One Year Old Life

Being a one-year-old is pretty cool, y'all. You cover yourself in paint and chill in front of the fan while soaking up the rays. Your spend your days with friends, swingin', swimmin', and having three celebrations of your birthday.

 

 

Cake! Have some.

You got me what?

 

Mommy is this icing colored with...beets?

Well it is delicious!

 

  

 

Whew, that was exhausting. 

The state of the household: August edition

It's the last week of August! I know summer is over for school kids everywhere, but not here at our house. Since we don't do "school" yet, September just means maybe some cooler weather and everybody getting excited about pumpkin stuff and boots. Except not me, since I only like pumpkin if you overwhelm it with chocolate, and hot sandal weather is still my favorite. Maybe the chiggers will die down though? We still have a lot more outdoor activities to partake in.

But! There's this:

This is Hunter enjoying his first television obsession: Paw Patrol. At least he actually learns things that I would otherwise not have had the opportunity to mention yet, such as, "walruses can hold their breath a long time, but not forever." And "bats are nocturnal." 

It does become hard to say no to one episode after another when I can actually take care of the baby while it is on. Yes, sometimes it is hard to care for both little ones requesting my attention at the same time, which is 95% of my day. The husband, on the other hand, seems to have it down. 

Except for that time he seemed to calm them so quickly that I commented on how well he had things under control. "One is staring at the fan and the other is standing six inches from the television. Yeah I'm father of the year." That doesn't happen often, and Daddy is still the champion swaddler, baby sleep inducer, funny guy, rough houser, dish washer, and baby burper. 

This smirk. Amusing, Daddy. 

Daddy also has been creating. He hammered out this teepee for Hunter in 15 minutes flat. The kittens immediately claimed it as their own, as shown by the oversized white paws peeking out. 

The trampoline set-up took a bit longer, but that's what the nights after bedtime are for, while the rest of us sleep. Next up he is building us a fire pit just in time for the marshmallow and corn roasting season. "Maybe we should go to a corn roast!" said Hunter one day after a particular paw patrol episode. Just wait, we will have a corn maze in our backyard at some point, I'm sure. 

While one parent has it all together, yours truly spends the day covered in some present from Josie, usually a combination of spit up and teetee. But she tends to be clothed in similar fluids, since you just can't keep changing a baby's outfit every 30 minutes all day. I have found that if the big brother is being too rough or overwhelming her, all I have to do is say the word spit-up and away he flees. Works like a charm. 

Spit-up-covered, baggy-eyed, crazy-haired, and calloused-kneed is the state I'm in lately. The last descriptor is the relatively permanent state of my knees since having a mobile child. I appreciated Megan explaining that she was told they are "good mom knees," since it is caused by the constant kneeling, crawling, and scraping across the floors while playing on it with kids. One of my ankles has developed a nice callous as well from being criss-cross-applesauce so much. 

Besides looking awesome all day, I also feel squishy and blobby and heavy most of the time. Part of that could be because I actually am pretty heavy while wearing a chunky baby all day, and also the extra few pounds that I need hanging around for spare milk-making calories. 

My stomach is still a bit mushy and my bike wattage is atrocious, and I'm forever glad I don't have to stand next to or race my past, much younger self. But that self had no precious cheering section, and I wouldn't trade that for 100 more watts and a six pack. 

Different sorts of exercise

First, a baby picture. Those pouty lips!! Too bad you can't get the full view of the Daddy-wrapped straight jacket she's wearing. Puts her right to sleep. If you need swaddling tips, he's your guy.

And now for some thoughts on postpartum exercise, mine in particular. In some cases, average would be an improvement upon things, like my current state of fitness. Since "fitness" can technically be described in terms of cardiovascular endurance, muscular endurance, muscular strength, flexibility, and body composition, I might not be failing in all areas.

Side note: when are they going to just go ahead and take flexibility out of the equation? We have learned that it's really not always the best for fitness and especially performance, and it reminds me of a yoga teacher who once said, "If you have healthy hamstrings, you have a healthy body." After that gem, I don't think I ever went back to her class.

If you added the descriptor, "painless," to those fitness components, that's where I run into trouble. It's the hip again! Somehow pregnancy temporarily improved the ability of my hip to withstand running, although my pelvic bones did not go along agreeably all the time. But immediately postpartum, the right one revolted again. There's a sharp pain sometimes, a dull ache others, and an overall fatigue that lingers. And oh my sacroiliac joint. It is in a constant state of disstress.

This is getting troubling. I do enjoy running, and I have a great affinity for triathlons. But instead of jumping right back into running, like a (former? not yet...) triathlete might expect, it has been a slower progression. So far I can handle a measly four miles at a time. Thanks to Damie and the excellent book I borrowed from her, Jay Dicharry's Anatomy for Runners, I have started incorporating a lot of different strength training into my weeks. And there is a small possibility (knock on wood) that it is working. While I do love me a good back cracking, I haven't been back to the chiropractor since before Josie's birth, since I have known all along that it isn't getting to the root of the problem. That doesn't seem to be a chiropractor's MO anyway. I am taking things into my own hands for now.

Since running was going so poorly, I decided last week that my three mile run should be hill repeats, because why not? It actually didn't seem to hurt my hip worse than daily life. And the hours that I have been devoting to foam rolling (not literally, who has that kind of time?) seem to make the biggest difference.

I can't delay getting back into all of the triathlon stuff, since this is my 20th season of triathlon-ing, and I need to at least do one race. The closest one that isn't this weekend is mid-September, so that's on the "training plan," said with sarcasm. It won't be fast or pretty, but hopefully everyone else will do the Olympic distance while I do the sprint race.

Since swimming is my weakest sport, we have hit the pool pretty frequently lately. Just kidding, I do this at the pool mostly, but without the smirk. Nursing is always involved, and what could make it easier than a bikini top?

 

And speaking of funny faces, this is what we get when we ask Hunter to smile for a camera. He won't smile, but he will agree to a "funny face." Possibly in response to whatever the neighbor in the background was doing. ?? But we couldn't resist capturing him in his jammer/life jacket combo.

Has it really been 6 weeks since Josie was born? She is wonderful, of course. The real lifesaver in this house is the Moby wrap. When she just can't sleep alone, or Hunter needs me to play (which is always) and be mobile (that too), I just wrap her up to sleep on me and nurse when she needs to. The ring sling is good for a quick and less complicated carry, and the Ergo, with the infant insert is just a bit bulky and hot right now. I do get some strength training hauling her around, except that she was only 11.5 pounds when we last weighed her. Kind of not significant. But the sheer number of times I squat while carrying her each day adds up to something. I'm a little surprised I get any pictures of her in her little bed, since I do hold her so much (partly... er, mostly just because I want to).

Mommy, I just. can't. even.

The recovering

I have a 3 week old! She's precious, sleeps a lot--in her bed (actually a rock and play, but close enough), nurses like crazy, and burps herself. I mean, did you catch that? I can put her down! I couldn't put Hunter down for two years straight. She drinks pumped milk from a bottle too. This means that Jeremy can feed her while I sleep or maybe exercise. 

See?

Speaking of exercise, I'm being super careful and slowly beginning moving again in the form of walking. Ok, I've jogged a bit, but so slowly my strava app thinks it should auto-pause me. Suddenly my yucky hip and SI pain from last summer has reappeared, my pelvic pain from pregnancy has disappeared, and my abs don't really work like I expect them to. I'm just giving them a hard time, since only 3 weeks ago they were stretched out to here. This time I am really working on strength training. Have I said that before? Because I mean it now. 

It may not be obvious to everyone, but recovery from a vbac is so so much easier than recovery from a cesarean. Unless, of course, you enjoy not getting out of bed or sitting up on your own for a few weeks, and there is someone to wait on you hand and foot. That's just not me. I was lightheaded and fatigued for several days after Josie's birth, but apparently I tend to be a bleeder and lost a good bit of blood right after she was born. They actually gave me a bag of pitocin to help stop it some, and not just as a routine measure. 

Besides that fluid, I had no other, so I got home from the hospital about 11-12 pounds down in weight, and I fluctuate from 2-4 pounds over my prepregnancy weight now, depending on if I ate Jeremy's helping of supper the night before or not. In these last 3 weeks, I have eaten approximately 7000 calories per day just to suppress the massive hunger I have. Making milk for a chubby baby and a toddler who only wants this new extra creamy stuff has me eating ridiculous amounts of food, like entire blackberry cobblers and full jars of cookie butter all at once. Honestly I only ate 2/3 of the jar of cookie butter in one day. I did the math on that one and saw that I consumed somewhere around 1600 calories from it alone, and that's certainly not all I ate that day. It seems I'm making up for 9 months with zero appetite. 

While my milk is very sought after usually, above is a picture of a kitten who begs for cows milk every time we go to the fridge but flat out refused my pumped milk. I was desperate in the middle of one night; Josie was too sleepy to nurse much, Hunter rolled over and went back to sleep, and I was busting at the seams, so I pumped into a dirty bottle knowing I'd have to throw it out. Trying to put it to some use the next morning, I poured it for the kittens, who turned up their little pink noses at my delicious creamy treat. Really, everybody?

 Look at that belly!

She actually laughs in her sleep and has smiled at all of us in the absence of gas troubles.

Thankfully someone helped me eat the rest of the jar of cookie butter

Josie's Birth

How did this beautiful baby girl get here? It happened so fast!

But this story really starts with Hunter's birth. I knew all along that I wanted to have a VBAC for any births following his Cesarean, and all odds were lining up well. The anticipated method of delivery can define a pregnancy, and I was overly aware at times of all the means to the end that I hoped for. I wanted to give myself every advantage, which really just means having a healthy pregnancy, finding the best care providers, and not letting myself ever slouch on the couch. It was a long 9 months of sitting perfectly straight up. Just kidding, kind of.

My doctor had started talking about when we would induce little baby girl, and he was hoping for a time before 41 weeks along with a day he was on call. Nothing on the calendar was looking good to me at my 39 week appointment, since induction was most certainly not on my agenda. Let the baby come out when she's ready! And don't increase my chances of a c-section right from the start. I had not let him check my dilation in 3 weeks so we had no idea how I was progressing until I had Jeremy check around 39+1, with the grim results: nothing happening.

That following weekend was a busy one with all my nesting and cleaning and our family activities. Saturday I took Hunter to the blueberry farm to pick while Jeremy rode his bike, then we all headed out to the river for a triathlon team picnic, squeezed a little nap in, I conquered a 3+ mile, 12:45 per mile run/walk, and then we cooled off at a pool party in the neighborhood. Sunday involved lots of playing at church, where I found myself wanting to sit more than usual, a big brunch with the cousins, and the big siblings class at the hospital (so cute, that big brother Hunter!). On the agenda for the evening was hanging Hunter's art work and finishing a chicken pot pie. Those didn't  happen for a while.

I hopped on my trainer for a quick spin with Jack Bauer on the screen. With my usual hip discomfort, I move around a lot in the saddle, and with one shift I felt a thump. The small rush right after told me I was lucky to have padded bike shorts on, because my water might have broken. I headed upstairs and confirmed that it was true. When I asked Jeremy what I should do he said, "Probably not get back on the bike." But I was only halfway through my workout!

Contractions started within a few minutes as I was texting my doula, Cora, and Jenny to tell them to be on alert. Not getting too excited at this point, since I realized it could be days of early labor, I may have downplayed my contractions when Cora called. They were increasing in intensity noticeably already, so I decided to get into the tub and try to time them. Three to three-and-a-half minutes apart, lasting 45-60 seconds seemed too close, too long, too soon. I had a flash of fear that this was not normal. Uterine rupture, uterine rupture, uterine rupture was what kept going through my mind until Jeremy calmed me down that this was actually normal. This husband of mine is such an incredible person. I'm not sure I could've made it through without his calm reassurance and constant support. Through the whole pregnancy really! 

Everything is happening so fast was another thought I had. Contractions were getting closer and closer and I found that timing them was not something I had the mental capacity for anymore. The tub wasn't helping anything, since I was already to the point of leaning over the side with each contraction, so I got in the shower to get clean. After all, I had been sweating on the trainer. Making it through a quick shower was more difficult than I had imagined, but luckily Jenny and Emily had arrived to help distract Hunter while I huffed and puffed around the bedroom. They got there just before 6:30pm, about an hour after I got off the trainer, and when Jenny came into the bedroom I started crying and saying I just didn't think I could do this whole labor thing if it hurt so much already, still thinking it could last days. Jeremy checked my dilation, and said it was around 4-5cm, which did brighten my mood a bit. I knew it was time to pack-- oh yeah, hadn't finished that-- and head out when I was finally ready. With a VBAC, you need continuous monitoring in case of uterine rupture, and I did not want to put off going in much longer. Jenny and Jeremy were my logistics and packing coordinators, calling Cora and Mom, and Cora called the hospital and had them prepare for our arrival. Jenny seemed optimistic when talking to Cora that I was progressing quickly based on my mood of uncertainty, inability to stay quiet during contractions already, and complete lack of logical thought processing.

Two hours after the trainer ride, we headed down the bumpiest street in town to the hospital, since it was the fastest route, and I never noticed the bumps before. We got there in only a few contractions. The hard longer contractions were mixed in with less intense ones that came with a much shorter break between, which made it almost scary when I had a longer rest interval; I knew a tough one was coming. Cora met us in the parking garage, and the next hurdle was walking through the skybridge to the hospital. The skybridge may have been 100 yards long or 100 miles long, but I could barely take 5 steps between contractions, when I had to lean against the wall. That walk was never going to happen, so a magic wheelchair that cooled me and let me rest breezed me through the halls to L&D.

The birth ball, which I  spent more time covering than using, is where I sat for the few minutes it took to get my heplock in, which is also a requirement for VBACs at my hospital. I contracted right after the nurse got the first one started, and I ruined it, and a second one had to be placed. She was quick, and got it set with just a tiny bit of time to spare. Next up was the dilation check, which she blew me away with: complete effacement and dilation except for a small lip on one side. The little things kept me going. It seemed my favorite position for contractions was hunched over something, so onto the bed I went.

I had no concept of time, or any surroundings really, at this point, but with each contraction Cora or Jeremy, or Jenny-- wait when did she get here?-- would use counter pressure on my iliac crests, which was very helpful. I had the thought, "so an epidural takes this pain away" but it never crossed my mind again. I would say I was dead set against pain medication, but in reality I know things can happen and it can become a good option to have. Looking back, my mind was too busy to process that thought further anyway, so unmedicated was how it was to happen.

During one contraction I felt a sort of dry heave and said that I may need to throw up, after which a vomit bag was brought to me. Then it occurred to me that it could actually be the elusive urge to push I had heard of. The hospital was ready with a birthing stool, which was a large plastic crescent sort of stool, and the crew helped me down there right beside the bed. Jeremy was behind me letting me lean back against him to rest between contractions, with cool towels and reassurance. Cora was on one side, the wonderful nurse Ellavay was on another, and they all gave me little glimpses of hope and lots of encouragement.

Around this time, a friend also by the name of Jenny, who is starting her birth photography business and volunteered her time to come photograph it for me, arrived. The doctor on call, a partner of my regular OB, popped in to say hello, to which I was unable to respond. Cora explained how exactly this pushing was to happen, but something about it scared me. I wondered if I just might bust with any pushing. I nervously tried a few times and convinced myself that if I just went for it, this would happen a lot more quickly. It still took a few times to build up to an actual powerful push, but I could feel baby girl descend significantly with each one. The nurse called for the doctor, which was a boost for me, knowing that it was happening sooner rather than later-- soon enough that he never had time to get those knee pads he asked for, and instead kneeled on the hard floor in front of me.

At 9:06 pm, just over 3.5 hours after my water broke, Josephine Mae was right there, in my arms, looking straight up into my eyes.

Hunter summed it all up when he met her the next day: "I am so excited to meet you, little Josie Mae."

Our Newest Little

We are so excited to have welcomed sweet Josephine Mae to this world Sunday night. She is a perfect, precious gift, and all of us, including big brother Hunter, are smitten. I promise she is smiling at me already!

I'm eager to write down all the details of her quick entrance to the world before anything escapes me. Soon I just know I'll have spare time. If I can stop staring at her precious face.

20 months

I do not know if it is because this is the month of giving thanks or what, but I have been incredibly thankful to have my sweet toddler lately. I have to start by admitting that the time from when he was about 4 months until 14 months were some of the hardest days of my life. The first thing that changed was our location, which did help a lot on its own. But he has also become such a happy, pleasant little one recently, and I enjoy his company more every day. He has his own inventive ideas and he makes his own hysterical jokes. Of course he still has his own strict agenda, but we do a much better job of communicating with each other, so that cuts down on frustration. He says many words and signs even more. The cutest thing I've ever seen is when he makes his Mickey Mouse do sign language. Everybody in the house needs to be on the same page!

He likes a lot of the same things that I like: gardening, hiking in the woods, finding interesting leaves and rocks, coloring, squishing playdough, chalk artistry. He is still asking to get in the stroller, and we have running races up and down the driveway. If we could only love sleeping to the same degree (one way or the other we need to meet in the middle). But I have a new activity that I'm starting, which is getting on the trainer when he naps. Knocking on wood... he will sleep reliably for the first 40ish minutes of his nap right now, so I'm just praying he does not decide to give it up any time soon! You should have seen my sprint the other day when I heard a noise through the monitor. The trainer is in the playroom downstairs, so I braked, got out of my shoes, ran around the couch, up the stairs, hopped the baby gate, and slid sock-footed around the corner in the living room then down the short hall to the bedroom. And he was still zonked out. Must've been a cat. 

our hobbies include drilling

I realize that he's getting big and doesn't need me there within 5 seconds like he used to, but I also know that he really trusts me to be there since I always have, and I do not want to go messing that up now. It was hard work getting a good secure attachment (especially in those particular 10 months), but I am thankful for it. I know the effects. But I imagine a lot of people would feel sorry for me if I told them that we have never left Hunter with anybody other than my sister, and mom once, and I couldn't dream of leaving him overnight. I am definitely not feeling any wistfulness that he would be perfectly happy without me. That time will come too fast anyway.

At 20 months, he is tall enough to be mistaken for a two year old frequently (and has been for several months now), at almost 3 feet. His blond curls keep growing and getting bushier, and I keep trimming and hoping I don't cut off any babyness. He understands and responds to every question asked of him, even if it's rhetorical. He is forgiving of me when I make mistakes during his games, politely telling me "uh oh" when I get it wrong. A lover of all animals, he kisses them and hugs them, and puts them to sleep. Mostly gently. Except when he needs an excuse to kiss them, and then they might get stepped on and "hurt." 

Sweet, attentive, observant, funny baby Hunter.

A Quick Baby Clip

This sweet baby makes me laugh! Here he is reciting one of our newest books, Moo, Baa, La La La. I was surprised how fast we had it memorized.

Halloween

We practiced being a dragon with the towel (there are so many more pictures of this that I just can't post online -- one video where he admits to an "accident" on the rug :))...

then a real costumed dragon, with pants on even.

But once warm, humid Halloween night came, there was a bit of refusal. And anyone who knows a toddler knows there's not much reasoning going on with them. So cupid it was. Until the sash came off, then it was just a toddler in a red cloth diaper with running shoes on. Eventually I got a superman t-shirt on him.

We did a bit of partying, a small bit of trick-or-treating (who needs all that candy anyway? I do!), and much handing out of candy.

I'm not sure anybody really noticed Hunter and me (dressed as Hunter's current favorite thing: a black cat), due to the hilarity of Buddy. Pictures by random onlookers were snapped! Jeremy couldn't have been more perfect for the costume. Next year we must coordinate the rest of the family.

Procrastinator

I learned that I'm a pretty good procrastinator in college when I'd have a paper due and leave most of it until the night before, when I would scramble home after a mini track party to type. I always have wanted to be a person who gets things done early so that I can relax and enjoy myself, and not have things hanging over my head. But anyway, I did it again. I kept putting off registering for the half marathon until last week, I guess so I could back out any time. I'm not registering a year in advance for ironmans these days, and I suppose by comparison you can get into other races relatively close to race date. I pulled up the website and saw a huge (month-old) post that said SOLD OUT. Nice one Joy. But the VIP race, for just $250, was open. No thanks. The two person relay was also open. Ok... Let me just think about this one... Yeah that works! I have come up with a plan for Jenny and me which involves her running the second leg and me running the whole thing. Technically, I could possibly be called a partial bandit runner, but I'm paying and racing and I just want to do the full course! Plus this way if I really bomb, there will be no record :) It seems I put off doing a lot of real training too, and lo and behold, it's too late. I know there's a lot of sand bagging and avoidance of training details put out on the internet in blogs and whatnot, and I understand that. Unfortunately I'm not doing that. I had my high mileage weeks break into the low 30s twice. I've been running 3-4 times a week, and usually taking a day or two completely off. It just hasn't fit into the schedule lately since it has been getting dark early. And now it's cold and dark! The trainer will be coming into the playroom for me tonight. The pool donned its bubble this week. I guess it's really fall, sadly. I even broke out the knicker tights for running Sunday when I went out for a few tempo miles. I'm hoping for race day magic since those 3 at 7:00 pace sure seemed too hard to keep up for over an hour and a half. I'm going into this race knowing I really didn't give my best effort in training, but also remembering that I never have trained specifically for a half marathon, so why can't I PR?

Enough about running, let me not procrastinate any more in posting some toddler pictures, and the events of the last few weeks. 

We had a crew of Harwoods come last weekend-- Hunter's Mammo and great aunt Nanny as well as his great grandmother GG and great grandfather LaLa!

We and the local cousins spent a beautiful fall day at a pumpkin patch with pigs and goats, a donkey and a tractor, lots of corn, hay, and pumpkins. 

No hesitation, they all climbed right up to the top

 

I make funny toddler jokes. I got Ethan to laugh at me.

 

Em is a good baby chaser.

 

It's harder to get my own baby to laugh when I'm behind him.

 
While pigs do grunt, as Hunter will demonstrate for us, they also squeal very loudly when picked up! Very loudly.
 

Matching is our game lately. We match colors, animals, similar objects. I can tell him to go pick the crayon that matches the green chair, and he picks it out of 20 colors perfectly. He laughs when he finds 2 horses and holds them up together. He shows mini Mickey the blanket with his face on it. So funny. He even laughs at my attempt at jokes. Like one night he started sitting on a balloon and I said, "Hunter is laying an egg!" And he died laughing and wanted me to keep repeating it. I'm quite the comic, you should know.

He loves to be surrounded by his animals. And check out Tigger's adoring look.

The cousins fostered a 3 week old kitten. Hunter was gentle and kissed her. He's a big kisser lately, to animals (real and not) and people.

 

Selfie

 

The cuteness!

 

 Hunter's like, ummmm I thought I was an only child. Actually he really gets excited over these three, whether he looks like it or not.

He loves his little chairs that are just his size. Luckily Ma (that's me) fits in them too.

Here is my giant foot, Ma.

He's just so sweet. I love how he placed his crackers and water right near where he wanted to sit just so on the steps. Love that baby!