P90X with a Toddler

So yesterday started off very badly. In fact, by 9:15am, I had admitted defeat and was headed back to bed. We were getting hit by a December Nor'easter (a cold-weather ocean storm, similar to a tropical storm but with cold rain or snow). Two cups of coffee just weren't kicking in. Everyone was grumpy. We got the big girls on the bus, and headed towards the gym. I was hoping an hour on the treadmill would turn things around. But the parking lot was full. As were the street spots anywhere near an entrance. Did I mention that it was raining sideways and cold? So I gave up. I admitted defeat, turned around, and went home. I put my overtired (and now I realize sick) toddler in her crib, laid down in the bed next to it, and we went to sleep. When we both woke up later, things were better. After a quick lunch and some tylenol for LittleDebbie, things were great. The day had turned around. But the babysitting room in the gym was scheduled to close in 20 minutes, and I still wanted to exercise. 

That's when I remembered the P90X DVDs that BestestHusband had borrowed from a coworker a while back. We still had them. And I wanted to try them out. 

I picked a workout that looked like it had some cardio and strength training in it. And I did it. And the day was completely salvaged. All was not lost, after all. I even FELT like I got a good workout, better than the one I would have gotten if I just went to the gym. Maybe I should just do the whole P90X program?

So this morning, after spending 30 minutes at the bus stop in the rain (yes, it's still raining. Send an Ark...), LittleDebbie and I came home to do P90X. I was motivated. I've been wanting to do strength training for a while, and I know myself well enough to know that I need to join a class to do it. And the classes offered when I'm usually at the gym are targeted to older ladies. Much older. Think Seniorcise. So maybe P90X is the answer to my prayers...

I did the first DVD, which targets arms and back, and then abs. And I learned a few things. I knew the part about my horrendously poor upper body strength. That's old news. And the part about my lazy core. I was aware of that, too. But there's a reason that the DVD shows 4 hard-bodies working out in a studio. Showing real people in their real homes would not be nearly as pretty:

"Show some intensity! Kick forward! Side! Back! Then other leg!"
Ok, don't kick the TV, don't kick the sofa, don't kick the kid. Move over to allow room to use the other leg.
"Stretch both arms high, and do big circles."
Ow! When did that light fixture start hanging so low?
"Take a few moments to get some water and be ready to bring the intensity!"
Crap. Where's LittleDebbie? I need to go find her...
"Run in place to keep your heart going, and be ready for legs!"
Where did all of the Christmas ornaments go? And where is LittleDebbie now? I need to go find her...
"Time for some jacks. Jumping jacks are great!"
Jumping jacks are not great after having 3 kids. I'll just cross my legs and jump in place, thankyouverymuch. Ok fine, I'll wave my arms around, too.
"And lunge, punch, hook! Other leg! Lunge, punch, hook!"
Lunge, oh, there's an ornament on the mat! Hey LittleDebbie, please leave my mat alone, put it down!
"30 military pushups! Here we go!"
Hey, I can barely do one pushup, even without you climbing on me. Get off my back, kid!

So I learned that I need to be more relaxed to my workout than the instructor would prefer. I don't yet have all of the equipment I need. But bungee cords from the basement meet my fitness needs for now. I need to set up the play yard for the toddler in advance. She will eventually end up in there. I no longer am interested in working out 'til I feel like puking. Exercising makes my day better. Puking does not. I'll do one only as long as it doesn't result in the other. Who am I trying to impress? The guy on the DVD? I'll stop when I feel like it. 
Doing the workout at 80% accuracy is still better than I would get at the gym. And I think I know a bit more about pelvic stability and residual diastasis than the guy in the DVD. I'll modify my abs workout as I see fit. 

Don't worry buddy, I'll still "Bring It." I'll just bring along my body that's still recovering from having 3 kids in 5 years, my 15 month old, and the limitations of a small living room in a city condo, as well.

Hurricane Warning

Well, time keeps marching and babies keep growing.

Our LittleDebbie started walking and is now a toddler. A true toddler. 
She is a force of nature. She blows into a room, and when she blows out again, nothing is the same. Socks are in the cabinet. Books are in the bathtub. Water has been spilled all over. A path of destruction follows her wherever she goes. And she's loud. She has an ear-splitting howl that doesn't seem to stop. 

She's very much like a tiny Hurricane. 
Her severity rating might change day to day, but she never downgrades to a tropical storm.

She also climbs whatever she can find. HeyMama is becoming adept at getting in and out of her top bunk without the ladder. The ladder is too much of a temptation for our Hurricane. She's quickly to the third rung before the bigger girls start shouting "Mama! LittleDebbie's getting into big big trouble! Come quick! Heeellllpppp!" I run in to find one or both of the girls trying to wrestle her off the ladder, while LittleDebbie shrieks and fights. 

Our house is mayhem. Adorable and fun, but mayhem. But what can you expect when you live with a Hurricane?

The Year

We celebrated a huge milestone yesterday.

We've survived a full year of having 3 kids. 

In other words, Happy Birthday LittleDebbie!

So much has happened in the past year:

• I grew out of and back into my old clothes.
• I forgot was sleep was like, then was reintroduced to it again. 
• LittleDebbie transformed from a tiny bundle of preciousness to a smiley bundle of perpetual motion. And perpetual trouble. 
• I learned to keep track of 3 different bodies moving in 3 different directions at 3 different speeds. 
• I learned that I can fail at meeting my goals daily. But I still need to try again the next day. 
• I learned to translate she-said/she-said disputes into a semi-predictable "so she did this inappropriate act, and then you did that inappropriate act" format. Is this how Judge Judy got her start?
• I broke my addiction to sugar. And then rekindled it on vacation. I have a trip to rehab planned for my near future.
• I put in a lot of mileage driving a little girl to and from school. 
• I watched that little girl transform into an even bolder and brighter version of herself. And I watched her become a sensitive and doting big sister to an increasingly adoring baby sister.
• I watched our middle child become quirkier and funnier, and watched a fire ignite that pushes her to keep up with her older sister. And a sulking stubborn streak develop. 
• All three girls became stronger, taller, faster, and more capable at just about everything.
• My husband became even more adoring and doting towards our little gaggle of girls. Simultaneously, he became more adorable. And sexy. (We'll see if he actually reads my blog posts and reacts to this one...)
• I realized how much motherhood has changed me. And more recently, I realized what I want the next 6 years of motherhood to look like. 

It's been an amazing year. I can't wait to see what happens this next year! 

At the Grocery Store

A great deal of my parenting has occurred at grocery stores. This makes sense, as we shop at least weekly, and the girls generally get dragged along. There's the store far away that has a gas station, is cheap, and is our destination for stocking up on basic supplies. There's the store close by that has super-cheap produce and middle eastern baked goods, like pita and spinach triangles. Then there's the store in-between that's on the way to the gym, has some good sales, and is frequented by half of the little old ladies in Boston. 

The latter of the three is where LittleDebbie and I headed this afternoon to take advantage of a super deal on milk. The customer service is always good; the cashiers are guaranteed to make eye contact and maybe a bit of small talk. This is not something to take for granted around here. And we always need milk. Did I mention that the place is Mecca for old ladies?

LittleDebbie is old enough to sit in the cart, instead of being in the car seat in the cart. She loves sitting there. She can look around and smile at people. Occasionally she'll utter a loud and recognizable "HIIIIII!" Oh, she's a charmer, and few can resist her in your average setting. But at this grocery store, she has everyone in the palm of her tiny little hand. 

Frequently on my online mommy forum, there are discussions about strangers touching babies and giving them germs. Why on earth would a sane person touch a strange baby's face? Or hands? Those germs are going straight into that baby's mouth. They could catch a cold! Or MRSA! Or MERS!!!

Now, I realize that there is a group of immune-compromised children in this world for whom this is a serious danger. Their lives literally could depend on strange germy people keeping their hands off of them. But my child is not one of these children. She grazes the floor scraps of our house - paper, stickers, dust-bunnies - like a little catfish. And she has 2 adoring dogs that love to share "kisses" and tastes of whatever she has on her hands. And she's a third child. I generally don't worry too much about it. 

But as I was contemplating the sugar content of Boston Baked Beans vs. Original Recipe, one of the many little old ladies stopped to chat with LittleDebbie. And LittleDebbie was happy to engage. The exchange was verbal to start. But then the lady started getting a bit touchy. She touched LD's nose. Then her cheek. Then she rubbed her head. And started holding her hand. And I started getting a bit uncomfortable. Because of germs. And a strange lady was touching my baby's face. I expect a touch on the arm or the foot. But she was crossing the line. And LD was enjoying it immensely. 

"She's so so beautiful. So beautiful."
"Thank you...." (how do I politely ask her to stop touching?!)
"I love babies so much..."
(obviously! can you back off just a bit?)
"I always wanted a child. But I had 6 miscarriages. The oldest was 4 months along..."
"Oh wow, I'm so sorry." (oh. wow.)
"She's just so beautiful. Bless you child." And she made the sign of the cross over her head.
"LD, can you give her a high five?" LD giggled as I pushed her hand to touch the woman's hand. We did a long series of high and low fives. The two of them laughed with each one. And then it was time for both of us to move on.
"Bless you my dear. Enjoy your day."
"Thank you. You too."
And I heard her sigh heavily as she started her way down the aisle. I'm not sure if she had tears in her eyes, but I had tears in mine. What are a few germs in the face of such loss? I'd take my chances and let her kiss LD's face if I thought it would help. 

There are days that I wish I could have said something when I didn't. And today I'm thankful I didn't say something when I could have. Because I'm not sure if spending a few minutes with LD brought her joy, but I know that shooing her off would not have. 

Big News!

We have big news here in the Bundles of Joy household.

Little Debbie has discovered that hands can go in the mouth. And they're delicious!

She woke up from a marathon nap, chugged 5(!) ounces of pumped milk, and demonstrated some new motor skills. Including the hand thing. Now, she's not yet a master of her hands, but she's making progress.

And you parents out there know that a baby who can chew her hands at will is well on her way to being an effective self-soother. So, while this is a good example of a true "baby step", we're pretty excited here. Ok, maybe just I am. 

Yay Little Debbie! And yay for hands!

The Miracle of Birth

Ok, forgive me if this gets a bit sappy in places. I just had a baby a few weeks ago. The oxytocin can make me a bit fuzzy-brained at times. And forgive me if this gets a bit graphic at times. I'm going to talk about childbirth. It's graphic. It just is. Any process that starts with a creature living inside its mother's body and ends with her as an independent creature in the outside world, well, it's going to be a bit dramatic. 

I had a request to hear Little Debbie's birth story. So I'll oblige before momnesia kicks in and I completely forget. 

I was one of the lucky ones who was able to have 3 healthy unmediated natural births. They all occurred in the hospital, supervised by a midwife-led team. They were all good experiences, and I'd highly recommend it. I realize that not everyone has similar birth experiences. And, despite the claims of some, I don't feel like I birth "better" or in a more "empowering " way than others. But I'll rant more about that in another post. 

It was early afternoon when I suspected something was up. I was running errands. I found myself moving more slowly than usual, doing my relaxation breathing as I waited in line at Staples. I honestly felt a bit embarrassed to realize that I didn't remember what contractions felt like. Um, I'd done this twice before. I should remember how things went. Right?

I had an appointment with the midwife. The plan had been to strip my membranes during that visit if labor hadn't started. I was past 40 weeks, we had travel plans. And a baptism scheduled. The baby needed to come sooner rather than later. But it was unnecessary. I was 1cm dilated, and 50% effaced. Some women can walk around for weeks like this. I am not one of those women. They hooked me up to a fetal monitor to check the baby's heart rate and measure contractions. Well, lying down, the contractions slowed considerably, but the baby didn't. They kept me hooked up for over an hour, waiting to get a slower baseline. But Little Debbie had no intensions of settling down. I was there for 2 hours. 

I was annoyed. I had errands to run! And my typical 25-30 minute appointment would have left plenty of time to do errands and nap. Instead, I had to race to get the girls. And then go to the grocery store. And then make calzones for dinner. And I really wanted that nap. 

By the time I got to making the calzones, I was really uncomfortable. I was pretty sure I was in labor. BestestHusband came home. I handed over the task of calzone-prep to him. I headed downstairs to the bathtub. 

We have a large whirlpool bath tub that my SIL calls the "sex tub". It's a pretty big tub. For the record, we have not used the tub for procreative purposes. But I highly recommend it for the early and mid stages of childbirth. I retreated to its warm relaxing waters for an hour or so. The contractions became stronger, more regular. I was pretty sure I'd be holding my daughter by daybreak. 

I got out of the tub to say goodnight to the girls. We told them we might not be there when they woke up. We told them they might get to meet their sister tomorrow. They were excited. 

I ate some dinner, mostly because I knew I needed to, not because I was particularly hungry. Then I retreated downstairs again. I finally decided that distraction might be better than relaxation at this stage of the game. What's better than distracting me through tedium than Downton Abbey? Nothing. Hulu to the rescue. 

By this time, I was tracking my contractions on my iPhone. When they were 1 minute long and 6 minutes apart, I called the midwife. Noting my fast labor with MeToo, she suggested that I come in sooner rather than later. BestestHusband was showering, so it was a little on the later side. 

The hospital is only about 10 minutes from our house without traffic. We left around 11pm, leaving the girls in Grandma's capable hands. The hospital offers valet parking. This is good when you're in labor and don't want to wait in the lobby for your husband to park the car. I had done the registration paperwork previously through my midwife practice. They knew I was coming. Checking in didn't take too long. I got my ID bracelet. BestestHusband got his. We headed to L&D. I declined the wheelchair. If walking sped up childbirth at all, I wanted to use that to my advantage. It was a long slow walk. But we made it up the secure elevators. We waited about 10 minutes before I was ushered into an exam room. I'm glad the baby wasn't in too much of a hurry... 

They asked the requisite "do you feel safe?" questions before ushering BestestHusband in.  The contractions kept coming. I kept doing my relaxation breathing. They took my medical history. I met the midwife. She checked my progress: 4-5 cm. This is serious for me. Again, I'm not a woman who walks around 5 cm dilated for a week. It was too close to midnight to have the baby that day. But she was coming soon. Very soon. 

I walked to my delivery room and got settled in. I was hooked up to a baby monitor again. Little Debbie was doing well. I was ok. I was better when the dang volume was turned down...

The contractions kept coming. They were increasingly intense. I kept up my breathing, but it was harder to stay relaxed, and I was struggling to find a comfortable position. The rocking chair was no good. The birthing ball was no good. Walking was absolutely no good. I optimistically kept trying. But it was repeatedly no good. Lying down was no good. Sitting bolt upright in the bed was ok. Sorta. So I sat up on the bed and tried to keep my noise to a minimum. It was getting harder. 

I decided to try the shower. I hadn't tried it with my other deliveries. I love showers, and the bathtub had helped previously. So I gave it a try. It was wonderful for a few minutes. Then another contraction hit. And I felt the urge to push. I decided it was time to get out of the shower. 

BestestHusband got the nurse and helped me out of the shower. I desperately wanted to be back in bed. The midwife was there. She checked me and announced "9 and 3/4 cm with an anterior lip". 9 and 3/4 cm is pretty close to 10 cm. Things were getting very real. She called for more staff, and told them the same thing. Carts appeared. Gloves appeared on everyone. Face masks appeared. BestestHusband was instructed to get warm water. It sounded slightly archaic to send a husband for warm water in a hospital... But the baby was on her way, and rational thought was becoming more difficult. I just wanted to find a comfortable position. And I couldn't. MeToo was delivered while I was upright on my knees. Little Debbie didn't like that position. The midwife encouraged me to try my back, as 3rd babies like to come fast, and fast deliveries can result in needing lots of stitches. I didn't want any of those. So I tried to follow her instructions as she applied warm compresses (made with BestestHusband's warm water) to ease the baby's exit. 

Throughout all of the labor leading up to that point, I felt like I was ok, and I had this labor thing under control. Suddenly, I wasn't ok, and I didn't think I could do it any more. I felt physically incapable of getting a baby out. But I knew that I had no other option. But I didn't know how I was going to do it. Was it possible that my pelvis would shatter? That I would rip in half? I seriously felt like the child would break me. How had I managed to get out two previous babies? It didn't feel like those two previous births were helping at all.

I think I said a lot of silly things. Things like "No, I can't do this." And "get this baby out of me. Just pull her out." And "No! No! No! I don't want to!" And "I want her out. Get her out of me!"

The midwife encouraged. Then she became insistent. The baby needed to come out. And I needed to push. Now. 

So I did. During a break in contractions, I got control of my breathing, gave myself a pep talk, said a prayer, and prepared for the next contraction. And I pushed until I felt like blacking out. Her body felt bigger than her head. The other two didn't feel like that...

They laid her on my chest, and all I could say was "thank you Lord, thank you Lord". I was thankful she was out. Thankful she had a powerful cry and perfect little ears. Thankful I was done pushing. I think I cried. I know BestestHusband did. 

They did all of the good things after birth - skin to skin contact, waiting to cut the cord until it was done pulsating, encouraging immediate nursing. The pitocin   shot in my leg hurt. How can a shot hurt after pushing out a child? I don't know, but it did. I delivered the placenta, and saw one for the first time. It truly is an amazing organ. Not amazing enough to eat, like some women like to do, but amazing nevertheless. I was thrilled to discover that the warm compresses worked - no stitches needed

Little Debbie wasn't so thrilled to be born. She howled for a long time. She got quite the respiratory workout. I was surprised to find out that she was a full pound heavier than her sisters, a solid 8.0 lbs. We prayed every day for a healthy baby. And that's what we had. 

The birth was mostly what I hoped it would be, but harder than I remembered the others being. Perhaps that's the standard momnesia effect? Would women keep having babies if we remembered all of the unpleasant details? 

Why do I like natural birth? Well, it lets me avoid needles, for the most part. I don't like those so much. It lets me avoid side effects of the medications and interventions that go along with chemical pain relief. I don't like spinal headaches, the inability to walk after birth, and medicated newborns so much. And our bodies were created to birth babies without drugs. I like to give mine the chance to do what it was created to do. Our foremothers have done it for centuries. 

Why do I like natural birth in a hospital with certified nurse midwives? Well, what was one of the leading causes of death for women of childbearing age during the preceding centuries? Yep, childbirth. I like to hedge my bets. When childbirth goes smoothly, no interventions are really needed. When childbirth doesn't go smoothly, mothers and babies can die. I'm not interested in that outcome. I like having a crash team and world-class NICU on standby.

I'm also blessed with babies who want to be born naturally. They haven't been breach, sunny-side up, or overly large. They might stay past 40 weeks, but when they're ready to come, they come pretty quickly. That makes a huge difference! If I was stuck at 5 cm for 2 days with regular and strong contractions, I'd be begging for drugs that would let me get some rest. I'm thankful that hasn't been my situation. So, while I'd never call childbirth "easy", I think I do get off pretty easy in the childbirth department. So I could never judge a woman who wanted drugs or a scheduled c-section. I have no right to judge. But this is a topic for another post. Because there are some people out there who get pretty high-and-mighty on the topic of childbirth...

4 Days Old

Little Debbie is a whole entire 4 days old! 
Here are a few things I've learned about her in 4 days:

• She likes to sleep on her side.
• She has had a wickedly strong sucking reflex from birth.
• She is a fantastic eater. 
• She has very strong lungs, and the voice of a much larger child.
• She looks a little like both of her sisters, but fully like neither.
• She is an amazing little bundle of snuggles, and molds to my body perfectly.
• I could spend all day holding her. But alas, I have 2 other children, a husband, and 2 dogs. They like attention, too.
• She has angry hands. Those little paws get to flailing, and all heck breaks loose.
• She has a very serious look about her.
• She occasionally shows off one very cute dimple.
• She does NOT like diaper changes. 
• She requires a lot of diaper changes. 
• She likes it when her sisters sing to her.
• She likes white noise.
• I am absolutely infatuated with this child.
• BestestHusband would be wise to use this infatuation to his benefit if he wants to convince me to have a 4th child.

I give thanks for her every day.

PS. I promise not to update every 4 days.