So…I’m running this free healthy eating group with recipes that are family-friendly on good ole Facebook. My inspiration? My little guy, who is almost 18-months, has been struggling to eat his vegetables. My 3-year old daughter Gracie gobbles them up – first, no less – but Parker barely touches them. No amount of choo-choo trains, me eating them to show how delicious they are, or even liberal amounts of “sprinkley cheese” will get him to like them.

Enter some of these recipes. MOM WIN. Like – me dancing in the kitchen as he eats them, celebrating.

So why not share?

Here’s my first creation!

Banana Veggie Muffins

2 large eggs
3 cups (6 large) very ripe bananas
1 cup unsweetened applesauce
3/4 cup grated carrots
3/4 cup grated zucchini
1/2 cup maple syrup or raw honey
6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
Cooking spray (I use my Misto – it’s super handy!)

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F and spray non-stick muffin tins with cooking spray. Set aside.
2. In a large mixing bowl, lightly beat the eggs. Add bananas and mash well. Add remaining ingredients, except flour, and whisk to combine. Now add flour and gently stir until well incorporated. Do not over mix otherwise muffins will be tough!
3. Fill each tin with batter and bake for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let muffins cool for about 5 minutes and transfer to a cooling rack to cool off completely.

I served mine to the kids this morning with a hard boiled egg and some fresh raspberries. Delicious! Hope you enjoy!

I had a moment of clarity last night. It hit me HARD. My baby girl will be three years old this week. How is that even possible?

She was this tiny, sleepy, smiley little bundle of joy from the minute she arrived. She had a head full of curls as soon as her hair got long enough. She waited to giggle until we thought we couldn’t stand being patient for one more second, and when she let out her first squeal of glee I felt as though I could leap over mountains with joy. She captures my heart with every twirl of her hair, every raised brow, every question, every made-up song, every silly dance move, every strum of her ukulele. She will have me in the palm of her hand forever.

When our son was born, I was handed a piece of wisdom – just because Gracie is the oldest now doesn’t mean she’s big yet. And I honestly think it has taken 14 months for that to sink in.

She woke up crying in the middle of the night last night – a rarity these days. She was clearly dreaming, sat up, and started bawling. Her Daddy and I rushed up the stairs to comfort her. It was in that moment, when I watched him snuggle her and carry her to use the bathroom, that it hit me – she will ALWAYS be our baby. No matter how old she gets. No matter how much she grows and changes, that will remain constant.

Right now she has this ferocity about her. Everything has to be just to her liking; just the way she envisions it. She can run into your arms with such abandon that the weight of her body against you, the weight of her trust in you, fills your entire soul with happiness. My heart stops in those moments, knowing that with time all of this will change, and new, magical things will take their place. And while I can’t wait, I already mourn the loss of each stage we have passed these last three years.

She is changing. She is growing. She makes me proud every single day. And I can’t wait for all of the exciting things to come.

Read that title? Seriously – I mean it. I’m NOT.

I shared something super personal about my journey as a Team Beachbody Coach today. I have been debating whether to share it for almost two weeks now. I won’t get into it here. It’s not my point.

I had someone almost immediately message me and tell me that I shouldn’t have shared it. That I was sending the wrong message. That somehow sharing my story – my TRUTH – isn’t allowed. That bothered me. A LOT.

See, the thing is – I’m NOT special. I’m just a wife and a mom. I decided last fall that I was going to change my life. I was determined, set goals for myself, and have seen the results of consistently reaching those goals. I’m NOT claiming to be a fitness or nutrition expert. I’m NOT claiming I have everything in my life figured out. But I AM sharing my journey. How I’ve lost over 85 pounds and kept it off. How I fight inner demons every single day to not revert back to the way I used to live. How sharing my story has changed not only my life, but the lives of my family. How I could finally ditch that corporate job that made me miserable and stay at home with my kids.

Life can get hard. People can try to shoot you down. I knew when I started this journey that was bound to happen. The thing is – you need to keep your chin up. You need to have faith and hope in your OWN journey. You need to be able to look those naysayers in the eyes and say, “That’s fine, you don’t have to agree with it. But I’m doing this for ME and MY FAMILY.”

Because when you get right down to it – your journey is about YOU. Dream big. Inspire people along the way. Know that you can’t change the unwilling.

Be true to yourself. And if being true to yourself means clearing out your sister’s dresser to make yourself a hideaway – so be it. DO YOUR THING.

I had a rough morning. One of those mornings where you want to throw a conniption fit, stomp out of a room, and cry for about 3 hours. THAT kind of a morning. UGH.

But this afternoon I have an entirely different perspective. The attitude of others, while it can sometimes be upsetting, does NOT have to reflect on how I think of myself. I do NOT have to let that negativity seep into my daily life.

People will doubt you. People will think you’re messing everything up and doing everything wrong. Heck – you might be. But if you’re doing your best and trying as hard as you can, STAY STRONG.

Believe in yourself. Follow your dreams. Work toward your goals. Be the shining ray of sunshine in the gloomy, rain cloud of a world.

Choose happiness.

For a second I forgot you were gone today, Dad. I was mindlessly folding laundry and heard a commercial on Pandora that mentioned remembering to call your parents. For that one split second I had the fleeting thought, “Oh! I should call Dad.”

And then it hit me. It hit me as hard as it did the day you were diagnosed with a stage IV brain tumor. As hard as it did the day we lost you. That phone call is never going to happen again.

I should have called more when I had the chance. I should have been more present in your life despite the hundreds of miles between us. A few more phone calls. More texts, when that was something you were still able to do. I got so busy with life and the kids and didn’t cherish what little time we had left with you.

I just didn’t want to face that you wouldn’t be here to watch Gracie and Parker grow up. That you wouldn’t be around to visit and cheer them on at their baseball games and dance recitals. It just hurt my heart too much.

You’d laugh pretty hard at how I snapped out of these thoughts, though. I heard Gracie say, “Ewwwww, Parker!” and ran into his room to discover him with a used Q-Tip in his mouth. Somehow in the minute he was out of my sight he managed to get into his garbage. I can almost hear your laugh in my head right now.

I miss you, Dad. I’ll never NOT miss you. But hopefully someday my heart will hurt a little bit less.

Okay, so the title may be a bit of an exaggeration. But do any other moms out there just feel like their patience level is completely drained by the end of the day? I want my children to have the very best of me all the time, but sometimes it just doesn’t happen. I’ll be the first to admit it.

We’ve had this bedtime routine with Gracie girl that just keeps getting longer. Three trips back to the potty, constantly thirsty – she’s really just trying to delay going to bed. She knows that. I know that. But the song and dance happens every. single. night.

I’m doing my best to encourage independence and establish good habits. But at some point, as sad as it makes me, I snip at her. And then I feel like the worst mom EVER. She looks up at me with those sweet little eyes peeking out from underneath her mop top of curly brown hair, and she asks me not to talk to her so loud.

So I take a deep breath. I smile at her. I give her the big hug she needs. I remember that she is just trying to figure out her boundaries. She’s constantly learning, constantly growing, and constantly changing. Soon she won’t NEED me when she has to go potty. Soon I won’t be there for her to giggle up at me after I realize my error and make a silly joke to her. At some point she’ll get up and do it all on her own and go back to bed, and I’ll be none-the-wiser.

Each day I do my best to grow. Each day I try to be a better parent than I was yesterday. Some days I feel successful, some days I don’t. But every single day I put my head on the pillow knowing that I am doing the best I can, and I sure hope that some day they see that.

So…I haven’t blogged in about 8 million years. I know, right? Kind of ridiculous for someone who wanted to start her own blog for like 5 years. So here I am. BOOM. Hello, world!

I know why I haven’t been blogging. I’ve been avoiding it like the plague for the same reason I’ve been avoiding the mirror for about a week and a half. I have Beachbody Summit this week and I am scared. to. death.

Why? Because I’m not at my goal weight. *GASP* Not a shocker to anyone who knows me. And yet I’m terrified to meet most of these fellow coaches in real life. I KNOW they’ll be nice. I KNOW they won’t be judgmental, because everyone started from somewhere. But the little, insecure 7th grader inside me just keeps saying, “But what if they think I’m fat?”

There are times when my self confidence SOARS. When I’m able to help other people reach their goals, or when I reach goals of my own. I feel more amazing than a bag of potato chips could EVER taste. And yet I can’t get out of my own darn head.

So wish me luck, folks, as I bare my soul (and my upper arms) to over 25,000 amazing Beachbody Coaches. This is me. This is who I am. I’ve fought really hard to lose over 85 pounds and keep it off. I have a heck of a lot more to lose, sure, but I’m PROUD of how far I’ve come.

Get ready, Nashville – I’m coming for you!