my boy

my boy
playing nice in the world's sandbox

Monday, October 31, 2005

What day IS it?

It's Monday Monday, that day after the too short weekend and the beginning of your week. I have lost track of exactly what day it is. I happen to think of days in terms of things to do. The first and third Mondays are TRASH DAYS. The rest of the days are opportinities to give more love to my precious son. To watch him wake up just a little taller and noticing one more thing each day.

Our days run into each other, with no regard to what was left behind or what might be ahead. Tuesdays we might go grocery shopping, or Sundays we might stay home all day in our pajama's until noon. Thursdays we might go visiting Grandma or GG RocRoc (great grandma) or meet them for lunch where we giggle and laugh together and try to feed the baby ice water and touch a lemon wedge to his tongue just to see his sour face. There are days where naps are long and baths are taken twice, and others where mom's had two cups of coffee instead of one, which makes for short short naps and early bedtimes.

All in all, I'm so glad for each day I have. I'm so so very blessed and am grateful to God every day for the life I've created, by many mis-steps and some purposely directional choices that has landed me here. On THIS day. A Monday. Where when I have to get up and go to work, it is for my son. At home. The best job a Mother could love.

Friday, October 28, 2005

Mommy and Me Posted by Picasa

Footed Pajamas

Well, what do you expect on this mountain top - full of wind, sun and UH OH, I'm being paged by a little man in footed pajamas. His feet aren't cold. But he's missing something; his mommy. Be right back.

(five minutes later)

A short trip down Diaper Change Lane and we're back, baby and blanket in tow, now he's on Nursery Row having a bit of breakfast. He's getting to the age where nursing can not be the only thing he does, I guess this would be called infant multitasking. He's nursing, only to stop and stare wide eyed at the reflection of the sun on the window behind us. Blinking half a minute later, he looks at me like, "hey, what happened to breakfast, I'm trying to eat here" and he goes back to nursing. One minute later he's staring at the deaf dog Heidi chewing on her rawhide. Sensory Input must be more important than food input at this time.

I laugh at him, and he startles, his eyes wide he looks at me as though he forgot he wasn't alone.. then he smiles, his toothless grin and eyes shining love in it's purest form - then he promptly puts his thumb in his mouth, seeing how I wasn't fast enough. This kind of breakfast could take years. He's staring off at the refridgerator, the washer and listening to the hum of the dryer. Which is probably the 5th load of laundry this week. I am amazed at how much laundry a small addition to a family of two can make....

My feet are still cold, but my lap is warm. He's found more interest in looking around rather than eating so I'm here typing with him between me and the keyboard. He's starting to teeth, slobbering and biting on things (his fingers, my fingers, his chew toys) and he's only four months and one week old, and growing so lightening fast. I can hardly believe he was only 7 lbs and 7 ozs at birth. He's GOT to be 16 ++ pounds by now.

We're off to feed the horse now, into the stroller we go - and my feet are bound to get colder. His, are still in his footed pajama's.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

THIS time, I really mean it

I've told myself over and over again, I need to lose weight and be fit. I want to be able to hike, bike and bend over to tie my shoes with the best of them. But, this time, I mean it. Now I really want to be fit for my son. I want to play @ the park, chasing him between the monkey bars and the sand pit, not running out of breath and having to sit down telling him, "come over here honey, mommy's tired".

It's just that simple, don't take in more calories than you are active. But how come it's so complicated? I'm breastfeeding my child, so I have to be careful with restricted calorie intake, lest my milk start to dry up. I need lots of protein, fresh fruit and veggies, and water water and more water. I think I know what it is. I'm not active enough. And there is no real nutritional need for Oreo's and milk at 11pm.

According to those height/weight charts, at 5 feet 3 inches tall, I should weigh approximately 130 pounds. That means I have to lose 50 pounds?!?!? (I haven't weighed that since I was in 8th grade). Although, I have weighed 145 and that was a perfect weight for me. I wore a size 9 without bulges and my breasts weren't quite so pendulous. (will I regret writing that in a blog?) So, what's the plan? (I'm asking out loud here). . . Walking, three to five times per week, for a minimum of 30 minutes. I can do that. Around here, there are lots of hills, so it is initially intimidating until you actually GET THE STROLLER out, pop on the tennis shoes and GO! Oh and I must not forget that rain doesn't count either, I can jump in the car with the kid and get to the nearest mall. Although, that might be tempting - and expensive. But hey, at each ten pound interval, I can reward myself with one new clothing item that fits!

So I start today, and if it isn't an unreasonable goal, I'd like to lose 35 pounds by the time my son is one year old. There we have it folks, a bona fide goal in writing - can't back out now. Or should I say back 'space'. I just really need to do it, and to find the motivation from within, instead of from a magazine, book, or ad on tv for weight loss surgery, it has to come from ME to be real and long lasting.

Off I go to look up a few articles on dieting while breastfeeding and try to adapt it to a lifestyle change, instead of a short term goal. Eddie Jr., this time I mean it.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

I didn't write it down

I should have written it all down. The pregnancy, from beginning to end, the good, and ALL of the bad. I kept saying I would journal, jot it down, get organized and remember the memories. Before I knew it, my Doctor was asking me what time on Tuesday June 21st, I wanted to schedule the birth of my son.
I wanted to be the kind of "mother" that wrote it all down, the dr. visits, the ultrasounds, putting together a keepsake of all keepsakes to treasure. Little did I know that the treasure was yet still inside of me. I didn't write anything down. I can't tell you when I first felt him kick for sure, nor could I tell you when I started to get heartburn and when I finally felt that the pregnancy was really real.
I can only say that now I am so glad he's here and if I never write anything down again for as long as I live, I will never forget each day before and after he was born. He is my morning cup of coffee and my evening herbal tea, and every happy thought in between. The ultimate sacrifice of personal time, and yet, funny enough, I don't remember what I did with all of my time before him.
I couldn't be happier with my life now that he has been born. Every day I get to give him all I've got, whether I have a lot or a little. It doesn't matter to him if I stay in my pajama's until noon, or that we may not go anywhere but to feed the horse for two days in a row.
I didn't write it down, but it's written in my heart's history never to be forgotten or misplaced. I will always remember the password to my heart. It is my son.