Not your everyday wake-up call

Don't let that sweet face fool you!

When I tell you I had a crappy morning this morning, I literally mean I had a crappy morning. After very little sleep last night – Hello Leg Cramps! Thank you for joining me on my pregnancy journey! – my alarm clock went off entirely too early.  Remember that run I promised I would do on Thursday? I did not. When my alarm went off this morning, I decided I’d hit snooze once. I would trade one mile of my run for one extra sleep session. I would then run to Thalia Island and back. 2 miles. Beautiful sunrise run. I’d still make it to work on time.

Completely out of character, Christian woke up with my alarm clock. He quickly jumped out of bed. Our dog was missing in action. This is never a good thing at 5:30 in the morning. Christian found Alex downstairs. Poor dog must have had a tummy ache because he had diarrhea in our family room in front of the back door.  Hello crappy morning! Poor doggy. Yes poor dog, but poor mom and dad who had to clean it all up. Christian took the hard part. He picked up what he could. I followed behind him with the carpet shampooer. Fortunately it just happened, so I think our family room carpet is safe. And the poor dog has been perfectly fine all day.

Yesterday's Smoothie - Kale, Peaches, Kiwi, Blueberries, and Flax Seed. YUM!

Me on the other hand, I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes open all day. I missed my already abbreviated run this morning. After cleaning up diarrhea, my daily morning smoothie did not sound or look good at all. Sorry if you are drinking a smoothie right now! I skipped it for some whole wheat waffles and fruit.

Let’s face it. We all have days that are blah. We all have days that just go wrong.  I know I’m not the only person who has stared at their computer screen after lunch hoping his or her head doesn’t hit the keyboard.

As my forehead hovers over my keyboard, I can’t help but think about my run this weekend. Double digits baby.  I’m going for the big 1-0. Although I’m feeling slightly defeated today by my lack of a workout schedule this week (one prenatal yoga class), I have no doubt I will complete my run tomorrow. My pregnant pace, run/walk method, makes me feel pretty invincible these days – if only I could get out of bed of bed on time and if only it were fall instead of summer. I won’t have to battle my alarm clock tomorrow morning, and I think I might be spared from some of the heat by the weather gods. Tomorrow morning should be in the mid 70s and partly cloudy. Thank you weather gods!

I learned my lesson last weekend. I won’t be running on the boardwalk.  I’m so bored with running in my neighborhood though (not that I’ve run all week!). I might have to go explore First Landing State Park, but then I run into the dilemma of having using the bathroom every few miles. I have no probably hiding behind a tree, but the park is usually pretty busy in the early morning hours. No one wants to see my full moon pregnant hiney! 

Pregnant running sounds like a blast, doesn’t it? Numerous potty breaks. Super slow pace. Lots of walking. Huge demand for water. Swollen feet. Numb hands.

As soon as I put my running shoes on my feet, not one of those complaints matter.  When I run, it’s one of the few times during my day I actually don’t feel pregnant. Yes. I’m aware of my stomach. I’m even more aware of my ever-growing boobs. Yes. There are a lot of new things to consider since I’m running for two. Yes. I pee a lot. Yes. I’m slow. All of those things don’t matter when I’m running. I’m just simply running. It’s me and my running shoe (and maute moo) tackling mile after mile. The running movement is familiar. It’s comforting. It’s relaxing. While the physical challenges are different, the mental challenges are all the same – pregnant or not.

Running the Surfin Santa 10 miler last year - I'll be sitting that one out this year!

If I haven’t said it before, or if I don’t say it enough, I am so thankful that I’m able to run at this point in my pregnancy. Maute Moo and I will be up with the sun tomorrow morning to tackle a ten-mile run. Don’t let my trend this week worry you. I can always wake up early on the weekends just not during the week. If it turns out to be another crappy morning, I’m ignoring it and leaving it for my husband. Okay! Not really! But at least I won’t have to skip my run because I have to get to work!

Happy Friday! And Happy Weekend! Check back tomorrow night so I can brag tell you all about my run! Double digits is huge in my world, pregnant or not. I ran the Surfin Santa  10 miler in 1:40 last year. I’m hoping for less than 2:30 tomorrow!

One pair of running shorts just won’t do

How did I get to Wednesday without running again? For the past few weeks, I always say I’m going to run on Monday and Wednesday.  Here I am again. It’s Wednesday. I haven’t run since my long run. Since I’m pregnant (and maybe because I’m a big heat baby), I’m only willing to run in the morning hours. The past few weeks, I just can’t get out of bed.   I’m not sleeping well anymore. I wake up about every hour to roll over – my hips are aching these days. I’m also waking up at least once a night to use the bathroom.  This morning I woke up ready to run, BUT my running clothes were not. I forgot to wash them after my super sweaty 7 mile run followed by a dip in the ocean on saturday. Stinky, salt water filled running shorts were not happening this morning. And because I’m pregnant, I only have one pair of shorts that fit.  So much for my run this morning.

My shorts are currently being washed. I will run tomorrow morning. Cole is sleeping at Grandma’s house tonight. This adds about 15 extra minutes to my morning.  No excuses tomorrow.

Today’s run will get filed under pregnancy excuse and stinky running clothes excuse. Please excuse my excuses.  Check back in January. I promise I will have less. My shorts may not fit still. I still won’t be sleeping much. I won’t be running for 2 anymore, and I’ll be marathon training again. No excuse running Kristy will be back. I promise.

Tonight we are taking Cole to his first official “big” concert.  Gavin DeGraw. Train. Maroon 5. If you need a good smile, I’ll send you a video of Cole singing “Soul Sister”. It will melt your heart.  He’s been to a lot of smaller concerts with me when we lived in Nashville – outdoor street concerts, concerts at record labels, concerts in records stores (Man! We had fun those couple of years!), but he has never been to big venue. I’m excited to watch him take it all it.

Hope you all had better luck with your workouts today and just as much fun as we are going to have tonight.

Just about half way there…

Today I start my 20th week of pregnancy.  Just about half way there. Wow!  What a journey so far. I’ve gone from holding my breath for the first trimester from fear that something might go wrong to holding my breath at week 20 because my back hurts, my hips hurt, and every now and then Maute Moo plays bumper cars with whatever organ in crammed into the lower left side of my stomach area.

I fully admit that I over plan, over think, over analyze most things in life. Pregnancy (and preparing for baby and child-birth)  definitely makes it to that list of things.

When I had Cole, I read all the baby books. I followed all the doctors orders. I took notes during my doctor’s appointment. I did what I thought everyone did because I thought that is how everyone did it.  This pregnancy is different. Seven years later, I haven’t picked up one pregnancy book. Instead of focusing on all the things that might go wrong, I’m spending my time thinking about nursery details, birthing plans, breast-feeding. cloth diapers, and homemade baby food.

A must have for Maute Moo's bedroom

I don’t know which one is better – going into pregnancy, child-birth and parenting with a plan that was generated in a book or trying desperately to come up with a plan that feels perfect for me.  Either way I have to come to terms with the fact that it is just a plan. The next 20 weeks of my pregnancy will go according to my baby and my body’s plan. Labor and child-birth will go according to my baby and my body’s plan.  Parenting will go according to my plan – I hope!

Here is what I do know so far – I want our baby to be welcomed into a peaceful world (read more about my thoughts here). I want to bring our baby to a home that is loving, encouraging, and full of wonder. I want the nursery to have balance (read more here). I want to breast feed. I want to use cloth diapers. I want to make our own baby food from our own garden.

For now, at least for the rest of the night, my plan is to enjoy the tiny flutters inside my stomach while I search for blogs on natural parenting. Maybe blogs have become my new baby books.

For all my pregnant readers/parents who are interested in similar things, I found a great blog tonight.  Mama and Baby Love.

So much to think about! I am so lucky that I’m able to make these decisions for another life!

One month closer to Fall

Another month has come and gone. August is here. Goodbye July.  Cole has one more month left of summer vacation. I’m almost half way through my pregnancy.  I know some people live for the summer. Not this girl. I’m ready to pack up the summer clothes. I’m ready to shop for winter maternity clothes. The staples of my wardrobe are a tank top and a cardigan. The cardigans are now at the back of my closet. I love sleeping under blankets. Staying cool this summer has proven to be impossible. I’m hot because I’m pregnant. I’m hot because it is ridiculously hot outside. We also don’t want a 300 dollar power bill (and I really don’t like the idea of wasting all the energy to keep our house chilly), so I refuse to make our house an icebox. It’s summer. We are supposed to be a little warm, right?  78 degrees it is for our house.

While summer isn’t my favorite season, there is always something to love. I love being barefoot and wearing flip-flops. I love how green the world turns. I love summer cookouts and swimming in the pool. Despite the fact that I was miserable on my saturday run, I love that I could jump in the ocean once I was finished. I normally love watching Christian surf (or paddling out to hang out with him and pretending I know a thing or two).  Too bad we haven’t had any surf this summer. I love shark week! It started yesterday!

Cole and his best buddy camping last week
We need another summer storm - off shore
Cole giving Christian a "10" at the end of his wave

Until the cooler temperatures decided to grace me with their presences, I’ll keep wearing summer dresses and flip-flops. Maybe my pregnant body will allow me to remain functional past 6pm so I can join in on summer BBQs with friends. Maybe we will have another storm off shore create amazing surf.  Each day the temperatures get even more hot outside, I will keep dreaming of fall weather (and football. and our fire pit. and cardigans. and beanies. and running in shorts and long sleeves).

Weather made for me

Paper and Pencil (and a few stacks of books)

When I entered college back in 1998, I knew one thing. I loved to write. Okay. Maybe I knew two things. I loved to read just as much.  Books were my best friend. My paper and pencil were never far from my hand. I was much better at relationship through paper (both in reading and in writing) than I was through real life.  I made sense on paper. In real life, I think I was a little lost. I identified with characters and plot lines. Real life wasn’t the same. I couldn’t devour real life the same way I could read a book in 2 hours. Real life is slow. It takes time. It never follows a plot line.

When it was time to decide on a major, the only thing I knew was that I wanted to study English. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew. I didn’t have visions of myself working a grown up job. I had visions of wandering around the world with my books and my pencil. I wanted to save the world. I wanted to write about saving the world. No surprise I majored in English. My major was decided.

Or so I thought.

Selecting English as a major wasn’t enough. I had to select a concentration. My parents and logic encouraged me to concentrate on education. If I was going to study English, I should teach. Once again, my brain that wandered the world (a brain I turned off too early in my life) thought maybe I could teach.  If I’m going to teach, I’ll become a professor. I can read books.I can write. I can get paid to do both.  While my logical side was telling me to check the education box next to English, my heart was screaming to check Creative Writing. I felt alive when I wrote. I felt accomplished.  Looking back, I think I was even pretty darn good. I certainly had potential.

Potential for what? Starving artist? Author with stacks of unpublished novels? Journals filled with poetry no one ever read? Logic won the debate.  English with a concentration in education was my choice. I would be an English teacher. 5 years later (yes! I was on the 5 year plan) I graduated with a Bachelors of Arts in English with a Virginia State Teaching Licenses.

I never taught. I never felt at home in a classroom. I had moments when I loved it while I was student teaching. I had a lot of moments when I cried. I think a part of me is always meant to be the student. I love learning. I love absorbing the world around me. I never figured out how to teach, comfortably, as myself. I always wanted to be sitting behind the desk instead of standing in front of it.

With a diploma in hand, I moved to Alabama. I was no longer sitting in creative writing classes. I no longer had required readings. I no longer had direction. After a quick year in Alabama, I moved to Tennessee. After 3 years in Tennessee, I moved back to Virginia. In that time frame, I had my son. I got divorced. I lost myself. I lost my love of writing. I lost my passion for reading. I found myself. I fell in love with myself. I fell in love with Christian. I’m falling in love with writing again.

It has been nearly 10 years since I wrote a poem. I haven’t written a short story since college. I’ve written hundreds of letters explaining myself. my choices. my thought process to other people who needed understanding. I haven’t written anything for me.

I’ve missed that part of me.

Slowly but surely like all the good things that exist within us, it starts to bubble near the surface. My desire to write is definitely bubbling. When I run, I wish I had a tape recorder. Thoughts. Stories. Word choice. Phrasing. All these thoughts are creeping back into my head. When I’m basking in my yoga-high, I feel the need to reach for paper and pencil. Even with this blog, I can’t stay away from it. I find myself searching for good writers. I find myself wanting to write more than just my daily rambles. I watch Cole, and I want to recorded his moments. I have conversations with my baby, and I want to write him or her stories. I have real love for myself, for Christian, for my family. I want to recreate the emotions on paper.

I don’t know what it is or where it’s going or if it’s going anywhere at all, but I’ve got my paper and pencil ready for whatever thought, story, character, emotion decides to come hang out on my shoulder and whisper in my ear. Some things just deserve to be on paper.

My beautiful Grandma at her first job...in front of her typewriter