Role model

In an effort to keep upbeat and positive here's a list of things I'm loving these days:

Chou loves to "go running." She dons my hat and headband and takes off.

She's taken to hanging off every bar at the park trying to do chin ups (she's more successful at it than I am).

Chou says, "Let's stretch" and "I'm stretching, mama!" And then promptly does the splits.

Her favorite things to do are walk, run, jump like a kangaroo, climb the climbing wall at the park then run some more. She's also taken to tree climbing and managing to make it to the top of our porch railing. For those who know, it's darn high and she sits right on top all on her own giving me a heart attack.

Chou planted carrots, beets and peas at random in my flower bed and they're growing better than the ones I planted oh so carefully in pots.

She asks for sushi, quinoa, chickpeas, carrots (pronounced cah-rutz, emphasis on first syllable) and asparagus for dinner. I love that she knows what these things are at two.

I've managed to find a running buddy — sort of. More specifically, I'm encouraging a new mum to run and she's happy I want to run with her. It also means I've taken Chou running twice this week. It's been so long since that's happened. Today she even fell asleep in the stroller. It's been oh so long since that happened. It's been lovely.

Let's pretend this is two years ago

I was a very new runner when I got preggers - less than a year in to the sport. I had finished just one 10 km race and was planning for another. I ran my second just days before finding out I had had a running partner along without knowing it. I continued running until well into my pregnancy (more appropriately, I shuffled along in running gear), and thought that once the wee one arrived I'd wake early, kiss the little angel and head out the door for my 6 miles before breakfast. Because, well, that's just what mum's did, right?

Of course, when Chou arrived she informed me that she was a morning baby. In summer, that was up before six; in winter, shortly after. She also informed me that upon waking she expected to be nursed. Every time.

In short, I never did become a morning runner. The year on mat leave I often ran mid-morning or late afternoon with Chou tucked in the stroller. Often I'd duck out the door while dinner simmered on the stove. Sundays were for long runs around 9 am.

Then, two weeks ago, Chou weaned. It's been two weeks of horrid night time routines (or lack thereof) trying to find some way to get her to bed without it ending in tears or us staying with her for hours at a time. But there's an upside — I'm no longer "on call" between the hours of 5:30 and 7 am. Sure, the husband has to get up and get ready for work, but he can do that while Chou is up and about.

So I got to thinking that maybe it's not too late to become one of those morning runners.

Tomorrow, we find out.

What it's like to be punched in the boobs

As Jen P will often remind me, our kids are smarter than us.

This time last week, I made the decision to begin weaning Chou off her bedtime numnums. She had skipped it on her own now and again, or hubby had put her down for nightnight without me around and she did just fine. With a two night trip away looming on the horizon, I thought that going from twice a day (early morning and night) to once a day before being gone for two days would help.

Then, Tuesday morning, the day before I was set to leave. Chou didn't nurse. Holy doodle. It's like she had ESP or something.

I headed out Wednesday, feeling a bit top heavy but comforted thinking that my baby was weaning all on her own. She had no idea how good her timing was.

Of course, then I spent two days in pain. Not wretched, horrid pain but enough engorgement to have me buttoning my sweet polka dot blazer very carefully. I was shocked (and still am) as to how much milk I'm still making even when I was down to once/twice a day feedings.

Then I get home Friday night. And if I thought the Dolly Parton boobs that felt like they had been mammogramed a little too hard were bad, it was nothing compared to my sweet baby decided that being weaned meant she should stay up an hour later every night. Um, yes. My perfect, put-herself-to-bed sleeper has become a "Come snuggie, Dada!" "Mama, stay!" baby.

Never before have we stayed with her to sleep, not ever! This is new...and getting old quickly. I'm trying to be very understanding, and am quite glad that I can go in and comfort her and she not expect numnums. But evening is "us" time, and 1.5 hours of night time routine is just plain silly. This will pass, I know.

But you walk around with two huge bruises on your chest and we'll see how sweet and snuggly you are.