P.L.O.M.

When I was a kid, I went to a summer camp in Michigan. It ran for two weeks and I think I attended for 4 or 5 summers. I loved it there. My memories of that place are definitely some of the best I have from my youth.

Like other typical summer camps, we had lots and lots of activities. Swimming, volleyball, canoeing, The Olympics, pie eating contest, horseback riding, trip to the beach, bonfire, etc, etc.

But, unlike typical summer camps, every day we had two things: chores and seminar. Our chores were assigned to us every morning. We did them after breakfast. Chores were many things including weeding, sweeping, and even cleaning out the stalls in the barn. Yes, that meant shoveling poop.

After chores were done, we headed over to seminar. For two hours. It was a looooong two hours, especially for a 13 year old that woke up at 5:30a, went running (everyone did), showered, ate breakfast and shoveled horse poop.

What is this "seminar" I speak of, you ask?

Well, the director of the camp is a motivational speaker. I say IS because the camp is still running. And our parents paid a chunk of change for us to, not only have fun but, get educated by this man.

Ok, ok, it kinda sounds like a cult.

It's not.

This man is a well-known author and motivational speaker. He taught us how to set goals, think positively, not wallow in self pity, focus on our priorities and make friends that will influence our life positively. Each of us was given a notebook and pencil, to take notes and use as a reference guide after we returned home.

Do you know any 11, 13, even 16 year old's that have done that?

Not many.

And, lemme tell ya, those summers seminars (two hours every, single day), as torturous as they may have been that moment, really molded me into the person I am today. I am forever grateful to my parents for sending me there. I frequently mentally refer back to those seminars and remind myself of the person I'd like to be.

One of the things he taught us was P.L.O.M.

Or, Poor Little Ol' Me.

In other words, a pity party.

Pity parties are counterproductive. They get you nowhere.

Tonight, the kids and Kim wanted pizza for dinner. Since I cannot eat "regular" pizza, I put one of my gluten-free pizzas in the oven and ordered them a large veggie lover's. I'd never eaten this type of GF pizza, but the last one I had was great.

This one....was NOT. No way. No how. Bleh.

I couldn't even choke it down. I threw it away, along with the $7 spent for the 6" P.O.S. and started having a major pity party. P.L.O.M.

Right now, we don't have much food for me to eat. I pulled out 1/4 of a cucumber, sliced it up and ate it. That would have been ok, but the kids kept snagging slices. Leaving me with, well, not much. (As if 1/4 of a cucumber is much.)

I became super crabby. There wasn't anything for me to eat! I didn't want to cook anything like pasta. I was hungry NOW. And my pizza tasted like garbage. So much that it was IN the garbage!

This sucks.

Grumble, grumble, grrrrr.

I sucked it up and threw a potato in the nuker.

Poor little Lauren. Can't have pizza. Booo hooo. It's amazing how quickly my mood turned from happy to pissy. Over dinner! And it was spilling over onto the children and Kim. And the dogs.

After dinner, we put the kids to bed. I came down here to post an entry. I had no idea what to write until I realized I was having a complete pity party!

And I needed to adjust my attitude. Focus on the positive. Live the way I want to live. Every moment.

Yes, I had a potato for dinner and my pizza was junky.
But, I don't feel sick! I had the willpower and knowledge to NOT eat the "good" pizza, knowing it would make me feel awful. This is why I went through all of those tests, right?

I can't live my life with a black cloud over my head. With a "woe is me" attitude.
Life is too precious.

Don't you think?