Pregnant running

When I was pregnant with Sophia, I ran until 26 weeks. Then life happened, I took a few weeks off . . . then a few more . . . then I was 33 weeks, and forget restarting at that point! I got back into it when Sophia was about six weeks old. By four weeks I was dying to go for a run, but obeyed my OB's strict instructions that I was not to run until at least six weeks out from my C-section. Torture!

This time around, my goal was to run until at least 32 weeks. Then four weeks ago life happened.

Sophia got sick, requiring multiple nebulizer treatments thru the night for several weeks in a row, and this mama ain't getting up to run at 6 a.m. when she already has been up at midnight and 4! Then after that, John's work schedule changed to four days a week, requiring him to be at work by 7. Now, when he had to be at work at 8 it was doable, but running and being home by 6:30 so he can leave? So not happening right now.

So for the past few weeks I got in some cross training, some eliptical at the gym, some workout videos on youtube . . . and no running.

Blah.

Then my mom came over to hang out with Sophia on Wednesday, yay for Grammy! (Hmm, not sure if she is -y or -ie . . . pretty sure she'll comment to let me know!) And I debated between more eliptical at the gym or a run outside . . . the run won out!

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I started out at my (previous) usual pace, on my 3 mile out-and-back run. Not a big out-and-back fan, but there is something to be said for knowing exactly how far you are running sometimes! Said out-and-back heads up a little incline for the first quarter mile, and then levels out to being pretty flat for the rest of it, not too much of a challenge.

Ha!

In the four weeks since I had run, that little incline had grown. Not into a little hill, but into the Devil's Back at Houghton College. Anyone who ran cross-country with me in college knows what I am talking about. Devil's Back was the name of this ginormous hill that pretty much required you to go on hands and knees to get up it. Really, those of us who were on the slower side actually walked the whole thing in a hunched over position, hands grabbing at the dirt in front of us, which was really at waist level because the incline was straight up.

So here I am, gasping my way up my new version of Devil's Back. And to really appreciate the struggle, here's what you can do. Go ahead and strap on a few five pound bags of flour to yourself . . . one on your belly, one on your butt, and another almost-full bag on your boobs. (Sorry, but that's my reality.) Then hike up a mountain. At a run.

"I feel good . . . gasp . . . I feel good," I kept telling myself. "It's the warmest day in March, and I am outside with the sun on my face, this is great . . . gasp, gasp."

It was the warmest day of the year, pretty much, which was nice. That was counterbalanced, however, by the fact that I was running slower than a possum carrying six little babies on it's back. When you are running that slowly, make sure you are wearing enough layers! Thankfully, I had forseen that this might be an issue, and had enough layers on to run in the Arctic. And never got hot. And if I were being perfectly honest, my bottom half could have done with more layers, judging from my almost-but-not-quite-numb quads.

John has been known in the past to make sarcastic comments about runners as we pass them. No comments on the fast runners with a good stride, but anyone else is fair game. My favorite: "Why don't you try walking instead? You could go faster!" (No one but me hears these, they are said inside the moving vehicle with windows up! Not that he has any business mocking runners, since he is not one!) At any rate, I'm pretty sure I was nearing that pace on Wednesday's run.

At any rate, I finally made it up the monstrous hill after an eon, and spent the next two miles recovering from it. I didn't walk at least (though I guess it might have been faster!). That's probably the best thing that can be said about that run. I didn't walk.

Round ligaments stretching out with each bouncing step, breath huffing, pace shuffling, but I didn't walk for any of the three miles!

I'll tell you when I did walk. The next day. Barely. When I gingerly walked about with aching muscles. And decided that I HAVE to run at least twice a week if I really want to make it to 32 weeks. Because this running every four weeks is not a good plan. At least not if I ever want to be able to walk downstairs without gripping the railing and making it a controlled "flop" down the stairs. Some of you know what I mean.

So strap on your flour bags and join me, people. This mama is going to be running on Mondays (John's day off), Wednesdays (Grammy's visit) and once on the weekend. That's the goal anyway.

In the immortal words of the Penguin: Waddle on, friends!

To be or not to be . . .

a mother. Seems to me to be something you decide before the kiddos arrive, not after!

I was at work the other night, and in some brief downtime I checked my e-mail and then logged out, when an article caught my attention. The article was about, in brief, mothers who have chosen to leave their children behind in order to pursue a different life.

I had so many feeling when I read that article that I just kicked them aside for the moment and got back to work. Now, days later, I keep finding myself going back to it, and trying to process it all. Having feared losing Sophia first when she was in utero and had heart problems, and then when she was so sick this past November and we didn't know what was going on, I don't understand how a mother could make a conscious decision to leave her child.

First I was just straight up angry. How can we accept this in our day and age? How is it okay to have children, and then decide that it wasn't the best path for you, and then move across country to have new life? What kind of mother abandons her children like that?

Upon reflection, part of me is still angry, but a larger part feels so sorry for these confused and disillusioned women. Moving, or taking a new job, or finding a new mate, or starting over in any other way is not going to bring happiness. Neither would staying with their children, for that matter. How can anyone have fulfillment without a relationship with our Creator?

I have been re-reading my favorite books lately, the Anne of Green Gables series. At times it makes me feel wistful, and I wish for simpler times. Back then, a mother was a mother. There weren't the same pressures to "be" something else. In fact, it was taken for granted that when you married, that was the end of any "career."

Please understand me, I am not saying it is wrong for a woman to work, anyone who knows me knows that I still work as a nurse! But sometimes it seems like now there are almost too many options in this crazy world we live in, and apparently one of them is that it is ok to abandon your kids if you get the whim.

At any rate, both the article and Anne of Green Gables have me thinking of how to slow down and cherish the time that I have with Sophia and Libby Baby #2 that is coming in another 19 weeks (Ha! Probably more like 21 weeks!). And how to simplify our lives, to change from the frantic pace we run at to a more leisurely stroll. I'm not much of a stroll-er, so it is going to take some time. Time I have, though, because this mama ain't goin' anywhere!

Sweet girl

Sophia has been healthy for a couple of weeks now, and has energy like I have never seen before! I don't know if it is the changes to her medications or what, but she is like a new kid. She runs around the house chattering away, saying who knows what, and playing with gusto. I love it! I love seeing her so happy and healthy, and am reveling in it all.

As crazy as she can be, she is still our sweet little Sophia who likes to cuddle in my arms before bed, and I love that too. Last night John and I heard her cry out, just once, but it was a good enough excuse to go get her and bring her into our bed. She woke up a little, but cuddled in sucking her thumb and fell right back to sleep. I was holding her close to me, with her feet on my belly, and just then the baby started moving. I stayed awake holding Sophia and feeling the baby kick his/her sister.

Sophia loves dogs so much, it is precious but also sad. We were driving home the other day, and I was attempting to keep her awake while she was trying to fall asleep, when I saw a golden retriever sticking his head out of the car next to us. We stayed right next to that car as long as I could, driving into Auburn. I'm sure the other drivers behind us were furious with me, but Sophia was waving and saying "hi" for all she was worth. We finally had to turn off, and Sophia said "bye bye" and waved one last time.

Later we were at the WalMart gas station and the driver in the pickup next to us was holding the ugliest pug ever while his wife filled the tank. Sophia was enthralled, and just broke down crying when they drove away. As much as I am not a dog person, if we could erase her dog allergy I would get her one in a heartbeat.

And today.

Today at naptime Sophia got her leg stuck between the bars of her crib, and I had to come in and rescue her. I actually had a hard time getting her leg back out, and it was all very traumatic for both mama and bambino. I held her for a little bit, then we cuddled under a blanket and I read her a story before putting her back to bed. Tucked her back in with teddy and blankie, and said goodnight as I headed out and closed the door.

It didn't take long before I heard her crying, and hard hearted mama that I am I ignored it. It wasn't I-have-my-leg-stuck-again crying, but just a mild protest.

Then she started saying "baby." Over and over again, while crying. I couldn't ignore that. I headed downstairs to find baby doll and take it up to her. I opened the door to see her sitting at the end of her crib, back to me, despondently slumped over crying and quietly saying "baby."

I lowered baby into the crib, and the crying stopped instantly. Sophia let me help her lie down, cuddling baby in one arm, teddy next to her on the other side, thumb in mouth. I covered her with the blanket, yet again, and not a peep did I hear again.

She is such a sweet little Peanut, full of fun but also so sensitive and lovey. God knew she was the perfect addition to our family, and I am so full of anticipation for the next Libby baby to arrive and show his/her colors. I know Sophia will be such a good big sister, she practices constantly with baby doll!

A new way to cook

I have to say, often my least favorite time of the day is that window from 3-5 when a grumpy kiddo wakes up and tortures me with crabbiness while I attempt to prepare dinner. It usually ends in frustration on both sides, with the Snuggler crying and clinging to my leg. That then leads to more crying when she falls over as I attempt to move . . . all in all, an ugly scene.

Recently, I have been trying to think of ways to address that window of time in a more productive way that wouldn't end so badly. Pack'n'play time has helped, and Blue's Clues, I have to admit. But I still have wanted to figure out how to interact with Sophia, rather than push her out of the picture.

Enter the kitchen chair! I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier, except that I didn't pray out my frustration as soon as I might have.

Now Sophia is my little helper, and we don't have any more battles. We push the chair up against the counter and she stands there and watches me cook or wash dishes. I tell her everything I am doing, and she helps hold ingredients. (Often eating them while she holds them; I have to allot extra carrots/apples/cheese, etc when she "helps!") She is very inquisitive, and loves to stir, or add an ingredient to a bowl. I had thought she was too young to cook with me, but she loves to prove me wrong!

All things Snuggler . . . and a baby belly

He's Home!

Sophia gets so excited about anyone coming over, but especially when she knows her Dada is coming home. She waits by the window, or runs to the door to see if he is here yet. And as soon as he is home, it's playtime, right?!

I'm not sure that we have named this game yet, except maybe "The Claw." Sophia loves to wear other people's gloves, and the bigger the better. So Dada's are perfect!

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day came early this year. John, Sophia, and I all went on an outing the Sunday before (a week and a day before!) Valentine's Day. One stop was JoAnn's, which John was a very good sport about.

I was up at the cash register with Sophia, paying for a package of buttons when John came up to us. "Do you think $2.50 is a good price for a tiara?" he asked me. I told him I thought that seemed reasonable, and he brought up a little silver plastic tiara with pink feathers and gems encrusted upon it. "For Valentine's Day" he told me.

We headed home and John disappeared into the den. He came out very excited with a little package all wrapped up. "Do you think she should open it in here (dining room) or the living room?" Um. Well. I guess the living room . . . let me get my camera!

Also important to mention, that Sunday marked the first occasion that Sophia tolerated a barrette in her hair! Now to make it a habit . . . but back to the tiara!

Sophia was one delighted little girl when she opened her present and saw what was inside.

We took a trip up to the bathroom so she could really admire herself with her grand tiara!

The addition of a tutu and this little princess was ready to get back to the business of playing.

Nativity time!

Snacktime

Sophia wakes up from her afternoon nap in one of two moods: very happy or VERY grouchy. When grouchy seems to be winning out, my only hope is that snacktime will turn things around. And with yogurt, "fish," and clementines on the menu, who can stay grumpy?!

Time for Tea

Sophia received a beautiful little tea set for Christmas, and we finally had our first tea party the other day! I brewed a little pot of mint tea with lots of honey, and we ended up not even getting out the fig newtons because the tea seemed to be so much fun!

Peanut Butter

If ya'll have read my most recent posts, you know all about my kiddo's fixation with peanut butter. Look at the joy on her face when devouring giant lumps of sticky peanutty wonder! (Note also the plate of tuna noodle casserole, previously gobbled down happily, now completely ignored. Hmmph.)

Big Girl

Sophia has been declaring her independence in many ways these days, and the most recent is her refusal to get dressed in the morning. I bring her downstairs in the previous night's onesie and socks and wait for her to get cold enough to put on clothes. It takes a while. Easier than forcing her to dress on the changing table while she writhes and screams, though!

Today I decided to try something different. While still on the changing table, I asked if she would like to pick out her own clothes. When she answered in the affirmative, we headed over to the dresser, where she chose pants and shoes out of their drawers. We then went to pick out a shirt from the closet.

There I attempted to steer her toward a certain color section. (Yes, I have her closet arranged as mine is, by color.) No go. She had her heart set on a certain shirt that she was very excited about, and the whole outfit ended up matching well.

We did still bring it all downstairs and take our time dressing. Sophia helped put her pants on her legs and pull them up while standing, and put her arms in her shirt sleeves!

My only problem with the outfit is that the pants she chose are sort of her back-up jeans to her back-up jeans, because they have an elastic waist and tapered legs . . . totally mom jeans. So, my one and a half year old is wearing mom jeans. Pretty cute on her, though, huh?

I have to point out the shoes . . . $7 Laura Ashley from TJ Maxx!

Baby Belly

And now, due to public outcry, John took the first belly picture of me this time around. With Sophia I knew how far along to the day each picture was . . . best guess here is 17ish weeks.

Here you go, folks!