Saturday: Run and Yoga/Pilates Fusion

Look at me traveling, baby free!!

Now approximately 5 weeks ago, I staggered out of bed at 3:00 AM to the cries of Little G, and I picked him up, nursed him, rocked him.  Then, I put him over my shoulder to burp him, as you do with an infant, and he immediately projectile spit up over my shoulder and down the back of the inside of my bathrobe and completely filled up the back of my underwear like a water balloon.  It was rugged.  All I wanted to do was get back in bed.  Instead, I had to balance a baby in one hand while I held a hand full of baby wipes in the other hand and did a shoddy cleaning job on parts of myself that I prefer not to address at 3:00 AM, which is the awfullest time of day.

I did such a shoddy job in fact, that the morning found lots of crustiness, and I honestly did not even remember getting back into my bed.  I did not remember getting back into bed because there were two other wake ups following the 3:00 AM wake up, and it was so awful.  It was just so awful, and I still had to drag out of bed at 7:00 AM.  That was five short weeks ago, and it already seems like 5 years.

Last night, Little G slept from 8:00 PM until 5:45 AM, and it was heaven.  I fed G at 5:45, he went right back to sleep, and then I got ready for my run, had a lovely breakfast and brewed myself some tea.  I arrived to meet my running group in a timely fashion and had a lovely, albeit cold, run.

I ran 13 miles before driving home and nursing again and then taking my older son to the YMCA so that he could play, and I could take a Yoga/Pilates fusion class.  It was great stretching and some reasonable ab work.  After Yoga/Pilates fusion, I took my older son swimming in the indoor pool.  It was fun times.  A lovely Saturday, that makes me think my life might return to normal, someday.

For dinner, I had a massive salmon salad and sweet potato fries.

Friday: Swim

I sort of knew what sort of day it was going to be when I looked in my gym bag after swim and realized that instead of a shirt, I had packed some of my husband's dress socks.  It was rather depressing and indicative of my state of mind as I rangle two kids out the door with only one cup of coffee in me.  At least I remembered a bra and breast pads or things could have been quite a bit worse.  

I was late to swim, because, amongst other things, Baby G was up three times during the night, I overslept, and then someone needed his pants ironed.  I will just level with you and tell you that my coffee seems weaker and weaker or do I just need it stronger and stronger? I can't add any more caffeine to my mix, so maybe I just need more help or to fast forward a couple of years.  And, sometimes when I go to bed at night, I fear that the overflowing laundry in the laundry basket is going to turn into a monster and eat us all.  It looks just that terrifying.  

At swim, I really was only able to swim about 2500 meters.  Lateness kills in any workout, and I felt sort of defeated that I did not get in my 3200 meters.  

Tomorrow, I am ideally running 13 miles.  I am meeting at 7:00 AM, and assuming that Baby G sleeps an untroubled night, I will get in my first training run for Boston.  

Thursday: Run and Pilates and I need to let a few things go, but I know myself and I will not let anything go

SO, maybe Baby G just kept waking up last night.  He started fussing about at 3:00 AM, and it just kept going on. Then when he had been fed, then topped off, then soothed back to sleep while I rocked him and shivered in front of a space heater, I could not go back to sleep.  SO, I was left curled up in bed under my electric blanket reading a book on my husband's ipad which he just needs to go ahead and understand belongs to me.  And this is why:  I, Betsy Sloan, have been waking up with the baby umpteen times a night, getting the baby into a sleep schedule and ironing my husband's pants, YES, ironing his pants, all while still putting on make up in the mornings and sometimes, even hot rolling my hair.  I think it goes without saying in our household that the ipad has been relinquished to me.

Now, my 4:00 AM reading is currently a book called 1000 White Women . The jury is still out on whether or not I actually think this is a great read.  The novel is about an idea of 1000 white women integrating with an Indian tribe during the presidency of Ulysses S. Grant.  The concept is interesting, but I have some critiques of the book.  It is a fast read one way or the other.

When I am breast feeding, I read a lot.  I have all this time where I am tied to the nursing chair and I usually read the whole time.  I can hit up to two books a week, and I have a long list of books to report to you.  After reading this novel, I have two non-fictions on deck and it is pretty exciting.  I will get going on my book reports soon, I think.  Also, I usually get into mini-series with my trapped in the nursing chair time and I am currently a big devotee of Downton Abbey. Though I think everyone is right now.

Anyway, though sleep deprived and saddled with one trillion things to do, I made myself a promise that when my pregnancy was over, I would try reformer pilates.  The reformer is a huge machine that you strap into, and the levers and pulleys stretch you this way and that, all the while working out your abs and improving your posture.

Reformer pilates was my entire push for joining the Maryland Farms YMCA, and my experience there has so far been a delight.

So today, I took a double private lesson with a friend, and it was great.  I have been stretched and strengthened and I loved it.  Though, as per usual, I was a workout class party foul.  It happens to me all the time.  Here is why: I run out of time for my cardio and I show up at my next thing DRIPPING sweat like a waterfall.  It is ridiculous.  In my initial plans, I thought that I, Betsy Sloan, would arrive at the YMCA in a timely manner and run on the treadmill, before cooling down, taking a shower and arriving at pilates calm and collected.  Confession: I have never arrived anywhere calm and collected.

Here is what really happened: I dropped my older son off at nursery school.  As I was leaving him in his classroom, I noticed a strange bulge in his pajamas (it was pajama day) and he was packing (PACKING!!!!).  He had managed to stick his cap gun in his waistband as if it was a holster and was sneaking into school with the gun.  SO, I had to set down the baby carrier containing my three month old, wrestle the gun away from my three year old, explain just why we do not take guns to nursery school, explain that there was no need to defend the nursery school from  "bad guys", and confiscate said weapon.

This cap gun incident set me back half an hour, putting me late to the grocery and late to the post office, then a feeding with Little G, impromptu visitors, and my refusal to even think about giving up my treadmill run led me to arrive at pilates dripping sweat like a river from every pore. To get my treadmill run in before my pilates class, I had to set the treadmill at an inhuman pace and sprint like a cheetah was chasing me for 20 minutes.  I then thieved an extra towel from the YMCA and made haste to the YMCA pilates studio where I dripped sweat all over the reformers.

It was pretty dirty, but I was unwilling to compromise either workout.  I was unwilling to compromise, and I think that sums up my drama with being a mom.  I cannot let go of anything.  I want my three year old to take amazing swimming lessons, I want him to learn to read early, I want to get in my workouts, I want to read, I want to write my blog, I want my three month old to have a perfect nap schedule, I want to knit a sweater and I want to eat eight vegetable servings every day.  I want to write all my thank you notes and I want to participate in a very academic Bible study.  I want to read my New Yorkers and I want everything ironed.  I want to maintain my job and look fabulous.  It cannot all happen and this means that I dripped sweat all over the reformers and grossed everyone out, I was late to pick up my son at nursery school, Little G's naps were not quite right, and I have still not ironed my husband's pants.

I have to let something fall by the wayside, but I have never been able to let myself let anything fall, I grasp it all until it gets rudely ripped out of my kung fu grip.

Something I Make Twice a Week

Oatmeal Bake

Such a healthy, fabulous breakfast!!

• 3 cups old fashioned quaker oats
• 1 cup almond milk
• 1/2 cups melted coconut oil or butter
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 tsps baking powder
• 2 eggs
• 5-6 tablespoons chia

mix everything together and bake for 40 minutes in a greased 9 x 13 inch pan!!

Wednesday: Swim and Tracy Anderson

Now that Little G is three months old, we are attempting to full on hit our stride.  We are starting up the routine and going with it.  We are regulars at Monday/ Wednesday/ Friday swim, I am running like I do, and I am throwing some strength straining into the mix.  I am working a few days a month, and I look forward to it like a seven year old might look forward to going to Disneyworld.  When I work, it is three full hours of time alone.  I drive into work by myself and then work in my office and then drive home by myself.  It is so lovely.

Anyway, after the mammoth, absolutely epic, challenge of getting a three year old and an infant out the door to swim, I was slightly more than frazzled.  It is just so frazzling, but I did get to shower alone and honestly, that means a lot.

And once my list of things to accomplish was finished:
1) swim
2) lunch
3) visit to great-grandmother
4) older son to swim lesson
5) everyone home
6) dinner for three year old
7) dinner for me
8) bake breakfast for tomorrow morning
9) laundry, laundry, laundry

I was able to sit down and work through my Tracy Anderson video.  Tracy Anderson is this trainer that Gwyneth Paltrow raves about.  She is the size of an Olson twin and truly lovely.  She also wears her hair in this sort of bumpette look in the video, and it is adorable.  It makes me want to spend hours (which I do not have) in front of the mirror attempting to tease my hair just like hers.

Anyway, she has made a post-pregnancy workout video, and in it she states that she gained 60 pounds when she was pregnant.  This is a statement which I flat out do not believe.  I would sooner believe that she can speak parsel tongue or that she is a fairy with wings.  Anyway, that unbelievable statement is why I bought the DVD.  The workout is a very intense abs workout, and I will say that it is making a huge difference in my strength and form.  I recommend it.

Tuesday: Tornados

I am convinced that when the end comes it will be in the form of a tornado, and I will be naked in the shower.  It is rare that any weather disaster finds me properly dressed, and honestly, it finds me usually severely underdressed.  So it was no surprise today when, freshly off the treadmill at the YMCA, that I was showering away when a YMCA employee with hysteria in her voice said that we were all to get into the hallway post haste.  There was a tornado in Brentwood, and as per usual I was inappropriately dressed.  I pulled on Yoga clothes and scurried into the hall dripping and sweaty bearing all of my stuff.

I, of course, could not stay in the hall, but sprinted straight to the nursery propelled by mom guilt and worry to make sure that Baby G was intact.  He was, and then I learned something that I find to be rather constraining or maybe it is for the best.  I cannot make up my mind.  Apparently, at the YMCA, when there is a weather situation, individuals with children are not allowed to leave without signing a waiver that says they have been duly informed of the risks of leaving under the current weather conditions.

SO, I sat in the nursery dripping sweat and breast feeding and realizing that my one hour trip to the YMCA was turning into a 2.5 hour trip to the YMCA that meant I was not going to get to eat lunch or run my errand, AND I was going to be late to pick up my older son from nursery school.  I was late only to find that my son had not had a nap, as he had been in the nursery school basement in tornado drill position.  This made for a stellar afternoon of un-napped three year old meltdowns, and I can only say that there was not enough alcohol in my home to improve the situation.  It was bleak.

My son decompressed in front of Max and Ruby, which is an animated bunny show that my son loves, and I used to love for its wholesomeness, but now I just think that Ruby is SO bossy and I wish that Max would speak up every once in a while to tell her to stuff it.  Will my son never tire of them?  When will he want to watch 30 Rock, and cackle with me over the love life of the miscreant Liz Lemon.

Anyway,  all that to say that I did get in a really nice run on the YMCA treadmills today.  A fast four miles, made me think that I might get my running legs back.  I am signed up for the Boston Marathon and heading to race on April 16th.  It is something to look forward to, which currently means a lot to me.

Tomorrow, I will try to tell you all about Tracy Anderson!!

More and More Lameness

So as I sit down to report to you the happening of our New Year, I will let you know from whence my inspiration springs.  My precious 2.5 month old managed to stealth spit-up on my shoulder and somehow my hand without my fully noticing, so that when I itched my inner ear, I managed to drag in some spit up, which though now largely wiped out, seems to be crackling a bit when I itch at my ear.  How do these things happen and why, oh, oh why do they feel so disheartening?

I think that my problem is that I am vainly attempting to hold myself to a higher standard than I should expect for the mother of a two month old.  For instance, I was invited to two New Year's eve parties.  One was kid-centric:  party from five until eight in the evening.  Drop the New Year's ball at 7:30 so that the kids got to see a ball drop and get to bed at a reasonable hour.  The second party was a dinner party that was definitely not kid friendly.  I wanted desperately to attend both.

It was clear that the kid-centric New Year's Eve party with my three year old as my date was the only option.  My husband stayed home with the baby and off we went, we were home by 8:05, and I was on the couch watching The Change Up (which will not be nominated for an Oscar) by 8:30 PM.  That was my evening.

The other party was impossible for so many reasons that I cannot count them, but I will list a few to you:

• the baby's feeding schedule meant that I would have to feed at some point during the party
• I did not want to take the baby to the party.  It was not baby friendly.
• this meant that I would have to take my pump and sequester myself in the bathroom at some point and pump breast milk while everyone else did whatever you do at adult parties
• I have no fun shirts to wear that do not reveal my big dirty nursing bra straps
• I have to wear a nursing bra everywhere I go
• For this reason, I am confined to terrible Target knit shirts that I will not regret ruining when they are inevitably leaked on

These are six of the reasons that the party did not work, so I consoled myself that I could at least get a decent night's sleep, and then get up early to run with my running group on New Year's Day.  I was enthused about this until the baby made the decision not to sleep until a reasonable hour, but wake up ready to party at three AM.  When he was finally soothed back to sleep at almost six AM, it seemed rather miserable to get up for my run, BUT it occurred to me that one way or the other my three year old would be up and demanding attention is just a few minutes.  If, I reasoned to myself, I could pull myself out of bed and get out the door, I could leave before anyone woke up, and therefor pass the whole morning wake up zoo off on my husband, which is exactly what I did.  I ran a slow, sad 7.5 miles at an 8:30 pace before betaking myself home.  At home, I could not help but think that it is nice I had so much time before I had children to do fun and fancy things, because being in the spit-up trenches seems rather bleak.  

Maybe next year will be my year.