All Caddywumpus

Delinquent

2011-09-07T11:58:00.002-06:00

I have several posts already written in my head. One is titled "At 32", the other "Reasons why I'm not blogging."

The trouble is, there is no magic way of making these blogs magically appear beyond physically typing them and these days I have very little time for typing.

And so I shall do a Bloggess type "Things I was doing while I wasn't here" recap (except that she does them every week and I haven't posted since June.

- Baking a baby. By now the entire world knows, because, well I'm 22 weeks and it's been Facebook news for like ever. More on this pregnancy later, including belly photos. A very large belly, I might add
- Finding a replacement for my 8 month mat leave
- Deciding to take only 8, not 12 months. (The hubby is taking the last 4)
- Feeling decidedly spoiled in being able to have 12 months of leave. I'm so sorry, Americano counterparts! Your systems sucks balls.
- Signing Chou up for dance and music and buying her first ever tap shoes and ballet slippers. WTF? Yes, it's true.
- Reno'ing the house, partially because we want to, partially because we have to. (more on that later, too)
- Stressing about money
- Buying a new (to us) truck
- Stressing even more about money
- Attending a marathon birth for close friends
- Wanting to do nothing but doula full time but see first point (so not going to happen for a solid few years yet)
- Saying goodbye to coffee, only to rediscover it as 1/3 cream, 2/3 coffee in my second trimester
- Missing my friends like crazy, but finally making some new ones here
- Saying goodbye to working out, eating too much and gaining 8 lb in 8 weeks (more on that later too)

Phew. OK, I promise a new blog post by the end of the week...month?

Oh, right. Juneathon

2011-06-01T14:58:00.004-06:00

Apparently I'm not very good at keeping track of the calendar. Case in point, I'm happily reading along to Smithers's silly adventures when BAM! she drops a Juneathon challenge. What's that all about? I say. Only to realize that yes, indeed, it is nearly June. That was Sunday. I promptly went out and ran a miserable, slow, bug-riddled 30 minutes. Miserable yes, but done.

And so, I emailed said Smithers and told her that I would, in fact, accept her Juneathon throw down, would love to be Super Wump, and would abso-smurphly love to use her fancy wheel of points (she made it and had to explain to me how to post it on my blog, because, well, I'm sort of a dolt when it comes to these things).

I give you my Juneathon goals and point breakdown:
5 points each day I do 45 min of true exercise
5 points for each run totaling 30 mins or more (I'm going for time, not distance, as that's how sorry a runner I am right now). So, that means if I run for 30 mins and do something else for 15-30 minutes, I'd get 10 points. Got it?
5 points for yoga (as that doesn't count in the 45 min category. Why? Don't ask, just go with it)
-100 points for failing to eat 5 salads a week (meal-sized salads, I mean)

Weeks run Wednesday to Wednesday, and I was clever and started working out daily since Sunday. I've already achieved my first point (yay for 45 mins of exercise today!), but I have not eaten a salad...will work on that. I have no weight loss goals, I just need to move and eat well. That's what I'm all about right now.

Oh, and the fancy dial thing Smithers made? I'm still figuring out how to post it on my blog. See? Dolt.

Post Script: I did it! And look, a point!

Take it easy

2011-05-01T06:43:00.003-06:00

How has it been over a month since I've posted? Sheesh.

It's been a busy stretch, but I'm thankful and excited to be heading into the very slow time with work. Last summer, I was so concerned about what it would take to put a monthly magazine together, I sat at my desk for hours not doing anything but petrified that if I left my desk I'd some how not get the job done.

This year, I know that when I need to work, I work hard. But after doing three issues a month, one a month is very manageable. I've accepted this so easily that I've even decided to actually take holidays. And real ones! Not ones where I still work. No, a real vacation, a week away without interviews, notes, editing and proofing.

First, we're spending a week in Ottawa in early June. Then we'll have a stay-cation in July. Then in late July I'll take a week in Winnipeg. In early September, we're going to Victoria to visit friends and celebrate our sixth anniversary. All of this might seem very ho-hum to most, but for me, for us, we never, ever do this. And I cannot wait.

What are you doing for fun this summer?

Three

2011-03-22T12:38:00.004-06:00

Miss Chou Chou Magoo is no longer two. She is three, or, as she informed me on the ride home yesterday, "I don't want to be three. I'm four." Which essentially captures what it means to be three — smart enough to be sassy and willful, but young enough to be cute and endearing (making it easier to take the first part of that statement).

I know that I've long fallen off the Chou monthly update wagon, but on this her third birthday, I thought I should at the very least make an effort to jot down what life is like with her now.

First, Chou is a...um...stubborn/smart/willful/determined/bright/friendly/temperamental/musically inclined/loud/athletic child. See? A good mix of the trying and the terrific. Chou is active, mentally and physically, loves singing, playing make believe, colouring and painting, playing king of the castle and some sort of "Bees attack!" game she learned from her friend Jack. She's more aggressive lately, I think because of all the time she's spending at daycare (it's not daycare so much as the group of kids she's playing with, and it's not bad, just different). She still loves to help me cook and bake, and we still have pre and post supper family dance parties. She'd rather be outside and moving than inside watching TV, but she's decidedly in love with certain shows (Dora is a recent addition, but Ruby and Max and the Cat in the Hat are favs). Her vocabulary grows daily, and I love that she uses uncommon words for a girl of her age. Chou still loves her routine, so much so that fits erupt if someone, namely me, has the audacity to remove the lid of her yogurt before she can. The Horror! And yes, that is one of the fun things about being three — the drama. Oh, the drama. As in, I may not call her "babe" as it's far too close to "baby" of which she is NOT, I am often reminded.

But she's also a magnificently confident child, makes friends easily and is willing to climb new hills and explore new lands with courage and wonder. She is actually upset when I show up to pick her up from daycare in the car. "Where's the Chariot?" she demands. Our walks home full of puddle jumping, snow hill climbing, rock collecting and mail fetching take f-o-r-e-v-e-r, but I savour our time outside in the fresh air. Which makes this winter that will never end that much harder, as I simply can't wait to spend as many hours as possible hiking and exploring.

When it comes to describing Chou, the words come easily, but any parent knows that when you try and convey all the love and pride and wonder you feel for your child, words always fail. And so it is with me. Quite simply, she is my everything and each and every second she's away from me I feel incomplete. I love her more than I ever thought someone could love.

And then she comes home, throws a fit over nothing and demands a Baby Bel cheese. Yup, that's my girl.

7 a.m, watching "kid shows" as she calls them. Couch snuggling is one of my favorite things to do. Hers too, I think. Happy birthday, babe.

A conspiring universe

2011-03-08T08:27:00.002-07:00

For anyone who hasn't read The Alchemist, I suggest you go and read it now. I'll wait.

***

Back? Good.

I'm not a religious person at all, but I am a rather firm believer in that which we cannot see. I believe in energy — that the more good and love we put out in to the world, the more it goes around and comes back to us, that people are intrinsically good and that when you put your wishes out to the universe, the universe conspires with you. No, I haven't had too much coffee, I've simply been practicing a bit more patience, and trying to be more content and aware of all that goes on around me.

Let's back up a bit.

I recently hit my one year mark at my current job. I expected a raise. Not a big one, mind you, just a raise. I had all these plans and goals of what I would do for the magazine and all the extra work I'd put in and all the travel I'd do. Then, I didn't get the raise. The boss says all is well, but no, no more money for you. My first reaction was to get pissy. Then I stood back and thought about what kind of message this might be.

For starters, I now know just how tough and time consuming this job is from December through March. As balance, I now know just how NOT tough it is May through June (there's a shoulder season on either side that's so-so; I do know there are 12 months. Duh). I also know that I've been craving more time with Chou Chou Magoo who is soon no longer two. And I have a doula client due now, one next month and another in July. Doula work fulfills me in ways a desk job never could, and spending time with Chou is priceless.

The connection? I think that if I'd been given a raise, I'd feel more obligated to spend every spare moment of every day working, thinking about work, considering work. Instead, I feel like I can draw a line ME time vs. WORK time. I can feel good about this line — I can be proud of my work achievements and my work ethic, but I can take my evenings, weekends and early afternoons and savour them, guilt-free, with my daughter and any other hobbies or interests I choose to pursue. I can cultivate friendships, spend time working on my own health and offering my support for labouring women. My job, as it is, allows that.

And so we come around to International Women's Day and our conspiring universe. I have a doula client due next week, but I feel that baby is going to arrive any day (as in, today, in fact), and I was worried that my deadline this week would derail those plans. Yesterday, I had two things on my plate that I HAD to deal with, and one this morning, that, had she called, would have meant I either couldn't attend her birth, or would have had to attend only part. I asked the universe to just give me 'til Tuesday at lunch. Pretty please? And here we are, no baby and work "musts" getting crossed off the list.

What does this have to do with Women's Day? Not much really, except that I think my most valuable contribution to this day is to be there, fully and present with an open mind and heart, at a woman's most powerful and vulnerable point in her life — giving birth — and I'm just too happy to know the universe agrees.

Yoga-tta love it!

2011-02-11T13:17:00.004-07:00

I'm a little sick of pity parties this week. I've been throwing them for myself for two days, two weeks, two months... you get the picture.

I weighed in on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to this weigh in, as I had worked out regularly, maxed out on fibre and veggies and colourful deliciousness and stayed within my PointsPlus. So as the instructor wrote down +.4 I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice when I said "WHAT?" That's right, in four weeks I've lost ONE pound. One! Last time, on the Points system, I never lost less than .5 (even at Christmas) or more than two pounds. I was happy with that. Anyway...

I nearly rolled my eyes at the instructor all evening (somehow it's HER fault, right? I know it's not, but I don't like her much. What's with all the WW leaders being b!tchy?), but managed instead to focus on my beautiful daughter running around making everyone laugh and giggle.

On the way home I was ticked right off. I managed to avoid emotionally eating when I got home, but spent the better part of the evening looking up "pointsplus doesn't work" on Google. Turns out, not everyone is loving the new system...that was a bit of a consolation.

But I said no pity party, right?

Yesterday, I went back to the Jillian fat blast workout and tough yoga and then today I switched it up and did Level 1 Shred (yoga tonight).

Well, well, well. I'll say this much about yoga - it sure as heck works your core and upper body. I haven't done that well at Shred (especially the push ups and ab work) in forever.

I'm taking this little victory, re-focusing my WW attempt and going to stick it out a bit longer. Because more important than the scale is strength and fitness — and that part is working.

It's not you, it's me. Or, We're just on a break (and so it's not really cheating)

2011-02-07T13:24:00.004-07:00

I had to break up with running again.

I know, I know. At this rate, he's never going to take me back, but it had to be done. At first, the decision put me into a bit of a tailspin. For whatever reason, in the back of my mind I equated "no running" with "no weight loss." I was convinced that not running would mean not ever getting back to a healthy weight and not ever being fit again. Which is stupid, of course, but when I starting taking my health seriously, running was a huge factor in my success. It's no wonder that now, as I re-focus and re-commit, the absence of running made me feel defeated before I even started.

Enter common sense.

After finally finding an experienced, knowledgeable massage therapist who gave me my first relief from pain since August, I sat back and re-evaluated my situation. First off, the damage to my hip is not muscular it's connective tissue damage and therefore is going to take a very long time to heal. Second, the best thing I can do for the hip is to strengthen my core, butt and hamstrings. Third, running is not going to do those things or, put another way, there are better, more effective ways to build strength than running. Fourth (and here's the big one), running is the only exercise that actually hurts. Yes, the hip gives me grief if I sit too long, or drive, or sleep funny, but all in all, yoga, Shred and Jillian's Fat Blast DON'T hurt it.

And so, I broke up with running. Not forever, no, we're just on a break, I say. But for now, there are other ways to drop weight and build strength and none of them have to hurt.

Sorry, running. You're just going to have to wait.

BFFs

2011-01-30T16:45:00.002-07:00

I realized some time ago that since getting my laptop, I don't really post photos on my blog anymore. BORING. I'll work on that, eh?

Also, I've spent the day knocked out with a stomach bug (nothing too bad, it just keeps me on the couch. Typing this way is difficult), but only after a morning of Chou having one last play date with her BFF Amaris. A didn't want to leave, and Hannah hugged her as hard as she could. We promise to meet up this summer either in Alberta or out on Vancouver Island where they will soon live. I just hope we do, because they are the cutest things ever when they play.

The week that was

2011-01-29T06:51:00.003-07:00

It's been a big week, but mostly for everyone else.

Ms. Smithers became a Mama to baby Z.
Our neighbours announced they're moving...on Monday (they decided Wednesday)
Chou ended up sick for the third time in her life. And it's horrible.
I gained .2 lb in three weeks (but have only myself to blame)
Jen P signed up for races and eluded bears.

But back to the neighbours moving thing. I've been the "friend to move away" suddenly twice. Being on the receiving end really, really sucks, but even more so now that Chou is of an age to actually miss her friends. When we left Ottawa, I was heartbroken but Chou didn't really notice (she was a year old at the time). This time, Chou's best friend, who she talks about and asks about daily, is moving away. Chou's face lights up at the mention of her BFF. The two of them play so well together, and they're the only family I've met here that I can visit while Chou plays.

And that's the part that bothers me. After nearly two years here, I have made some friends — but most are stay at home mums that get together during the week days, making it nearly impossible for me to participate. One other mum did start running with me, but her son is a full 2 years younger than Chou, and so when we get together the kids can't play (yet). Meredith and her family were the only family with kids that we'd become friends enough to just drop in and share dinner with at the drop of a hat.

The night she told me she was leaving, I realized just how few real friends I've made out here. My heart aches for Chou, as I know it's going to take a very long time for her to wrap her mind around Amaris being gone. I was so looking forward to Chou having a real friend at her birthday (the first time that would have happened). But I'm sad for me too. There are some lovely people in this town, don't get me wrong, and a couple really neat mums and babes that I'd love to spend more time with, but it's just not happening.

For the first time in perhaps forever, I'm really struggling to fit in and be me. It's not fun and is weighing on me more than I'd care to admit most days. Let's blame the epic failure of round two of WW on that? Sure, why not.

To the good, I'm officially 4 for 4 for interviews/hiring of doula clients. This latest client is due mid-March (not the best timing), but after meeting this woman, I so wanted to attend her birth, and thankfully she feels the same. The doula-ing aspect of living here has been nothing but positive. That's something.

It should count for two

2011-01-17T15:50:00.002-07:00

Grand total exercise I've done in four days: 1.5 mile walk.

HOWEVER

It was -24 degrees C (but a bright, shiny, dry cold! Um, no), and I had to push my 32 pound kid in the Chariot through a foot of freshly fallen snow.

That totally makes up for the three days of doing zero, right?

Janathon totals: It doesn't matter anymore, but I'm not going to let the stop me....I hope.

Day 11 and 12. I'm back!

2011-01-13T11:57:00.003-07:00

I have maybe three minutes before I have to get back to the conference room, but let me say that both Tuesday and Wednesday I ran 3.1 miles and did ab work. No, it's not the hour-plus of working out I hoped to do each day, and yes, my beer consumption has been above the "one a day" I had hoped, but all in all, I've been eating mostly veggies, no desserts, lots of water and yes, I did run. I call that a win.

Oh, and yesterday would have been my week one weigh in. I couldn't make it, but I did successfully end the week with PointsPlus extra points available. I'm hopeful to see a loss next week...especially after I go home and eat nothing but fibre for four days. True story.

AND, for all my non-Canadian friends, I have been doing some outside travel to and from the show. It's been -23 ish. That's Celcius. Ugh.

Day 10: The one where I fail

2011-01-11T06:15:00.002-07:00

Day 10. I did not run. I did not yoga. I did not lift weights.
I did, however, walk many miles in very high heels back and forth between conference rooms, my hotel room (I'm in layout for my magazine) and back to the conference rooms. My feet hurt and I'm more than a little bummed that I didn't work out, but I'm not exaggerating when I say I also had THREE meetings on top of all the conferences, plus had to go off-site for supper. On the plus side, I did manage to only go 3 to 6 (it's hard to say) points over on my day. I only ate meals at the conference and came up to my room to eat some fruit for snacks. This is likely the first time I haven't eaten a muffin, danish or other nummy nummy at a conference. That's a win for me.

Either way, all of this is to say, today will be better. I've blocked off 4-530 for ME and I will get it done. Somehow.

Begin virtual a$$ kicking....now.

Historic day in Wumpusland

2011-01-09T16:48:00.004-07:00

Today has been, to borrow from Pooh-Bear, a Very Big Day.

This morning, I rolled out of bed at 5 a.m., showered, made coffee, bundled up my sweet toddler in a blanket and set off for the airport before 6 a.m. There was heavy snow last night, so we wanted to leave a bit early to get to the airport on time. Running five minutes ahead of schedule, we ran into a little snag...or rather a 3,500 lb snag. Our lovely neighbour's teenage son had parked his car directly in our lane. No way around it. At 5:40 in the morning, there we were knocking on said neighbour's door to ask them to move it.

I, being the genius that I am, checked the car - unlocked and, thank goodness, a standard. Without waiting for the dimwit next door to wake up, I yelled, "Let's just push the bloody thing out of the way." Which, after said dimwit couldn't find the keys, is exactly what we did. (It turns out it was his friend's car who had driven another friend home so that friend wouldn't drive drunk. Commendable, but maybe next time don't block someone's only way out of their driveway?). Ahem. Where was I?

Oh, yeah, historic day. Right.

So.

The reason we were going to the airport was to drop off Mr. Wumpus and Chou Chou Magoo for a five day extravaganza of family and friend time in Ontario. Did you catch that? Five days of daddy daughter time. In another province. By plane. Without mummy.

It also means mummy is sans Chou Chou for five days. Goodness, if it didn't feel so good to have some time to myself, I'd almost be sad.

(Really though, I'm glad she's in such a daddy phase or this would be stressful. I'd also be lying if I said I didn't cry a bit when they left. I also waited to watch their plane safely take off. I miss her already.)

On to historic day, part two and a Really Neat Something.

I'm currently at my hotel...and just got back in from running on the treadmill (3.1 miles, just under 34 mins-ish) and doing a 15 min weight/abs/stretch.

Big deal? Yes. Why? Because I've packed my runners on several occasions and only once that I can remember have I ever, ever used them while away on business. Instead of parking my butt and filling my face and wasting time, I actually unpacked, had a banana, drank some water, sent some emails, made a to-do list and promptly went and worked out. YES I DID. Thank you, Janathon!

On to the very neat thing, I had a woman call to see if I could be her doula in March. I met with her today and we sat and talked for TWO HOURS. I so very much hope she chooses me. The baby she is carrying is actually an adopted embryo - how cool is that? They tried all sorts of things, all the way to invitro with their own gametes, but had no success. They were/are on the wait list to adopt a baby, but received word last February that there were embryos up for adoption in another province. So while she is carrying the child, it's biologically someone else's. Isn't that a total mind blowing situation? And I love it and think she's wonderful and I want her to ask me to be her doula because THAT is one special baby in there.

It also makes me want to be a surrogate. It's so difficult to hear about others struggles with infertility. Seriously.

Back to work for me!

Janathon totals: Yoga 8/9, Run 4/9, Shred 3/9, Weight/Abs 1/9

Yoga is not for the faint of heart

2011-01-08T16:42:00.004-07:00

Day 8 of Janathon was fraught with danger. There's a snowstorm raging (-14 degrees C, but with wind, so it's also a bit chilly) and I had to buy an entire new dress-up wardrobe.
$400 later (no, I'm not keeping it all), I discovered that while yes, I had gone up a size, it was only one and I still managed to find at least three outfits that I could feel decent in, regardless of the extra chub. They'll look even better 10 pounds from now.
Then, I ran. Just a 34 minute jaunt, complete with mismatched winter running gear (the pants are, in fact, curling pants, and I have a John Deere scarf with red mittens, a pink Lulu tuque and a blue Running Room jacket. If ever you needed proof I'm not vain...there you have it). It was snowy and blowy and trudging through the snow drifts isn't much fun. The studs on my shoes are really only helpful with ice, but still, I manged 6 and 1s the entire time. I still didn't quite get to 3 miles, but it's been a week. I'm reminding myself of that.
Then, we yoga'd. We being the Husband and I while Chou Chou Magoo who is (soon no longer to be) two climbed all over me at inopportune times. I gave the Husband the choice of yoga routine - 45 min easy, 55 min easy ish, 60 min hardcore, 80 minutes of pure torture. The fool that he is chose the 60 minutes of hardcore, muscle-shaking yoga. It was, in a word, hardcore. I'm so going to do it again tomorrow.
Speaking of tomorrow, the Husband is taking our sweet baby to Ontario to visit family. For five whole days. Away from me. The longest we've (me and Chou) ever been apart is two nights. If she weren't in such an "I love daddy" phase, I'd be worried.
Here's to day eight of Janathon, sexy skirts, flattering tops and hardcore yoga.

Janathon totals: Yoga 8/8, Run 4/8, Shred 3/8

On the seventh day, there was no rest

2011-01-07T12:36:00.003-07:00

In many ways, I'm an overachiever. I work hard. I like doing things well. I like being good at something, whatever it is. If I'm dismal at it at the first go (i.e. playing pool or ping pong), I just find reasons not to ever do it. Lucky for me, I'm moderately successful at things right off the hop. In that way, I have a lot of fun (and call playing pool stupid. Because it is.)

There's one area I've always, always, always been an underachiever — health and fitness. I don't know what it is, but I've never really pushed myself; I've convinced myself that I always need a rest day, that 20 mins is enough, that walking around counts as exercise. I'm sure there are those worse off than me, but I tend to over estimate output and under estimate input, so to speak.

On day two of the new WW program, I'm realizing just how much those little things — cream in the coffee, tidying up the last of Chou's cheese or hummus or yogurt, a hunk of good chocolate — add up to many extra pounds. I'll be the first to say that I will always eat cheese, chocolate and yogurt. You should; it's good for you. But when moderation came to town, I looked the other way and made fun of people playing pool. I don't know how exactly to put this into words (which is funny, seeing as that's my profession), but I've never, ever put my heart and soul and overachiever attitude into my health and fitness.

I've improved some, yes. Four and a half years ago I started running. And, more or less, I've continued to. Somewhere along the way I lost 50 plus pounds (it can stay lost. I don't miss it). I eat better than I used to. I'm a better cook, too. But whenever it comes to a new fitness or health goal or regime, I tend to take the easy way out. I sign up for races and don't do them (some legitimately, others because of laziness, pure and simple). But, and this is where today's title comes from, even when I train, I don't train hard. I take full on rest days between 30 min workouts. Because for whatever reason I think I should? Um, right.

Today is day seven of Janathon. I have done yoga seven days in a row (a first for me), I have done either a 30 minute run/walk or Shred on alternating days. I have walked into town (always as fast as I can), and while on day three my muscles were sore, by day seven, now, I know that if I really wanted to I could go out and do a 30 minute run, even after Shred and yoga. 90 minutes of activity on one day does not in any way shape or form require me to rest the next day (well, except for a kick arse run, but we're not there yet, are we?)

If I learn nothing else from Janathon, it's this — activity is still rest, depending on what it is, and that each day I must move more and more, and then a bit more.

Janathon totals: Yoga 7/7, Run 3/7, Shred 3/7

Raisins, avocado, dates, corn

2011-01-06T13:42:00.002-07:00

Day one of the WW program is zooming along. I've already discovered several changes — most of which help to explain my gigantic weight gain in the last two months.
It would seem that under the new WW program MOST fruits and veggies are zero points, meaning you can eat as many as you like and it doesn't count towards your restricted intake for the day. Great! Except that many, many of my favorites (raisins, avocado and dates) still have a points value. Of course they do! Which means that while I've always eaten lots of good stuff, I've always typically been eating the most energy dense, highest fat options in the veggie world. Dammit.

I did have a bit of an Aha! moment today. While doing a new yoga sequence (my DVD has four and I had only tried two), I discovered supine pigeon (I go to the second variation but not all the way to human pretzel level). It felt so very good and — for the first time — caused my stomach to start gurgling away out of sheer joy. (For those who don't do massage on a regular basis, stomach gurgling happens when muscles/myofasica/etc. release. It happens to me during a really good massage). After yoga, I stood up and my glute/hip felt so much better. Not better better but better. Make sense? Good.

Also, I ran to drop off Chou this morning (only 3:30 mintues away), then continued to the 10 min mark, walked, then got so caught up in the music that I checked my watch - 20 min! That's right, I managed a 10 and 1 (vs. 5 and 1s I have been doing) without even really noticing. There is hope. A small glimmer, but still hope.

Janathon totals: Yoga 6/6, Run 3/6, Shred 2/6

Janathon day 5: The one where I weigh myself

2011-01-05T20:44:00.003-07:00

I should maybe sleep before I post.

Why? Well, I rejoined Weight Watchers tonight. Which means I weighed in. I knew it would be bad, I even mentally prepared myself for the worst. Which was good, seeing as my "worst" was nearly exactly my weight. In short, I thought I had gained about 10 pounds this year. In fact, I've gained 18.

WTF, Me?

When I put it down on paper, it all makes sense. In June, I stopped nursing Chou. For some, breastfeeding does not help them lose weight, for me, it was nature's way of saying "eat whatever you want! The baby will suck it out of you!" And she did. My fittest and leanest I've been in the past three (make that 16) years was when she was full on nursing and I was training for a half. There's a lesson there. Maybe. Second, I changed jobs in Feb/March, but was in the easy phase of my job. September started the busy season (and it's about to get much worse). Just prior to that, however, I buggered up my hip, putting any running on the back burner (as in, I just stopped. Everything). Then things got more than a little stressful here at home, and well, I started filling my face. And filling it some more. Then, in the last two months it all caught up with me. My guess is I've gained a full 10 to 12 pounds in just the last two months. Yes, really.

As far as eating goes, I started some bad habits, too — cream for my coffee and 2% milk the rest of the time, full fat cheese, too much pasta and potatoes and not enough leafy leafies. Somehow crackers and chips made there way back into our house, and I've been baking like crazy and not sharing.

The bottom line is, my goal of 15 lb by Chou's birthday is still my goal, but that will still leave me a full 16 pounds away from my goal weight (instead of another five or so). That's right...31 pounds to lose (and that's still on the high side of "acceptable" for my height, according to WW). THIRTY ONE POUNDS. What ticks me off is that I've done this all before. Jeepers, what was I thinking? This time last year I would have had only 13 to lose, not 31. That THAT just pisses me off.

But, alas, I'm rambling.

On the plus side, I'm really looking forward to getting to know the new WW program, and I walked home feeling upset with myself, but excited and empowered to get going on it. I only knew one person in the room of 15, meaning I might make some new friends. I also completely underestimated the value of having to weigh in in front of someone every week. I know, for a smart girl I sure can be dumb.

As fitting punishment to my new (high) low, I have a week's worth of meetings next week and have exactly ZERO dress pants that fit. Oh, did I mention I split my "fat" jeans on New Year's Eve? And every dress shirt I own is now tight on the arms or shows off more of my boobs than I'd like (even while I'm ovulating). What does all this mean? It means that I, Ms. CaddyWumpus, not only has to shop for new clothes (kill me now), but I have to buy all clothes one to two sizes bigger than I want to (kill me, I said!).

AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT.

That's right, all my fault. I get that. Which also means doing something about it is also entirely up to me. And so I shall.

Janathon totals: Yoga 5/5, Run 2/5, Shred 2/5 (plus today I walked to the WW meeting and back. A surprising number of people drove. Lazy bums!)

Day Four: The one where I realize how out of shape I am

2011-01-04T12:58:00.003-07:00

Today's Janathon totals: 34 minutes running (run/walk) with Chou in the Chariot and 1 hour of yoga (It's starting to feel really good!).

The run: Want to know how slow I was? I only covered 2.75 miles. The workout I cleared on the Garmin said 31 min/3.1 miles. Ugh. In fairness, it's winter (a balmy -10 degrees C), and my child weighs 32 ish pounds. Plus, she complained a lot and I had to stop a few times to adjust her snowsuit for fear of a full on meltdown if I didn't. We also managed to stop at the very snowy park for 15 minutes, meaning I got right chilled, but also had an unbelievably brilliant time on the slides with Chou.

Janathon totals: Run 2/4, Yoga 4/4, Shred 1/4. Boo yay.

Oh, and cheer on my fellow Janathoners, Smithers (aka "Sore Crotch") and Ms. Rice and Natalie (aka "Soon to be my friends".

Janathon, Day 3

2011-01-03T13:21:00.001-07:00

Today I did Shred Level 1, with 5 lb weights, and did an hour of yoga.

Janathon's total: yoga 3/3, running 1/3, Shred 1/3...yes that means I've done dual workouts 2/3 days. Woot woot me!

Also, as part of Janathon, you're supposed to blog every day. This counts.

Yes it does.

Hello running, my old friend

2011-01-02T12:25:00.002-07:00

And so, day two of Janathon has arrived, and let it be known that I am one for two days of running! Woot woot? Yes!
Yesterday was too damn cold (my limit is -20, not including windchill), but today was a balmy -15 with hardly any breeze. My strategy was this: go slow, run/walk and DON'T BUGGER UP THE HIP.
Check, check, check.

I went for time, not distance (31 mins, it turned out), I went super duper slow, did 4 and 1s and two 5 and 1s, and generally just shuffled along. I love love love the spikes on my shoes (they're not yaktraks, more just studs on rubber that attach to my shoes). Then I got home and convinced the Husband to do an hour of yoga with me. The Chou joined in (mostly by climbing on me). That makes it two out of two for yoga.

Why all the yoga and slowness? I likely haven't shared just how out of shape I became Sept to Dec. My estimate (which will be confirmed on Wednesday) is that I gained 10 lb in three-ish months, lost all muscle tone and managed, somehow, to tie up my entire left hip/glute/groin. Tie up is a horsey term, I know, but anyone who has done active release therapy knows what I mean when I say that I've got issues that need to release all over the place and no therapist to do it.

So the game plan is this. 1. Run, but only for 30 ish minutes and slowly, because running seems to be the only thing that aggravates the hip. 2. Yoga daily. I have an amazing "yoga for hips" dvd with four workouts. They are awesome and I swear after two days it's helping. 3. Strengthen glutes, core and inner thighs. This is the source of the problem. 4. Find a therapist that practices active release therapy. So far, it looks like I may have to fly to Ottawa to find one. It just might be worth it.

It was -26 when I signed up for this

2011-01-01T17:59:00.003-07:00

Oh, yes. I've joined Janathon 2011.
Does this mean I'm really going to start running again? Probably. Did I run today? No. Why? See title.
But I'm a sucker for joining things and then doing nothing about it, so let's make 2011 the year I stop doing that eh? Yes, let's.

So THAT'S what I'm doing wrong

2010-12-30T09:41:00.004-07:00

I read this today.
The long and the short of it is this: there's actually a reasonable strategy to maintaining a healthy weight. As I read over the list, I was all "Duh! This is such common sense!" Which, of course, it is. But how is it then that I, Miss Super Duper Smart(ass?), managed to balloon back up to my pre-pregnancy weight? Sigh, yes, well. I suppose it IS time to pay attention to this fabulous little list. Here's a rundown of where I've gone wrong and what I'm going to do about it.
1. Eat breakfast
This one is no worries. I do this - 1/2 cup of rolled oats, boiled in water, with cinnamon and raisins. That's it. Every. Single. Morning. Because I'm mostly a pony. Yes, I am. I think what I need to do is add some fruit and maybe protein.
2. Banish bad foods from home.
I do OK on this, but can always do better. Duly noted, Common Sense List.
3. Be consistent.
I guess binge/stress eating consistently doesn't count? Dammit.
4. Plan activity.
Eating, I've discovered, does not count as "activity". I can do 60 mins of activity a day. I know I can. I just have to plan for it.
5. Tune out.
Well, I sit at a computer all day. Not much I can do about that. But I CAN keep it and the TV off past 7 pm and on weekends.
6. Weigh in.
My home scale has collected roughly .5 lb of dust, I'm sure. Next week, Wednesday, I'm re-joining WW. That's right. I said it. I shall weigh in there.
7. Record it.
See end of point 6.
8. Share it.
Hey! You're here! And based on TWO whole comments from last post, I think this means I have someone to share with. Hello, sharing buddies! Thanks for stopping by.

And so, here we go.
My goal is 15 lb by March 23. That's just a hair over 1 lb a week - a safe, healthy and attainable level of weight loss. It's not my goal weight, but the article also says to set specific, shorter-term goals vs. large, lofty ones. Ta da!

Now, your turn!

I have adoring fans, apparently

2010-12-22T11:43:00.002-07:00

I got a super awesome message on my FB page. I'm paraphrasing, but it went something like this:
"Ms. Wumpus, you are my world and I love you and I miss you and your brilliant blog writing. Please write more. Love, your biggest fan."

So I'm paraphrasing A LOT, but Smithers of See Teacher Run does have a point — I haven't blogged in two months. TWO months.

What? How did that happen.

Let me tell you.

In the last two months, I've been eating (a lot), sleeping, working (sort of), heading out on location for work, drinking (a lot), attending a birth (forceps delivery - some very scary moments but I think I'm finally confident in my abilities as a doula), eating some more and drinking some more.

Also, I tried working out exactly four times in these last two months. My last attempt was a run. I was actually enjoying the first three minutes until I realized that horrid wheezy sound was coming from me and I needed a walk break. The too-tight running bra might have been my first clue, but whatever. Nonetheless, I soldiered on, running and walking. Until minute 17 when whatever the hell happened to my hip in late August, happened again, only much much worse. I hobbled home and tried not to cry. Then I ate some more.

I'm not going to wallow in self pity (I'm wallowing in emotional eating just fine thank you), but here's what I've learned in the last two months: I can't work at home anymore and I think my family is allergic to Saskatchewan.

WTF, you say? Well, yes, it's true. As much as a great big huge part of me (not my ass, but that would have been funny, you clever reader) is madly in love with this Prairie Province and could see myself setting up a tidy little goat/sheep farm and toiling the rest of my days without a hill in sight, it's not going to work. Not for my family, not for my long-term mental health and not for my fitness. I need people around me. I need friends who want to work out with me and have silly weight loss contests (but in person...all I've done for the weight loss contest with Jen is GAIN 10 lb, and I'm not making that up). I need MY people. And I haven't found many here. Not enough, anyway.

What do we do about that? Well, nothing yet. It could be many moons before anything really changes, but I think, in the long-ish term, we have to pack up and move...somewhere.

And I have to stop eating incessantly. Can someone sew my mouth shut? Thanks.

Oh, and merry Christmas and happy new year and all that jazz.

I need more coffee. With booze in it.

If I start singing Miley Cyrus's "The Climb" just shoot me

2010-10-27T16:35:00.005-06:00

Slowly, slowly I have been mulling around this blog post in my head. How much do I say? What do I share or not? I'm not a courageous blogger and I'm certainly not a very timely one. There has been turmoil, angst, worry, fear, anger, confusion, pain, stress and more going on in my house and in my life and, at times, I thought about sharing some of that here. It just didn't seem appropriate.

And now, now that things are 95% sorted out (who am I kidding? I'm making it up as I go. We all are. OH YES WE ARE), I think it's time to return, to put fingers to keyboard and get back to life (ohhh, that's the song I should be singing).

In short, I've been on a bit of a journey, and not a terribly fun one, but ultimately, I'm on the other side, I think, and have spent the last few days getting back to me, back to health and wellness and back into the swing of things.

First up, of course, is a new race. But no, not a foot race, because I tend to sign up then not do them. Instead, my good buddy and now world-famous blogger, Jen P and I are having a (totally safe and smart) weight loss race.

So far, my scale's battery is dying and therefore I can lose anywhere from three to six pounds in seconds (advantage me) but Jen is breastfeeding and running, and although she thinks that's not a good thing, I know it is (advantage her).

I planned to join WW again tonight, but a freak snow/ice storm that ripped through yesterday has made the streets lethal to walk on. In fairness, I started food journaling a few days ago and have done something active every single day (even running! and yoga!). I've managed to stay within my points each day - no small feat - and god help me but I think I'm actually enjoying salad again. The race is on!

Just in time for Halloween?!

Shit.

Individual

2010-09-19T12:40:00.002-06:00

(yes, I'm still here)

I read something yesterday. Something about setting your own goals and measuring your own success and not comparing yourself to friends or trying to achieve their goals, but to set and achieve your own.

It really struck home, especially after so much of what I've been doing for the past, oh, six months (or more?) has just not been working in so many ways. Maybe part of it is because I've been muddling along, not really asking what I want but more going with what others are doing, and floating along on their ideas. What happened to me? I have no clue. She's around somewhere.

It's high time to find out what I want, what I'm capable of and what is my own measure of success - in all things.

More later.

Redemption

2010-08-20T11:57:00.003-06:00

My first "official" doula experience wasn't a great one. I didn't really go into it at the time, but I left that birth feeling useless, sad and truly questioning whether I had helped them at all by being there.

It's no wonder — the poor woman had every intervention except forceps and a c-section and there were several times during the birth where I ignored my gut instinct and allowed the situation to unravel unimpeded by me. Sure, there are always things we'd change in hindsight and who knows if anything I would have done would have changed anything, but ultimately I didn't think I helped. At all.

It was nice then, a few weeks back when I posted some article (on FB) about doula's attending births that my doula client commented that she believed she would have ended up with a c-section had I not been there.

That's something isn't it? Yes, well.

Then last month I attended the polar opposite birth. I went with my instincts, did what I thought I should and rarely questioned what I should do. The birth wasn't just totally different — my experience was, too. I walked away light as a feather, feeling fulfilled and useful and inspired.

I spoke with my midwife about this just last week. She was a doula first as well and had an even worse first doula experience, one where she cried for days after (same sort of story only it was a forceps delivery). Still, she went on to become a midwife. She was also honest in saying that, even now, there are times when women end up with c-sections or forceps that she feels she failed in some way and wished she could go back and do things differently.

This week I got an email from my January doula client. She wanted to know if I had any births lined up for April...because if I didn't she wanted to ask if I'd be there to help them welcome baby number two, who, very surprisingly, was on the way.

After my initial surprise and laugh, I couldn't help but feel somewhat vindicated, that I had helped enough, I guess, that she wanted me there again. But more than that, I feel like this time, this time I can follow my instincts and well and truly be there for them. I know I can't control how a birth happens, but I feel so much more confident now in at least being as helpful as I can when it does.

(Also, it bodes well, I think, that in just over a year into my two-year certification journey that I have a repeat client. Don't you?)

More precious than gold

2010-07-28T15:09:00.004-06:00

I keep meaning to blog about my latest doula effort, but at my follow up meeting with the new little family they passed me a letter of reference that, really, says more about the experience than I ever could. Yes, they paid me cash, but I feel so much richer in so many other ways because of attending this beautiful birth. This was a hypnobirth, a fast birth, a stunningly beautiful, healthy, normal birth. Their words:

(edited for names, etc.)

A short time before the arrival of our second child, we decided we wanted a doula. Time was short (three weeks until the due date), and we quickly interviewed a few ladies whose names were given to us. Ms. Caddywumpus (ok, guys, they didn't really write that, I changed it) was one of these.

We connected with her almost instantly and knew that she would be a great fit for us. We had no hesitation asking her to join us on this journey. It felt really good to have an extra support alongside us. This was our second baby and we wanted to do everything within our power to make this experience a more positive one. We felt like having a doula with us empowered us even further to be prepared for what was to come.

Now that we've had our daughter, we can say for sure that it was definitely worth it to have her there. It was helpful and affirming and positive in every way.

Ms. Wumpus brought a great mix of professional and personal touch to her support of us. She has an energetic and calming presence, is knowleable and willing to address any and all issues that arise, and was available at a moment's notice. We felt quite comfortable discussing anything with her. She possesses every quality needed to thrive as a doula and we would recommend her to anyone without hesitation.

Thank you so much for your part in welcoming our daughter. It was our pleasure to have you alongside us for this memorable and special experience.

***

It makes me teary to read it again.
Namaste, y'all.

Falling back in love

2010-07-26T13:43:00.004-06:00

It's no secret that I hibernated this winter. The return to the pavement, free weights and generally not eating/drinking myself to near bursting every night has been slow, annoying and rather painful (only in the pycho sense, not physically, although six months sans yoga is starting to show).

On Saturday I did something that I've often scoffed at - a cleanse. Let me state, for the record, that I don't believe in crash diets, juice diets, magical "cleansing" of our bodies. Our bodies cleanse our systems every single day and I really don't believe for a moment that drinking nothing but lemon juice and cayenne pepper is going to magically rid you of gall stones.

All that said, I have employed the services of a holistic nutritionist, one that is educated, level headed and rational. And, yes, she recommended a liver cleanse and I'm doing it. WTF, you may say. But this cleanse is really nothing more than more conscious eating with a few added vitamins and herbs on the side. THAT I can wrap my head around.

What this cleanse means is a few things. No booze at all, no red meat, minimal caffeine (but not none!) lots and lots of bright, colourful veggies and fruit, whole grains, lots of water, more fibre and 30 minutes minimum of exercise a day (see? I told you it's totally rational). But it also means no eating past supper, as I have to take my vitamins on an empty stomach at least three hours after eating but before bed (oh, tricky!) and it means actually thinking about what I'm putting in to my body.

And after three days, I've fallen in love with delicious food again. My typical pitfalls have always been: lack of exercise and too many carbs (which means too few veggies). Nothing major, but taking this leap of faith and swallowing some milk thistle has put me back in touch with the lovely things that grow just up the road at the market garden.

Case in point, today I made the most stunning salad. Three kinds of lettuce plus new spinach, pumpkin seeds, avocado, fresh raspberries, cooked, cool quinoa and a mustard/maple dressing I made up yesterday.

Holy doodle, I'm in love.

This new love, of course, only marginally makes up for the seven mile run yesterday that should have been nine or the two pound weight GAIN this week. But, whatever. It's the small things everyday that matter more, right? Right?

***

As an aside, Ms. Jen P is doing what I wish I could and packing up her family to move to the farm. I'm proud of her, jealous of her, but mostly, I'm sad she's moving an entire province farther away. Good thing my in-laws live 10 minutes up the road, Jen, or I'd be pissed at you.

Go on over to her blog and wish her a fond farewell and happy move, won't you?

Plugged ear of exertion

2010-07-18T19:41:00.003-06:00

If Steve in a Speedo can have a vein of approval, then I can have a plugged ear of exertion.
I've noticed, from time to time, that my left ear gets plugged/poppy and annoying when I'm working out particularly hard. Usually that means during track workouts or a tempo run (yes, I've actually been doing both), and sometimes it happens just during a regular old run. It's how I know I'm actually getting the blood pumping. It's how I know I'm nearly spent. It's usually accompanied by me talking myself into just finishing another few minutes because at this point I want to quit.

Today (and this is me climbing back on the wagon) I ran 8 miles. Sure, I should probably have done this weeks ago, seeing as my half marathon is a measly 8 weeks away, but whatever. Life has no rewind button, so it's onward and upward from here, OK?

It wasn't a hard run, really. I wanted to average 10:15 to 10:30 minute miles and by mile 3 had to tell myself to slow it down (I ended up averaging 10:14 and felt strong until the last .5 miles. go me!).

A few things I thought about during this run:
- 8 miles used to seem forever. Now I loop around until I get it done and it's no biggie. Maybe this is a sign that my fitness is slowly improving again.
- iPods really do read minds (this isn't news, but I did think about it)
- Black cats in tall grass look a lot like skunks
- That realization can make you run REALLY fast up an embankment
- Shade and flat ground makes the first 4 miles much easier
- Finding saskatoons on a run is always a bonus. At mile 7.5 out of 8 they're a bloody godsend

And finally
- I didn't get the plugged ear of exertion until 7.6 miles in to my run.

Woot woot!

Toy butter, dragons and Afghan food

2010-07-12T19:43:00.003-06:00

Things I never thought I'd say but have now, in all seriousness, simply because I am so blessed to be a mother:

"Butter is not a toy."

"No, we don't put dragons in our vagina."
"Or our bums."

"We don't touch poop. We stomp on it."

"Don't drink from the dog's dish." SIGH. "Whatever. Go ahead."

Everything is now "special" in order to appeal to Chou. "Here's your special dinner!" "Mummy bought you special panties!" "Here's your special chair!" Why is everything an exclamation! Because it's special!

I am so tired of special.

Oh, and the Afghan food? I'd never had any until tonight. It's amazing. As is the tea. It's too bad the country is essential a crater that people fight over or I'd want to go visit.

Next blog: How I managed to climb back on the wagon. To which I am clinging to for dear life, but still, I'm on there.

Role model

2010-06-25T11:01:00.004-06:00

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

2010-06-14T20:15:00.003-06:00

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

2010-06-06T20:52:00.004-06:00

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.

I Love Regina race report. Sort of.

2010-05-30T20:41:00.004-06:00

What do you call a race report when you don't technically race but you did really give 'er and treated it like a real race? Um, right. You know what you call it? You call it 4 degrees out, a stupid online registration that doesn't work because you live out of town (lame!) and a Goddam Garmin.

Here's what happened:

I had full intentions of heading into the city for the 9 am race. I tried to register online and found out I couldn't because I'm not a city resident. I would have had to show up on a Sunday morning BEFORE 8 am just to register, then hang out for an hour. Not the end of the world, except that it was four degrees out and I was going alone. What in the hell would I do?

But then I got ticked at myself for nearly baling on yet another race.

And I have a handy new tool, the Goddam Garmin. Why can't I just do an accurate 10 km (6.21 miles) and treat it like a real race?

Yes, well.

That's what I did.

And guess what?

59:44. My last personal record? 1 hour 4 minutes and change. Heck yes.

Splits (I love that I can do this):
Mile 1 - 9:27
Mile 2 - 9:39
Mile 3 - 9:53 (minutes 25-35 are always my toughest)
Mile 4 - 9:58 (See?)
Mile 5 - 9:32 (I started feeling fantastic)
Mile 6 - 9:26 (See? FASTEST MILE!)
Last .21 in 1:50 (but it ended rough. I was dragging my feet. 6 miles is definitely where my endurance level is right now. Time to get building! Bring on the hills and track workouts. Did I just say that? Yes I did.)

A few notes - I drank no water or ate any gels. No worries, given how cool it was outside, but I need a new water bottle because had it been any warmer I would have been hurting. Also, as a congratulations to myself I bought this:

My girls need a house!

Fat, but fast

2010-05-27T16:12:00.003-06:00

Yesterday's weight: not much less than three weeks ago.

But.

Yesterday's run: 4.02 miles in 39:13

For all you math averse people, that's 4 miles with an average of 9:45 min/mile. And thanks to the Goddam Garmin, I know that my first mile was my slowest and my fourth was my fastest. Well, well, well, look who's loving technology? And who's actually getting faster.

The only downside is this run was in preparation for the 10 km on Sunday. My last 10 km time was 1:04 and change, my best is somewhere around the 57/58 minute mark that I hit during the half last fall, but that's not official. This time I was hoping to get under 59:59...after yesterday's run, I know it's possible, but those 4 miles HURT, people. As in, owie. No, not injury hurt, just really hard work hurt.

Tomorrow I'm doing an easy 3 miles and taking Saturday off. My first race report (in oh so long) of 2010 to come Sunday!

Splits

2010-05-10T13:44:00.005-06:00

I still consider myself a "new" runner, a novice, a beginner. It's something that, until recently, has held me back. A email conversation changed that. So did technology.

For my birthday and mum's day, Mr. Wumpus bought me a Garmin 405. It's got a heart rate monitor, programmed workouts, a virtual training buddy, oh and of course, it's GPS equipped. I'm also certain it will beam me up if I press the correct portion of the bezel. I haven't yet figured that part out.

My first run was an epic failure. I had turned the training buddy feature on when really I just wanted to see time, pace and distance. Two miles of fiddling with the thing and I was ready to throw it in the bushes. I took a week off and considered returning it (also, the thing costs a fortune). Then I decided to give it one more shot.

I managed to figure out how to work the damn thing properly and then went out and had an epic, epic four mile run. Not epic in that it was all that fast, but because a) I'm doing a 10 km in three weeks and didn't know if I had six miles in me, now I know and b) because I fell in love with my Garmin - it beeps for every mile and tells you your pace! How exciting is that? So exciting and c) (here's the big part) I actually treated this run like a workout not just something to slog through and check off my to do list.

And why does that matter? Because of the said email conversation. The Power of Smithers gave me some very sage advice: Treat training like training. Make every workout a workout.

Sounds simple, sure, but until now, I've given myself every excuse to just phone it in, do the required distance and call it done. When the training plan says "tempo" I run it the same as "easy." About the only things I ever change pace for are track workouts and hill repeats, of which I did very few last time around.

This time, for this training round, I'm going to train. I'm going to stop telling myself I'm a beginner and a novice and start treating workouts like workouts.

Oh, and the post title? I had often wondered how the pros (Steve, Sara) could list their mile split times. I mean, the best I could do was estimate and then come up with my average pace. Then I got the Goddam Garmin. Um, right.

Technology is a beautiful thing.

Sweet and bitter

2010-05-03T12:55:00.004-06:00

I celebrated a milestone yesterday. For all of you who want to know, I'm now 28 again. And then a few more times. Whatever. I'm not one who really cares about age. I don't feel "old" no matter what the driver's license says and I've heard that your 30s are just like your 20s only you have money, don't have any exams and your skin is saggier. True story. Where was I going with this? Oh, right. Good and bad, bitter and sweet, yin and yang, all that jazz.

Good things:
I received a Garmin 405 for my birthday. Wow.
I ran today and officially kicked off my 2010 training season. (maybe I did that already? Nope. Restart. Today is the kick off.)
I'm feeling positive and productive and I've cut back my caffeine intake and haven't killed anyone. But I work from home, alone. So take it for what it is.

Bad things:
I stepped on the scale yesterday. Ouch.
I ran today without really figuring out how to use my Garmin. There are very few things in this world more annoying than technology screwing with your day. My run, therefore, was a little pathetic and I was frustrated and irritated by my new toy. Bad toy!
Did I mention I stepped on the scale? Yes, well. Ouch.

But on to bigger and better things.

I've got a few hundred posts rattling around in my head, but the general theme is this: I've got some time goals, some fitness/weight/shape goals and a new virtual training buddy. All of this is good. Stay tuned for the details. Until then, just know that I will spend tonight learning to use the goddam Garmin and will head out tomorrow for more miles and less frustration.

Oh yes I will.

The other side of the mountain

2010-04-28T10:09:00.003-06:00

As alluded to in other posts, there's been much behind the scenes stuff going on Chez Wumpus.

But my friends I'm pleased to say that at some point this week, we reached the peak, took in the view and started the easy slide down the backside of this hill.

Call it getting over a slump, a reorganizing, a spring clean for the May queen, a re-commitment, whatever, but I think it's all going to be all right.

And now it's time to get running.

Did I mention I'd signed up for a fall half marathon? The Queen City half, September 12, 2010.

Here we go again!

Ebb and flow

2010-04-15T13:07:00.003-06:00

I'm sometimes amazed by how distance doesn't seem to interfere with wavelengths. Until I speak with her, I suppose I'm assuming some things here, but Jen P offered up a lovely pos t today that mirrors my feelings too. No, I'm not a mummy of two, but the idea that our identities and priorities shift so dramatically in motherhood is something I've been mulling over only too often these days.

Her other point — the blogging, or lack thereof — is one I'm struggling with too. There are so very many posts that rattle around in this headspace of mine, and yet, if you take a look you'll notice a severe lack of recent entries. Of late, most not-quite-posts have been serious and life-altering, but the blog isn't always the best (or safest) place to work it out. For me, marooned here away from friends and family, running as therapy has started again. I just hope it works.

Today marks one year since packing up and leaving our fair capitol city and hunkering down in the wilds of Saskatchewan. While this prairie town has been both welcoming and not, and even as I struggle to build a support network and find my kindred spirits, I still, perhaps unbelievably, feel that I am home.

Feeding the soul

2010-04-09T09:36:00.003-06:00

I've been looking for new dishes. I use the term new loosely; there are too many good old dishes out there to warrant me buying really new dishes. I told my (one) friend in town what I was looking for. I wanted fun, sturdy but cheap dinnerware. She delivered in spades. Did I mention she owns an antique shop? Total score for this lover of used things. Behold, for the whopping price tag of $15 I got a nearly complete set of Ironstone dinnerware. The pattern is Rushstone. Is $15 a good deal? Well, on eBay just the cream and sugar set goes for $30. Oh, yes. Deliciously retro, used, cheap AND a steal of a deal. I love these plates.

Mine are a bit more faded than this, and I'm in need of one dinner plate and a few other small pieces. If your grandma has some in the old cupboard, do give me a call.

Perfect

2010-03-31T13:38:00.003-06:00

Today's wordless Wednesday brought to you by Frizz Ease and www.nikolepetersphotography.com.

Two, in pictures

2010-03-25T13:49:00.003-06:00

Two

2010-03-21T08:25:00.003-06:00

Chou Chou and I have been adventuring. An early spring (that could still return to being winter) has meant many hours outside, discovering new lands, sloshing through puddles, collecting treasure and building intricate drainage channels in the driveway. The new lands are the neighbour's and the treasure not much more than pine cones and sticks, but each day with Chou reminds me of the wonder that is childhood and the reason I wanted a kid in the first place.

Being two (as of tomorrow) means Chou is keen on imaginative play, is developing more memory and will repeat every single thing I say, including all the bad words. Nothing has prompted me to clean up my language faster than a toddler following me around squawking like a parrot. We travel the high seas in laundry baskets, use the same for turtle shells as we become very slow moving beasts. We wonder and delight in finding yesterday evening's puddles and rivers have become frozen ponds this morning. She giggles and slips as she tries to crack them. "It's slippery, mummy!" I can't help but crush a few puddles myself.

The past six weeks has been tough. Chou is turning into the most amazing young girl and I'm missing a lot of her days. Work will slow down soon enough, but in the meantime I miss the hours we're not spending together. I recognize that there are many hours in a day she'd rather not be entertained by her mother, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be doing the entertaining. This life/work balance thing is not easy. No way.

But on a positive note, while I haven't been keeping up with Chou's monthly newsletter, I can at least do an annual update, right?

Ahem.

In honour of her turning the big oh-two, here's a rundown of what she's up to.

Chou loves to draw, write her name, draw faces and trace her hand. The name is illegible, the face indistinguishable from the rest of the scribbles, but she proudly points and tells me what it is. She recognizes her own name when spelled as well as Pico's, Mummy and Daddy. She loves purple, and can name pink, purple, green, blue, orange, yellow and black. Red is still a mystery to her.

Singing and dancing are still favorites, the songs now more complex. Today, she sat on the landing with her new baby (a gift from her daycare lady) and its baby seat and toy and sang about the sun (there was a sun on the toy). While this new baby has kept her entertained for sometime this weekend, the draw is always to get outside - "Shiny coat, mummy, shiny coat" she says, asking to put it on. "Gum boots!" she yells. (We weren't sure what to teach Chou - rubber boots is Manitoban, gum boots is from B.C and wellies are English. I said gum boots once and it stuck. So be it.)

My defiant wee girl has also mastered the very forceful "go!" when she's making potty (suddenly she's shy?) or doing something she shouldn't be. She's mastered the screaming tantrum but thankfully, doesn't use it much. She's keen on her new seat (the toilet insert so she can go pee on the big potty) and doesn't think she needs her little potty anymore.

While I don't want to jinx it, we're going on day 2 with no sucky. We had planned to make a big deal out of getting rid of sucky, and get her a new tricycle or something equally huge to trade for sucky, but a day or two ago, sucky went missing but she never went looking for him. Nor did I tell her I found him. She hasn't asked for him once since (even through the night). We'll just pretend he's not around anymore, yes? Yes.

Chou is a walker/runner, which makes me so happy. Our morning walks to daycare take a lot longer now that she insists that she walk the entire way. We usually end up compromising and I plop her back in the stroller along the one busy street, but mostly, it's "I walk, mummy" and that's the end of it. She gets going down hill and yells, "I running! I running!"

I'm thrilled that my girl asks for sushi by name and even helps me make it. She's a keen baker (mostly to lick the spoon) and announces "I help!" whenever I start to prepare any meals. She likes to "cut" veggies (mostly mangling them with a dull veggie peeler) and season the veggies. I'm glad that she can identify a lentil from a chickpea on the floor and that she looks forward to taking out the compost after dinner every night. (We'll get back to the nutrition at daycare discussion another day.)

Sometimes I think that maybe I'm not teaching Chou enough – that I keep too many things "grown up" and don't include her enough in what I do. I've decided to remedy that and last week we planted peas for some windowsill science. I told her all about soil and seeding tips. Then today, we cleaned up the herb garden (ok, it's a planter on the deck, whatever) and I described the different plants and the difference between annuals and perennials. This is important stuff, guys.

Ah, two. So far, there's not much terrible about it.

Oats

2010-03-05T10:52:00.003-07:00

Casa Wumpus is a house of routine. Maybe too much routine, but that's another discussion. Every morning, Chou rolls out of bed (either at 5 am or at 6:30 am, but never in between the two), we snuggle on the couch while daddy makes coffee, watch "The Monkey Show" (Curious George, for those in the know) and then I make us all oats.

Plain old rolled oats, with cinnamon and raisins - no sugar - and maybe a splash of milk to cool them down. Sometimes we have eggs too. But every day, we have oats. We're like ponies that way.

Why is this important? Because starting our day with rolled oats is good for us. Sure, yes, we like them too, but starting with oats is just that - a start. It's taken years, but we've worked hard to clean up our diets, eat well, nourish our bodies and eliminate certain foods entirely. Like what? Oh, super uber refined stuff, processed junk and sugary gross stuff - you know - hot dogs, KD, ketchup, canned pasta and sauce, those things. All the pasta (little that there is) in our house is whole wheat, we eat things like quinoa, hummus and several types of squash on a regular basis. And we love it. We love it all. Chou loves it.

We have ketchup in the house, sure, but buy the smallest bottle and it lasts us a year. I've even got a box of KD in the cupboard, but it's left over from last June when I bought it specifically for guests. The only pop in our house is tonic water to go with gin (see? I'm not saying we're perfect. I'm just trying to give you a sense of what is and is not in our cupboards).

Why does all of this matter?

Because I found out last week that the following are regulars on Chou's daycare menu: alphaghetti, white flour-based, full sugar, full fat muffins, cheese slice grilled cheese and ketchup. In fact, two nights ago I put ketchup on Chou's plate for the first time in months and she exclaimed, "Cup cup!" I was a little shocked, and a lot saddened.

Saddened because this was an oversight on my part. Chou's daycare is so amazing in so many ways that I didn't think to scrutinize the menu. In fairness, snack time always features fresh fruit prominently, but my daycare provider's kids are in their teens now. Times have changed, the focus on food and nourishment is different now. Add to that that we're in Saskatchewan (where lasagna is considered ethnic food) and well, I guess it's not surprising that whole wheat and real food isn't the norm.

I feel terrible. I feel like I can't speak up for fear of making Chou's daycare provider feel like I'm judging her. As the husband puts it, it's two snacks and lunch - she still gets her oats and healthy dinners at home and the weekend.

But we've worked so hard to eat well, and now, now I feel like it's all for nothing because for the majority of her lunches in a week she's eating absolute trash.

And I don't know what to do.

Say what is, not what isn't

2010-02-23T08:51:00.002-07:00

I could bemoan the fact that I only yesterday really got a feel for my new runners, even though I bought them in November. I could winge and whine about how my lungs didn't much care for the biting air on yesterday's run (Chou passed along her kennel cough to me. How sweet!) I could complain and get down on myself for only starting running now, six days before my hypo half that I won't be running.

Or I could just be happy that I've started running again.

Yes, let's go with that.

In other news, head on over to Decaf Please and congratulate Jen P on the swift and punctual arrival of her sweet baby girl. P.S. I was so right on the gender AND the date of birth. Just had to throw that out there.

Today's hat

2010-02-18T06:45:00.002-07:00

There are few duties as important or unpleasant as caring for a sick baby. I'm lucky to have had - thus far - one very hardy critter of a child. Chou Chou rarely catches anything and when she does she's over it in no time. I suppose at some point I just expected to have the Child Who is Never Ill.

But then I started my new job this week. I'm a bit stressed (judging by the amount of carbs I've eaten in the past two days, I'm a LOT stressed), distracted and not sleeping well. It's all part of the changeover and, eventually, I'm going to enjoy this job a whole lot more than my last role.

Of course, that's all assuming that whatever Chou has come down with goes away. Friday she spiked a fever, it went away and she was fine for two days, except for a little rash on her trunk that's been there for awhile and looks like noxema (but the skin condition I can't spell) so I don't think much of it. Then Tuesday morning she woke up sick, then was better but still no appetite. Then yesterday wasn't really eating but no fever and just the trots (sorry, I hope you weren't eating breakfast). Then last night, while I'm home on my own, she was up at midnight sick, slept on and off all night and then was up at 530 wanting to snoozle on the couch. She's not getting sick, but she won't eat and now has a fever. And the rash looks worse.

So this morning, on day 3 of my new job, when I have three interviews to do and no husband to help, we're heading to the doctor (a big deal for us). Because today I'm mummy, caring for a sick baby and that's always job number 1.

Wish us luck.

Huckala

2010-02-08T06:10:00.002-07:00

I believe that's how Chou says "Here you go". Which is sort of funny, because she can say far more complex words and sentences, but somehow here you go is huckala. That's OK. It's funny. And we all know everyone loves funny.

The blog, like running, has become a looming task that I avoid. I want to do both, but both have tumbled down the priority list in the face of life and work. So much is going well - Chou is growing and developing at an alarming rate, letting us all know just what age she's turning without having to look at a calendar. Work is also going well. I've been given a major vote of confidence from boss and have been handed a magazine that goes to 60,000 people. OH THE POWER. Well, not really, but I have been far more interested and inspired about work since taking on the role.

Home life isn't going as well. I'm struggling to get enough activity in a day and the husband is doing a fantastic job revamping his intake to drop the belly fat. It's a great thing, but it's left him more than a little crabby, and me not running has left me short tempered and emotional. It's not a good mix. We're still working at trying to build a social network. It's tough out here. There's nothing really wrong with our day to day, there's just not much to look forward to beyond work, cooking and cleaning. Not fun.

I don't write here often, but I read all the blogs I follow. I'm inspired by what I see. I hope it's enough to get me out there again.

So, huckala. There you go.

It's just my style

2010-01-25T08:38:00.002-07:00

I've got five weeks before the hypo half. Guess who hasn't gone running in months? Yes, months. I'm a lazy arse with a million different excuses, I know. So instead of making promises I don't intend to keep or trying to pump myself up, I'm just going to accept that each year I sign up for an early half only to not run it, then PR the next one a few months later. OK? So deal, I just donated my entry fee to the cause (the Running Room is a cause? Sure.) I'm totally picking up my race kit though. Can you say black shiny fanny pack? HOT!

In other news, the job interview on Friday went well. Maybe too well. As in, I think I might get the job and then what? I'm going to have to work my ass off. But heck, I asked for more, and I'm (maybe) getting more. I have no one to blame but me.

Oh, but the big shake up? Still in the works. Just in an edited form.

Also, two days of being snowed in apparently makes me a very hyper, happy person. Weird.

First birth

2010-01-18T10:36:00.003-07:00

I've attended a birth before, but never as an official doula, with training, for someone who is essentially a stranger and all the while trying to balance busy work, life and toddler rearing.

Lucky for me, my client's baby decided to be very good and arrive a day early, on the weekend, days before life was about to get so complicated that I wouldn't have been able to be there for them for three days straight.

The birth was both amazing and difficult. The nurses were mostly wonderful and only one or two truly awful (why do some people go into labour and delivery when they really have no interest or knack for it? I mean, really.) I feel very lucky to have been their doula and got more than a little weepy when the wee man finally made his appearance. It's funny, that really without even knowing a baby or his family doesn't really change how emotional you feel about meeting a new person. I don't know how L&D nurses and docs stay dry-eyed all day. Maybe they don't.

I learned a few things, made a few mistakes and did a few things very right.

But the biggest lesson I learned was that being a doula in anything other than a very temporary capacity right now is not going to work. That makes me sad. But one of the least favorite things about me is my over-promise and under-deliver tendency when it comes to people. As someone's doula, the golden rule is that you get to and stay with a labouring woman from the time she needs you until she delivers. With full time work that, at times, requires me to leave town, a hubby who is supportive but also travels often and a toddler that needs watching (and no family or close friends to help) and well, there just isn't enough flexibility in my life to account for attending labours.

Sad? Yes. But there will come a time that I will be able to do this, and this first birth showed me that yes I can do it and would want to do it in the right situation.

For now, though, we wait.

Friday Photos

2010-01-15T13:07:00.003-07:00

I'm into weekly deadlines, monthly for another two magazines, have a doula client due any day now and I've signed up for a boot camp class. Translation? Most of my blogging is going to be posting photos for the next bit. Sorry, y'all.

An excellent example of Chou's style.

Pico is waiting patiently for the bounce sheet. She loves them.

Most bibs double as capes. Now you know. (And her shirt says RCMP Recruit. Too cute.)

First Night

2010-01-13T07:49:00.002-07:00

It's morning. In Saskatoon. I am here and Chou is not. I've been here since yesterday in fact.

Friends, it's true. I left my baby over night and we both survived.

I look like Dolly Parton, but we survived.

I can't wait to see her tonight.

Fourteen

2010-01-10T18:41:00.003-07:00

I'm not prone to being a Debbie Downer, but recent events have got my head in a bit of a tailspin.

Let's just get some things out in the air so everybody is on the same page, er, screen.

I spent the Christmas holidays seriously considering what I want to be doing on a day to day basis and if that's what I've been doing or not (life, work, all of it). My dad has been having heart trouble for a wee while and finally went in for an angiogram this week. On Monday, my boss, trusted colleague and friend quit his post as editor of one of the magazines I work for (I probably spend 60% of my time on that pub).

Three unrelated things? Yes and no. What the shite does that have to do with fourteen? I'll tell you.

(And here's where it gets a bit downer, but really I mean this as a positive so bear with me)

Mum died at 44. I'm 30. No, I'm not one of theses weirdos who thinks they're destined to only live as long as their parent. Trust me, I'm in it for the long haul. That said, I do think of mum often, of what she accomplished in a relatively short life, and yes, now and then I compare where I'm at with where she was at this age. And yes, every now and then I ask myself, "What if I only had 14 more years?"

I think of this in a healthy sense. I think of this as motivation - as in, if you only had 14 years left how would you spend it? Is what I'm doing today and what it looks like I'll be doing for the next two to five years how I want to spend up to one third of these 14 years? See? It's a good thing. Everybody start smiling now.

Add to this my dad's heart issues, which being male he doesn't talk about easily, and yes, that pesky idea of mortality creeps into my thoughts now and again. Before I forget, Dad's angio went well. Unsurprising to us, he has no blocked arteries. What this doesn't answer, however, is just what is wrong and what to do. More on that later.

Now we come to the meat of all of this - my boss jumping ship. Over the holidays I really had put an end date to my career in agriculture. And I was sad. Let me explain. I believe in working hard for what you want, but I also believe that sometimes you shouldn't push what's not working. Take it as a sign, cut your losses and go. I feel that way about agriculture sometimes, like I've yet to really find my niche or be truly happy with what I'm doing and I can't seem to make the most of all these so-called opportunities out there. So I started to think that maybe, just maybe, it was time to close that chapter and move on to something else. What else? Well, you'll have to wait for all that because of the first sentence of this paragraph.

My boss leaving means his job is open and I've been asked to throw my name in for the position. I've spent the afternoon putting my thoughts and ideas to paper (screen) and I meet with the higher ups in a few weeks. I'm excited, a little intimidated but mostly glad to have the opportunity to move up to what would truly be the most I could possibly do with this company.

And what if I don't get the job? There are worse things. But you better believe I won't be spending the next 14 years doing the same thing I am now. No way.

Opportunity

2010-01-07T10:54:00.003-07:00

One of the great/crummy parts about my job is that I run across many, oh so many, opportunities. As a writer, I'm always chasing the next best thing, highlighting under-supplied markets and showcasing those who are doing it right.

Talking to that many inspiring people can do funny things to your mind. And this is why it's a great/crummy part: great, because well, it's interesting and inspiring, and crummy because for my too-busy imagination I see my role in making the most of every opportunity.

I've discovered, sometimes after beating my head against a wall trying to make the impossible possible, that not every opportunity is the right opportunity. That while I may have varied interests, there is only one of me. There are only 24 hours in a day. I have a child. A puppy. A home. A life. I cannot and should not chase down every hint of personal and professional satisfaction.

I have to choose my opportunities. I have to stop trying to be Jack of All Trades and master of none. I need to prioritize. I need to put my family and health first, and then, if I'm going to work, I need to take my profession seriously and make the most of it.

Here, friends, is your first hint at my 2010 Shake Up that is already not going according to plan.

Green, pink, dark, mine, own

2010-01-05T13:17:00.004-07:00

Everyone tells you how much babies change in a month, how toddlers suddenly acquire new skills and language, but to see it happen is another story entirely.

I'm a bad mum, that's for sure, in that I've missed the last few "monthaversaries" of Chou's. My listing of her feats, skills and loves has fallen by the way side as life gets in the way of blogging (stupid work/life!), but it struck me yesterday that I need to get some of this down as she's changing so quickly.

Within a week, her vocabulary and sentence use has more than doubled, maybe even tripled. She recognizes her own name if I print it, and points to green and pink without fail and identifies them. Black she gets sometimes; blue and red she doesn't say. She now counts two and three, but never says one. Maybe my favorite thing is she loves to tell us "It's dark!" when she looks outside, upstairs or into an empty room. She grabs toys, yells "Mine!" and runs away and more than once has insisted on a snack of her own instead of sharing. "No, OWN!" she cries.

Chou dresses herself...often, as in, many times a day. She's mastered getting nude, smacks her rump and yells NAKED! (Thanks to Jen's Newt for teaching her that one). She's pretty good at putting on her gitchies and pants and attempts shirts and coats to much less success. She diapers her dolls and teddy bears and makes them sit on the potty too.

Chou is unfazed by the weather. It was -20 something plus a windchill and the kid refused to come inside. She screamed and yelled and stood frozen in the yard while I tried to coax her in. Daddy went out and bought her a toboggan (known as "boat" to Chou) and now we can't ever get her in without carrying her.

She commands Pico to stay "off" and "down" and loves to get her dog to chase her. If I give the dog heck, so does Chou, complete with little finger pointed at Pico and a very stern look.

Chou has finally started saying words that until now were only signs - please, sorry, more and milk - are all now Peas, So-wee, Mone and Mok. SO. DAMN. CUTE.

She starts back at daycare tomorrow and her care provider is on board to get rid of the diapers and really allow Chou to potty train. I am so very glad. And unlike many mums I know who are sad to see their babies grow, I'm loving the new level of understanding Chou has of what we're doing, of taking direction, of actually helping, and I think "I can't wait 'til we can do all this together."

We'll be there soon enough, I know.

Making gingersnaps. Chou can smell a sweet mixing spoon or beater from across the house.

I had forgotten the joys of playdoh. It smells the same. Like childhood.

In Pieces

2009-12-31T18:13:00.002-07:00

Yes, I'm still here. Sort of.

It's been weeks of crazy here at Casa Wumpus. Mostly I've been not running, working a lot, traveling home and thinking, thinking, thinking.

The fact is, this space has been neglected for a reason. Because it reflects my head space. Except that if it really did it would look more like this:
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Yes, it would.

This is all good, folks.

Because it's time to shake things up a bit. And by a bit, I mean a lot.

I have a plan, but I can't unveil it yet.

Instead, I shall piece it together, bit by bit and come back to you with a more complete picture of the Shake Up that will be 2010.

See you soon.

***

In the meantime, I highly recommend checking out See Teacher Run. Not only has she been wiping the floor with me in regards to miles, she's also got a fantastic challenge that all y'all should take part in. I know I will.

A girl and her dog

2009-12-10T12:10:00.004-07:00

As a mum, I want many things for my daughter. A healthy body, a fulfilled career of her choosing, lots of love from friends and family, great hair and the courage to follow her dreams.

Her talents and loves will be her own, I know that. As parents, we can introduce our children to many things, many things we love in hopes that they'll share in our passions. Some things might even be heriditary, if my love of farming, massage and midwifery are any indication.

Chou's apparent love of animals started early - her first real belly laugh was at a pug in the park - and besides her falling asleep at her first horse show, all animals have captivated her from the get go.

Getting a puppy wasn't just for Chou, of course, I've missed having an animal in the house since we last had a cat years ago. But in choosing Pico I had hoped, hoped, hoped that Chou would love her and build the kind of memories I have of our old farm dog. I think of how I trained him to jump fences and tried to get him to pull me on a "dogsled" (I used a regular collar and leash and tried to slide on my boots. Besides a lot of coughing the dog didn't do much). My cats, dogs, horses et al were my best friends and confidants growing up. I want that for Chou, but know that not everyone is an animal lover.

But if our mornings are any indication I needn't have worried.

Chou's first words in the morning are "Pico! Pico!" and sometimes "Daddy", but not usually. Instead of colouring on the walls, she now spends those early minutes before breakfast is ready running back and forth howling with glee as her dog chases her. She falls on the floor, the dog licks her and she giggles and giggles. When I pick her up from daycare, she looks past me and asks "Pico?" as I usually bring the pup with me. She gets jealous when anyone but she holds the dog.

It makes my heart sing.

Playing house in the snow.

Kisses

Hugs. We're working on gentle handling of her dog. Right.

The unintended consequences of daycare

2009-12-09T10:12:00.004-07:00

Last Christmas the only thing Chou really seemed wowed by was the crinkle of the wrapping paper and the tags on her presents.

This year we're making a bigger effort - we stream classic Christmas tunes on the iPod dock and have actually purchased gifts (for the first time in a very long time - all but a few are hand made, repurposed or antique bought right here in town). We went so far as to plan for a Christmas tree. We bought a stand, lights and a few ornaments and I've strung popcorn for Mother Nature's favorite garland.

Anyone notice what's missing out of that description? Um, yes. A tree.

Unlike any other city we've lived in, Regina is rather short on Christmas tree lots. The only thing I could find was a $40 gigantic tree when what we want is a sickly, cheap Charlie Brown tree.

Chou is undeterred by our lack of tree. Yesterday she came home and while dancing in the living room used the tub of ornaments as a drum exclaiming "Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Ho, Ho, Ho?

What we haven't even mentioned in our newly-found Christmasness is Santa. Let alone that he says Ho, Ho, Ho. We're still undecided as to how we handle the Santa talk. Are we a Santa house? We weren't in our house and I never felt left out of the Christmas loop. Which brings us to how the heck does Chou know?

The answer: daycare.

After my initial surprise, I've decided I'm OK with it. We're not religious, we're simply not really into the Santa side of the holiday. So if daycare wants to teach her about the fat elf, so be it.

Why am I so OK with it? Daycare was also first to put her in a big girl bed, is totally keen with letting my less than 2-year old practice sitting on the potty and - here's the kicker - picks her up and drops her off when it's colder than -20 so I don't have to walk, which is nearly every day right now. Yes, really.

Heck, they can teach her to LOVE Santa, if these are the trade offs.

How to lose weight

2009-12-06T19:27:00.002-07:00

1. Do very little exercise. We're talking NO RUNNING for two weeks. Beyond my daily walks, I have done zilch in the workout department.
2. Cut out liquor
3. Eat a salad a day and make veggies the focus of most meals except when:
4. Binge on crackers, eggnog in coffee and full-fat cheese
5. Step on the scale and reap the rewards

That's right - I'm down 1.5 pounds after two weeks OF NOT DOING ANYTHING

What gives? I need motivation to get and keep going, not de-motivation.

In fairness, working out is not all about dropping pounds. I like moving. I sleep better, handle stress better, I'm more fun to be around and work more efficiently if I'm also active. There are plenty of reasons to work out, but in my plan to drop a few pounds working out figured prominently.

So much for that plan.

Plan B? Cheese, carbs and TV watching, apparently.

(I'm so kidding, but with windchills hitting the low minus thirties tomorrow, I may elect for some indoor sweating at least until Thursday. When it's going to "warm up" to minus 14. Wow. Heat wave.)

Snowed under

2009-11-25T08:14:00.004-07:00

We're snowed under here. Not literally, mind you. In fact, it's nearly December and the sun is shining, there isn't a flake of snow left from October's storms and they're calling for plus temps through to the weekend.

No, my friends, we're snowed under by life right about now.

First off, don't start with the "I told you not to get a puppy when you've got a toddler blah blah blah" because, you know what? Pico is a doll. She's a doll! Yes, she's a puppy - she chews, jumps, pees now and then on the floor, but I've raised a few puppies in my day and none of them have been this keen to catch on to desired behavior. She's crated all night and only makes a sound when she hears me up with Chou. She's already spending an hour by herself outside digging, chewing, chasing and jumping. She comes when she's called. She loves Chou and they entertain the pants off each other.

Still, she is a puppy and having her here has changed the dynamic (for the better, but I'll get to that).

What's going on, really, is that our lives - work especially - are headed for busy town and there ain't no end until the spring. The husband is stressed out, pulled in a million directions at work and is feeling a bit over-run in paperwork. His physical well-being is suffering because he can't find the time to swim and work out. Our relationship consists mainly of chatting over dinner about what has yet to get done. The house is a disaster, the To Do list a mile long.

When the hubby's job gets busier, I've usually picked up the slack at home. The problem now is that my job is heading into its busy season. And when I say "busy season" I mean triple (I'm not kidding) the number of issues per month we did back in September. And we do that for three months straight. Add to that the farm shows and on-location coverage I'm supposed to do, plus a farm writers upcoming conference I'm on the board for, plus doula-ing, plus oh right WE HAVE A TODDLER, and well, both of us need a stiff drink at the end of the day (except that I'm trying to cut out booze. Which is just mean, universe).

This morning I took some time on the walk home to get mentally sorted out. Instead of forcing myself to write when I didn't feel like it, I organized my white board and created a new strategy for meeting my deadlines.

Then I got the greatest idea ever of leaving this all behind to start farming with Jen P and can you believe she turned me down? Something about not wanting to live in Saskatchewan. Unbelievable! :)

Oh, but guess what's taken a total back seat amidst all this tomfoolery? Yup, running. I missed Sunday's long run and haven't even trotted about for 30 minutes since.

I need an extra hour in the day.

And a maid.

I may have gone mad

2009-11-22T18:15:00.002-07:00

But who could resist this face?

Meet Pico Pico (yes, her real name). A 2-month old Border terrier/Westie cross. I figure I'm wiping up pee anyway, may as well throw a new species in to liven things up. We picked her up this morning and already she's a joy to have around and is fitting in to Casa Wumpus. She eats everything off the floor and has chewed through two cardboard egg cartons. She also comes when we call and likes to follow Chou around. In other words, she's perfect.

She's also my answer to not having a running buddy. In a few months this beast and I will spend countless miles together, chasing deer. I doubt we'll catch any.

The week's tally

2009-11-21T09:43:00.003-07:00

Let's just say that I stepped on the scale and could hear the boos from the crowd.

Sigh.

I'm not going to analyze it or deconstruct the week because, well, I ate too much of good stuff and while I did stay active, I managed to stay exactly the same weight. Yup, four weeks in and I've lost a whopping .2 lb. Yay? No. I know that I need to cut a measly 200-300 calories from my day to lose, but somehow I'm just not finding the place to do it. Add to that that I was at a farm show on Wednesday (meaning nothing but sugar, carbs and fatty meat to eat and drink for an entire day), and well, I'm not surprised.

Let's focus on the positive:

I managed all of my training runs, though one was .17 longer and another .47 short (side stitch, ate too close to running and felt gross). I will get some sort of workout in today, meaning I only took two days off. That's good.

The numbers:
Run: 14.88 miles
Walk: 7.5 miles
Shred: Once

(Will do Shred or Cardio or something today.)

I'm trying to focus on the good, but this whole weight maintenance thing? So not encouraging.

Saving Chuck Bass

2009-11-20T08:05:00.005-07:00

There's nothing quite like a toddler kick to the head to get you to remember your dreams.

Chou is in her big girl bed, sure, but she's not staying in it all night. Sometimes, yes, but with eye teeth coming in and a snotty nose, she's been miserable. She wakes at 2 in the morning snurgly and angry and in need of snuggle time. I try and keep her in her room, but at that hour all I want to do is go back to my warm bed. So I, being the weak mother, bring her back to our bed and get a few more blissful hours of sleep.

That is until she has one of her rearranging sessions and ends up sideways, upside down and flailing at 4 in the morning.

Did I mention she never ever slept in our bed until a few months ago? Those were the days.

The unexpected side effect to this early morning flail is that I'm remembering oh so many more of my dreams. I've always been a vivid dreamer and used to love waking up laughing or simply happy having enjoyed fun or excitement while I slept. Sure, there are the bad ones, but the good drastically outweigh the bad.

This morning, for instance, I dreamed I was Chuck Bass's lady love (you don't watch Gossip Girl? Shame on you!), and had to save him from imprisonment by a well-meaning aunt trying to get him to clean up his act. Most of the dream I spent on horseback, riding through a mansion, up stairs, over fallen tables and the like (I know, WTF?). Sad for me, but most of the dream was spent saving, and not smooching, Chuck. But I also penned a lovely letter to my trapped darling. I woke up giggling.

See? There's a good side to mummyhood and the sleep interruptions. Really, there is.

Stuff I've learned about me

2009-11-17T11:08:00.003-07:00

Have you ever had one of those moments where you surprised yourself? Not so much in the "I didn't think I could do that, and then I did" way but more in the "I'm this type of person but ohmygod really I like XYZ and never thought I would" way.

Let me explain.

Being a working (at a job other than parenting) mum sucks. There, I said it. Every day is a balancing act between what's best for your babe, you and your family. Every day is different - with Chou gone, sometimes I'm so relieved, am able to re-charge and be a better mum because she's been gone for a few hours. Some days she's so happy to go to care that I don't know if she notices I'm gone. And then there are the days when I think maybe she wants to stay home, or that I want her to stay home. There are the days when I just plain old miss her and would rather be finger painting with pudding rather than talking to some high falutin' CEO.

The reality is, I could stay home full time. We'd manage, we'd be OK. The other reality is that a) Chou would be miserable home with just me full time and b) I'd struggle without some projects to be working on.

But here's what I learned about me this week that shocked the pants off me. The first two insights are courtesy of my husband (he's a smart cookie); the second I realized while hashing out with him my unhappiness with our present situation.

1. I get my energy, drive and enthusiasm from those around me. Ergo (holy shit, did I just use that properly? I did!), working alone for going on two years is snuffing out my spirit, drive and work ethic.

2. It doesn't matter what job I do, I need to have ownership of what I'm doing. Currently, I'd say I have ownership of 50% to 60% of what I do. Not bad, not great.

And here's the kicker:

3. I do best when I'm very busy (not surprising) and WITHOUT A SCHEDULE.

Why is this so surprising? Because I'm an uber planner. Because I love order, symmetry and monotony.

But.

The husband pointed out, from his point of view, when I've been happiest with work and life and really been thriving. It's always been when I was on the go, free to seize moments and opportunities and just do what needed to get done while it needed doing.

Do you see where I'm going with this? No? Me neither. But what I'm coming to realize is that my job is not a great fit. It's a good fit, but not a great fit when balanced with being a momma. Because feeling that I have to be at my desk, at my phone and in front of my computer during office hours is stifling me. I am alone in my house too many hours in a day. Too many.

To balance that, I made rye bread, worked out at lunch and put a lovely dinner on the table for my family. All things I couldn't have done if I had been at the office all day (or would have been bloody difficult to do). And that dinner, that my friends was the best part of my day.

And.

Like many women, my hubby's job is going to dictate where we live, for how long and will have more sway on our standard of living. Presently, he and I make similar coin (similar, not the same), however his earning potential is just that much higher than mine. This I don't mind, however, it's put the whole "career goals" discussion in a much different light.

This is where I get a little selfish. Or not.

If I can't choose and shape my career as a life-long career because of extenuating circumstances, why shouldn't I do what I love to do rather than what brings in the most money?

Our life is always going to be a trade-off. We will move a lot. My job will have to be portable. We're going to be starting from scratch over and over. Most of running our household is always going to be on me. My husband works long hours and travels and that's not going to change.

And a little bit of me feels like the trade off should be that I get to do what I want in my everyday versus what I have to do.

Now, if I could pin down exactly what that is within the confines of a) minimum income needed, b) no less time with Chou and c) is mobile, I'd be ready to pull the rug out from under our lives and shake things up a bit.

Soon, my friends. Soon.

Monday Montage

2009-11-16T10:04:00.004-07:00

That afro? Totally gets it from me. I've already apologized. Several times.

Huck!

2009-11-14T06:33:00.003-07:00

The three most adorable things my daughter does these days is Huck, Hmm and two. Huck, and I don't know why, means Again, as in "Let's do that again!" It took me more than a few tries to figure out what the hell she meant, but now we've got it and she'll even say it when it comes up in a book. I say "again" she echos - very enthusiastically - with Huck!

Then there's Hmm. Neither the husband nor I make this particular noise. It's that mulling over, consider, gee I wonder type of Hmm. It sort of goes up at the end HmmM. We couldn't figure out where she got this from, until the other day we were hanging out at the local antique store with T and her puppy (that Chou loves) and T said, Hmm. To which Chou echoed the exact same sound. T was downright giddy that wee Chou had picked up one of her mannerisms. I was too.

And finally, two. Chou's favorite number is two. Is it the only one she can say? Likely. But what's moe adorable is that any time she counts anything it's "Two, two, two!" But what I love is that when she sees letters she starts singing the ABCs and when she sees numbers she starts saying "Two!" She already knows the difference. Mind blowing.

Which brings us to this week's weight loss and fitness challenge round up.

Weight loss: 0 lb
Total loss to date: .2 lb

Week three, for an intents and purposes, has been a resounding success, except for that whole weight loss part. And I know exactly where I went wrong - the food and drink. I still haven't joined WW online and am not really counting points. I have to. This week has proven that.

Why? Because I worked my butt off this week, but clearly the few desserts, beer and a few glasses of wine tip the points balance too far off course. I recognize that this particular weight is one that my body is very happy staying at. I'm not entirely unhappy with that, but I think with a little effort I could kick up my fitness level and maintain a smaller dress size. It's just getting there.

To that end, my activity level this week was downright fantastic (especially in comparison to the first two weeks).

Running: 11.5 miles (woot woot!)
Walking: 5.25 miles
Biking: 4.94 miles
Cardio: once, plus I'll shred today

I also managed an hour ride yesterday that made my leg muscles scream in a good way. Gosh, it's lovely to be riding again.

I also signed up for the Hypothermic Half that goes Feb 28th and consider tomorrow day one of that training. And, even more exciting, I found a bootcamp-type class for mums with toddlers that starts mid-January. I can actually bring Chou to the class and get a fabulous workout in. I can't wait.

And now I realize that I haven't posted pictures in forever. Will remedy that shortly.

Like a fox

2009-11-12T07:08:00.004-07:00

I might be crazy. Or stupid.

Guess what I did this week?

Wait, let's back up.

Both Jen P and Smithers were right. A) Airing your laziness on the Internets is quite motivating. Something about seeing how little I've done is enough to make it stop I guess, and B) It's not a competition and I'm the one who benefits most from moving about. It's about me, in so many ways, so I need to do this for me.

And that next day, I woke up and ran, and then the next day I did an uber hard cardio work out that made it hard to lift the milk jug the next day, then I ran again. Yes, I did. (as an aside, I also calculated that if I bring Chou to daycare and drop her off and pick her up by walking, I log just over 3 miles. I'm going to start keeping track. Also, I want/need new shoes. I walk a lot now and realize that I've likely put more wear and tear on these shoes than I thought. end of aside.)

My legs felt like lead by the second run, sure, and I feel weak as a kitten, but I got inspired enough to do something I've never done before.

I signed up for a race. In February. A half marathon to be exact.

After an entire calendar year of entering a total of two races and only running one, I'm bloody well signing up for races NEXT year. What the hell?

Just over 15 weeks to go until the Hypothermic Half, February 28. Pray it's not -40 (which, my friends, is TOTALLY possible).

That's about right

2009-11-07T12:07:00.005-07:00

I weighed in this morning after two weeks on my supposed health kick, 10 lb-loss-by Christmas eve thing. Before I tell you what my whopping weight loss was, let me tell you that it is more than fair for the amount of effort I've put in to the challenge thus far.

Ready?

I've lost...drum roll please....

.2 pounds!

Yes! .2 pounds! Not even a half! And the crowd goes wild!

Ok. Enough, enough. Sit down.

Sigh.

Where to begin?

The good:

Managed to run with Jen P. It felt great, but clearly wasn't enough to overcome my inertia. I rode, also good and because I have a standing date there, will ride again. Also good. I've picked up the pace walking Chou to daycare and walked her all but one day out of the last seven drop offs (it's a solid 20-25 minutes twice a day when I bring her). This week has been quite good for my eating - lost of salads with dinner and I've purged the house of yucky stuff and left only the good stuff. I've even dusted off the WW recipes and I'm loving them.

The bad:

Um, Halloween and the trip to Winnipeg did nothing good for my eating habits. I've managed to cut down my liquor consumption, but still have not entirely cut it out (which for me, really helps). I'm still eating too much total and grazing too much and eating too few veggies.

The awful:

In the past two weeks here is my workout tally:

A 30 minute run

Done.

Seriously.

And I have no idea how to jump start this except with jumper cables, a cattle prod and an electric fence all while standing in water. Seriously folks, the level of inertia I feel morning, noon and night feels insurmountable right now.

I know others who are feeling lousy, are way busier or seriously knocked up who are literally running, lifting, biking and swimming circles around me.

I also know that now and again this happens. My mind has decided the body doesn't like moving and full stop, that's the end of it.

So what I need from you is encouragement. OK? And keep the swears to a minimum please.

Sincerely,
The Inert One

To paraphrase Mr. Churchill

2009-11-06T11:26:00.002-07:00

There is something about the outside of a horse that's good for my inner thigh muscles.

OK, that may warrant some unsavory types finding my blog through nasty google searches but what I mean is, wow, did I need that ride.

I finally - finally! - got a ride in. It's my first ride in months and months. After many false starts, I managed a riding lesson this week. A real, live, work until your legs feel like jelly ride. The sad part is, I lasted through maybe half of hour of exercises before the jelly set in and I was useless.

But, if I may pat myself on the back, my balance was really quite good, my hands were quiet, my seat, not bad. In short, while I may be weak as a kitten, the basics are all still there just waiting to work again.

Did I mention I rode English? Insert guffaws here, but I assure you I didn't wear skin tight breeches or a pink jacket. But I did ride with my pinkies up.

Recommendations

2009-11-02T13:50:00.003-07:00

Hi. Here's what you shouldn't do on week one of a fitness and weight loss challenge: Go home for the first time in five months. At Halloween.

Why? Oh, because, you know, The Food.

Shit. Sorry, overuse of capitalization again.

It was so lovely to see friends and family, but equally un-lovely to miss out on several visits we tried to line up and couldn't. It's okay, though, because we'll be back in a few months with plenty of time to sit, sip coffee or beer, share meals, share stories, ride some ponies, all that. All those things.

But oh, the food. Greasy food, fatty food, way too many desserts. Meals out, meals in, coffee coffee coffee, Halloween candy. Ugh. The list goes on and on. So tasty. So not going to help lose even one pound, let alone ten.

Equally recommended, however, is being able to accompany your running buddy on a run. More to the point, her last run of this pregnancy, at just over 24 weeks gestation, on a beautiful evening, while the men watched our babies (and allowed one of them to fall down the stairs, allowing the other one to not keep it a secret. Hilarious).

I also highly recommend blogger buddies. Smithers, over at Embrace the Chaos, sent a note and a suggestion: get a mileage goal on the table too.

Here goes...Eight weeks until Christmas Eve. I commit to 10 miles a week. Sure, it's not a nice round 100 miles, but 10 miles a week with an approaching winter is going to be tough. To put it in perspective, many of my training weeks were only 12 to 15 miles total, so 10 is respectable in my book.

Oh, and secretly, I'd love to hit 100 miles, but 80 will do just fine, thank you.

Goals made public. On blogger. Highly recommended.

Overdoing the soicial networking, perhaps

2009-10-29T07:42:00.002-06:00

Last night I dreamed in Twitter.

I think I'm the first person to do this. I want a medal.

My dream was nothing more than my Twitter page, refreshing now and again, popping up with answers to What are you doing?

I can't even tell you what people were doing or saying or writing, but either I'm spending too much time on the damn thing (I'm rarely on it, so it's doubtful), or my brain is telling me I need to figure it out and make the most of it with following and tagging and all that fun stuff.

Or not.

The Fog

2009-10-28T12:38:00.004-06:00

Disclaimer: If you're looking for cute toddler pictures or equally uplifting fodder, look elsewhere. As today's title will attest, we're not in that kind of mood. Also, the language in this blog is not suitable for children. Reader discretion is advised.

Today I am in The Fog. Yes, it deserves caps, because it is a proper name. This Fog, The Fog, rolls in now and again. It has for many years, and for many years it didn't have a name. It used to happen often, now it visits me rarely, perhaps once a year, hardly more. The Fog is not a depression, though I've been there. It's simply a day of adjustment wherein my body, soul and mind need to reconnect to the present and let go of past hurt, confusion and yells of "It's not fucking fair."

The Fog follows A Dream (I'm starting to feel like Winnie the Pooh with these nonsense caps, I'll stop.) The dream is always different - the situation is different, the players are a motley cast and sometimes the same, but not always. What makes it The Dream that brings The Fog is the underlying feelings, tone and impression.

The Dream is about my mother, though she's never made an appearance. The dream is about losing her. It's about that headspace. That time. Of being there. Of being 16 and having my world blow the fuck up in my face and being absolutely, stunningly powerless to do a damn thing about it. The dream drips with regret, sorrow and, yes, self pity and a great big ole stench of "Why me?".

But not just why me in the sense of losing mum. Oh no. As if the teenage years aren't bad enough, life decides to throw THAT in my formative years. So there were other things happening too. Things that most of those around me could never in a million years have understood. They still don't, and very few actually tried. I don't blame them. In fact, I'm jealous of them in so many ways for having NOT dealt with it. I'm babbling. Where was I? Right.

The Dream is rank with regret not necessarily in regards to my mother, but to me, to my adolescent self. How I wish I could go back and smack her across the face, and then sit, pour her a cheap wine and let her spill it. All of it. All the shit she did and didn't do, the things she said, was accused of, the hurt, the betrayal, the loneliness.

The Dream itself is harmless. In it, at some point, I always end up telling all sorts of people I do and don't know how I feel (or felt, rather) and they understand, and they hear me, and they let me heal and they forgive me. But do I forgive them? I never know.

And yes, in the dream, mum is still alive, because it is THEN, not now.

And when I wake, I'm hit with the reality that she's gone again. All over again.

And the fog rolls in.

No amount of coffee pushes it away. I just have to wait. For real life, this life, to catch up again and carry me forward.

And so I wait.

What happens when I do this?

2009-10-27T09:24:00.004-06:00

The Chou is in a new experimental phase, which is how kids learn, so this is good. And for the most part it's not the heart-stopping kind of experimenting, you know the kind that endangers life and limb, but it sure is the kind that can make a giant mess.

Chou has started swimming in the tub, floating, expressing her wonder at the sensation. She's also loving putting feet, hands legs in the running water. She's starting to blow bubbles and get her face wet...and then she starts to splash and move and make waves, then more waves and so on. It's fascinating to watch her drink in the movement, the sensation, the buoyancy. Brilliant.

She's also testing her parents' patience. We're full on into the terrible twos, I'm sure. But part of what frustrates Chou and sets her off is not being able to DO all the grown up stuff we do. Gone is her willingness to climb into her booster seat and buckle herself in. Nope, now she'll only eat sitting/standing in a grown up chair. Gone are the sippy cups. She wants a regular cup like mum and dad. She doesn't want cut up food or anything baby. She puts on her own socks and boots and refuses to let us fix them. She is toddler - hear her roar!

So I'm trying. I'm trying to encourage her, to let her try, to do it herself. I'm trying to be patient, to wait, to keep her busy, to keep her entertained.

It's so hard some days.

But so worth it.

Round 2

2009-10-24T09:52:00.004-06:00

This morning marks the second leg of my journey towards a healthy weight. My Ottawa Manatee Momma called me yesterday ready to clean out her fridge, cupboards and bloodstream of junk and needed a) a friend to do this with and b) motivation to not just lose a few extra jiggly bits but to really clean up the kitchen. We're not just talking fewer calories and smaller portions, we're talking cutting out salt, adding in healthy fats and getting rid of the bad, decreasing reliance on packaged foods and increasing consumption of fresh stuff.

Our journeys are very different. For the most part, Casa Wumpus is pretty packaged-food free. Where I (and we) fall down is on portion control, over indulgence of baked goods and not moving enough. For Manatee Momma, food from the freezer or pantry is standard fare and a recent heart scare with her dad has got her counting sodium milligrams and realizing something has to change.

Yesterday we committed to not just a weight goal challenge, but a good old fashion spring, or fall as it were, cleaning of the kitchen, our daily routine and our bodies. We're de-junking (both in the cupboard and in the trunk) and getting moooving again. She's already a member of Weight Watchers online, and so I shall be too, but we've also made a wager: $100 to the member of our group who loses 10 lb by Christmas eve. For the record, as a percentage that means I have to lose more, but I'm OK with that. If we both do it, we both get the $100 from the other to spend on ourselves.

Sure, it's a wash when we both succeed but that's not the point. WW is so successful because of not just teaching portion control but also the social network and support you receive when you go to meetings. Without meetings, Manatee and I are forming our own group, albeit across two provinces, but I'll take what I can get.

You're welcome to join us. But you must actually have 10 lb or more to lose - according to an actual medical professional, not your own idea of what you see in the mirror. Jen P's version is she's got to gain 10 lb by Christmas, but she's pregnant, so she better.

So here it is, folks. Truth time.

I weighed in this morning at 146.4 lb. Up a solid 5 lb from April...in the face of training and running a half marathon. Wow, can you say lack of portion and self control? Um, yes. To put it in context, I'm barely over 5'2". According to WW, my highest goal weight "allowed" is 137 lb, meaning that this 10 lb loss puts me in the very highest of my "healthy weight range". In fairness, I don't think high 130s is high for me, but that's another discussion for another time. I would be down right tickled pink to hit the 130s and stay anywhere near there. And so we shall see what it takes to get there.

And now if you'll excuse me, I've got a work out to do and some healthy meals to plan. I heart meal planning!

Accessories

2009-10-23T09:26:00.003-06:00

In the midst of saying Cheese while bouncing on mummy's (very flabby) tummy

Her dad dressed her, which is shocking because I'm usually the one who chooses two very non-matchy matchy items of clothing.

She walks in these shoes as well as I do. Maybe better.

See?

On measuring up and vomiting

2009-10-20T20:02:00.002-06:00

That's right, I said vomiting.

Chou was sent home early today from daycare with her very first stomach bug. Poor thing was asleep in the high chair when I got there. I scooped her up, brought her home, she was sick again, I changed her and put her down for a nap. Two hours of sleep later and she was up, managed to miss herself and her cuskie but messed up her entire crib and blanket. I brought her and the laundry down, she had a big nurse and we snuggled and watched backyardigans. Within a bit, she decided she was better and dressed herself to go outside (well, I helped, but she really is getting quite good - she gets her socks and boots on and her tuque. Jacket and mitts are mum's job). Two minutes outside and she was yakking breastmilk all over the deck. Back in we went and it was another episode of backyardigans, then Maisy, then some Sesame street, more yakking, and then -poof- at 330, my darling daughter was back and very hungry. I wish we could all get over a bug like that.

On to measuring up (aren't you glad I'm done talking about yakking?).

I realized today as I tidied my kitchen, put a near-perfect carrot cake in the oven, wiped the counter and flicked on the dishwasher, that a) I'm quite domestic b) I'm getting much better at keeping house and c) I really am OK with measuring my success by my own yard stick and not ever feeling like I have to have the same things as everyone, or the same new kitchen or the same new car.

Wait. This is seemingly non-news to y'all who know me. Ms. Wumpus is synonymous with practicality, ask anyone. Really, truly there are times when I thought that all these years of frugality were temporary, that when we had more money we'd spend it more liberally, travel more, buy more, do more. Yes, there are places in the world I want to see. Yes, there are some new pieces of furniture I'd like, but really, truly having more disposable income hasn't meant buying more. Instead, we're investing more, weighing our options carefully, over-thinking home renovations and trying to make our money stretch the furthest.

Other people go on yearly (even more!) vacations, or buy huge houses or new leather furniture or the EVEN BIGGER television. Some just blow it all on clothes and wine. All these things are OK, they're just not for me. I get more joy out of spending an extra hundred bucks on groceries so I can make my man real, quality sashimi at home. I'm going to splurge and book some riding lessons (yay!). And yes, I'll finally get new underwear. But the wanting what others want? Don't want it. And that makes me happy.

And so concludes the two most randomly paired topics in the history of the blogosphere.

You're welcome.

The social life

2009-10-16T10:50:00.003-06:00

I like older women.

Wait, let's back up a bit.

The Wumpus Plan to Happiness is in full swing - the office is settled in the basement, the Chou hosted a playdate yesterday and has invited all sorts of new mums and babes over next week.

I'm happy too. The playdate, with a fellow doula mum, was a lovely way to spend a cold and snowy Thursday morning. We made snowmen complete with carrot noses and grape eyes. We threw snowballs and watched as two toddlers galumped their way through the snow. It was great to connect with a like-minded momma and have company for Chou.

This morning the town mummy group is getting together, but I've got too much work to do to go (but not so much that I can't blog? I guess). I've offered to host next week, and I'm looking forward to meeting more people in my town.

What's funny (in a non funny way) is that there's really only one person in town I've really connected with so far and she's a good 10 years older with two nearly-grown kids.

I've discovered, or rather just come to accept, that I connect with women 10 years or more my senior. This isn't a new thing either, when I was 19 - a very tumultuous time - one of my closest friends was in her early 30s with three young kids. We had zero in common, really, except having horses, but that was enough. One of my most valued friends is in her 60s. And now, here in our new home, I'm clicking with someone at least 10 years older, yet again.

I don't know what it is, whether it's that I lost mum so young and look up to older women for their wisdom or if it's that I don't think like women my age (and haven't for as long as I remember) or if it's just that these are the women I click with and so be it.

Either way, I'm thankful for finally making a friend. For the first time in a very long time, I went out for tea at someones house. In the evening! GASP! I brought over pumpkin coffee cake and we sat and learned of each others lives.

I left the coffee cake there, half eaten. She promised to return it in the rural tradition: full of something else.

I love this town.

Positivity

2009-10-15T13:13:00.003-06:00

Maybe it's a first time mummy thing, but figuring out how to teach by example instead of by rules is bloody hard. Case in point, I have an 18 month old. Do you know how many times I say "No!" in a day? More than I can count. The tough part is that I try not to. I'm always trying to phrase things in the positive, trying to say We DO rather than We DON'T as much as I can. Yes, there is a time when No is the only appropriate response, but it isn't the only one I want Chou to hear.

Tuesday afternoon I picked up Chou from daycare. Her hair was in a ponytail THAT SHE WASN'T PULLING OUT. I asked her caregiver how she managed this, because frankly, Chou looks like a lion most days with her blond afro growing every week. I try and tame the beast but it's a losing battle when the kid just rips out elastics, clips and ribbons. She'll wear a headband, but only if it's someone else's and she's not supposed to have it. Sigh.

Where was I?

Right.

So I pick her up, and ask S, "How do you get it to stay in?"

She says, "Well, at first she was pulling at it. Then I started telling her how pretty it looked. How nice it was. After a while, she left it in."

See? Why can't I think of this stuff.

Sure enough. We get home and I have to put the elastic back in after the tuque came off. Chou starts pulling at it. "Wow, Chou, look how pretty it is!" She agrees and leaves it in.

Now, how do I get her to stop hitting, grabbing toys and running, jumping in the tub, not letting me wash her hair, throwing food on the ground, etc. etc. etc....in a positive way?

Hmmm. Yeah.

I got it good

2009-10-12T12:29:00.003-06:00

It's Thanksgiving here in Canada, but my day of reflection and thankfulness fell somewhere in the middle of last week. Really, I should be in Manitoba right now stuffing myself full of deliciousness, but the weather had other ideas. It was a blessing in some ways as the unintended long weekend home has meant rolling out a new plan here at Casa Wumpus, and you, lucky blog reader, get to hear all about it.

It started with me officially being hired as a doula for a lovely young couple due end of January. She's added me as a friend on Facebook and proudly told the online world that I was HER doula. My chest puffed out just a little and suddenly I've got even more impetus to read every birth book there is so I can be HER BEST DOULA.

Then, Chou Chou came home from daycare exhausted. I love my daycare for many reasons, but like most, once kids are down to one nap a day, they go down for one nap. Chou, for all her own reasons, has not been sleeping well and has ended up in our bed by 2 a.m. for nearly a week (last night she slept in her own bed again all night, please, please tell me that's the end of the phase. But I'm getting side tracked. Hang on.) Anywho, I came to realize that Chou, now and then, likely needs a day or two home to chill out, sleep when she wants, eat when she wants and have more Mummy time. Maybe a play date from time to time with other kids besides daycare kids.

Then, there was a job. Now, I know some work people read this, so I'm asking them to respect my privacy and just let me talk this out. No judging!

There was a job posting. A really, really good job, paying more money than what I'm making now. It's a different job, a new, exciting sort of line of work. The benefits are stellar (maternity leave top up, anyone?) and it's a national company, which may come in handy if we move again. I was all gung-ho - polishing off the resume and planning my interview outfit.

And then I hit the middle of the week, got hired as a doula and realized my baby needs me more, not less right now. I started listing off the pluses of the job I have now - home-based, flexible, interesting, it's an industry I love and want to be a part of, decent pay - and the cons - home-based, same old same old, a bit lonely. Then I thought about the cons of the new job - longer hours, more time away from Chou (significantly more, I think) a daily highway commute (in winter, yuck), less time for home life and work outs and lack of flexibility.

I realized, it was like a wave that washed over me, that this job is the job for me right now. If Chou is sick, I can still work and be home for her. We only have one car, and that's all we need with only one of us commuting. A winter storm means, at worst, I get bundled up to walk Chou to daycare, or she stays home with me. Big deal. I can work out at lunch, and make up time on evenings and weekends, if need be, in the event that Chou did stay home. And then there's the doula thing - what job could be more perfect? I'm away from home very few days a year, thus very available for being on-call.

But I also know that there are aspects of this working from home thing that are driving me a little bonkers, thus even looking for another job. I need separation of work and home. I need more social interaction and stimuli. I need to feel my work is meaningful.

Which brings us to this weekend. Being somewhat snowbound meant having not much to do but stay inside. I decided two things - One: My office was moving downstairs. We've got a comfy living area down here, with windows and pot lights. Now, I have a dedicated workspace (that is not also Chou's video and colouring area), plus it converts easily into workout space. Our den upstairs is becoming Chou's play room and our TV room (more on that later). It's win win. Two: I need to host more playdates and keep Chou home when she needs to stay home. Maybe that's once a week, maybe more, maybe less. But everyone now and then, I need to work extra hard Mon-Thurs so that Chou can stay home, we invite friends over and we all play, mellow out and have some social time whether we want to or not, damn it.

So that's it. This Thanksgiving I really have come to realize that I've got it good. So good. It just took nearly giving it up for extra cash and the chance to wear heels more often to make me see that money and fancy shoes really aren't that important. Basement offices, lunch time workouts and playdates are the cat's meow, according to me, and so it shall be. Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

Chou's first whipped cream experience. She ate if off the beaters (she called it ice cream), but didn't like it on her pumpkin pie.

Right after this, she picked the cream off and just ate the filling.

Wonderland

2009-10-09T08:33:00.005-06:00

It snowed last night, and not just a dusting of the stuff, oh no, we got a good couple inches of heavy white cold stuff. If the calendar said Oct 29th instead of 9th I might be more accepting, however it's a wee bit early even for this well-adapted northerner.

Still, there's something magical about how the house sort of glows at night from the moon reflecting off the snow. This morning I could see the tracks of the little brave souls that dared to traipse about and dig through the compost through the storm. The house feels warmer, cozier somehow because of the frosting outside. I'm reminded that I really love winter, and I'm excited for Chou - this winter she'll be mobile. I can teach her all my favorite winter things - skating, tobogganing, building snow forts and tunnels (the enjoyment of hot toddies will have to wait a few more years).

Of course, then I think about driving the six hours home for the Thanksgiving weekend in all this snow, with new, low friction tires and the chance of way more snow and blowing snow and I think, Shit, there goes our plans. Yes, winter, you nasty old man, you're already ruining my plans and it's not even Halloween. Jerk.

The view from my living room window this morning.

***

Chou learned three new things from her big buddy in Ottawa - two are cute, adorable even, one is not. The adorable: Chou has always been a dancer, but a definite booty shaker and hand clap kind of dancer. Buddy R is an arm-waving raver. Since coming home, Chou is raising the roof like it's nobody's business. Also, Chou learned that you can dance while on all fours as long as you kick out one leg every now and then. It's priceless. She also learned to jump - both feet off the ground - while in Ottawa. It's hilarious to watch her muster her strength and reach tall with all her might as she manages a tiny centimeter lift. Oh, but she's proud of it!

The bad? Big R is a total ham at the dinner table, and while he's polite enough not to throw food (like Chou does) he does like to spit it back out for comedic effect. Chou figures this is a fantastic parlour game and now lets all things dinner dribble back out of her mouth, watching expectantly for our reaction. We are not amused. That doesn't seem to stop her.

***

I've discovered two things this week. Playing with flour is an excellent way to keep a toddler busy. It's also an excellent way to nearly wipe out. Flour is very slick for such a dry substance. Oh, and dark hardwood floors? Not so great for cleaning after said flour playing.

So soft and messy.

She's pretty sure she shouldn't be doing this.

The aftermath. I love her little footprints.

A beginner and the end

2009-10-07T11:37:00.004-06:00

At 18 months, Chou is wee. We're not surprised - her parents are midgets, why should she be any different. She's measuring just under the 50th percentile, but for both height and weight, so at least we know she's a proportioned wee girl. She's finally put on some pounds (she's 23 lb 12.5 oz) and is a towering 31.25 inches. Right, like I said, wee.

But this appointment was really rough on mummy wumpus - these were her first vaccinations in her arms and wow can that girl holler, look angry, scream, cry, howl some more, give the nurse the stink eye and howl again. She kept saying Owie and holding up her arm for me to kiss. So adorable, so sad.

I dried her tears, was thankful I could still offer numnums (booby juice), and she settled down. We got her dressed and toured the old folks home for a few minutes. It was sad and wonderful all at once. Several of the home's residents sit in mobile chairs, staring blankly at the wall or their laps. Still others were over the moon to have such a little, new person in their midst. Chou, for her part, waved but didn't smile (her arm still hurt I'm sure) and then spied one of the resident kitty cats.

With a loud "Meow!" she took after the ginger kitty and followed him into some old woman's room. Chou was so focused on burying her hands in the very patient kitty's fur, she likely didn't notice she had totally made this woman's day.

Maybe we should go visit more often, and for better reasons than to get needles.

Running down a dream

2009-10-06T07:34:00.001-06:00

I did my first doula consultation last night.

I wasn't terribly nervous and found myself focused on the couple (even though it meant Daddy having to put Chou down to bed alone for the first time in months). After settling in, I thoroughly enjoyed spending an hour chatting about pregnancy, birth and the like.

It's an interesting feeling, to sit in front of two people experiencing what's sure to be one of life's most amazing journeys and essentially auditioning to be a part of it.

I'll let you know if they choose me or not.

Flatlander's PR

2009-10-03T16:42:00.005-06:00

Distance: 13.1 miles
Unofficial time: 2:12:48 - a PR by 11 minutes, 54 seconds
Pace: 10:08 min/mile, 54 seconds per mile faster than last year

Where do I start?

Ah, the morning.

Chou Chou has mostly switched back to mountain time...except in the morning. She's up at 5:15 saying "Hi!" and ready to smooch and cuddle and then play. Mum and daddy are not. Mr. Wumpus was incredibly sweet this morning to get up with her at that ungodly hour and take her down for breakfast. I slept until 6:30.

My race started at 10, which is both good and bad. Good, because I slept well knowing that I didn't need to wake up extra early to make it in time, but bad because 10 is kind of late. I tried to eat at the right time, drink enough and have coffee but not over do it. It was tough. Nine am would have been better. Whatever.

We headed into town and I was one of the first to pick up my pack, then we headed to Tim's. Then the baby fell asleep. Lucky bastard.

After two bathroom breaks and a quick realization that most people have some sort of warm up routine (I do not), it was time to toe the line. It was cool (5 degrees C), but I went out in just my long sleeved shirt and shorts. I had my jacket on but rarely have run in it, so I left it behind. It was the right decision.

Playing on the bleachers while everyone else warmed up.

Jittery, chilly but ready to go.

And we're off!

This was the first year the race was timed with chips, and the first time I've run with disposable chips (they're on a piece of paper you loop on your laces). Besides being flatter than my last race, this race was also super friendly. No one talked to me during my first half (but there were tonnes of cheering folks), but for this race, I had a running buddy by the first kilometer. By the third or fourth, we had gained another friend. I found out quickly that I should have chosen my friends more carefully - Dorothy finished a full three weeks ago (in 4:36) and Cecilia finished a half three weeks ago in 2:11. I was hoping for a sub 2:20. Was I out of my league?

Well, yes. But after last week's run with the midwife, where I realized I wasn't pushing myself enough, I decided that I needed somebody shooting for a faster time than me (but not by too much) and I needed to run with them as long as I could.

Dorothy chatted on and off, keeping me entertained. She has a brother who farms who is completely blind, which I found fascinating. She also thought (like me) when she started running that walking was not allowed. So funny.

By the 8 km mark, I knew Dorothy was itching to take off, and me and Cecilia were more evenly matched. A side stitch had me walking a bit and Cecilia gave me pointers on getting rid of it. At 10 km Dorothy was pulling away and I checked my watch: 59:27 - the fastest 10 km I've ever done by a full 5 minutes. My hips were hurting a bit and I knew I was going much faster than usual. I knew at some point I'd have to run my own race. I knew I'd lose Cecilia near the end, but I just decided to stick with her as long as I could.

At the 11 km mark, we were joined by Coralee. She finished her last half in 2:06 and wasn't looking to go any faster this time out. She was friendly, fun and made the next few km fly by.

I hit my honeymoon mile (the 8th) and actually ran out in front of Coralee and Cecilia for a solid 5 minutes, only to have them catch me, then pull away. I kept them in my sights and caught back up to Cecilia by the 16 km (10 mile) mark. We ran together for another 10 minutes, but my legs and left hip had decided they only wanted to do 10 miles. I told them that based on my watch we were looking at possibly a 10 minute PR and there was no way in hell I was giving up.

The last 2 miles hurt, but nothing like last year. I knew I had a PR, maybe even by more than 10 minutes, so I cranked the iPod (I hardly used it all race) and lifted my chest and started swinging my legs.

The race ends on the track and as I turned through the trees, there was the husband and Chou waiting and cheering, "you're going to be under 2:15" the husband says - "I know!" I shouted, as I kissed Chou and climbed on to the track.

The track felt lovely and soft, and while I didn't pick up the pace much (oh, were my legs screaming), I had a good cadence and kept it up. At the 21 km mark, the husband let Chou down and she ran, smiling to me. I scooped her up and we ran the last 100 m together - much to the amusement of the crowd who clapped and cheered and exclaimed things like "Too cute!' and "That is so adorable." yeah, I know.

Cruising home in 2:12.48. Holy crap.

All done! Chou kissed my medal. Nice.

The Ministry of Silly Walks walk

Post-race sushi. Not quite Cora's brunch, but a close second.

I learned a lot this race. I learned that I'm way too easy on myself and that yes, track workouts and hills are necessary to get faster. I confirmed that strength and cross training is important. Case in point, at this point last year I was just glad to be done my race and I proceeded to NOT RUN for a month. Yeah, not good. This year? I'm looking at signing up for a hypothermic half (in January) and I've got runs penciled in for the coming week. Mentally, I'm in a better place after this race and I'm still loving running. That's a big deal.

I also met friendly, fun people on this run, and the way this run went really drives home the message that I must, must, must run with a buddy at least now and again. Sure, I'd love to have my Jen P and midwife here, but that's not going to happen all that often, so I need to branch out and meet new runners.

I'm feeling fine, Internets. I'm feeling inspired and motivated. I'm feeling like I want to run some more. I'm feeling like I could demolish a chocolate sundae. I'm also feeling a lot of pain in my legs, folks, but it's all good.

It's all good.

Flatlander's Eve

2009-10-02T10:56:00.002-06:00

By this time tomorrow I'll be about half way through my second half marathon.

I'm nervous, excited, relieved and a bit jet-lagged.

The good news is I did manage to stay relatively active during my taper. I even managed a fast (for me) five miler last Saturday, proving my point that there ought to be running doulas (Saturday's run was with my midwife, a much faster runner, and the conversation and new surroundings made the miles fly by - at a 30 second/mile faster pace. That's a big deal, kids).

The bad news is I didn't train as hard as I liked and I didn't lose one pound during this three months of training. Which is still OK, in that I'm at least 10 to 15 pounds lighter than last year at this time, but I had hoped to be 15 to 20 pounds lighter. Also, I haven't done one run since last Saturday, but I did manage a crap load of walking, pushing the stroller, carrying a backpack. That counts, right?

All said, I feel ready for tomorrow. The weather is supposed to be perfect: cool (cold, by some standards) and dry. I have my favorite gels and my wardrobe all picked out. Last year I was worried about boob chafe and overheating, this year I just want my legs to hold out and to beat Jen P's pregnant 2:23 from last week's Niverville half. How does she do it? I have no clue.

We'll see you tomorrow with my first race report in almost a year!

(How sad is that? Which brings me to my next point, I don't enter enough races. Racing is the fun part of all this...duh.)

What my daughter thinks of politics.

A bientot - a montage

2009-09-21T13:47:00.004-06:00

Fall returned (arrived?) with a vengeance yesterday. The day was cool, then nearly cold, windy as all get out and by late afternoon cold, cold rain was falling. It poured all night. The wind howled (as did the coyotes). It made me miss my husband and want to bring Chou in to snuggle with me. At 2 a.m., she woke up complaining, so I did bring her in to bed with me. Except that she wanted to go back to her bed. Silly baby.

Chou and I are off to meet up with the husband in our former home town tomorrow. It's a work-ation: I don't actually have any holidays so I've got the laptop, a few interviews lined up and a few more articles to write. Have I mentioned I love the flexibility of my job? It's going to be tough to balance fun and work and working remotely, but I know I'm up for it. Yes, Dave B, I will be working! I have no choice really. Deadlines wait for no one.

But I couldn't leave you for a week without out at least something to keep you entertained. So I give you our very windy montage.

Oh, and sidenote: I believe Chou has/had Fifth Disease. She's sporting a small red and raised rash on her left cheek, but the fever is gone and she seems 100%. She's no longer contagious, so I hope this won't interfere with any of our visiting.

See y'all soon.

Yes, I know a) her outfit doesn't match nor does it b) match her shoes and c) the pants are too short. But have you tried dressing an 18-month old? It's like dressing fighting tom cats that have the strength of 10 bulls, that have gigantic melons that try and smack you in the cheekbone at every turn. Honestly. Stop judging me.

Hanging on for dear life, I think. It was seriously windy.

She's flapping her arms at the birds.

How I keep her entertained on rainy days. I had no intention of buying the apple, but then she took a bite out of it.

Stroller Derby

2009-09-20T11:20:00.006-06:00

I can't actually remember my last stroller run. But I know I haven't run with it since the move to Saskatchewan, so that would put it somewhere at least six months ago, possibly more.

I never did like the stroller run, however in Chou's first year it really was the only way to get any sort of running in. Running with the stroller was somewhat stressful; babies can be rather temperamental and have their own schedules. I wouldn't even attempt more than a half an hour with her. Add to that, pushing a stroller is hard, especially on hills, and the lack of arm swinging can really knock you out of rhythm. But I used to run at least once a week with it, and there were pluses - it's hard work, so a better work out, and beyond working around nap time it means run time is any time.

So far, I've put three runs and nearly 12 miles into this taper. That's three runs and nearly 12 miles more than my last TOTAL taper (high five me!) and I've still got days and days and lots of runs planned. Today was run three of the week - I was hoping for more but a wee bit of a sicky baby had me rearrange my schedule (and that's OK, I'm mum first, runner second).

Chou and I set out near 9 am - it was cool and windy and delightful. I didn't have a watch, but I've nearly got the mile markers memorized now, so I figured I could get a solid three to four miles in. I ran to what I figured was about two, two and a half miles, then let Chou out at the park to play. I stretched and drank water, while a cool breeze kicked up and the clouds rolled in. After five minutes or so, I loaded Chou back up and set out for home the long way around to get another mile in. I felt good the entire time, the legs felt strong and frankly it didn't nearly feel as hard as it used to, even on the hills. This is good, as I certainly lack confidence in my leg strength - I need to feel strong once in a while.

We got home (Chou with slightly blue lips and cold hands. Um, whoops. Guess the wind was really cool. Sorry, kid), and I mapped it out. 4.22 miles. Sweet. It didn't feel that far.

Lucky 13 sleeps until the half marathon. I think I'm ready.

She's clearly feeling better, though not 100%.

Trying a chokecherry...

What she thinks of chokecherries. She spat it out seconds later.

Chou in the morning sun

And everybody send positive vibes to lucky Jen P who right now is running her second half marathon in this pregnancy...in Maui. Lucky girl.

Testing my mettle

2009-09-19T10:20:00.002-06:00

These few weeks sans-husband have flown by. We leave for Ottawa in four sleeps and, until yesterday, I've been on a I-can-totally-be-a-single-mum-and-train-and-work kick. Then yesterday afternoon Chou starting getting cranky. She's never cranky, so I felt her head. Sure enough she felt warm, but not hot. We continued with our day.

By 5:30 she was getting much warmer and much crankier, I made dinner but all she did was scream and cry at her fork. Yeah, after two minutes of that and three yawns, I figured it was beddy-bye time for this cranky seed.

At six, we were upstairs, getting into jammies, taking temperatures, grabbing cuskie and cuddling. She nursed a bit while I took her temperature. It was rising pretty quickly and she was getting that glassy-eyed look I've seen in other kids with a high temp but never in Chou. When the thermo said close to 39, I gave her tylenol and rocked her to sleep. She was out in minutes.

For me, this is all new territory. As a momma, I know I'm blessed to have one healthy kid (I credit the fact that she's always nursed, eats very well and has inherited my immunity. The kid's constitution is like a dray horse, seriously). She had croup as a six-month old and spiked a fever after her vaccinations once, but this is her first real sicky fever. Touch wood, but I've never been up with a snurgly/coughing baby, never cleaned up a puked-on crib in the middle of the night, never rocked her for hours or slept in the chair. I know we've got years to go where all those things will likely happen, but last night, as my flushed and fevered babe nuzzled into my neck, I wondered if I knew what I was doing.

I prepared myself mentally for a very tough night. I had visions of her waking every four hours as the tylenol wore off. How I'd have to keep it up and get cold clothes and sleep in the chair. And as I prepared for it all, I realized that yes, I could do this and I would take care of her and she would be fine.

The night went surprisingly well - I sneaked in to check on her at 9:30. She woke up, snuggled, nursed a bit and went back to bed. The fever was down, but not gone. She slept until 3:30, nursed again, this time wasn't very warm and then awoke at 6 bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

But now it's 10, and she after a fine morning of eating, playing and pooping, she got cranky again, feverish and asked to go to bed at 9:30. Poor thing. All I want to do is crawl in the crib with her, curl her against me and sing her to sleep. Except that she wanted to go in her crib, alone, rolled over and promptly feel asleep.

I know I should be thankful for such an easy sick baby, but a little bit of me wouldn't mind being needed just a bit more, thank you.

Personality

2009-09-16T11:09:00.003-06:00

Next week marks a year and a half of Chou outside the womb. 18 months of my life has never gone so quickly.

My monthly Chou updates usually list her "firsts", her new skills, teeth and words, but this month it's all about who Chou IS, not just what she can do.

Because Chou is becoming, well, Chou. My BabyCentre newsletter confirmed what I already knew - 18 months marks a sort of end to babyhood and the real beginning of childhood. Yes, they all have personality from day one, but the kind of person Chou is is now cementing itself. I love what I see (biased or not).

Chou is social, friendly, affectionate and funny. She doesn't have an ounce of shyness or respect for personal space, come to think of it. She's also willful, determined, a bit of a bruiser and a pleasure seeker. I dare say she's confident, given that she rarely seems to need any sort of encouragement from me to jump into a melee of kids or a new situation.

She's a greeter - Hi! - she says to everyone, upon their entry into the post office, the grocery store or her general vicinity. Kids she met two minutes before at the park deserve a hug and kiss goodbye, along with a wave. Anyone under five feet tall, and even those taller, are already friends because they are there. No other details required.

It warms my heart to see Chou so eager to get to daycare. This morning, after I dressed her and turned off the morning news, she promptly walked to the door and then to the bike trailer, ready to go (nevermind that it was 10 minutes early and I had to do loops around town to kill time). When we arrive, she hops out, climbs the steps, knocks, opens the door and claps and squeals with delight at the sight of the others. I quick kiss for me and a wave and she's gone before I can say hello to her caregiver.

And I know I'm blessed when S, her caregiver, hugs and smoochers her and tells me how much entertainment and joy Chou brings to their day. I know she means it too, because I've watched the kids play. Not all kids add to the fun of the day. It never gets old to be told your child is well-adjusted, outgoing, fun, bright and a character.

She's not without her challenges, of course. Chou hits and can get rather stubborn (I wonder where she gets that from?). The hitting isn't out of malice, but she's strong and can hurt even the bigger kids, mummy included. We're working on this, though saying she's sorry and timeouts seem to do nothing to curb the behavior. Any ideas? A part of me wants some other kid to smack her back, but you can't really tell them that, now can you?

This month, this 1.5 years, this 18 month milestone, feels like a sort of graduation for me. My daughter and I are friends. We go for long walks in the evening, picking up treasures (pine cones, sticks and rocks). Seriously, that kid can motor, for a loooong time. We were out for 45 minutes last night, walking. We seek out animals of every kind, chat with the neighbors we meet. She and I have tickle fights, dance parties and snuggle fests at 6:30 in the morning (when she greets me with a kiss and a bear hug). Chou is learning which plants to eat (mint, chokecherries, crapapples) and which to not (chokecherries, random berries, flowers), and the names of insects, plants and grasses. Whether she understands or not, I talk to her like she can, like my parents did with me, because one day she will understand and maybe sooner than I think.

She's saying "Cheese!"

The $1,000 TV that reproduces

2009-09-13T19:47:00.003-06:00

The Chou and I had a relaxing Sunday on our own. We were up at seven, coffee'd, pancake'd and done talking to daddy by nine. My knees were a bit owie, but I was pleasantly surprised by how good my legs felt after yesterday's 11.8 miles. I figured a) I had to get this kid out of the house and b) a brisk walk would help with recovery, so we headed into town, picked up a coffee and banana bread at the bistro and strolled to the big park.

Chou has no concept of "big kids" play structure and so manages to climb the big slides, the death-trap ladder and the kiddie climbing wall all the while I have a minor heart attack. Given the goose egg on her forehead from yesterday's wall-whacking, I'm understandably worried about the kid's eventual mental capacity if she keeps this up.

But I digress.

Our town is mighty quiet on a Sunday morning, but we did manage to find one other family with three golden retrievers to befriend. One of the dogs dropped a ratty old tennis ball and Chou walked all the way across the park (we're talking a good city block-length) to return the slobbery thing to the pups. So adorable.

After her monster afternoon nap (nearly three hours! Holy crap!), we headed into the Big City to check out the Halloween costumes at Old Gravy. I've learned something: I just need to let Chou walk more places. Sure, it's slower but the kid needs to move - carts are for grocery shopping, when I can, I let her loose. Inside Old Gravy she taunted the kids in their strollers and squealed with glee as she removed most hats and vests at (her) eye level. I managed to find zero clothes for me and a few cute things for her that I'm not sure I'll keep. I also had her try on the ladybug costume. We're totally getting it. Eventually. (They're less than 10 bucks on Halloween. I'm cheap.)

(Don't worry, I'm getting to the reproducing TV)

We left the store and what did I spot across the parking lot? A store I never thought to introduce Chou to - Petland. You may as well just call it Crackland for her, she loves animals so much. We easily killed 45 minutes in there. The kitties were right at her height and the bars are far enough apart for her chubby hands to get through. And then she saw the plexiglass full of bouncing/shitting/barking balls of fluff ...and was enthralled. She ran from pane to pane, saying "Woo, Woo!" (her version of woof, woof), banging on the glass, clapping, bouncing and generally having the best. time. ever.

I stared in awe. Not just at the mesmerizing effect the puppies had on her, but their price tag. These maltese/yorkie/random other small dog things were going for ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

Wow.

I have no words.

Any who, at some point she moves on to the kennels of larger dogs - three runs of golden labs, all different ages. The two in the middle are play fighting and as she approaches the glass one LUNGES for her - she screams and falls flat on her butt, a little scared but then oddly entertained that the dog couldn't get her. Hello, 3-D! They really should charge admission.

I felt terrible tearing her away from her favorite show, but there was a blue tongue skink to pet and dinner to be made at home. That, and I have to figure out a way to install plexiglass and mutt-puppies in the wall at home.

Mouth full of banana bread, on the death ladder

I was trying to capture just how massive the cottonwoods are in our park, but without a wide angle lens, I can't. Because they are that massive. Does that mean I accomplished what I set out to do? This is the longest photo caption ever.

Please note gigantic bruise in the middle of her forehead AND the mosquito bite on the bridge of her nose. Poor thing.

The big (almost) 12

2009-09-12T12:31:00.003-06:00

Miles: 11.8 (I ended up changing my route and decided to run to 2:10 instead of a marker. I was at my door at 2:08 and decided that was enough. Clearly, it was .2 miles NOT enough but whatever)
Time: 2:08:02 (10:50 min/mile)
Number of dogs that chased me: 3
Number of dogs I chased back: 3
Number of horses I saw: 3
Number of cats that followed me, so I stopped to pet them: 1
Number of idiots who didn't slow down on the gravel road and threw rocks and dust in my face: All of them
Minutes with iPod: 77
Minute when iPod died (from over-sweatyness): 78
Number of sore knees: 2
Number of super slow miles: the last 2

All in all, a good last long run before the half, but dammit I wanted 12.1 and ended up .2 short of 12. I'm pissed about that, but I figure I'll make it up by actually running during this taper, as opposed to last time when I ran 12 miles and then took two weeks off. Right.

The first 1 hr, 30 min of this run felt fabulous and I'd say this is the best I've felt throughout a run this long ever. This all bodes well for the half.

I am a bit disappointed with my pace. (Yes, I know it IS a long slow distance run) but I tend to run at the same pace regardless. This would put me at over 2:20 for the half...which is ok, but I'm really hoping for sub 2:20. I'm going to have to push it a bit more. I will say miles 1-9 were at a decent pace. I really really really slowed down those last miles. Any advice on workouts I can do over the next week to stick it out miles 10-13?

And now, pictures. Here's the fun part, on my long 12 last year I found horses. This year, they found me. I had no clue any lived at this one house, but as I approached three scrub ponies came trotting out of the bush to say hello. I figure that was a good omen.

Me, happy for hay bales, scrub ponies and a gorgeous morning.

It smells as good as it looks.

See? Hills in Saskatchewan. This is a small hill. I live in a very hilly place. It's gorgeous.

The two hour mark and still smiling and not entirely beet red. I felt good, just tired legs.

That good stink

2009-09-11T13:44:00.003-06:00

There are several smells in this world that, to me, are pure bliss - even though to someone else they may be down right icky. Horses, manure and all, can never repel me. Your newborn's vernix and birth juice covered head is NOT icky, contrary to what all those hospital folk trying to rub off all the good stuff try and tell you. Being sweaty with soil under your finger nails and smelling of outside never fails to bring me back to being a kid at the farm.

On today's lunch time run, I drew in a good breath about 25 minutes in and realized I could smell a decidedly pleasant aroma and, lo and behold, it was coming from me. Well, my running tank to be exact. Now, I'm not talking about Swass, because that is always gross, and I don't mean this smell comes off any of my running shirts either. It must be the lack of armpits on this thing, but today my tank smelled of outside, sunshine, sweat and whatever polymer its made of that, combined, smelled like heaven.

I'm pretty sure this isn't what they mean by runner's high, but I'll take what I can get.

A little heartbreak

2009-09-10T09:46:00.002-06:00

Mr. Wumpus is out of town for a few weeks. Chou and I have 15 nights on our own before we see him again (three down, 12 to go). For the most part, Chou is oblivious - she plays at daycare all day and runs around the yard like a crazy person in the evenings. If she notices Daddy isn't around, she's not saying.

Except at night time. Daddy is the designated bather in our house. He's also story-reader and final lights out Night Night, Seepy Seepy (sic) guy.

Last night, after an evening out learning about all the amazing cloth diapering options and picking up some sweet deals, I nursed her and when she signed All done! I reached for her books. She promptly sat straight up, pointed at the door and exclaimed, Daddy!

When he didn't appear, as he always does, she turned and looked at me - wondering where exactly the story-reader had gone.

My heart broke, my eyes filled up and I told her we'd see daddy soon. Then I started the Going to Bed Book and she settled in for stories.

I know she's too young to understand he's coming back, but she's certainly old enough to know he's not there, and that bothers me. I know it's only temporary, but she doesn't and my heart hurts for her, just a little.

There ought to be "running doulas"

2009-09-09T14:03:00.002-06:00

The most effortless runs I've done have been with a buddy. Come to think of it, and this is strange, so have some of my toughest runs, in the physical sense. But by far the most psychologically tough (totally a term I can use) workouts have been on my own.

Today, as I did a quick 4 miler over lunch, I passed the woman we bought our house from going the other way. We smiled and waved and carried on. A big part of me wanted to zip around and run with her and chat.

It got me thinking about how quickly 10 or even 20 minutes can pass when someone is telling you a good story or pouring their heart out or complaining about their spouse. Suddenly, you look up and three miles have dropped behind you.

I realized that this is part of what having a doula in labour is like - it's companionship, someone to help, support or distract based on whatever it is you need. I need one of those for running, at least part of the time. Sure, I have an iPod or talk to myself to pass the time, but it's not the same. Just someone else being there makes every mile easier, though maybe not faster.

Running is a solo sport, sure. And don't get me wrong, I value that alone time, the quiet, the simplicity of one foot in front of the other. But my happiest runs are tandem runs. Even when they go far longer than planned, even when they're cold and slushy or windy while I'm pushing a stroller, even when the conversation is infrequent the same holds true: It's just nice to run with someone. I miss my "someones".

You should see the other kid

2009-09-08T14:32:00.002-06:00

That, my friends is what happens when your "I can do everything, Mummy" 17-month old steps off her stool and smacks her face on the kitchen counter. This picture doesn't fully capture the purple, yellow, puffy grossness that is her right eye. The most amazing part? She screamed for a bit and then got over it, and now, just a few days later, it's a bit yellow but mostly healed. The kid's eye was so swollen we tried to ice it (with Saskatoon berries in a ziploc) but all she wanted to do was eat them. Toddlers' resiliency and healing powers truly stun me.

The gray hairs I got watching that eye swell are not so lucky.

Thanks, Ina May

2009-09-07T15:25:00.005-06:00

As part of the process in getting my doula certification, I have to read five books (from a list of oh, 30) and sign a paper saying I've done so. An avid (rabid?) reader, I'd already read a few of them and managed at least two more in preparation for my workshop. I'm on to the final "required" read and still have several on request at the library. Like I said, rabid reader over here.

I'm in the middle of Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth, a fantastic read, especially for women who have never given birth. The book begins with pages and pages of positive birth stories - real life, some complicated, some too good to sound true, some gritty but all real and positive. No horror stories here. It's refreshing and invigorating to read and we all need to hear more of the good stuff, because most of the time, that's what happens.

But I'm off track. This was supposed to be a training report. Right.

What I found most fascinating in Ina May's book is not that there is a big-time commune holed up in Tennessee pushing out amazing birth outcomes (a less than 2% c-section rate is unheard of ANYWHERE), it's that she documents the power of the mind in labour. She can attest first, ahem, hand, at women actually regressing in dilation when they felt threatened (by a rough internal exam at hospital) or when they had something mentally holding them back. She talks about how simply saying a positive mantra (whether you first mean it or not) can have an amazing impact on how your body reacts and works in labour.

Which got me thinking about training. My 9 mile run last week was a piss off and a disappointment and had me seriously considering dropping the Flatlanders half. But upon reading this book, and reading how real women were able to zip through labours by chanting "I can too open to 10 cm" or actually close down 2 cm because of fear, I knew that I too could do 10 GOOD miles if I told myself I could.

I started out taking my own, Jen P's and P Bear's advice and didn't drink or eat crap for the days leading up to my run. I stayed hydrated and, most importantly, mentally prepared for a good 10 miles. I mapped a much more enjoyable route, had a decent sleep and got out the door only an hour later than I had hoped (and still in the morning).

At mile 6, I did actually say out loud, I can too run 10 miles. At mile 7.5, I was tired and my legs were tired, but I felt heaps better than the same point last week. I took at gel at 54 minutes and then at 1 hr 22 min. That was a good idea. By 1 hr 35 minutes I was tired, my knees hurt and I was slowing down, but I was also very close to home. I decided that I wasn't going to stop at my designated end point (that would have been just shy of 10 miles), instead I was going to run to 1 hr 50 min and just see where that got me. I ended up adding way more than I thought I could and felt positively GOOD at 1 hr 45 min. I turned the last stretch of road for home (an incline!) and stopped the watch at 1 hr 49 min 41 seconds...and ended up with 10.28 miles in the can. Uh yeah, that's over 20 seconds faster per mile than last week, 1.3 miles further and I felt 100% better. The knees were a bit sore, my hams and quads very tired yesterday, so I've got work to do over the next three weeks, but kids, I TOO CAN RUN 13.1 MILES.

Thanks, Ina May.

Get this woman a cape

2009-09-04T13:22:00.005-06:00

Some days it all comes together.

I've had two consecutive days of amazacrazy get 'er done sort of rock 'n rolling that makes me think everything and anything is possible.

For instance, today I have homemade bread cooling on the counter, diapers sun-bleaching on the rack, a slumbering toddler (daycare is closed this week), I just got some great feedback on an article and I've lined up my first guest blogging appearance (details on that later). Add to that that I've made a great contact in town who I think will become a friend and also a great resource for my freelance work, and badabing! this week kicks.

My hills workout on Wednesday was nothing to write home about, but I did it, in the heat, when I didn't want to. Today I'll do an easy 5 or 6 mile trot about town and start counting down the short month I have left until the half. I've cleaned up my diet, tossed out the liquor (figuratively) and upped my fish oil and B vitamins.

Now, if I could just cure cancer and fix my cowlicks the world we be a perfect utopia.

Ragamuffin

2009-09-02T10:26:00.002-06:00

A word of advice

2009-08-31T08:08:00.004-06:00

I learned some valuable lessons during yesterday's nine mile run.

Namely:
Don't spend the entire previous evening drinking three (four?) glasses of rose wine and stuffing yourself full of lasagna and Reese Peanut Butter Cup ice cream.

Also, drink more water. The day before and the day of. Maybe don't have cherry pie after lunch, and within an hour of your run.

Don't blow off the morning run time slot because of a very awake baby at 6 am, only to run in the afternoon when it's hot out.

After all of the above, don't do an out and back. By minute 50, I knew it was going to be a tough run. I got stopped twice for directions, had two side stitches and my legs felt like lead the entire run. It never got better. My gel didn't seem to do anything and I walked more times than I care to admit in the last 30 minutes. My iPod died around the time I thought things were getting better. Oh, yeah, did I swear.

Add to that, that I had planned 10 and not nine miles and well, it was a very disappointing day. But I got home and re-evaluated. I think I know what went wrong and I have a plan to remedy the situation this week. Sunday's 10 miler is going to be better. It just has to be. On the plus side, I did manage over 16 miles of running last week (that's good) and this morning I feel good and the legs don't feel like I did nine miles (that's also good).

This week, I've got hills to do, a tempo run or two, plus the 10 miler. I'll sneak in some Shred and Yoga and it'll be a good week.

Or so I keep telling myself.

Vibe received

2009-08-28T13:17:00.001-06:00

We have our first playdate lined up for Sunday. And no, it's not with any of the people I've been trying to stalk. In fact, I haven't seen any of them since I wrote about putting out the vibe. Perhaps they read my blog?

Perhaps.

The easy decision is not making one, but that only works for so long

2009-08-26T13:16:00.004-06:00

Raising babies is tough work, y'all.

(I've been watching a lot of True Blood. I find myself talking like Britney Spears's redneck sister-cousin more and more these days. Don't judge me. The show is fangtastic.)

The "being mummy" thing has come easily in so many ways and then not so much in others. The work/life/mummy balance thing is always a struggle. I'll admit there are days I don't much care for being a mother, days I wonder if I'm really cut out for this and then others (and they outnumber the bad) that I'm on top of the world, am pretty sure I have it ALL figured out and believe I could handle a house full of the little suckers and each and everyone of them would turn out to be productive members of society.

When I get my head out of La-la Land I'm faced with the reality that, frankly, we're not about to have a house-full...but are we going to have more? Another one? Chou Two? Sea Monkey, the Sequel?

It's a bigger deal this time around, I think, and Mr. Wumpus agrees.

The first time out of the gate, it's all love and round bellies and the promise of cherub cheeks and baby shower gifts. The second time it's about facing going on the peanuts that is mat leave again, staying home with OHMYGOD two babies and staying sane, about my own personal and professional goals, about howdoweaffordtwoballetclassespluschildcare and
ohshitwhataboutuniversityandwe'llneverbealoneagain.

Yes, the mind wobbles.

But then, there's me and Chou in the back yard playing on the Weee (the slide), and she looks at me and calls me boring with her eyes and I think, Dear lord, child you need a brother or a sister.

Except that it also means that I'd have another daughter or a son. And the enormity that is that responsibility surrounds me and consumes me and I think, "I don't know".

Here's how it plays out. A) I can't imagine my life without my siblings. Being an only child seems like a sad and lonely childhood and, yes, even adulthood. So Chou should have one. B) I loved my pregnancy and would do it again in a heartbeat some days, also: B i) I want to experience a natural birth...and while there are no guarantees that my next birth will be anything different from my first, I do really want to know what it's like to just go into labour, to feel my contractions build and change, to soak in a labour tub and, yes, even experience crowning. I'm not a masochist, I don't want to go through pain, I want to fully experience a natural labour. There's a difference.

(As an aside, I consider Chou's birth a positive birth experience, but not necessarily the most satisfying. There's a large part of me that feels like I missed out on something huge and I want to be a part of that, especially considering that I'm working on becoming a doula and possibly a midwife. Sure, it's not necessary, it's just a feeling.)

Balanced against points A, B, and B-i, are a few things, most of which are selfish, but let's all be honest here - we're all a little selfish. First, Mr. Wumpus and I have two incomes for the first time in a long, long time. There are things we'd like to get ahead on, things we'd like to buy, projects we'd like to do, trips we'd like to take. Mat leave means no money, but it's not just the year of leave, it's the fall out after...how do you afford all these things with FOUR plane tickets to pay for and on a reduced income (because let's face it, going back to work full time with two kids? not going to happen).

But more than the income question is the timing question. I have things I want to pursue. Classes I want to take. New career options I want to explore. Having another child means putting all that off (and for how long?). I'm not the most patient person, and I even start to imagine going back to school with a 4 and 2 year old and I cringe.

Which brings us back to do we or don't we? And then when?

Because when I write it all out like this, the part of me that recognizes this isn't a logic-only question, knows that we don't know what forever brings. A few years in a lifetime is really nothing. And having a new life and a new soul as part of our family is a lifetime of joy.

Now if only you could use joy to pay your mortgage.

***
All Caddywumpus comments generator: How did you decide to have more kids and when to stop? How do you know when your family is complete? How do you balance life/love/work/family/goals?

Putting out the vibe

2009-08-25T09:49:00.002-06:00

I've decided to start stalking a few people in town.

Whoa, before you get the wrong idea, let me explain.

I need to find a) friends b) playdate friends for Chou and c) running buddies.

In the nearly three months we've been here we've had exactly ONE neighbor visit. Sure, a few people have stopped to chat but only once have we had anyone over for an evening visit. Chou and I have been to exactly zero playdates and all of my runs (save the one with a visiting Jen P) have been solo.

In a word, it sucks.

Sure, it's summer. Most people are on holidays, have cabins (our next door neighbors are NEVER home) or have their own social circles that must be very complete. But after this long, I've decided it's time to take matters in my own hands.

Most notably, I've started taking a very specific loop when I go for walks. I just so happen to know that there's a new mum with a one month and 2 year old a few blocks away and another mum with a nearly 2 year old a few streets over. One of the streets is a dead end, so it is a bit strange to take that road, but if they're bright they'll realize I'm trying to "bump" into them. Sneaky, hey?

As for running buddies, I'm doing something I never have....going to the Running Room for one of their free Sunday morning runs. My timing is bit poor, as the half marathon clinic is three weeks ahead of my training and they'll be doing 13 miles this week when I can only do 10. Nonetheless, the woman I spoke with encouraged me to come and said that she'd announce that I was doing 10 and see if anyone wanted to join me. Failing that, I'll just turn for home a little sooner. I don't know the routes that well, but I think I can find my way home...I'll leave a gel trail or something.

And then there's the doula group. Thankfully, there are several mums with young kids in the group and I've invited myself over this weekend to chat and let the kids play.

I'm putting out the vibe people! Pick it up!