weighing myself again.  Hot damn!  Could it be?

It was a joyous moment!  

It didn't last.  

Why?  I have no idea!  If I knew why it didn't last, you would be reading my New York Times Best Seller book on weight loss right now instead of my One-in-a-sea-of-a-kajillion-blogs ramblings.  

I can confirm that eating was involved.  That definitely contributed to the weight gain.  (Imagine that.)  I just don't know what happened between the joyous scale moment and me stuffing my face with reckless abandon.  Whatever occurred was a trigger to make me go from happy to porky ASAP.  That trigger is my enemy.  It does not want me to be healthy.

But my Little Peanut does.

Considering that one of the driving forces behind creating and implementing Operation Fattypants has been Allie, as well as the fact that she also helped me achieve this weight three years ago, I have come to the conclusion that babies contribute to weight loss.  Yup.... babies equal weight loss.

Can you imagine trying to prove that crazy theory?  REAL scientific conclusions get destroyed all of the time, and those ones actually have diagnostic information and endless experiments to back them up.  I'm just taking a shot in the dark with this one.  It's my own personal theory.  I'm nuts, so it's only fitting that my theory is as bonkers as I am.

Before I wrap this up, I wanted to share two photos.  After wondering what in the hell I actually did last week, I picked up my phone and tried to find some evidence.  Here's what I came up with....

Apparently my love of shoes has been passed down to the next generation.  I wasn't paying attention to what was going on behind me while getting ready one morning.  Suddenly, I hear "Mummm! Rook!" (that's what Mom, look! sounds like with that stupid binky in her mouth) I turned around and there was Allie wearing a pair of my strappy cork-wedge sandals.  She took two beautifully graceful steps..... and then face planted into the wall.  But those two steps were clearly indicative of someone with a natural love for cute, yet uncomfortable foot apparel!  I AM PROUD.

Last but not least, I found this (above) hanging on the wall at a customer's house this weekend.  It stopped me in my tracks.  I took a moment to read it and think about it.  As I walked down the stairs, I thought, 'What a great world it would be if things like that were hung in random places all over the place.'  We would walk around corners and find words of wisdom about all sorts of things.  

The question is, would we stop to read them?  Probably not here in New York.  Someone would steal 'em.

Survival and Surveillance

I survived Hell Week.  Survived.

It was a gazillion degrees out there.  I think God was having a little fun with me by matching the temperatures to my nom de la semaine (name of the week).

(That one year of French in high school paid off right there, didn't it?)

And The Big Guy Upstairs didn't let up.  Oh no.  The boiling temps hung around right up until my work schedule let up on Sunday afternoon.   Suddenly, it was positively delightful at 80 degrees with clouds and breezes.

I managed to stick with my little dietary change through it all..... despite the ice cream place at the top of the mountain calling my name every time I drove past..... which happened to be six times each day.  Six times of me yelling "I DON'T WANT ICE CREAM SO PLEASE STOP!" at the top of my lungs to nobody.

Unfortunately, I had a tiny taste of heat stroke due to a drop in blood sugar on two separate occasions (because I like to make sure that I learn my lessons well by repeating them until I'm 100% that I've f*cked up).  The weather people stressed high water consumption, but failed to mention that eating enough food was a skoatch important as well.  Things got yucky.  Dizziness, nausea, headache, etc. 

One afternoon I couldn't remember an entire hour spent outside.  It was as if i had been asleep the whole time.  I was completely freaked out.  I was in the middle of filing a phone claim (because that's what you should do when all of your faculties aren't workin' up to par) when I realized I was speaking English, but wasn't making sense.  I remember the fella saying, "Ohhhh!  Now I get it!" about 10 minutes into the call. ( I gave him a big fat Excellent rating in the survey at the end of our call.  He earned it.)
  

So, despite my little food faux pas, I walked over 75,000 steps, almost 38 miles, and lost 5lbs.  Operation Fattypants is still in effect.  Slow but steady wins the race, right?

Every time I look across the street I'm so grateful for the pool.  Even the kiddie pool that's heated by baby piddle.  A few days last week, we found time to schlep on over to cool our stuff off and let Allie splash around.  I love watching her with her little floaty thing on,  swimming around all willy nilly with no purpose or direction..... just like a baby duck.

The other day we had a genetic A-HA! moment at the pool.  The photo below was taken right after we had that.

On patrol

Let me preface this by saying that my mother should've been a private detective.  She would tell you that it's her ADD, but I think that her observation skills have been honed partially by her love of people watching, her natural curiosity about the unknown, and then maybe a little ADD mixed in with a sprinkle of OCD.

If a stranger drives past our area, conversation ceases, she'll get a kinda squinty, snap into PI mode and start with the questions.  Observational questions.  Many questions.  There's no distracting her.

"Who is that?  Do you know that person?  I've never seen them before.  Which way are they going?  Is that a friend of (insert neighbor name here)? They were going pretty fast, don't you think?"

We tease her about it, but I do find it endearing.  Not to mention that we shouldn't mock her considering this skill could be quite beneficial should there be a crime within 300 feet of my mother's existence.  She will be watching, getting the deets, and writing them down in a little notebook somewhere for the police to refer to.

Back to the story.

We were in the pool and the lifeguard got up and started doing his thing and then BAM!  The P.I. genetics kicked in.   For some reason, she was very suspicious about the life guard and every single one of his actions.  Allie got all squinty-eyed, honed in on the poor guy and, suddenly, she was my mother.

"What he doing?"  (he was putting away discarded pool noodles)

"He's cleaning up."

"Why?"  (what a surprise that question is.  not.)

"Because that's his job."

"Why he doing THAT?" (now he was moving an umbrella)

"To block the sun."

"Why?"  (again.  love that question.  ugh.)

"Because it's hot and he should be in the shade."

She just dead on stared at him.  He sat back in his chair looking everywhere but at her.  He knew she was watching.  You could see that he found it amusing... and creepy at the same time.

"Now what he doing?"  (he was getting the net to skim the baby pool)

"He's getting a net to get bugs out of the pool."

"Why are there bugs in the pool?"  (I feel my chest tightening)

"Because they like the pool water, I guess."

"What is he checking that white thing for?"  (the cover to the filter)

"To see what's in the filter."

"**I** want to see what's in the filter!"  (starts splashing toward the stairs)

Oh.  My.  God.

Following up on suspicious activities

This behavior continued the entire time we were at the pool.  We always thank the life guard on duty when we leave, and as we approached him, we told Allie to say thank you.  She held my hand and walked by, never losing eye contact, mumbling "Thank you" quietly.  I was waiting to see her do the two fingered gesture that says, "I'm watching you. These eyes are watching you."

(Just in case you weren't sure what I was talking about)

If anyone is looking for someone to do surveillance or back ground checks on people in about 16 years, please give me a call.  I imagine my daughter will be highly skilled in this area by then.  Until then, if you live in my neighborhood, between my mom and Allie, you should sleep well at night.  Things are under control.  You're safe.  (wink)