Three

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.

BFFs

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.

Historic day in Wumpusland

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

Role model

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What it's like to be punched in the boobs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect

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

Two, in pictures

Two

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

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.

Green, pink, dark, mine, own

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.

Huck!

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.

What happens when I do this?

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.

On measuring up and vomiting

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.

Positivity

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.

Stroller Derby

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.

Personality

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!"

Switched at birth

If she didn't bear a striking resemblance to me and if I hadn't seen her physically come out of my vagina I would wonder sometimes if Chou Chou is even my daughter.

Case in point: She likes to clean. A lot. Scrubbing, wiping, sweeping, you name it, she loves it.

Point two: She doesn't like messy clothes or schmutz on her hands, belly or arms. She points and says "Yucky" and then wants a cloth to wipe her hands.

Of course, she does shriek at the top of her lungs constantly, loves animals so much she hurts them with her squeezes and requires constant entertaining.

So maybe she is mine, after all.

Chou Chou sporting her Monkey Face

That's better

It's been a long time. Too long.

Today, I rolled out of bed sometime before 6:30 am, nursed my baby, layered myself in warm, mismatched clothing, grabbed a coffee mug and did something I haven't done in a long time: went to work with ponies.

I also left my baby for nearly 6 hours. SIX hours. She slept for nearly an hour after I got home so it was like being gone for seven. And we both survived. True story.

The barn is big - somewhere around 80 horses on the property most of which spend some portion of their day in a stall. There are sweet yearlings, trained race ponies, pregnant mamas and waiting stallions. I did the morning feeding rounds with another girl who works there. It took us over an hour. Seriously. But we hit it off and chatted the entire time, she filling me in on the much needed info of what to do, and me telling her all about my pony past and why I was there.

Why was I there, you ask? Therapy. Much-needed me time. Exercise. Fresh air. A change of scenery. Non-baby time. Take your pick, they all apply.

I came home (in a rush, of course), and once I saw that Chou was just fine and nuzzled in her crib, I was elated. Months of tension had melted away. I was in one of the best moods I've been since moving here. I was tired and smelly and full of joy at the perfectness of my day.

The plan for now is to make this a Saturday ritual - Chou gets daddy time, mummy gets me time, and the barn gets cleaned. Everybody wins.

The barn is, of course, not the same as back home. I miss Neena and crazy Flo. I miss J-9 and the rabble of misfits that would come and go every Saturday. I miss knowing all the ponies' names, where they go and where everything is. I miss the confidence I had in what was expected of me and what I could do. But it's also because of my experience at Flo and Neena's that I even felt qualified to call this woman and tell her I wanted to come work for her. For that, I'm forever grateful.

Now if I could just muck stalls everyday, with Chou strapped to my back, for enough cash to live on, the world would be perfect. Ah, I'll take what I can get. Me time is enough for now.

Breakthrough

The Chou has been working hard at a few things these past few weeks: standing and walking and cutting her very first tooth. Her mum has been working very hard too; at not going stir crazy and trying to find a place to get her pony fix. We've both had breakthroughs, both figurative and literal, this week.

First off, after three days of one cranky, crying, screaming, gnawing infant, we finally have a tiny speck of tooth poking through the gum. It's her front right for those of you following along at home, and her first ever at 9 months and a few weeks. Right on time for what I did, apparently. But seeing as she started teething at month 4/5, I feel like it's been a long road.

And then there's the standing and walking. It's been exactly two weeks since she first balanced on her own. Now? She can stand a solid 10 or more seconds on her own, holding and chewing a toy, she can turn, sit down, stand back up with only one hand and balance again. And then? Then she'll take one and sometimes two balanced steps before either grabbing something, sitting down or, unfortunately for me, starting a face plant. Needless to say, I've been on my toes these few weeks. No, she's not walking, but she's going to put it all together soon and be off like a rocket. Crap.

My breakthrough is a little less momentous in some ways, depending on if you've ever had kids or not. I packed up wee Chou in the car this Tuesday and headed off to a racehorse breeding and training facility on the other side of the city. I walked in, got the tour and told this woman I wanted to come work for her. Just weekends to start (I DO have a baby after all), but who knows where that might lead. She seemed keen and we'll talk today about whether or not she figures it'll work for her. I'm nervous - half because I miss ponies so much and just want to go and muck stalls, walk babies and throw hay, and half because it'll mean leaving Chou for 5 hours at a shot, something I've never done.

That's my biggest hang up, and one I know I have to work on. Chou is 9 months old. She's on to solids three times a day in real volume, she plays, she ignores me, she naps well. There's no reason why her daddy can't look after her for more than an hour. Except for my own ridiculousness. And that daddy told me point-blank on Tuesday that he's not only willing to take care of her Saturday mornings, he WANTS to if it means a happier Ms. Wumpus. I feel for him, I do.

Perhaps the one most surprised by my chickenshitedness about leaving her is me. Every day I'm floored by just how unwilling I am to let her out of my sight for even an hour while I go run (which I have now done with someone other than her dad, yay me!). And part of me is totally ok with this - she is my baby, I am her mother and I want to be her primary caregiver - but part of me can't believe just how anxious and stressed the very thought of leaving her makes me. I think about the mums who have to go back to work at 6 weeks, 8 weeks, 6 months, and I think, "You're being a spoiled brat," but this is my reality and so leaving her at all at 9 months is hard for me. Full stop.

We'll see how this Saturday goes, if I go. Who knows, maybe the smell of alfalfa mix square bales, wood shavings and fluffy equines will over ride my extreme need to be next to my infant.

I can hope.



Chou would like to add: A very happy birthday to cousin Matthew who turns eight today. Eat cake for us, please!

Give her a hand, folks

Yesterday went better than planned. Sure, I ate two more delicious treats than I would have liked, but I managed to fill up on veggies and yet still enjoy sampling some of the amazing cookies put together by my lady friends. I now have a freezer full of (to name a few) mudslide cookies, truffles, banana bread, iced sugar cookies and, yes, bourbon fudge. Oh cripes it's good.

I tallied up my points for the afternoon and was surprised to see that I was actually still within my daily allowance. The day wasn't a write off after all! I had a yummy dinner and a snack and managed to come in at just 2 points over (and I'm now OK with that). As Manateemomma pointed out, before WW, when she'd go to a party she'd consider the day a write off and just continue to eat junk for the balance of the day, whereas now, she realizes that she can work that party binge into what's reasonable for her to consume and still salvage the day and week's work of losing. I like that. Yesterday was the first day I felt like that. It's liberating and empowering and encouraging.

And then there's the Chou's big achievement - clapping. She discovered this trick on her own, for the most part, and it was truly hilarious to watch the understanding dawn on her face. The face quickly turned into a scrunched up grin, then came the screech of delight. Goodness is she proud of herself for this one. She now claps for everything, including her ability to clap. We've created a monster.

On a training note, and because this post seems to be entirely random, I've officially signed up for my next half marathon. It's May 24th, which seems really far away, until I count the 15 or so weeks of training, and then, well, it's not far away at all. Of course, as I look out my window at the fresh foot of snow covering the world, I wonder how I'm ever going to really train in January and February. I need Speedo Steve to come shovel the local track. I wonder how much he'd charge?