Probably Only Runners Will Care About This

"Are you still running that race next weekend?"  Mark asked me the weekend before Mother's Day.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"  I replied.

"I haven't seen you run at all this week."

True.  I hadn't been out for a run since the last weekend, and when I did my "long run" of a mere 6.5 miles.  I remember when that used to be the weekday standard workout.  Those were the days.  I took this as a cue that I'd better lace up and forced myself to trudge through nine and a half.  It was raining.  Why, oh why, did I sign up for this?  Like New Coke or a Donovan McNabb Redskins jersey or french-rolled jeans...it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Race day arrived and five minutes before the gun went off I found myself staring at the starting line...in my car.  I planned to arrive an hour early, but Lucy, the big bad dog, was just so darn cuddly that morning that I couldn't get out of bed, and left 45 minutes later than I had intended.  So I put the pedal to the metal and 50 minutes before starting time I was just two and a half miles from the race.  I felt relieved--I really hate rushing around before a race, and now I would most definitely have enough time to get parked and settled.  Then, with the exit ramp in my sight, the traffic STOPPED.  Moving at a pace that rivals my grandma's, I eventually approached the crowd of runners, but still hadn't parked the car.  I was frustrated, but still not too anxious, because I thought surely all of these other people in this traffic would be late the begin the race, too.

Not so.   Apparently these people were all runners' chauffeurs, because I was the only one getting out of the car wearing a race number.  I hurried to the starting line and crossed just as the MC announced "One minute! The starting mat will be picked up in one minute!"

Phew, I made it across in time.  I looked around and I saw volunteers picking up cones and "no parking" signs from the road side and piling them into vehicles.  I was actually chasing the slow poke van that scoops up participants who cannot keep the minimum race pace (which happens to be 16 minute miles).  And then I had a terrible thought--what if the water aid stations would be packed up by the time I reached them?  The only thing that I was running with was the visor on my head and a shoe walletcontaining my car key on my laces.  I picked up the pace out of sheer panic.

I ran alone for the first mile before I encountered any other runners.  Well, they were walkers, actually.  It made me feel better that I wouldn't be lost and forgotten about.  By mile two, I was among quite a few other participants.  I relaxed and started to take it in.  The back of the pack is really quite enjoyable, I thought, so much more laid back and the intensity keyed way down.  I saw runners jogging against the flow, returning to check on slower-paced friends, before speeding ahead again.  I saw so many running the race in memory of a lost loved one, or in dedication to an friend or family member who was ill.  I saw costumed runners and I even saw a guy skip roping the entire race!  From their front porch, several dogs "cheered" on the runners.  Jogging for enjoyment rather than to "PR" allowed me to take in the scenery and enjoy the crowd--and especially read the posters.  My favorites included Don't stop, people are watching!  and Smile if you're not wearing underwear.  The most amusing was It's not sweat, it's liquid AWESOME! 


I finished the race in 2:02:29, which wayyyyyy exceeded my expectations.  Running sporadically and averaging 15 miles a week is not usually the way you want to prepare, so I was just hoping to finish in under 2:20.  By the end, I was pretty spent and just wanted to go home.  I headed towards the car, thinking about nothing but collapsing on to the couch when I got home.  Soon I realized that I didn't actually know where the car was, after all.  The race began and finished at a fairgrounds, and thousands of cars were parked in identical grassy fields.  I wandered on tired legs for nearly an hour, pressing the panic button on my key before finally hearing the car alarm call out to me "Here I am!"  


Checking this race off the to-do list, I returned home and naturally logged on to my favorite local race website---What's next?

This Post is About Poop. Sorry.

If that bothers you, read no further.  See you next time.

We lost a onesie today.  Bitty had a poop that defies reality.  A poop that has traumatized me.  When I started to open her diaper, it didn’t look so bad from the front.  And then I got to the back.  The poo exploded out the rear of her diaper all the way to her shoulder blades.  So then, I’m of course wondering how I’m going to get this thing off of her, the back of the onesie was completely saturated in poop.  Eventually I decided I was just going to have to go for it.  Bitty ended up with poop in her hair, on her arms, and even on her cheek.  I had to throw the onesie in the trash, I just couldn’t even deal with it.  RIP.

I Can't Help Myself--I Must Post More Laughing Videos

The sweetest sound . . .

Just In Case This Whole Teaching Thing Doesn't Work Out . . .

Yesterday, I took Bitty to Whole Foods with me.  It has been a while since we have been grocery shopping together.  During my maternity leave, we made weekly trips, but nowadays...well, we get a lot of take out.  Don't judge.  I'm tired and busy and don't have time to cook so why bother grocery shopping.

I had almost forgotten how much I enjoy our grocery trips.  I plop Bitty into the ERGOand away we go.  She likes to look around wide-eyed and I like to tell her about all of the different foods we're buying.  We always get LOTS of attention.  Everybody loves a mother with her baby.  Especially when she's strapped into one of those baby carriers.

Knowing that we would probably attract more attention than the average grocery shopper, I thought maybe I should wear something that can NOT be mistaken for pajamas, and changed from one of the three pairs of yoga pants that I rotate during the weekend into a pair of jeans.  A pair of my old jeans.  Yes, it's true, I can finally fit into a couple pairs of my pre-pregnancy jeans.  The big ones.  If I suck way in and squeeze my butt cheeks together, then do ten squats and ten lunges to stretch them out a bit, there are two pairs that I can zip and button.  I'm aware that my thighs probably resemble stuffed sausage casings, but three weeks ago those pants weren't even close to buttoning so I'm going for it.

As usual, Bitty worked the crowd by flashing flirty, toothless grins at the strangers and shouting out her food requests at the top of her lungs.    We were the target of many smiles and "How old is she?"  "She's beautiful" comments.  I was just soaking it up and basking in the glory of my baby's cuteness.

Eventually we made our way to the checkout line.  I always get one of those double-decker shopping carts that look like this:

Because it's easier to maneuver through the aisles

I squatted down to remove the items from the lower basket and no fewer than three people asked if I needed some help!  Wow, it is unbelievable how much attention a baby will get you.  And then, a fourth person offered assistance!  This one a somewhat elderly lady.  I should be asking her if she needs help, I thought.  "Oh no, that's OK, I've got it!"  I cheerfully answered.

"But dear, I think you need to pull up your pants a bit,"  the old woman replied with a look of concern upon her face.

Embarrassing.  Completely, utterly humiliating.  Then I started to wonder if those other do-gooders were actually trying to spare me the shame of having my a** crack peeking out for the world to see.  Indeed, I have been trying to figure out a way to obtain part-time employment after this school year, but plumbing certainly wasn't on my radar.

A Few of My Favorite Things--Four Months

This post is not funny, but hopefully informative.  I am writing this because (a) This blog is not all fun and games and entertainment!  It's resourceful!  And (b) I think advertisers should PAY ME for my great advice and so I can quit my day job.  SHOW ME THE MONEY!

P.S. Message me with your tips, too!

1.  Winkel

Easy to grasp, chew and bendy.  Bitty's #1 fave.

2.  Sophie the Giraffe

Bitty and I both love this teething toy, and not only because it shares her name.  Every aspect has been thoughtfully developed.  It is made from all-natural cornstarch and food paint.  The neck and legs are the perfect size for little hands to grasp.   The ears, horns, and legs are the perfect size and placement for little mouths to gnaw upon.  The contrasting color of the light body and dark spots stimulate vision.  Baby Bear loves this thing.

3.  Trumpette Too Socks

Seriously, these are the only socks that stay on.  The "too" is the Target version, and smaller for newborns.  Once their feet are bigger, the regular trumpettesare good.

And cute, too!

4.  Peekaboo, I Love You

Bitty *hates* to be read to.  I know, as an elementary school teacher, this is embarrassing.  More on that later.  However, there is one book that she will tolerate.  I think she likes the bright colors and the yarnie hair on the cover.  Since this is the only book she is content with, we have read it MANY times.

 

5.  Fisher Price Cradle n SwingBitty doesn't use this so much anymore, but it was ESSENTIAL during the first two months when my little princess more closely resembled the dragon in the dungeon.  We have since purchased the Fisher-Price Take-Along Swing to take to the baby-sitter's house, and that one is terrible.  Made me appreciate the Papasan.

6.  Trendy Mobile

The mobile that goes with your nursery linen set is very cute and matchy-matchy.  But not very stimulating.  You should get this one instead.

Full disclosure:  The arm for this mobile does not fit many of the convertible cribs.  I purchased a traditional mobile, and use the arm and musical feature on it. I have attached the "umbrella" part of the stim-mobile to other arm.  A better idea would be to borrow or buy second hand an arm that fits.  Check baby consignment sales in your area.




7.    The Happiest Baby on the Block DVD

Changed our lives.  For realz.  Bitty still sleeps to the audio "Rain On The Roof" track all night.



Bow down to Dr. Karp



Going To Church Last Weekend Has Done Me Some Good

Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, Thanks Be To God, Bitty slept though the night!  BIG TIME!  I put her to bed and eight and she awoke at seven the next morning!  Naturally, I had a panic attack at five in the morning because (a) my four o'clock alarm did not go off, and (b) I feared for Bitty's life!

My eyes popped open at 5:15 and I awoke Mark, "Did you get up with the baby yet?"  He hadn't, so I bolted out of bed and ran to her bedroom with Olympic-worthy speed.  I place my hand upon her chest---up, down, up, down.  Phew.  Crisis averted, and now jubilant amazement set in.  Holy Moly!  Bitty typically wakes up twice during the night to eat--between midnight and one and between four and five.  Tonight will be telling...am I lucky enough to have two nights in a row of decent sleep?

still sleeping

How Big Is Baby? Four Month Edition

Bitty had her four month check-up today.  She is still long and lean with a little head.  She weighs 13.5 oz and is 25 inches long.  She was a trooper for her vaccinations and only cried a wee bit, then she was over it.

I talked with the doctor about Bitty's massive reflux which has just been out of control lately.  She'll be starting on zantac tomorrow, so hopefully this will no longer be the scene at our house:

no joke

I'm really hoping that this works because I am sick of doing so much laundry and Bitty's outfits just don't look nearly as cute when covered up with a bib.  And cute is what matters.

I Am In Over My Head

Tomorrow I am running in the national half marathon relay with two other friends from work.  Two of us run five miles and one person runs three.  I'm running the middle leg, which happens to be five miles mostly uphill.  I am so not ready.  For example, today I ran 2.5 miles and stopped to walk twice.

Back when I agreed to do this, I was having fairly decent workouts and running between 4-5 miles three or four times a week.  And then I went back to dumb work and any shadow of an exercise routine went to hell due to (a) no time and (b) no energy.  I can either run obscenely early or run ridiculously late (meaning 8:00 which is late when you're waking up at 4:00 AM).

Anyway, I am pretty worried that I am going to get scooped up in the little go-cart that collects the slowpokes who can't keep the minimum course pace.  I ran a PR at this half marathon last year.  Wow do things change.

Do Not Disturb. Seriously, Though.

Well, as you know, I've returned to work.  I am about two weeks in and still hate it.  I feel so detached from my baby and it makes me sad that I spend such little time with her during the week.  But, I have gained a new appreciation for working parents because it is pretty insane trying to balance everything.  For me anyway. Or maybe I'm just insane; the jury is still out.

To make matters worse, the custodian has walked in on me pumping twice.  Intentionally.  Maybe we have a little bit of a cultural conflict, but in my world, pumping is for private.

The first time, she knocked on my classroom door, and I called out, "I'm pumping!  Be done pretty soon!"  So what would that mean to you?  Come back later, right?

She did come back later...three minutes later...unlocked my door, propped it open, and proceeded to empty the trash cans and sweep the floors.  All while I am sitting there, boobs out and giving anyone in the vicinity quite an eyeful.  I sat stunned for a few moments, not sure where I had gone wrong.  I had the door locked!  I had the window covered!  I issued fair warning!  Then I heard the sound of children's voices coming down the hallway.  After school tutorial.

"Can you at least close the door?  I hear kids coming and I don't want them to see this!"

Thankfully, she did close the door.  And finished sweeping the floor.  Really?  Finally she exited, leaving me in peace.

The next day, I put my trash can outside of the door, thinking that would be enough of a hint . . .don't come in here.  I heard the custodian empty the can and walk away.  Phew, I thought.  Ten minutes later, I also heard the sound of a key unlocking the door, and sure enough, it was time to sweep the floors.  This time I had to be direct and requested that she return when I was finished.

I haven't had any incidents other than those two, thank goodness.  But I am still getting a deadbolt.  And chain lock.  And maybe even a Doberman.

Farts Are Funny

Heard Sophie's first laughs on two occasions this weekend. Both times it was right after she ripped a huge fart. My worst fears have come true. She has Mark's sense of humor.

This Is For The Birds

Maternity leave is over.  Yesterday was my first day back to work.
It's terrible.  The kids part is ok--I returned to lots of love notes,
we-missed-you-notes, and presents for Bitty.  It's the being-away-from-baby part that is making my heart ache.  Yesterday I was gone before Bitty awoke, returned at 5:15 with enough time to play  give her a bottle and then walk her around the house for about 30 minutes to keep her from fussing before it was time to get ready for bed.

Today, Bitty was again asleep when I left for work, and was sleeping for the night when I arrived back home at five (turns out the insomniac child only took three 30-minutes naps today). Which means I was able to spend, oh, ZERO time with her.  Unless you count the 90 minutes that I laid in bed with her just so I could hold her.
-sniff sniff-

I   **hate** work.


In other news . . .

The kids asked today if I was having another baby.

Me:  No, one baby is all I can handle right now.

Student:  Then why is your stomach still fat if there isn't a baby in there?


Looks like I need to step up the diet and exercise.

"Whir, Whir, Whir." What's That? Here Comes the Fashion Police

Well, Bitty is twelve weeks tomorrow, which means my maternity leave is drawing to an end.  And I am still two sizes larger than I was when this whole thing began.  I only know that because I decided to try on my work pants and they are not anywhere close to fitting.  Damn.  Now I need to buy fat pants.

But wait---maybe I should get some Pajama Jeans?  Function like fat pants without actually being fat pants?  Are these brilliant or too good to be true?  I need advice.  My wardrobe decisions for the past three months have involved contemplating which color velour tracksuit or yoga pants to wear for the day.  I don't trust my judgement.

Quinoa Salad

I am such a great hostess. ~tap, tap~ (that's me patting myself on the back).  I cooked so many meals while my sister was visiting.  She wanted the recipe for this Quinoa Salad that I made while she was here, so I said I would post it to the blog so it looks like I haven't been slacking on my February posts.

Quinoa Salad:
1/2 cup quinoa
1 cup water
1 diced green pepper
1 1/2 cups shredded carrots
1/4 cup minced sun-dried tomatoes
2 T. feta

Dressing:
2 tsp. dijon mustard
1 T. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil

1.  Rinse quinoa prior to cooking.  Combine water in quinoa in a saucepan and boil.  Reduce heat, cover, and simmer about 10 minutes until the liquid is absorbed.

2.  Whisk dressing ingredients together in a small bowl.  Season with salt and pepper.

3.  Combine quinoa with green pepper, carrots, and tomatoes in a bowl.  Stir in dressing.  Top individual servings with a bit of feta.

Tips:
*Red quinoa holds up better in the cooking process and is better for salads.

*Don't forget to rinse the quinoa quite well, even if the package says it's pre-rinsed.  This gets rid of the bitter-tasting saponins, which also cause sort of an unsightly soapy film when the quinoa is cooked.

*Use some oil from the sun-dried tomato jar for the dressing.

*I like to reduce the vinegar and add more mustard for the dressing; adjust it to your own preference.

You Know There's a Problem When Steve Urkel Would Tell You To Get A Life

Uh Oh.  I am sliding down a slippery slope in the world of facebook.  I never wanted to be one of those moms who *only* post about their baby, but that is EXACTLY what I have been doing.

Blog posts about babies=ok.  This is essentially a baby blog, after all.

Facebook posts about babies all the time=lame.

I really don't want to seem like I don't have a life outside of caring for my child.  But the truth is that I don't.  I don't have anything to say that does not relate to this baby.  This is a problem.  I need to do something about this.  I need to get a life, ASAP.  Which also happens to be extremely difficult with an almost-three-month-old.  Last night my sister, visiting from San Antonio, babysat while Mark and I had date night.  We went out to dinner and were gone for exactly one hour before returning.  Because we couldn't stand to be away from Bitty?  No, because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.  This "getting a life" thing is going to be harder than I thought.

An Old Friend

Well, hello there, Cabernet Sauvignon.  

So we meet again.

A Recipe For You!

I made this soup last night and it was so good (and healthy!  and easy!)  I did not invent it, just adapted a recipe from a magazine.  It was even better today (the second day).  Yum yum.

Beef & Veggie Soup


3/4 lb. lean ground beef
1 green pepper, diced
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1/2 package of frozen corn (5 oz?  6 oz?)
3/4 lb. green beans, ends trimmed and cut into one inch pieces
2 tsp. dried oregano
4 cups beef broth
olive oil
ground black pepper

1. Warm a bit of olive oil in a dutch oven or another soup pan and brown the beef.  Drain it on a paper towel and dab the fat drippings out of the pan.

2.  Warm a bit more olive oil if needed and saute the green pepper and onion over medium heat.

3.  Add the corn, green beans, broth, oregano, and beef back into the pan.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to med-low for about 10-15 minutes, until the beans are cooked, yet still crisp.  Season with black pepper and eat!

Namaste, Baby

When I was pregnant, I thought, November will be a good time to have a baby.  I probably won't want to go out with her much while she is itty bitty, and that will be during the chilly winter months when I won't really want to go anywhere anyway.

But I was wrong about that.  When you're home all day just you and the baby, you need to get OUT!  Which makes those chilly winter months problematic.  Cooped up indoors all day does not actually work for me.

Bitty and I went to Mommy & Me yoga this week.  It's supposed to be bonding and relaxing, right?  Sounded like a perfect mama-baby outing to me.

Everything started off just fine.  Bitty was content in her car seat during the drive (she has recently decided that she hates the car).  She was fed and appeared to be in a good mood, despite the pathetic excuse for a nap she took that morning.  I got a good parking spot, and I even made it there five minutes early.  I got us all set up--my yoga mat unrolled, Bitty's stack of blankies arranged at the top.  She laid peacefully kicking and punching away on her blanket as we waited for class to begin.  All of the babies were as relaxed as could be.

The instructor began class with a series of Oms as each mama held our babes seated in our laps.  That's when it got a little ugly.  Bitty did not want to be held in my lap.  She did not want to be held in front of me, or against my shoulder.  She only wanted to be cradled--left side only, definitely not the right--and rocked from side to side.  Once I got her calmed down, I tried to rejoin the class in the poses; baby on my belly, while doing a bridge; baby held in front, while doing a lunge.  Bitty, however, was having none of this.  And naturally, she expressed her displeasure with dire urgency.   This set off something of a chain reaction.  Soon, half of the babies were fussing and crying away.  The instructor shouted out directions over the wails, in vain, as the majority of moms could not do the poses while attempting to soothe their babies.

This continued throughout most of the class.  That is, until the very end, when the instructor banged the gong.  All the babies became silent, entranced by the vibrating sound of the gong.  It was amazing, and got me thinking that maybe I should get my own gong for home use.  It would be like a call to sanity when things get a little hairy around here.

The gong banging went on for about five minutes, signaling the conclusion of class.  Predictably, as soon as the ringing ended, Bitty made it clear that she was ready to go--NOW.  She apparently had things to do and there was no time to dawdle.  So we hightailed it out of there and I was once again reminded of who is in charge in this family.



P.S. As I am writing this post, Bitty is napping IN HER CRIB!!!  She's never slept in there before!  And she has been sleeping two hours!  I am feeling like a super awesome mom with this crib transition thing.

Dogs For Sale

Two dogs for sale, they will go to the highest bidder.

Riley and Lucy bark all the time and I'm sick of it.  These dogs insist on pure silence in the neighborhood.  They bark when they hear a car.  They bark when they hear a person.  They bark when they hear stuff that I certainly can't hear. 

It's crazed, vicious, rabid barking. 

What's that?  A door closed?  Better bark like we're going to tear someone limb from limb.   

Bitty isn't phased as long as she and the dogs aren't in the same room.  But, since the mutts follow me around like they have me on a leash, that doesn't actually happen all too often.

I tried to train them with treats.  No success.  I try to redirect them.  I yell at them.  I spray them with water.  It's all in vain.

I decided today that when if Bitty is napping, they were going to get locked up in the bedroom.  I can't handle them waking this insomniac child once more.

This should not be too dreadfully punishing; if the dogs aren't following me around, they frequently go on up on their own accord for a nap of their own.  In addition, we all sleep in there.  Riley, Lucy, and Marley sleep in bed with Mark and me, and Sophie in her Pack N Play.  The irony that our pets consume half the space in our bed each night while our first born child is soon to be banished to the crib in her nursery is not lost on me.

Yet, still, they hate being shut in there.  But that's what they deserve when they insist on psychotic barking for most of the day. 

During Bitty's nap today, the dogs were in the bedroom maybe forty-five minutes when I made my way up there with the vacuum.  This is what I found.



A school bag had been hanging on the doorknob since November 22nd.



Riley, at least, has a conscience.  He immediately hid under the bed as soon as I opened the door.

GUILTY

Lucy, however, lacks all morality.

No remorse

Public Service Announcement

Advice I Should Have Followed
(A)  Make and freeze meals.  Because take-out every night is not going to help shed the baby blab.  And it's hard to cook when baby has a violent reaction to being put down.

(B) Don't buy too many newborn sized diapers.  Bitty was a little peanut of a baby when she was born.  I read that babies gain about an ounce a day, so I did the math and and purchased three boxes of newborn diapers, thinking that would be about a month's supply or so.  Then she promptly gained nearly three pounds in the subsequent two weeks.  I made it through half of one of those boxes.

And Advice That I Am Following . . .
This one comes from Sarah.  "Eventually, you just need to forget about what you read in books and what everyone else says and just do what works for you."  Well said.

Lessons I've Learned
(A) Change the baby's diaper before feeding.  When baby is milk drunk after a feeding, it's not a good time to change her.  She wakes up screaming.  Duh, I know.

This baby is milk drunk

(B)  Take videos of the cute moments immediately!  When Bitty was born, her cry was adorable.  It was a twittering little whimper that melted your heart.  Mark and I remarked that it was so precious, we almost didn't mind when she cried.  She soon found her voice and her cry quickly evolved into blood-curdling shrieks.  I miss her little whimper.

(C)  Keep replacement batteries on hand.  Finally, Bitty is starting to be able to entertain herself.  Fifteen minutes on the play mat, ten minutes in the bouncer.  The MVP of baby gear is the swing.  Sometimes she will sleep in it for a glorious three hours (on a good day).  The swing has been my savior.  It single-handedly is the reason that I am able to write this blog, for example.  It's the reason our house is not at risk to be condemned from filth and the dogs can actually get fed and taken out.  So you can imagine the dilemma the day that the batteries ran out, and I did not have replacements.  It was not pretty.

The Truth About Babies
(A)  Babies are supposed to sleep all of the time.  They can only handle an hour, maybe two, in an alert state before they need a nap.  This is not true.  Sophie can stay up for five fussy, agitated hours at a time.  This has been the case since she was three weeks old.  There is no reason for an infant to be awake for five straight hours.  Go to sleep, child.

(B)  You may know Baby's Breath as a wispy, light perennial.  It is delicate and refreshing.  However, real baby's breath is anything but.  It's stinky.  It either smells like sour milk, or some weird formula-derived odor. To make matters worse, oral hygiene is not easy with a newborn.  Whenever I try to wipe Bitty's gums and tongue with a wet washcloth, she just tries to suck the water out of the cloth.  And her breath still stinks.

Baby's Breath--the good kind

(C)  Baby poo is not supposed to smell until they begin solid foods.  This is also not true.  But Bitty likes to trick us.  She actually does not poo all that often.  Only a few times a week, to tell the truth.  We only think that she has poo'd.  This is because what she lacks in poo, she makes up for in toots.  That girl rips 'em like you wouldn't believe.  Sometimes I can't tell whether it's the dogs or the baby.

This has been a public service announcement from Yours Truly.  Thank you.

This better work or I want my money back

Get yours  here

Resolutions

I usually don't make New Year's resolutions, but this year, I am desperately in need of the old classic, the standby. . . I need to get into shape and lose the baby lbs.  MILF training, as I like to call it.  Plus, my sister, Jessica, is getting married in Cozumel in June, and right now, all this is not a pretty sight in a bikini.

About four weeks after having Bitty, I felt pretty good , so I thought that I would start a little before the new year and see just how out of shape I am.  My first run was 3 miles, and took me fifty minutes.  Yes, that's right...5-0.  I think most people can probably walk faster than that pace.  And worse, I could barely move the next two days.  I've got my work cut out for me.

The good thing about having the physical fitness of a three-toed sloth is that improvement happens fast.  Within a few workouts, I ran five miles of intervals!  And then...I did nothing for the next seven days.

I am in need of some more intense motivation.  Today I registered for a half-marathon in Frederick on Mother's Day weekend.  That leaves me four months to work up to 13 miles.  It's not going to be pretty, I am just hoping to haul my butt across the finish line.

But, I know I need more than an impending race for a kick in the a**.  It would be too easy to just, say, not go.  Which is why I am proclaiming it right here in writing for all the world to see, and I added the daily mile tracker widget on the side bar.  Now everybody knows it.  I'm going to have to do this just to save face.

And just one more piece of motivation--I saw someone else do this on their blog and I'm going to copy the idea.  I figure that if I list my past race times, it will be a good reminder of the climb back to pre-pregnancy fitness.

So there it is, my 2011 mission statement.  We'll see how it goes...

 

I'll Take the Humble Pie, Please

As many of you know, I am a self-professed, elitist, know-it-all.  I have an opinion on everything.

But, even a smarty-pants like me can admit error (it's not so bad, it hardly EVER happens...).

For example, I used to wonder what the he*^ was wrong with mothers when they complained that they hadn't even had the time to get dressed for the day.  Mothers who allegedly didn't have time to eat, or even brush their teeth.  How pathetic!  How can you not even brush your teeth!

I will eat my words on that one.  Many has been the day that I find that it is 6:00 PM and I am still in my pajamas, with stanky, non-brushed teeth and hair a knotted, psychotic mess.  On one day, I even realized that at 3:30, I hadn't eaten since 11:00 the previous day.  And hadn't even noticed before that point.

In my baby books I read about co-sleeping.  Oh, I will NEVER do that, I thought.  That sounds dangerous, and I'm certainly not going to encourage bad sleep habits.  Besides, I like my space when I sleep.  No touching.

Admittedly, I find myself bringing Bitty into bed with us, at least in the morning hours when I want just one more hour of sleep.  It keeps her content, and quiet.  And, I just like snuggling with her.  Her little baby face, resting on the pillow, and pressed up against mine--it's bliss.  She can barely move, and is definitely not rolling over anytime soon, so I don't have that "uh oh, not safe!" feeling.  And so, I will continue to enjoy our sleepy moments while I can.

I think I've learned another lesson of parenthood . . . never say never, because you may find yourself doing just what you swore you never would.

Work It, Girl

You better work, work it girl.

Click here for Sophie's newborn photo shoot.  Or as Mark likes to say, Sophie's Tasteful Nudes.

P.S. This takes a moment to load, so be patient.  :-)

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, here I am.  Back to blogging.  Oh, my, I only made one post in December?  I just checked my stats, and my page hits are waaaaaaaay sad.  Are you still reading?  Please keep reading.  Because I like writing, and writing is only fun if other people are reading.  And, writing this blog is a good sanity-keeper and stress-reliever.  So keep reading and tell your friends.  And follow me, dammit!  I know you're reading, be proud of it!   I'll post more often, I promise.

And if you need me to advertise your blog, tell me!  I'll get you back!   Ok, done with my self-promotion.

So, little Bitty Bebe is six weeks old now. Which is probably why I am finally back to blogging.  As all of you seasoned parents know, the first six weeks is HARD! Very hard to get anything accomplished.  I'll recap a bit about the past month....Do you have a minute?  This is going to be long....

Bitty has a new nickname.  Since she has been born, she has been the snuggliest, cuddliest little thing, as cuddly as a teddy bear, which was the inspiration for her new nickname.  Sophie Bear, Baby Bear,  Bitty Bear are all fair game.

pouty bear

Sophie is so cuddly she hardly ever wants to be put down.  Which actually turns out to be a bit of an issue when it comes to doing much of, well, anything besides snuggling with the baby.  She screams bloody murder and I imagine that she is thinking "I SAID don'tputmedown!!!!!"  I tried a few devices that I thought might appease both of us.

hates it

hates it

hates this too

I decided that the only way that I was going to get anything accomplished was to hire a babysitter.

Sophie and her babysitter

Every new parent anticipates sleep deprivation.  Mark's sleep deprivation, however, defies all other, as far as I'm concerned. He has established a pattern of waking up in the middle of the night, espewing various bits of randomness that I believe deserve note.  All this, taking into account, that he is by no stretch of the imagination the parent who gets up with the baby in the middle of the night.  Agreeable, to me, since I am home on maternity leave and he has returned to work.

My favorite is the time that he woke up, gathered two pillows and rested them on his arms as if he were carrying a tray of champagne glasses, walked around the bed to my side and presented me with these pillows saying "Here, put her in her rocker."  What rocker?  The rocking chair in her nursery?  That is certainly a two person job--one to rock, and one to be rocked.  I told him that he wasn't making any sense and to go back to sleep.

On another occasion, Mark woke up, picked up and cradled our Jack Russell Terrier, Riley, in his arms, and only realized when he felt a furry face and wet nose that this wasn't the baby, after all.

I can now appreciate why people say that parenthood is a selfless job.  Everything we do, every moment of our day (or mine, at least, now that Mark has gone back to work), is devoted to taking care of baby.  Feeding baby.  Playing with baby.  Making baby happy.  Making sure baby plays at the right time so that she is stimulated enough and will sleep at the right time.  I plan my meals based upon what I can make and ingest in the least amount of time, because I will likely have to do it in a graceful five minutes that exist between baby fussy spells.  Sometimes I feel like I do not have my own life...I exist to take care of this baby.

Bitty and I had what I like to call the Battle of Breastfeeding.  Bitty has always had issues with sucking, from day one.  She sucks at sucking.   On her first day, she wouldn't suck at all.  Then, she went to the hospital nursery because of her jaundice and they fed her with a bottle all night, and she learned how to suck to bottle.  She sort of learned how to suck a pacifier (she still spits it out half the time).  They brought her back to me, and she never sucked for me.  Six lactation consultants, hours of finger feeding, and countless tears later, I have ceded.  Sophie wins the Battle of  Breastfeeding.  And so, I now have a very intimate relationship with my breast pump, as I am now what the internet calls an "exclusively pumping" mom.  Which for me, means that I spend twice as much time feeding this baby, because first I have to pump, then bottle feed her.

Basically, this is me every three hours.

  I am bitter about it.  You win this one, Sophie, but I will fight to the death on the next one.  And daddy is very jealous of the breast pump.

Mark and I both began with a  new parent, deer-in-headlights feeling.  Adding to this, is the postpartum, baby blues.  A shift in hormones that, for some reason, I thought I was immune to.  Analogous, I would imagine, to an alien abduction.   For weeks I complained to my husband that I just don't feel like myself!  I found myself in tears over the simplest things.  Bitty cried--a lot.  And it seemed as if she resisted sleep.  We went through about 10 days where she would not nap more than 15 minutes here and there during the day, and cried in distress most of the rest of the day.   I wondered what I had gotten myself into.  I had done so much preparation, read so many books, I thought for sure that I would fall right into motherhood without skipping a beat.  Yet, I felt like such a failure.  Completely incompetent.  And then, trying to fake happy so that my little Bitty wouldn't be affected by a depressed mother.

And then, one day, it all seemed to be gone.  It took the first three weeks, but finally, finally, I felt a sense of normalcy.  Competent in my new role.   Now, I knew (probably) how to soothe my baby.  Now, I could decipher the cries.  Now, I didn't stress about how I should change her diaper, dress, feed, and burp her.  To all non-parents, it IS stressful!  Listening to your baby cry, and not knowing what to do or what she wants  is the worst feeling you can imagine!  Doing everything you can think of, yet in futility, is a terrible state. But, in time, those feelings went away.  And she, also, became more human-like and less fetus-like by the day.

I never had a conversation about this with anyone before I experienced it myself.  Why doesn't anyone talk about it?  In retrospect, it appears that almost every new mother experiences the baby blues, and if you don't, you are one of the lucky few.  Which is why I write about it myself, for mothers behind me.  I had the Baby Blues in a major way.  At first, motherhood is, well, not that great.  But those feelings go away after a few weeks, or so they should.  And if they don't, which is also not uncommon, you may need help from a more serious condition from a medical practitioner.

So, that is probably the most serious you will get from me for a while, but even I had trouble seeing the humor in the first month of parenthood.  Almost suddenly, however, things started falling into place.  Bitty started making eye contact.  She started making those sweet baby coos.  She started smiling (at me!  not just gas, or so I think).  An early semlance of a routine became observable.

I became a mother.

Our Birth Story

Still reading?  Oh, good.  I'm not sure that I would after a title like that.

I've read a few blogs where people really go into the details of their baby's birth.  I'm not going to do that.  Because, (a) nobody cares about the details, and (b) that would be gross.  But, here is the Cliff's notes version...

When all signs were pointing towards a past-due induction on December 6th, I surprisingly went into labor in the evening on November 22nd.  Some work friends and I were out to dinner to celebrate two birthdays, and I initially thought I just had indigestion from gobbling too much fondue.  I realized that it probably wasn't indigestion toward the beginning of my ONE HOUR drive back home.  Probably wasn't such a good idea to go so far away from home close to my due date.  I called Mark on the way and told him he'd better head home (he had class that night), and we arrived at the hospital at 11:30.

Jessica got this cute gownie for me!

Once I made the request, it took a very long time to get the epidural, which allowed me some time for meditation and reflection.  For example, I arrived at the conclusion that women who decide upon natural childbirth simply must be masochistic.  And also, the anesthesiologist is both the biggest jerk (thanks for taking three hours) and biggest hero in the hospital.

So then, fast forward a few hours and Bitty Bebe was born at 7:42 AM on Tuesday November 23rd.  Weighing in at 6 pounds, 6 ounces, and 18 1/2 inches long, introducing....SOPHIE ALANA BITTENBENDER!!!

(Alana pronounced "uh-lane-uh", even though it doesn't look that way)

Her middle name is in honor of my late father, whose middle name was Alan.

Little Sophie and I had a mother-daughter conflict already during her first day on the outside--I expect some conflicts, say, during her teenage years, but on day one?  She was Coomb's positive, which means that our blood types are incompatible.  My red blood cells produced antibodies against her red blood cells, and that made her prone to jaundice.

And, sure enough, her bilirubin levels had quickly elevated and she had to spend the first night in the nursery under the bili-lights---which was SO HARD!  I was so much more emotional about it than I ever could have imagined.  We have this brand new baby girl, and she spends the first night away from us.  I couldn't sleep that night, though I knew it may be my last opportunity for a decent night's sleep for a very long time.  After several nights under the lights, and ten pricks to her little heel for blood samples, we could say good riddance to that darn bilirubin.  I am glad to report that Sophie did not faint even once.  Fortunately she did not inherit that from me.

Going home from the hospital

Sophie's going home outfit

And so, that is our delightful story of Sophie's birth.  Now, Mark and I find ourselves adjusting to parenthood, life with a newborn, and adapting to zombie-like diaper changes and baby feeding in the middle of the night.

You Know You're Exhausted When...

This weekend has been one of personal grooming for me.  I figured that soon enough, it will be hard to fit these things in.  I got my brows waxed, toenails done, and hair did. 

I had trouble sleeping this week.  First of all, I'm getting heartburn, for the first time ever in my life, so I wasn't used to dealing with that.  And, I just keep waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning--usually between 4:00-4:30.  And I'm up.  There are no half-awake, half-asleep states;  no drifting back to sleep.  I'm up. 

Apparently, this is all catching up with me.  At my eyebrow appointment, I actually fell asleep on the bed or cot or whatever you call it.  Passed out, dead asleep as the aesthetician was waxing and plucking, ripping the hairs out from their roots.  Not exactly what you would call a relaxing experience.  The lights are turned on brightly, the appointments are short, so it's not as if I was lying there for very long, and obviously there are the associated zings of pain.  I have no idea how this happened.  It was embarrassing.  But the next time I go, I'm downing some major caffeine first.

Are We Ready?

Bitty Bebe and mama, 38 weeks

Today, my little pregnancy tracker says that I have about 12 days to go. TWELEVE!!! Yikes!!! But I am SO ready for Bitty to be on the outside. I've spent the past 38 weeks wrestling with anxiety and praying that she would stay IN, and now that she's full term, I just want her to be OUT!  But, I know that I should be grateful that everything has worked out...

So, now we just wait.  Do you think we're ready? (sorry Karin, I tried to get a picture of Riley in the ERGO, and he was just NOT having it...)
 


Double click to view larger in Picasa

Kids and Bellies

The other day my grandma asked me what the kids at school think about their teacher being pregnant.  This got me thinking of some of the more amusing interactions that I've had with some of the kids about pregnancy.

My own first grade class is pretty unphased about it.  But, they have three main questions: 
1.  When are we going to get to see the baby?
2.  How long are you going to be gone?
3.  Are we going to like our substitute teacher?

The third question is a big concern mostly with the little boys...which is interesting to me, because I would have thought the the girls would be more emotionally attached to their teachers.  But, I have had several parents comment about how their sons come home from school after I have left early for a doctor's appointment, and lament about how much they don't like it when I'm gone.  Which in a way, makes me feel kind of good--like they really miss me;  but it also surprises me because girls are supposed to be the sensitive ones, right?  But the girls, well, they couldn't really care less about the whole thing.

This seems to be the case outside of my own classroom, too.  The little boys are WAY more interested in pregnancy. 

As I was walking my class out to their buses one day early in the school year, a second grade student called out to me, "Hi Mrs. Bittenbender!  I love your baby!" 

One of the other first grade students in my collegue's class likes to keep tabs on my progress.  Whenever he sees me in the hallway, he likes to ask, "How many months are you, now?"

And then, there are two kindergarten boys who seem to have a thing for pregnant women.    Both of the boys greet me excitedly whenever our classes cross paths, and each have cute little comments that they like to throw in occasionally.  "Hi!  I like you!"  or "Hi!  You're nice!"  Clearly, this child does not know me well.

Bigger Bump

Last night I slept 10 hours, was up this morning for an hour and fifteen minutes, and then needed a 45 minute nap.  Now I am going to attempt to go to the gym, because I feel like such a lazy ass.  Will I ever feel like myself again?

Bitty Bebe and mama, 37 weeks, 1 day.