Flashback Friday ...

Yesterday, Dizzle and I were looking at some old pictures when we stumbled upon this gem ...

Yeah. That's me. Circa December 2002. I was 20 years old and about 195 lbs.

When Dizzle saw this picture, the first thing she said was, "Mom. That's you before you cut your hair." My thought was, "Yes. It's also when I had apparently swallowed a cow." But before those words came out of my mouth, I had a second thought.

Compare this picture (from September 2010) to the one above.


The first thing I notice is that I am much thinner now. But, not Dizzle. She didn't notice my size at all. What she saw was her mom - just with different hair. She wasn't critical of me in the least. So why was I?

Without even realizing it, she reminded me that I need to accept my body for what it is (good or bad). And that I need to love it for what it can do (make babies, rock a running skirt, run a marathon) and forgive it for what it can not (fit into a size 0).

Wow. Wonder if Dizzle realizes how smart she is? Probably.

the end of an era ...

It's over. Done. Complete. History.

For the first time since August of 2004 (yes, that's right. nearly 5 1/2 years), I can officially say, "My body is my own!" I am no longer growing or feeding another human being. And I.NEVER.WILL.EVER.AGAIN.

It's surprisingly liberating and not nearly as sad as I thought it might be. I am excited to move on to the next stage of our lives. To watch our children grow into their own people. I am excited to not have to alter my food/beverage consumption based on the needs of another. I am excited to run. To the point of exhaustion. And not have to worry about the impact it might have on one of my offspring. And although it's the end of an era, I somehow feel more complete by having made it through, sleepless nights and all.

now I get it ...

This past fall, during marathon training, G and I were completing mid-week eight milers. I thought they were agony. I hated the thought of getting up early to run them (so not an early morning runner) and squeezing an eight miler in while taking care of three little ones is not an easy task. But somehow, I logged the miles, rather begrudgingly.

G, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy these runs. She even said to me, "Once this training is over, I think I am going to keep doing these mid-week long runs." I looked at her like she was crazy. I just couldn't understand why anyone would want to or could manage doing that. Until yesterday.

You see, yesterday was the first day of preschool for Doodle (she and Dizzle are now in the same class). Which meant it was the first day that I only had one child to watch. For four hours. It was bliss. My house was quiet. I wasn't stressed.

Taking advantage of my lighter load, I put Dilly down for a nap and jumped on the treadmill. My plan had been to run three. But while I was running (and decompressing) I wanted to go further. So I did. And in that moment, I understood what G was talking about. I could picture a day where I had no kids to watch (or just one to push in the stroller). I could picture a long mid-week run with ease. It was magical. And I can't wait for it to happen ...

2009 review and 2010 goals

It's been a big year in our house. We had our third (and last) child. We bought a new house, one which we hope to live in for a VERY LONG TIME. J started a new job. I started my own business. We've watched our children grow and flourish. We've watched them frustrate (both us and themselves). Things have been good. We are blessed. And happy.

It's also been a big year on the running front. It started with me all huge and waddling. Running at the end of a pregnancy is a rather awkward thing (but I would highly recommend sticking with it if you can). Once Dilly arrived, I was forced to take a three week hiatus. I did. Then returned to running (and racing) 23 days after Dilly's birth. I ran the Youngblood 5K, which I finished in 27:35 and somehow placed 3rd in my age group. Yes, there were only nine people in my age group, but I still beat six of them!

I used the rest of the spring to build my speed before marathon training began. I ran two 10K, an 8k and two 5Ks between April 1st and May 31st. By the end of May, I had gained back most of the speed I had lost during my pregnancy. I even set a new 5K PR of 25:19. Definitely the highlight of the year.

June 1st started half-marathon training, which led right into marathon training. Over the next 24 weeks, I logged almost 600 miles. In that same time, I PR'd at the Patrick Henry Half in a time of 2:18:18. That same day I suffered severe dehydration and was inches away from heat stroke. Not my best running moment. But at least it taught me to NEVER run another half marathon in the middle of summer in the South. Seems so obvious now ...

After that half, marathon training went well. Until four weeks out. My ankle started acting up. I had to back off on mileage. And then I fell down the stairs and hurt my other foot. It was rough. I did almost no running in the last three weeks of training. But on race day, I was standing at the start line ready to go. Before the race was half over, my ankle gave out. I didn't know at the time but it was severely sprained. I finished, slower than I had hoped, but amazingly I loved every moment of it.

I would have to take the next three weeks off due to that injury. But after a cast and a dose of cortisone, I came back, perhaps stronger than before. Today, I logged my last run of 2009. And while I missed my goal of 1000 miles, I am rather happy with what I did accomplish. And very hopeful for 2010. So here they are, my 2009 totals and 2010 goals:

2009:
921.35 miles run
110,562 calories burned
3 PRs set
at least 50 cupcakes eaten

2010 goals:
run 1000 miles
run a 2 hour half marathon
run a sub-25 5K
run a sub 7:10 mile
eat less than 50 cupcakes

What will you do in 2010?

they catch on to more than you think ...

I'd like to believe that my little ones will stay little forever. Obviously, I know that's not possible. But I do my best to keep them blissfully unaware of some of the more mature aspects of life (you can see where this is going, right?) But apparently, I'm not really winning that battle. This was the conversation I had with Dizzle yesterday.

Dizzle: What happens when you kiss?

Me (puzzled look on face): Um, nothing?

Dizzle: No, what happens when you kiss? Did Daddy and you kiss and I was born a couple weeks later?

Me (completely shocked): Um, not really. It took a little more than that. Dizzle, we kiss people to show them we love them.

Dizzle: Oh, OK. Can I kiss you to show you I love you?

Me (relieved): Yes, you can kiss me and show me you love me.

And with that, I dodged a bullet. Hopefully, for a LONG TIME ...

good day ...

You know those days when you just want to crawl back into bed and hide from the world? The ones that are so bad that you wish you could just fast forward to tomorrow or next week or next month? Well, today WAS.SO.NOT.THAT.DAY.

I woke up this morning to an email from G with the title "OMG!" and just the words, "YOU WON!" After about half a second, I knew exactly what she was talking about. I had won the i declare! giveaway on one my favorite blogs - Tall Mom on the Run. The prize was this totally sweet necklace. I can't wait to sport it during the marathon.

And speaking of the marathon, after some pretty wretched ankle pain this weekend, I have gotten two short runs in without any discomfort. A fact that definitely brightened my day. Add to that the fact that I received a bunch of bow orders today and sold some baby gear, I am definitely on cloud nine.

But I'm not gloating ...

That would just be mean.

wild oats ...

Let me just start by saying that up until this point none of my kids have had any food allergies. Well, unless you count that Dizzle swears up and down that she can't eat anything green, thus eliminating 90% of the world's vegetables. But, seriously, we have been fortunate enough to not have to worry about what the girls have been eating.

Until now. You see, back on vacation, Dilly had what I thought was a bout of food poisoning. A case of tainted formula. She threw up pretty much non-stop for 20 minutes. In an aquarium. A "Eco-friendly" aquarium, without paper towels on site. Let's just say it was rough. I assumed that she was sick from the formula which had been stored in our fridge when the power had gone out. It made total sense and seeing that she didn't get sick again, it was obvious I was right.

But then came yesterday. A seemingly normal day. Until nap time, when I found Dilly laying in a puddle of vomit. Laughing. It was an odd picture. She clearly wasn't ill, but at some point in the two hours she was in her crib, she had thrown up. At first I didn't think much of it. But then I connected the dots. I asked myself, "What was the same about today and the last time she spewed bodily fluids everywhere?" The answer: OATMEAL.

The morning she got sick on vacation she ate it and guess what was on the menu for breakfast yesterday (for the first time since vacation, might I add) ... It got me thinking that maybe something else is going on here. Could Dilly be allergic to oat?

So, I called the doctor and the nurse thought I might be right and suggested that I not feed it to her again (for at least a year) and that I mention it to the doctor at Dilly's next checkup. Easy peasy, right? Wrong! Because the more I thought about it (and the possibility of life without oats) the more uneasy I got. I needed to know. NOW! So, I decided to feed her oatmeal again, and risk getting vomit all over the place. And I did. At lunch today. A full three hours ago. And we're still good. Hopefully, it will stay that way. Because vomit is SO.NOT.FUN.

baby names ...

So, a bunch of our friends have recently had or are about to have new babies. This recent population boom has peaked Dizzle's interest and she has been asking what seems like a million questions about babies. Yesterday, she asked me, "What happens if you have three babies in your belly." I told her that if you had three babies in your belly, you are about to be really busy. She thought that was a totally suitable answer. So did I.

But of all the questions she has asked and the conversations we've had, my favorite had to be this one:

Dizzle: "When I am a mommy, what will my babies' names be?"

Me: "Well, Dizzle. Their names will be whatever you want them to be."

Dizzle: "I want you to pick."

Me: "I can't. That's not my choice. It's yours. I got to choose the names for my babies. I picked your name and Doodle's name and Dilly's name. Make sense? So, what do you want to name your babies?"

Dizzle: (without hesitation) "Flower Girl and Spiderman"

What great names Dizzle! How did you ever come up with them? I can't hardly wait to be the proud grandmother to Flower Girl and Spiderman.

pincushion ...

Last night, Dilly did not sleep. Therefore, I did not sleep.

This morning, Dilly was running a fever. Therefore, I got so worked up that I felt like I was running a fever.

Crazy how that happens.

So after a sleepless night of endless screaming, I took Dilly to the doctor, where they checked her out and found that while her fever had broke, she may have an ear infection. Which may or may not have caused her fever. And since they had no real answers and didn't really like the fact that a two month old was running a fever, they ran a CBC (skin jab number one).

Once those results came back (with an elevated white blood cell count), she needed more test. Because, obviously, she was fighting off something. Maybe an ear infection. Maybe not.

So, my teeny weeny baby was taken back to the treatment room, where they used a catheter to get a urine sample (skin jab number two) and a really big needle to get a blood sample (jab number three). She cried. And I cried. It's so hard to watch your baby in pain. Especially pain you are allowing others to inflict on her.

Then, if the first three pokes weren't enough, she got a shot of antibiotics, which the nurse so pleasantly told me, "will hurt a lot. It stings because the antibiotic is so thick." THANKS! Because I didn't feel bad enough.

The great thing is that we still have no idea why she is running a fever. And the even better part is that we get to go back tomorrow so that my little pincushion can get jabbed some more. Dilly, I am so sorry ...

songwriting. Dizzle style ...

Remember last week when I mentioned Dizzle's interest in breastfeeding? Well, apparently my conversation with her was just the beginning of her fascination. You see, just the other day she came up with this little ditty ...

"I love my little boobies,
I love my little boobies,
I have little things like my boobies.
I don't like Doodle's boobies
Or the baby's boobies,
Just big girl boobies like I have."

And right there, in that very moment, I almost peed my pants ... because I couldn't stop laughing ...

easy peasy ...

I have been asked several times this week, "How's life with three?" And every time I respond, "Easy peasy." And although it might seem that I am being facetious, I'm really not. Life with three (thus far) has been surprisingly easy. Aside from needing to allot extra time to get out of the house (and the obvious sleep deprivation), things have remained pretty much the same around here. Maybe it's the tight ship I run, maybe I am just a kick ass parent or maybe I just have really easy going children. Any which way, I'm not complaining.

And speaking of those easy going children, Dizzle and Doodle are a big part as to why things are going so well around here. To them, Dilly is the best thing since sliced bread. They are head over heals in love with their little sister. They always want to be a part of what Dilly is doing (which makes for some pretty uncomfortable nursing sessions). Oh, and the kisses. They are all about covering her in kisses. Very cute and very annoying all at the same time.

But, let's be honest here (if you don't want to slap me with all this "it's so easy talk" by now, I'm sure you will in about 30 seconds). So, back to my point. Let's be honest, I should have expected things to go this way, especially after my experience in labor and delivery. You see, despite being my longest labor, it was by far the easiest. Like crazy easy. So easy that at times I thought, "Wow! This is the most relaxing day I have had in over three years." And it really was. I basically spent the entire day pain-free (even before the epidural). Plus, I'm pretty sure I slept for seven of the eight hours I spent in that hospital bed. It was fantastic. (Go ahead, curse me out. I completely understand. I'll shut up now.)

got milk?

Apparently, the humor has returned full force our household, thanks to Dizzle, of course.

Upon our return home from the hospital, the topic of feeding Dilly came up. So, being the fantastic mother that I am, I attempted to simplify the process of breastfeeding so that a three-year old could understand (and not question) how her baby sister was going to be nourished. Here's how it went down:

Me: I am going to go feed Dilly.

Dizzle: How is she going to get the milk?

Me: Mommy is going to give it to her.

Dizzle: Oh. From where?

Me: Well, the milk come out of Mommy's boobies.

Dizzle: Can I watch?

Me: Um, sure. But there isn't really anything to see.

Dizzle: Oh, OK. Well, when can I get milk in my boobies? You know I have little boobies ....

Me: (laughter) Not for a very long time ...

See? I told you we'd find our funny bone again.

our last weekend as four ...

So, unless you are entirely oblivious, you know that Dilly will be here in three days. Seriously, three days. That's only 72 more hours of life as we know it. An incredibly small amount of time when you think about it. Right now, we are comfortable. We know our routine and things tend to flow smoothly (aside from the drama-queen tantrums the girls like to throw). But in the blink of an eye, that will all be over.

Last go-round, I made a relatively easy transition. Dizzle was on a set schedule and I forced Doodle to get in line with it. Plus, it probably didn't hurt that Dizzle ignored Doodle for the first few months or so. No major jealousy or upheaval. And aside from the non-stop feedings and sleepless nights, things remained pretty much the same around here (I know I should stop bragging).

In my wildest dreams, the same thing is going to happen this time. We are all going to wake up on our first morning home and life will carry on as we know it (just slightly louder). Dizzle and Doodle will entirely adhere to their schedule and I will seamlessly blend Dilly into our family. Then, after an easy first two weeks, we will move into the new house and that won't disrupt us either. Piece of cake, right?

It's a nice dream, but I'm a realist. I know that's not going to happen. I know we are going to have to adjust and things probably won't be as perfect as I would like to imagine. Someone is going to feel ousted, someone is going to take priority and someone is going to have to wait. And last time I checked, kids don't like to wait for anything.

But for now, I am just enjoying our last weekend as a family of four. We are living our lives as usual, but I am doing my best to take it all in. In the last two days, I have becoming glaringly aware that Dizzle is about to grow up in a big way. I already expect a lot from her (as most parents do of their oldest), but I know that in no time those expectations are going to grow exponentially. I'm pretty sure that she's about to become even more self-sufficient. A crazy thing to expect from a three-year old.

At the same time, I am relishing in the fact that for a few more hours I can look at Doodle and see a baby, because even though she won't be any different three days from now, I know I will never see her the same way again. Or any of us for that matter ...

did I really think she was going to be small?

For basically this entire pregnancy, I have been measuring small. In recent weeks, I have been measuring even smaller (personally, I think I dropped). Anyway, this change (or lack there of) in my stomach size caused my doctor to order an ultrasound to "make sure everything is OK."

This immediately freaked me out. Obviously, all this running I have been doing is keeping my kid from growing (even though the nearly 30 pounds I have gained proves that I am growing just fine). And although, I measured small when I was pregnant with Doodle as well, I just couldn't completely shake the feeling that maybe I should rethink the whole running thing.

Until this morning.

Because the ultrasound just proved what I have always suspected ... J and I make giant babies. I mean, come on, it's not everyday that a 6'7" man and 5'9" woman have a super tiny baby. Sure, it can happen. But, seriously, it's not that likely.

Anyway, despite the fact that I am still measuring small (it must be those six-pack abs I have ... or maybe it's just the long torso), Dilly's growth is just fine. In fact, she's pretty hefty. Her head is measuring two weeks ahead (thanks, J) and the rest of her is right on target. They are estimating her current weight at 5.5 pounds (at 34 weeks. I know of full term babies who were born that size.) Calculate that weight out to 40 weeks and we are looking at approximately an 8.5 pound baby. Not what I would call small. But really, should I even be slightly shocked? Didn't think so.

and now I am prepared ...

Until yesterday, I really didn't have much prepared for Dilly's arrival. Sure, her bedroom is ready, but only because we staged the house for sale. And let's be honest, with seven weeks left and Dilly being baby girl number three, how much is there really for me to do at this point? Obviously, not much (unless she plans on making an early appearance).

Right now, the car seat is buried somewhere in the attic (J might know where. Personally, I don't go up there). But at least the base is strapped into the car. AND I've gone through our baby clothes. I haven't put anything away and the seasonally appropriate selection is looking scarce, but I have gone through it all.

But thanks to the miracle of the United States Postal Service, I am now fully prepared for Dilly's arrival. Because yesterday, Pampers sent me ONE newborn size diaper. That's right, ONE. Obviously, I can stop worrying that I haven't stocked up on diapers (or even purchased any at this point) because Pampers is coming through big time!

Seriously, what are you supposed to do with one diaper? That will last you approximately 20 minutes on a newborn, if you are lucky enough to put it on securely enough and a blowout doesn't ensue. And it's really not enough to determine whether or not you like a brand and would like to purchase more. I mean, with all the mark up on diapers (Pampers are like 36 a case, while Target brand is only 14 - how is that possible? they both suck up pee, right?), don't you think they could spare like 10? Maybe enough for a whole day!

But, all cheapness aside, I just wanted you all to know that when Dilly comes home, she will be diapered. For at least 20 minutes.

not my nose ...

On the way back from preschool yesterday, the girls were quietly sitting in the car watching a holiday episode of Miss Spider's Sunny Patch Friends (for the zillionth time, might I add.) Anyway, Dizzle suddenly threw this one at me.

Dizzle: (Screaming) "What if the new baby tries to touch my nose. I don't want her to touch my nose!!"

Me: "Babies don't move that much when they are little. She's not going to be able to touch your nose."

Dizzle: "Oh, OK."

And that was that. Total freak out to complete calm in 2.3 seconds flat. Now if I could only figure out why she's afraid of someone touching her nose ...

you know you're obsessed when ...

the prospect of having a third child in less than 10 weeks is not totally freaking you out, but rather the thought of taking a break from running is keeping you up at night.

Am I completely sick in the head?

OK, don't answer that? I know I am.

You see, I've done the whole kid thing before. I know what's coming. Sure, the adjustment will be rough, but at least I'm fully aware of what to expect. But I've never (in the whole year and a half I've been running) taken more than six days off. And that was immediately after the marathon. In fact, since the marathon, there has only been one week where I didn't run at least four days..

I'm addicted, and I'm pretty sure that taking time off is going to put me into withdrawal.

And I'm not even sure which part is scarier for me. The whole taking time off and having to slowly come back or the "running itch" I'm bound to develop, which will probably lead to a too early return. I don't really like either scenario. Seriously, sometimes I just wish I was lazy. Then I wouldn't have these problems ...

enough with the hints already...

OK Dizzle, I get it. You want a baby brother. But, seriously, stop with all the pressure.

As if last week's declaration that Mommy and Daddy were going to go pick up her baby brother (whom she named Boy Baby) weren't enough, Dizzle hit me up again this afternoon for a sibling. This time in the form of a song.

"Baby in Your Belly," by Dizzle (to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star)

You are my special Mommy,

With a baby in your belly.

You try to get a baby in your belly,

Like I have food in my belly,

Food in my belly,

Food in my belly,

Food in my belly,

Food in my belly.

I know, she's flipping hysterical. So, how did this future Grammy winning song come about? Well, when I took Doodle to the doctor this morning, the doc we saw was seven months pregnant. And of course, Dizzle wanted to know what was in her stomach and the doctor proceeded to tell her that she was going to have a baby boy. (No, she didn't try to name him.) This led to a good five minutes of pushing on the doctor's stomach and incessant pestering to see the baby. Once we left, Dizzle continued her obsession by asking me what was in the bellies of every person she knows. To which I answered, "Food, Dizzle. Just Food." From that she apparently came to the conclusion that all moms store babies in their bellies and everyone else stores food. And so her song was written.

On a different note, today was day one of training for the Rock-N-Roll Half Marathon. I've decided to log my training here, in an attempt to keep myself from slacking off, especially as it gets hotter and the kids get heavier in that stroller that I so often train with. So here it is. DAY ONE: 3 miles. 24:05. treadmill.

oh brother ...

Last night after dinner, Dizzle, Doodle and I were in the kitchen opening the mail, which included an invitation to a cousin's baby shower. Instantly, Dizzle, the curious creature that she is, asked what the invitation was for and why her (J's cousin) belly was so big (picture included - Dizzle's not psychic). So I told her that she was going to have a baby and there was going to be a party. Of course, she wanted to know more - including the baby's name. Not having an answer for her, I asked what she thought his name should be. And what did she say? "Guam." I said, "Really? Guam?" To which she replied, "Yes, Guam."

She followed her response by telling me that she too wanted a baby brother. And when I asked her what she would name him, guess what she said. No, not Philippines. She said she wanted to name him, Boy Baby. Seriously, could she get more generic? A totally interesting name for her cousin, but the best that she could come up with for her own hypothetical brother was Boy Baby. Could you imagine that? Boy Baby Blanchet. It's like she read it off of the card they stick on the baby beds at the hospital.

Dizzle's obsession with her fake brother did not stop there. When J came home from work 20 minutes later the first thing she said to him was, "Daddy, you and Mommy are going to get me a baby brother. He be called Boy Baby." (Just a side note: J thinks I implanted this whole sibling idea in Dizzle's head. Just for the record, I didn't.)

J laughed and quickly regained composure telling Dizzle that we would see, which is usually enough to get her to drop whatever she's talking about. Ahh, but in this instance that was so not the case.

When she woke up this morning, J asked her what she was going to do today, but instead of laying out her day for him, she answered, "You and Mommy are going to get my baby brother this morning." Can you say "pressure"?