The number one question I'm asked about the baby is "how is she sleeping?" I'm always a little hesitant to answer this question. On the one hand, I realize that I have a great baby that only wakes one time a night to eat and then she goes right back to sleep. However, that's still one time more than I would ideally like.
I know there are babies out there that don't sleep. Or when they do, and then wake up to eat at 3 in the morning, they don't go back to bed. There are mom's out there suffering from severe sleep deprivation. I realize that I'm not in that club--gratefully.
However, I've been waiting for that magical time when I'll wake up, completely oblivious to the time, to a stirring baby only to find out that it's 6 in the morning. And this morning we were soooo close.
Three a.m. is Aunika's preferred wake up time and I've been working on that this last week. Namely, I've been trying to get her to go five hours at night. She seems to be stuck in a time rut. A note here: If she was truly hungry, I would feed her. But, as only a mother can tell, she's not truly hungry. Just thinks it's time to get up and snack a little, falling back asleep for a few hours. So when she started stirring at 3 am this morning, I popped in her binkie and settled back in bed for what I thought was going to be 15 minutes of slumber. I was hoping to get her to 4 am to make it 5 hours between feedings. At 4:45, I awoke with a start because I hadn't heard anything from the nursery. I toyed with the idea of sending Wade in there because I was afraid of what I'd find, but then--right on cue--I heard the first sounds of a baby waking up.
Figuring that she was hungry, I settled down on the couch. However, turns out she wasn't all that hungry. She fell back asleep after five minutes of eating, not waking up again until nearly 8:00.
And there you have it. Our first (almost) full night. I must say that I feel much more refreshed. I feel like I can tackle projects that I couldn't muster up the energy to do earlier this week. Life is looking much brighter on the flip side of some much needed rest.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A Note From Baby
Hi All!
It's me. Aunika. Baby. Baby Sister. Stinker. I go by a lot of names here. I've finally accepted I'm not going back to the nice, warm, quiet place that I came from, so I had better learn to like it here, so I'm starting to open my eyes more and look around.
So far I'm not that impressed. Mom looks harried and dad is gone a lot of the day. It's just me, mom and that monster they call Joshie. He's loud. Things seem to quiet down a bit when dad comes through the door. And he lets me take naps on his chest. Mom doesn't because then she can't get anything else done. I think I like him the best, but I pretend to like Mom because she's the one that feeds me.
News flash to mom and dad: I don't fit in my pajamas.
Gratefully, grandma got me some new ones and presented them to mom this morning. I mean, what's so hard about finding bigger pajamas? Come on. I see that I have a lot to teach these people that dare to call themselves parents.
Mom keeps muttering something about Joshie sleeping through the night at six weeks and why won't I. I don't know why he thought that was the way to get what he wanted in life. He should've played his cards better. As for me, I'm going to ride this middle of the night feeding out as long as I can. Secretly, I laugh at how disheveled mom looks at 3:00 in the morning when she's coming in to get me. A few smiles and I have her eating out of the palm of my hand. Wait...she has me eating out of the palm of her hand...anyways, I'm so cute. Mom's must not need as much sleep as the rest of us.
I already have dad wrapped around my little finger, but I have noticed that it's not him coming in to get me at 3:00 in the morning. I need to work a little on that. I can tell that mom is getting wise to my little plan and she's not going to let me get away with it much longer. In fact, it takes her longer and longer every day to come and rescue me from my dungeon of a crib. I've had to turn on the water works and eke out real tears to keep her sympathies up.
I'm working on my interpersonal skills and have started smiling. Not a lot. I don't want anyone to get used to it. And I won't smile for the camera at all. So don't be looking for a picture to prove it. You'll just have to take my word for it.
Well, it's time to eat again. I'm always hungry and this seems to make mom a little upset. It's not my fault. It's whoever decided that an all liquid diet was the way to go. By the way, mom, I don't like Indian food. Please don't ever eat that again.
Until next time,
Aunika.
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Day Has Finally Arrived
I've been planning for this day for nearly six months. Six weeks ago, I started counting down until I would be given the go ahead to start exercising. Unfortunately, the doctor is out of the office this week and so I had to make my six week check-up appointment for next week, but I figured I'm feeling so good anyways, I'll start running now.
And so today was the first time I've laced up my running shoes since the July 4th 5k I did six months ago. My hips and my pelvis hurt too much to try running through the pregnancy like I had planned. So I opted to swim instead. Sometimes I'd pool run, but most of the time I did laps. Very, very slow laps.
My goals were simple: run the entire thing and go the entire distance.
Last week, in giddy anticipation, I mapped out my exercise regimen. Today was a 2.5 mile jaunt. I know enough to start out slow and build back up mileage, though I'm not a long distance runner by nature and aside from my marathon training, I rarely went over 4 miles at a time.
But I want to rectify that. I want to start running longer because to achieve my goals on my ridiculously impossible list, I'm going to have to start speeding it up--considerably. And it wasn't made any clearer than that this morning on the treadmill.
So with baby asleep and Josh otherwise occupied with the computer, I headed down to the basement. Part of me feels guilty, like I should be watching my kids like a hawk, never letting them out of my sight. But to be honest, I'd go nuts. However, Josh has taken it upon himself to tell me whenever Aunika is crying so no worries there. And as for him, well, he's pretty engrossed with Barney and his cars. I don't worry about what he might be doing because he's just that kind of kid. Cautious and scared to death of everything. Perfect.
And so I laced up my shoes and dusted off the treadmill that has sat stationary for nearly a year. I began with a minute warm-up--it has been six months since I've ran--and then started in full force. I know better than to begin at my prepregnancy normal speed, so I played cautious and set it quite a bit lower at 13:00 miles. Remember my only two goals were to finish the entire distance and run it all.
Within a minute, I realized just how horribly out of shape my legs were. I thought for sure it'd be my lungs aching for relief before my legs, but I was wrong. I gritted through the pain and made it through the first two songs on my ipod. Then I stupidly looked at how far I'd gone. 1/2 mile. The two remaining miles loomed ahead and, feeling discouraged, I lowered my speed to a 15 minute mile. Oiy. So embarassed. But I kept running--well, moving in a running-type motion. At one mile, I jacked the speed back up to a--wait for it--12:45 minute mile. I was cruising now. At 1.5 miles, a blister that had been forming at the back of my ankle decided now was the perfect time to rub right off and send searing jolts of pain through my entire foot. I had to find a bandaid and considered quitting, but that's no way to start off a new exercise program, so I headed back downstairs to finish. Josh's parting words were a reminder to not go so fast so I don't get hurt again. How sweet. He thought the blister was because I was going so fast. Aren't little kids the best? Like when they tell you you have two chins. Always so helpful and honest.
I'm happy to report I did finish, and completed both goals. The time was a dismal 34:30, making it the longest 2.5 I've ever run at 13:48/mile.
I guess the only place to go is up from here. I plan on running a 5k distance tomorrow morning and seeing where I am in that. I'm doing a 5k snowshoe race in February, and then I'll be starting back with the 5ks come March. With a few triathlons thrown into the mix, I'm excited for the upcoming racing season, hopefully doing a 5k a month and clocking my first 25 minute 5k sometime (obviously, much further down the line) this year.
Because I have the greatest husband in the world--and I've been chained to both children all week with little respite--I'm going to leave the kids with him tomorrow morning and hit the swimming pool again. I may even stop by the store for some me-time as well, picking up cat food.
And so today was the first time I've laced up my running shoes since the July 4th 5k I did six months ago. My hips and my pelvis hurt too much to try running through the pregnancy like I had planned. So I opted to swim instead. Sometimes I'd pool run, but most of the time I did laps. Very, very slow laps.
My goals were simple: run the entire thing and go the entire distance.
Last week, in giddy anticipation, I mapped out my exercise regimen. Today was a 2.5 mile jaunt. I know enough to start out slow and build back up mileage, though I'm not a long distance runner by nature and aside from my marathon training, I rarely went over 4 miles at a time.
But I want to rectify that. I want to start running longer because to achieve my goals on my ridiculously impossible list, I'm going to have to start speeding it up--considerably. And it wasn't made any clearer than that this morning on the treadmill.
So with baby asleep and Josh otherwise occupied with the computer, I headed down to the basement. Part of me feels guilty, like I should be watching my kids like a hawk, never letting them out of my sight. But to be honest, I'd go nuts. However, Josh has taken it upon himself to tell me whenever Aunika is crying so no worries there. And as for him, well, he's pretty engrossed with Barney and his cars. I don't worry about what he might be doing because he's just that kind of kid. Cautious and scared to death of everything. Perfect.
And so I laced up my shoes and dusted off the treadmill that has sat stationary for nearly a year. I began with a minute warm-up--it has been six months since I've ran--and then started in full force. I know better than to begin at my prepregnancy normal speed, so I played cautious and set it quite a bit lower at 13:00 miles. Remember my only two goals were to finish the entire distance and run it all.
Within a minute, I realized just how horribly out of shape my legs were. I thought for sure it'd be my lungs aching for relief before my legs, but I was wrong. I gritted through the pain and made it through the first two songs on my ipod. Then I stupidly looked at how far I'd gone. 1/2 mile. The two remaining miles loomed ahead and, feeling discouraged, I lowered my speed to a 15 minute mile. Oiy. So embarassed. But I kept running--well, moving in a running-type motion. At one mile, I jacked the speed back up to a--wait for it--12:45 minute mile. I was cruising now. At 1.5 miles, a blister that had been forming at the back of my ankle decided now was the perfect time to rub right off and send searing jolts of pain through my entire foot. I had to find a bandaid and considered quitting, but that's no way to start off a new exercise program, so I headed back downstairs to finish. Josh's parting words were a reminder to not go so fast so I don't get hurt again. How sweet. He thought the blister was because I was going so fast. Aren't little kids the best? Like when they tell you you have two chins. Always so helpful and honest.
I'm happy to report I did finish, and completed both goals. The time was a dismal 34:30, making it the longest 2.5 I've ever run at 13:48/mile.
I guess the only place to go is up from here. I plan on running a 5k distance tomorrow morning and seeing where I am in that. I'm doing a 5k snowshoe race in February, and then I'll be starting back with the 5ks come March. With a few triathlons thrown into the mix, I'm excited for the upcoming racing season, hopefully doing a 5k a month and clocking my first 25 minute 5k sometime (obviously, much further down the line) this year.
Because I have the greatest husband in the world--and I've been chained to both children all week with little respite--I'm going to leave the kids with him tomorrow morning and hit the swimming pool again. I may even stop by the store for some me-time as well, picking up cat food.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Lego Monster
For Christmas, I thought it'd be fun to get a set of Legos for Josh--a throwback to the days we were kids and we got Legos for Christmas. When I was at Toys R Us, 9 months pregnant and clearly not thinking rationally, there were shelves and shelves of Lego kits to choose from. I remember when Legos were just blocks and you built the things you wanted to. Now they come in different kits with instruction booklets.
Undeterred, I figured it'd be a nice father-son bonding experience if nothing else, and so I pressed forward with the whole Lego idea.
Actually, the idea came from the friend I use to swim with. She just handed her boys the Lego catalog and had them circle which kit they wanted for Christmas (within reason of course). She says she's done this the last few years and everyone comes away happy.
So I scoured the shelves looking for the perfect kit for Josh and Wade to assemble. I found a carwash. Not knowing anything about Legos and their cooresponding kits, I picked it up.
Josh was excited Christmas morning when he unwrapped his Lego set. After we got home from the grandparent's house that night, he and Wade sat down to assemble it. For only being three, his attention span held out quite nicely, but admittedly, Wade put the majority of it together, reminding me quite often that it was meant for children 5-12 years old and not a three year old.
In a fit of frustration all that hard work went down the drain when Josh got mad and ripped it apart a week later. Hence, probably why the Lego kits are made for older children.
Now he's become attached to the instruction booklet. In the back are pictures of other kits you can get. Like the train set that Josh has his eye on. He wants it. Really bad. And if history is any indication, my attempts to placate him with a "we'll see" will only yield a kid that will bother me every day about it. I made the collosal mistake of saying "maybe for your birthday". The concept of his birthday being more than four months away seems to be a bit much for him to grasp and so every morning, I'm unindated with questions: "is it my birthday?" I fear that he may not forget about the train and when he gets something more age appropriate--since the train is a bit above his current skill level--for his birthday, I'll have to hear about it some more.
I blame Lego. What happen to just Lego blocks?
Undeterred, I figured it'd be a nice father-son bonding experience if nothing else, and so I pressed forward with the whole Lego idea.
Actually, the idea came from the friend I use to swim with. She just handed her boys the Lego catalog and had them circle which kit they wanted for Christmas (within reason of course). She says she's done this the last few years and everyone comes away happy.
So I scoured the shelves looking for the perfect kit for Josh and Wade to assemble. I found a carwash. Not knowing anything about Legos and their cooresponding kits, I picked it up.
Josh was excited Christmas morning when he unwrapped his Lego set. After we got home from the grandparent's house that night, he and Wade sat down to assemble it. For only being three, his attention span held out quite nicely, but admittedly, Wade put the majority of it together, reminding me quite often that it was meant for children 5-12 years old and not a three year old.
In a fit of frustration all that hard work went down the drain when Josh got mad and ripped it apart a week later. Hence, probably why the Lego kits are made for older children.
Now he's become attached to the instruction booklet. In the back are pictures of other kits you can get. Like the train set that Josh has his eye on. He wants it. Really bad. And if history is any indication, my attempts to placate him with a "we'll see" will only yield a kid that will bother me every day about it. I made the collosal mistake of saying "maybe for your birthday". The concept of his birthday being more than four months away seems to be a bit much for him to grasp and so every morning, I'm unindated with questions: "is it my birthday?" I fear that he may not forget about the train and when he gets something more age appropriate--since the train is a bit above his current skill level--for his birthday, I'll have to hear about it some more.
I blame Lego. What happen to just Lego blocks?
Monday, January 5, 2009
Hostile Takeover
There is a hostile takeover currently undergoing in our fishtank.
We set up the fishtank roughly a year ago. Then we got some fish. Some of those fish died and we ended up with two angel fish, two algae eaters, and three fish that always swim together. Because angel fish are cheaper when they're smaller, we got small ones and didn't know what sex they were.
We now know.
Last night, we found on the air bubbler thingy little eggs. Well, actually, Wade found them. Roughly about the time he poured in some new water.
Anyways, he ran in and googled angel fish eggs because he noticed that the two angel fish were acting funny towards the other fish and obviously guarding something important.
So what we have is 50-100 little angel fish eggs and two very possessive parents. Last night, they were taking turns watching over the eggs while the other one was staring us on the outside down. It took me a while to figure out that they sensed us to be a threat. The one watching the eggs would chase the other fish away, while the one assigned to threaten us would just stare and move back and forth in front of us. Ew...scary.
One fish from the trio would be the chosen one to break through to the other side because that's where they had inhabited the tank for almost a year, trying to win back their coveted spot. However, the angel fish guarding the eggs would immediately chase them away. It was all very interesting to watch.
The gestation period for angel fish eggs are 60 hours and so far nothing has happened yet. The internet says that it's rare for angel fish eggs to actually develop into living angel fish that thrive in an aquarium setting with other fish because they usually get eaten first. But it should be interesting to see, nonetheless. However, 50-100 angel fish are a bit much for our tank to handle so pardon my morose wish that most of them don't survive.
We set up the fishtank roughly a year ago. Then we got some fish. Some of those fish died and we ended up with two angel fish, two algae eaters, and three fish that always swim together. Because angel fish are cheaper when they're smaller, we got small ones and didn't know what sex they were.
We now know.
Last night, we found on the air bubbler thingy little eggs. Well, actually, Wade found them. Roughly about the time he poured in some new water.
Anyways, he ran in and googled angel fish eggs because he noticed that the two angel fish were acting funny towards the other fish and obviously guarding something important.
So what we have is 50-100 little angel fish eggs and two very possessive parents. Last night, they were taking turns watching over the eggs while the other one was staring us on the outside down. It took me a while to figure out that they sensed us to be a threat. The one watching the eggs would chase the other fish away, while the one assigned to threaten us would just stare and move back and forth in front of us. Ew...scary.
One fish from the trio would be the chosen one to break through to the other side because that's where they had inhabited the tank for almost a year, trying to win back their coveted spot. However, the angel fish guarding the eggs would immediately chase them away. It was all very interesting to watch.
The gestation period for angel fish eggs are 60 hours and so far nothing has happened yet. The internet says that it's rare for angel fish eggs to actually develop into living angel fish that thrive in an aquarium setting with other fish because they usually get eaten first. But it should be interesting to see, nonetheless. However, 50-100 angel fish are a bit much for our tank to handle so pardon my morose wish that most of them don't survive.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Book Review 1/04/09
Book: Mercy
Author: Jodi Picoult
Pages: 400
I'm clearly on a Picoult kick right now. This is the third one of her's I've read in the span of about a month. Like the others, it was a bit slow to get started, but once it did, I had a hard time putting it down.
Cameron MacDonald resents the Scottish lineage of his ancestors that has squashed his dream of becoming a travel writer and drawn him back to the small town he grew up in to take over the position of police chief after his father dies. Constantly dreaming of running away and traveling, Cameron meets his match at the florist shop his wife owns. Starting down a slippery slope of unforgivable transgressions, Cameron finds that maybe the life that he's been dreaming about all these years is not one that he really wants in the end.
Meanwhile, a distant cousin, Jamie, arrives in Cameron's town with his dead wife in tow, admitting that he was the one to kill her--at her request. Suffering from a terminal illness, she had asked her devoted husband to end her life. Now, Cameron must arrest him for murder and decide which is more prevailing--blood or the law. Can the boundaries set by a law ever be fuzzy enough that someone could get away with murder?
Another social issue takes center stage as Picoult asks the question: Do you love someone enough to kill them? Your own answer may surprise yourself after finishing this book.
Author: Jodi Picoult
Pages: 400
I'm clearly on a Picoult kick right now. This is the third one of her's I've read in the span of about a month. Like the others, it was a bit slow to get started, but once it did, I had a hard time putting it down.
Cameron MacDonald resents the Scottish lineage of his ancestors that has squashed his dream of becoming a travel writer and drawn him back to the small town he grew up in to take over the position of police chief after his father dies. Constantly dreaming of running away and traveling, Cameron meets his match at the florist shop his wife owns. Starting down a slippery slope of unforgivable transgressions, Cameron finds that maybe the life that he's been dreaming about all these years is not one that he really wants in the end.
Meanwhile, a distant cousin, Jamie, arrives in Cameron's town with his dead wife in tow, admitting that he was the one to kill her--at her request. Suffering from a terminal illness, she had asked her devoted husband to end her life. Now, Cameron must arrest him for murder and decide which is more prevailing--blood or the law. Can the boundaries set by a law ever be fuzzy enough that someone could get away with murder?
Another social issue takes center stage as Picoult asks the question: Do you love someone enough to kill them? Your own answer may surprise yourself after finishing this book.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Hopes and Dreams for 2009
A new year often signals a rebirth of sorts. The opportunity to become someone different--someone better, wiser, healthier. January 1 is a blank slate. A clean canvas.
January 2 is marred by the mistakes you made on January 1. The old you--the-diet-coke-chugger-and-chocoholic that you threw out with the New Year's Eve trash the day before--rears it's ugly head, tempting you with unbelievable headaches and a short fuse. If you make it past January 2, you're halfway there.
Oh, and if you make it past the sleepless nights with a newborn and the frustration that often accompanies the first few months of nursing that make you want to give it all up and just bottle feed your crying baby and save your own tears for something worthwhile, and the three year old that is running a million miles a minute and never seems to stop.
So maybe for me, the halfway point will be closer to May or June.
But for all intents and purposes, let's just say that I've made it past January 2. And the caffeine withdrawal headache is just a dull ache that I only think about when it's quiet and since that doesn't really ever happen, it's not really there anymore, and the frantic need for one last bit of chocolate is diminishing so that I only think about it occassionally--like when it's not quiet and I want something to numb the noise.
The reality is that caffeine I can give up. I don't "need" my diet coke. I only want it. And if I'm strong enough and determined enough, I can give it up. Cold turkey. I can resist the temptation of the friend who kept a case for me in her fridge so I could sneak over there during the summer and enjoy an ice cold beverage. I can order something different at the restaurant. The ultimate goal is to give up carbonation all together. But, for now, I'm concentrating on caffeine. Baby steps.
Chocolate, though, is a completely different story. I could never give it up completely. What, with it's heart healthy benefits that have been touted recently in the news, it's almost a health food. However, moderation is key. Perhaps eating the equivalency of the weight of my newborn in chocolate in one week is a bit overboard. And chocolate milk has been proven to be as efficient as gatorade after a long workout. Bonus, since I don't like gatorade, but I do like chocolate milk.
However, these two vices are not my hopes and aspirations for 2009. They are just a means to getting to those hope and aspirations.
There are five things on my "list" I'd like to complete this year. I'm not going to reveal them right now because I don't want to jinx them. Just suffice to say that three of the five have to do with physical activity (surprise, surprise), one is a hobby of sorts, and one is spiritually based.
Other hopes and dreams include clocking a 25 minute 5k, running another marathon (hopefully the St. George), writing more, and cleaning out the house. I swear I clean out the house at least once a year. It's the one thing on my to-do list I have no desire to do, but I hate the feeling I have every time I open the pantry or the cupboard where the tupperware is stored (read: shoved) or open the closet door to find something to wear. Every year about this time, I start to feel trapped in my house and the walls are caving in. This year it's a little more extreme since we have 3000 square feet of stuff stuffed into 1500 square feet.
Good luck to all on their new year resolutions. May you make it past today, at least.
January 2 is marred by the mistakes you made on January 1. The old you--the-diet-coke-chugger-and-chocoholic that you threw out with the New Year's Eve trash the day before--rears it's ugly head, tempting you with unbelievable headaches and a short fuse. If you make it past January 2, you're halfway there.
Oh, and if you make it past the sleepless nights with a newborn and the frustration that often accompanies the first few months of nursing that make you want to give it all up and just bottle feed your crying baby and save your own tears for something worthwhile, and the three year old that is running a million miles a minute and never seems to stop.
So maybe for me, the halfway point will be closer to May or June.
But for all intents and purposes, let's just say that I've made it past January 2. And the caffeine withdrawal headache is just a dull ache that I only think about when it's quiet and since that doesn't really ever happen, it's not really there anymore, and the frantic need for one last bit of chocolate is diminishing so that I only think about it occassionally--like when it's not quiet and I want something to numb the noise.
The reality is that caffeine I can give up. I don't "need" my diet coke. I only want it. And if I'm strong enough and determined enough, I can give it up. Cold turkey. I can resist the temptation of the friend who kept a case for me in her fridge so I could sneak over there during the summer and enjoy an ice cold beverage. I can order something different at the restaurant. The ultimate goal is to give up carbonation all together. But, for now, I'm concentrating on caffeine. Baby steps.
Chocolate, though, is a completely different story. I could never give it up completely. What, with it's heart healthy benefits that have been touted recently in the news, it's almost a health food. However, moderation is key. Perhaps eating the equivalency of the weight of my newborn in chocolate in one week is a bit overboard. And chocolate milk has been proven to be as efficient as gatorade after a long workout. Bonus, since I don't like gatorade, but I do like chocolate milk.
However, these two vices are not my hopes and aspirations for 2009. They are just a means to getting to those hope and aspirations.
There are five things on my "list" I'd like to complete this year. I'm not going to reveal them right now because I don't want to jinx them. Just suffice to say that three of the five have to do with physical activity (surprise, surprise), one is a hobby of sorts, and one is spiritually based.
Other hopes and dreams include clocking a 25 minute 5k, running another marathon (hopefully the St. George), writing more, and cleaning out the house. I swear I clean out the house at least once a year. It's the one thing on my to-do list I have no desire to do, but I hate the feeling I have every time I open the pantry or the cupboard where the tupperware is stored (read: shoved) or open the closet door to find something to wear. Every year about this time, I start to feel trapped in my house and the walls are caving in. This year it's a little more extreme since we have 3000 square feet of stuff stuffed into 1500 square feet.
Good luck to all on their new year resolutions. May you make it past today, at least.
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