Everybody Knows My Name?

As a Jennifer born in the 1980s, I had no shortage of name sharing/confusion as a kid. Not that my name itself was confusing, but identifying which Jennifer I was always included my last initial which was fine. It was what it was and became exactly why 27 Jennifers by Mike Doughty has been a beloved song of mine for years:

Jenny M. That was me. Until 6th grade (or was it 5th? - c.r.a.p. I am getting old if I can't remember that detail) when a bunch of us Jennifers of Lincoln Elementary banded together and decided to take charge. We would all be a different version (spelling) of Jenny and it just so happened that I ended up with the "I" on the end of mine instead of the "Y" and my parents totally went with it (unlike some friends who tried for more, um, unique spellings and were totally denied by their parental units, or maybe just got sick of the change in time and went back to Jenny ___). Me? I ran with this new approach to my name and never looked back. And I know it is a wee bit silly because you can't hear a darn bit of difference when you say "Jenni" versus "Jenny" but I can definitely tell you which one looks like my name and which one does not when I see it written.

Perhaps this whole name game from my youth is adding to the confusion I feel now as a parent because I am extremely befuddled as to why my children have decided to call me by completely different names. Maybe other moms out there don't really care what their kids call them or don't care if the name is constantly changing. But to me, my mom name is Mama. Ben and I started calling me that from the very beginning with Harrison and while HD will throw a Mom my way every now and then, we're 5.5 years into knowing me as Mama. Except Raegan, for well over a year, has been calling me Mommy and I just don't get it. I never refer to myself this way and like Jenny-with-a-"y" it sounds funny to me to hear myself referenced as such. I won't even bother asking if my response to this whole situation is normal because my guess is no, it's not - I've just picked something weird to get hung up on, but actually, that's my point.

After months of (semi-passive-aggressive?) attempts to correct RL (never telling her she is wrong but referring to myself in third person a LOT in hopes of showing her the light but obviously failing), I've decided to let it go. If Baby Girl wants to call me Mommy nine times out of ten, then that is what she's going to call me. It probably makes sense, actually, that my kids would have different names for me because while I am a mother to all of them, our individual relationships are unique and what they need from me on a daily basis is never the same.

So Mama/Mommy/Ma (which is where Linky is currently with a name for me)? They all work. They all represent the role I so gratefully get to play in the lives of these growing, learning, always going individuals and I am honored to be that person to each of them, no matter what they call me. Well, not Hey, You!. That version (and life with teens) is probably coming sooner than I think, but whatever mom name(s) the children decide upon as they grow is going to have to start with an "M" - I'm too much of an English Major to let all rules and convention slide!

An oldie but a goodie: "Mommy" and her Mini. 

Backslide

Within six hours of my last post, at the start of last week, my Lenten Promise  was clearly shot. It's hard to commit to a daily yoga practice, even just for 10-15 minutes a day, when you can't breathe or stop blowing your nose for days, and have a fever for over 48 hours straight. Just getting through Tuesday through Thursday of last week was a challenge and that was without even leaving my house once in that time span. So no, no yoga for me last week (I even missed multiple days of teaching which has been very rare since I began last fall), because once I got my feet back on the ground, it was all I could do to keep up with getting my house back in functioning shape and food on the table and all that other maternal/spousal/adult stuff I am expected to do in this world.

Now it is Wednesday, two weeks beyond Ash Wednesday, and I haven't done any of my own practice in eight or nine days (Math. Blergh.) - not exactly a shinning start to 40 Days of Yoga. I can feel it, too, because whereas at the time of my last post I was feeling pretty good (was totally doing my best to ignore warning signs of impending doom in my sinuses), I am back to noticing the not-so-good in both my body and my mood. Back and hips? Stiff and creaky. Mind and attitude? Wee-bit sour and cranky.

At least I have an immediate answer and fix to this. I just have to step up and really recommit because this is a big week (big month, actually) of taking on some extra classes to teach and when you top that with the hubbub of activity we have going on this March, it's going to be April and Easter before we know it, and I do not want to get lost in the whirlwind. I know myself well enough to know that this much is true:

I cannot let my teaching schedule (or social calendar, etc.) get in the way here. Somehow I've also got to find a way to get past The Naps which is what I'm calling my No.1 pregnancy indicator (symptom seems like a poor word choice, but you get my drift) (and truth, it's probably No.2 because, let's face it, CrankyPants is my No.1) these days. I am so freaking tired all day long that I have been falling asleep on the couch even when the kids are playing - loudly - right in front of me. These bizarre cat naps do not actually result in great rest and often I wake up from them feeling super groggy and downright confused at times, but it's like I can't help it.

A baby in the belly means I don't sleep well at night and apparently my body has decided that it's going to make up for that deficit during the day, whether I intend to or not. And somedays this happens two or three times! Good practice for when Baby arrives? Maybe, except for that whole supposed-to-be-parenting-the-other-children gig I've got going on....

Unless I relinquish full control to PBS (and there's no way that works for a peanut LT's age), this current approach just isn't going to work. Here's hoping instead that the whole Second Trimester Energy Boost (it should totally be a proper noun) comes SOON!

Promises, Promises

On Ash Wednesday, a friend happened to ask in a group message if I (and the others in the convo, obviously) had any Lenten promises to share. I'll be honest, I was stumped. I mean, I knew Lent was beginning and all that but giving up something for Lent has never been a big part of my religious or spiritual life. Sure, I've given up stuff in the past in high school and college, but mainly because my friends were too, not because I was really committing it to anything higher. So when several of us responded that we in fact did not have any good ideas of what to give up this year, the friend who posed the original question then said the best thing - the exact right thing I needed to hear, actually - to explain her approach to Lent.

My wise friend explained that it doesn't have to be giving up something but rather a Lenten promise can be about changing something to help motivate that same change in behavior or attitude later, post-Lent. Of course this makes total sense and perhaps you already understand Lent in this way, but something about her description just clicked for me.

In fact, let's just say the whole exchange was a little Light Bulb moment for me.

Let me also be clear that lately I have been struggling. Struggling a lot, actually, with things like anger and parental patience and just my attitudes in general. Remember the recent "Regression" blog post? These are all things that I have made leaps and bounds with in terms of progress since I began therapy and yoga the fall after Linky was born. Not that I suddenly became this perfectly happy and eternally blissed out person, but major progress to a calmer, more realistic, and overall happier me? Yes. Yes. And YES.

And then I got pregnant. Laugh or scoff if you want, and while it is not entirely fair to attribute blame Baby No.4 for my backsliding as of late, said babe is going to bear some of the weight here. For one thing, pregnancy makes me not sleep. From the first trimester on, my sleep is a wreck and as a person who has dealt with some serious sleep deprivation over the years (and who just started to make progress during the second half of the previous year), being back in the land of little sleep is scary. I know what little-to-no sleep does to me and my general outlook on life, because my short fuse and quick mouth start to take over and it is no fun for anyone in my house. Fortunately, this time, I can look at my poor sleep as temporary. Yes, I am likely going to be tired from now until Baby arrives and then hella tired for some time after that, but eventually I'll get back on track. TiredCrankyMommy will not exist forever, or at least not for such an extended period of time.

Another thing Baby No.4 has contributed to, sort of/kind of, is my other coping skill beyond sleep which is, of course, my yoga practice. Now Baby's role here is really just in regards to my energy level. I haven't been to a regular class at the studio since early January because I just don't have the stamina to keep up with a mainstream 60-minute class right now. I also quit going because before people knew I was pregnant, I did not want to draw attention to the fact that I was making certain modifications that would look really strange for a capable teacher to be making. Not that I owe others an explanation, but it all felt weird, so I backed off the public class scene.

All of this leads me to the point where I take the rest of responsibility for losing touch with my yoga practice because I dropped the ball. Totally. Instead of hopping online to use a subscription site like yogaglo to support my home practice or putting on the prenatal yoga DVD I have or just applying the ding-dang knowledge I have as a certified prenatal yoga instructor (sheesh), I quit doing any practice outside of my teaching. For almost two months now I have chosen to go without the one activity that I know works. Not the best choice.

So yes, a light bulb pretty much exploded in my brain when my friend shared the idea of approaching Lent as a change in behavior/attitude. I needed both, and of course my answer to both was get.on.the.mat! Ever seen the hashtag #yogaeverydamnday ??  I sure have and it also popped in my head at the same time the light bulb blew up. 40 days of yoga. That became my Lenten promise. And nothing grand or super physical, either. I said if I could just do 10 minutes a day, I'd probably feel a lot better. And (yay, me!) I was right.

Since making my promise, I have done 10-15 minutes each day but not counting anything that includes when I'm teaching. That's teaching, not practicing. And the whole thing has been great. I feel like I have more space in my own body (always a bonus during pregnancy since the little peanut seems to instantly take up a lot of room) and I am dealing more appropriately with kid meltdowns and general shenanigans which keeps my head space in a much better place than TiredCrankyMommy's.

Now there was Saturday night when I got caught up reading a book and kind of forgot my yoga until I was in bed and instead of getting up opted to do some breathwork until I fell asleep, but I'm still counting it. Actually, breathwork and quieting my mind are probably even more important than a physical practice for me right now because the breath and the mind go hand in hand, so when one races, so too does the other, so yes - it totally counts and it's probably going to happen again. And that's OK! So long as I keep going, doing my little bits here and there every blessed day so I can keep clearing the fog in my brain and releasing the anger and frustration from my system (physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual) I'll be making such a positive step with my little Lenten promise. Because I know, for me, this works, and getting back to something that works for me - that allows me to stay me and stay the best version of me, is as crucial now as it has ever been.

Belly Up

Yesterday was an exciting day; it marked 12 weeks of Baby No.4 (who checked out wiggly - are you surprised?- and awesome at my OB appt. on Thursday) which in turn marked the start of said babe's Belly Watch. It is also the start of me doing some serious work on myself (attitudes/tendencies of thought) and being, in my own way, extremely brave when it comes to my issues with body/self perception.

I have been working on the body image stuff for a while now and have written about it from time to time on the blog, but right now everything feels heightened (probably because it is by all these crazy pregnancy hormones racing through my body right now). I want so very much to be okay with my size and shape, and you would think that being pregnant would be some sort of free pass on all that, but that's never been the case for me. I may have taken a stomach exposing picture of weeks 12-40(ish) of each baby but that does not mean it has been easy for me to do or share.

Last time, with Lincoln, I spent a lot of time feeling and being very self-critical of how I looked, and worse, very susceptible to the comments of others, which as we all know, come without invitation and usually without any sort of filter, either. I also felt a growing (pun intended) anxiety over potential comparison, both of my own belly to that of other mamas-to-be, and to myself as well. I was so busy wondering if people might think I looked fat or awful or waaaay bigger than ever before that I missed an opportunity to just enjoy the miracle of growing a person and all that physically accompanies such work.

So why do it again if it caused so much anguish in the past? It's not like Baby No.4 is really going to care if his/her bump was ever displayed on Mama's Facebook page, right? Well probably not, but right now this ventures feels as much about me as it does Baby. This is about finding that place of comfort and acceptance in my own skin, no matter how big my belly gets, and trust me, it's much bigger at 12 weeks than ever before, but see? There's that icky little comparison game again that I've got to stop doing. There are a handful (and more) reasons why I might be bigger at this point this time around than ever before. But much as I can rationalize it, it still doesn't matter if I can't accept it, and that's why I will be doing a fourth public belly watch - because I want public accountability of embracing and loving whatever comes. It doesn't mean I am fishing for compliments and it doesn't mean that people still won't say less-than-thoughtful comments; it means that I will continue to find positive things about myself and the pregnancy to share each week and will be brave in learning to detach from what, if anything, is said about the photos.

And on that note, I share with you, Week 12 of Baby No.4's Belly Watch: a bump that for the first time ever, has not lost weight in the first trimester because I have not been sick. Not even once! How could I not celebrate a belly like that?!

Regression

Holy mother of being a mother. This week, I tell ya, has been a bit of A Week. I'd love to credit blame the moon or the weather or anything other than myself, but the reality is, it is my short temper and edginess that is probably making everything seem worse/more intense.

OK, my kids deserve some credit blame, too. I won't name names but this week I've dealt with children bolting down the driveway/sidewalk (and laughing), screaming and crying because I let un-named child turn off the TV exactly as per said-un-named child's request, AND screaming and crying for 25 minutes because somehow I missed the telepathic request for peanut butter and jelly, not honey, on both sandwiches for lunch yesterday and how could un-named child possibly ever stop crying because it was my fault that said-un-named child was crying in the first place but said-un-named child also, apparently, needed me to keep talking to stop the crying. W.T.H.?! Are you exhausted yet? Patience lost? Yeah, me too.

It doesn't help that Cranky B* is a classic pregnancy "symptom" for me in part because I am run down and tired and not feeling well, and in part because of, you know, the raging hormones and all that. I am not ashamed to say that I don't always handle myself or my family in the best way when I am in the family way - it just is what it is. But this week has felt especially dispiriting because it feels like such a reversion to Angry Mommy of the past. Pre-therapy/pre-yoga/pre-better-coping skills (although I don't know anyone who could have handled the Great Sandwich Meltdown of 2015 - from their own kid anyway - without feeling despair, and, in my defense, I did not yell, WTF is your problem?! or call Bullshit! at any point in the 25 minutes. At least not out loud, so I'll call that a parenting win, especially during this challenging week).

After two extremely hard days in a row, of both kid behavior and my reactions/desperation, it occurred to me that a key part of my coping skills has been lacking totally missing lately - yoga. Yes, I know some of you might think I walk around thinking yoga is the wonder cure of all that ails ya (actually, that's pretty true), but that's because it is something that really does help most, if not all, of what ails me. It makes my physical body feel good, but more importantly it helps sooth my mental, spiritual, and emotional bodies, too. And lately I have not been getting on the mat other than to teach which is clearly a huge problem.

When I started teaching last fall, I immediately learned that preserving and protecting my own practice was going to be challenging but mandatory. After getting pregnant, those ideas did not change, but first trimester stuff has clearly gotten in my way the last two months and that is something I cannot credit blame my kids for - at least not the ones already out and running around my house like perfectly cute (and probably perfectly normal) hooligans. I know how important self-care and me time is and for me, that is best suited in yoga. I need to do the yoga! Not just teach it. So if I'm still not sure I have the energy level to do a full hr-long class at the studio, I need to do my own little practices here at home. Find something online or just make it up on own. It's not like I haven't had the training to handle this! Home practice is an area in which I have always struggled but seeing as how I am struggling so much right now without any yoga, even a less-than-stellar hop on the mat at home would be better than nothing. For all of us!

Teaching Yoga Pregnant/Teaching Pregnant Yoga

In less than a week (actually, it's now TODAY!) I travel to Omaha to complete my final training module to become a prenatal yoga instructor and in two weeks (ONE!), I will step into that role in real time, holding my very first prenatal class at avani on Feb. 8. I have been reading and taking classes and observing classes and pinning away class ideas for months now and am so very darn excited to begin this amazing work. I am also humbled and honored by the auspicious timing of my fourth pregnancy that has aligned to allow me to grow right along with my prenatal students through the rest of the winter, spring and most of what will most likely be a really hot spent-inside-the-beautiful-AC summer. I honestly can't think of a better way to learn and grow as a new prenatal teacher than to be right there in the thick of it with my mamas-to-be, experiencing many of the same physical and emotional changes in, again, real time. Amazing.

As it stands, I have already been teaching yoga while pregnant for four weeks now. Actually, I was teaching yoga while pregnant before that, too, just unknowingly. Remember my Winter Solstice? How incredible it will be to tell this sweet babe one day that s/he once did 108 sun salutations inside my belly!

Teaching during this last month, though, has been interesting. Very few people knew about the pregnancy prior to my first OB appointment, so I can only imagine what my students thought of my unexplained windedness while cueing during class (oh.my.gosh! did that get bad and fast! within a week of discovering I was pregnant, I was already finding myself breathless at times during a class and that was when I was just walking around - not even demonstrating!) or my worse-than-when-I-started mix-ups of Left and Right. You trying mirroring your L/Rs with a fourth case of Mommy Brain. Trying stuff, I tell you! And then, of course, there are the demos. For my Basic class, especially, I tend to demonstrate much of what they do in their postures, but I've begun to (at least try to) show less, cue more, in part for the breathlessness but also because I don't want to do all of it. Some of that has to do with energy level, some with poses I want to begin avoiding because of my pregnancy (see? already putting my prenatal training to good use!). But since none of them knew my real reason for holding back, I can only guess what they might have been thinking.

In one case, I actually got called out during class by a jokingly asked question of, "Are you trying to tell us something, Jenni?" after having them do Rock the Baby and then Happy Baby poses back-to-back, and all I can say is, I am grateful they were on their backs and not looking at my face at the time because it totally would have given me away. Side note: it was eventually really great to share with the friend who asked the question because her reaction to finding out she was "right" was pretty funny.

Even though I am definitely starting to have moments/hours/days of constant queasiness, I am hoping that my yoga practice will sustain and carry me through the next six weeks especially. I have been doing more home practice as of late instead of at the studio, to avoid certain poses and questions about why I'm not doing them just yet, but when I've been teaching this last month, I actually tend to feel pretty good. Winded? Tired? Yes, at times. But the same joy I've always felt from my practice and from teaching are still there and it actually seems to make the nausea subside for a bit, either because I have something else to think about or because the practice just makes my body feel better. I have noticed, though, that while it feels great in the moment, I am starting to crash pretty hard after I get done - either hungry or nauseous (or both - how is that possible?) and tired for sure. So while it would be great to say, Yes! Add more classes!, in reality I need to remember to slow down and take care of myself, too.

Of course, as more people hear about the baby (and as my belly starts to grow!), it will be more easily apparent as to why I am teaching in a different manner in the coming months. And I am so grateful that my first foray into prenatal teaching will be such a meta experience, for I cannot think of a better way to learn than to be living, breathing, and doing it myself, too.

Now. Off to pack so I can hit the road, meet up with my Lotus lovelies, and embrace all that is to come in Module Three!!!

Like trees, we bend so we do not break. 

On Finding Out

Discovering that you are pregnant with Baby No.4 just 24 hours after suffering an awful, angry bout of the stomach flu is an interesting experience, mostly because of just how crazy my stomach felt at that point. 24-hrs-post-nasty-flu had me still feeling pretty weak and wiped, not to mention queasy, so although I was thrilled to see the word "pregnant" pop up on the test, I was slightly intimidated by my tummy, thinking Oh, No! I'm just finding out and I already feel this awful?!

If you've been with me and this blog for a few years (and a couple pregnancies), you may remember that my first trimester is never a kind one. I've never gone so far as to take anything for my "morning" sickness (such a ridiculous name for it, given how inaccurate the term is), but I've been close to doing so and for good reason. Weeks 8-14? They tend to be nothing short of the zombie-mommy-zone for me. But then Week 14 comes and goes and so too does the constant nausea, lack of appetite, and resulting weight loss. The second trimester and I are friends, to say the least. And let me be clear - I'm not saying I feel sorry for myself here, because while I obviously wish I felt better during those six weeks, I know it could be so much worse, like some of my dear friends who go at least halfway or all the way through (bless her sweet heart) with constant, terrible sickness. So while it may not be fun, at this point in my mamahood, I pretty much know what I have in for me, which is also my saving grace because I know I can handle it. [Note: those read a lot like famous last words, don't they? So much so that I should probably delete them, but they're already out there, so I guess I'll leave it. If Lincoln taught me anything, it is that every pregnancy is different, so perhaps I've not just condemned myself to two-trimester sick-period but rather none at all? That'd be nice!]

Anyway - rambling mommy-brain redirect - to feel so crappy so quickly after finding out the pregnancy alarmed me. It also sent me into instant action mode. I decided, what can I do to possibly combat or at the very least prepare for this? My first answer? Food. I made a vow to myself that day, even post-flu, that I would do my best to eat and keep eating. I realize that might sound silly to some, but I'm not kidding when I say first trimester weight loss. It has happened every single time, so I'm taking the next few weeks, until the nausea really hits, to eat. Not whatever I want, but as varied and as healthy as I can manage, because I know I'll need those calories to keep going in February and early March. Does that mean my belly might stick out a little sooner than ever before? Hi, this is Baby No.4 we're talking about - isn't that a given?! [post script: wrote this over three weeks ago and yes, the belly is definitely here already, but whether that is food-driven or just that my belly knows where to go, well, I'm not sure. let's just say, if we hadn't announced this week, I am pretty sure everyone who sees me now would have known anyway!]

My other food-related solution/inspiration centered on Freezer Meals. Prior to both RL and LT's arrivals, I made a couple handfuls of meals to stock our deep freeze so that I wouldn't have to worry about cooking post-baby as much. But since my cooking usually gets as exhausted as the rest of me in the first trimester, I decided to try something totally different this time by stocking up pre-morning-sickness, too. And thanks to the beauty of social media, I had people sharing ideas with me like crazy and managed to get eight recipes (some made double batches) done within a week of discovering I was pregnant. Pretty awesome, eh? This way, even I don't feel like eating, my family will have food and I won't even have to get off the couch to prepare it. Sounds like a win/win to me and even better if I actually feel up to eating some of it.

One of the other realizations post-discovery of Baby No.4's presence involved yoga clothes. Ha! I only need an ounce of inspiration to want more of those, but this preparatory move, although it included shopping for one of my favorite things - really was meant to be pragmatic. I have a couple of maternity yoga pants, of course, but hi, this is my job now, so I hit up Old Navy and Destination Maternity to see what else I could find and managed to score a couple pairs of pants as well as two tops from ON that yogis will be seeing on me later this spring/summer a LOT. The funny thing was, when the first package arrived and I took the items out of their bags and held them up for inspection, my first thought (after wondering Oh.my.gosh. Are these pants from Old Navy transparent?!) was, these look too big. And then I full-on laughed at myself because no, I'm sure they are not. Or at least they won't be. How quickly one forgets just how much one's body must change and grow to produce another human, tiny as they may be when they first arrive. Those pants and tanks? I'm sure they'll fit just fine in due time because, as I said, thankfully my morning sickness does not last forever!

As it stands, three-plus weeks after first writing this, I am feeling ok-ish. Tired and queasy and cranky due to not sleeping (and other fun hormones)? Yes. Ask my kids and they'll tell you YES. But hanging in there as best I can. And my OB appointment last week showed that Baby is doing well, too. But you guys, look at this ultrasound! Anyone else think the OB was trying to play a trick on my husband who couldn't stay for the actual ultrasound?! I promise, in real time, there was one happy little peanut, not two!

What the Funk?

This morning I made a slight parenting error by letting my children watch this viral video with me. I was hoping that since it was just the 3yo and the 1.5yo, they wouldn't pick up on any of the suspect lyrics and would instead just enjoy watching the kids dance in their school, which they totally did. But then, because it is a catchy song (I would know because I've found myself jamming out in the car to it more than once in recent weeks), the minute it was done and the computer was shut, Raegan was back to doodling on paper at the dining room table, but singing as she did so. No big deal, right? Well, sure, unless you take into consideration that her version of the word "funk" sounds nothing like how the word is actually pronounced, and it was the only word she was saying, in super-speed repetition, so it sounded like she was cussing a blue streak at record pace, just like that!

Honestly? I had to leave the room because I was having such a hard time not busting a gut over the whole thing and I knew if she saw me do that, she'd just keep saying it. So like any parent with wifi and funny kid anecdote, I took to Facebook to share, only to find out that kids really do say the darndest (and most innocently and wildly inappropriate) things! Again, always nice to know I'm not alone. So who is with me on complete nap debacles on top of botched song lyrics?

Remember when I said that my husband jinxed RL's naps a couple weeks ago? Well, it's gotten a lot more interesting this week as Raegan has taken to napping not in her bed, but her big brother's. It started over the weekend when we went to get the Littles up from nap and found her tucked in snug as a bug in HD's twin bed when she had clearly been put down in her very own toddler bed 2.5 hours prior.

Well, as long as she wasn't waking up LT, I didn't really care where she slept, so after finding her there again after Monday's nap, I decided yesterday and today to just put her to sleep there in hopes of cutting down on potential room wandering and noise while Linky was trying to get to sleep. Worked beautifully yesterday and seemed to be on target again today until an hour in to their nap when I heard definite ruckus coming from upstairs.

Side note: my pregnant lady hormones (more posts coming on all that soon, but I'm assuming that most of you have seen the photo announcement by now) are causing me all kinds of problems with my own sleep and it's been over a week, maybe closer to two, since I've slept all night. It seems that I keep waking sometime during the early-to-mid morning hours and then really struggle to get back to sleep (only to have crazy pregnant lady dreams if I do) before the day officially begins. It's been rough and I'm tired and cranky (and a wee bit constantly nauseous) as a result.

Today, of all days, I was told by one of my care providers that it would be really good if I took a nap this afternoon. I've been doing a bit of that anyway while the Littles nap and HD has his screen time, so when she said that, I thought (foolishly), no problem. But just as I was going to put myself down for nap, I heard what sounded like voices coming down the stairs, and this was after I was pretty sure I'd heard footsteps just a bit earlier. Cracking the door open to see if someone was sitting on the stairs, I noticed immediately that the freaking lights were on and could hear both kids talking/making noise. I flew up the stairs as fast as I could, barged into HD & RL's room, and found her just climbing back into her brother's bed with this in her hands:

An old college reader from the days when I had a full-time desk at which to keep such items. My first thought? What the (insert RL's pronunciation here) FUNK?! Seriously. I couldn't believe her.

I took the book, turned off all the lights (she'd gone into the bathroom to get the step stool so she could reach the hallway switch, naturally), and put her back in her bed, telling her that she had been very naughty to leave her room and wake Lincoln, etc. She started bawling, of course, wailing on and on because she wanted to be in Harrison's bed. Too bad, kid. You lost that privilege today with your shenanigans.

Then it was on to Lincoln's room to run through his lullaby and put-down routine again, and while he was fine while I was singing to him, he was very unhappy the minute I set him in the crib to go back to sleep. I realized as I reached in the dark to hand him his sleep friends that part of his discomfort was that his darling big sister had pitched four different books into his bed on her run around and I'd put him down on top of them. After fishing all of them out, I said goodnight and headed downstairs, where again, I wanted nothing more than to take my own little cat nap. Instead, I got to listen to both of them cry for over half an hour before they got quiet again at which point I was finally able to close my own eyes and pretend to sleep for a little bit before they were both awake again at their normal end-of-nap time.

*Oof* *Blergh* *Funk*

Mama just needs a little break in the afternoons, now more than ever. Here's hoping the children (Raegan. I totally mean Raegan) realize that for everyone's good, they should end these nap shenanigans immediately!

Whooooooooa, I'm on Fwire

Since the Great Google seems to have all the answers, I have to admit, I'm a bit baffled that it didn't come through for me just now when I tried to look up a commercial I remember as a kid that had a young child saying, "My fwoat's on fwire!" Not that I really think the Internet should have such random and useless information, but since a girl can usually find answers to even the most obscure questions, it was strange to run into a wall with this one. Can anyone help me out? Do you remember it, too??

Either way, "My fwoat's on fwire!" is what popped into my brain this morning when I woke up well before my alarm with a seriously scratchy and painful throat. And from the moment I realized what was hurting and what that might mean for getting through the week to come, my mind was racing. And in case you're curious as to what a common thread looks like when I'm trying to will myself back to sleep but my mind is spinning circles, here is a sample of this morning's "playlist": Sleep! I need to sleep! Right now! I am going to be so tired when the kids get get up. Sleep! If I don't feel too bad in the morning, while HD is at school, I need to do the crap ton of dishes I left on the counter and in the sink this weekend. What will the littlest kids do while I do that? I should have done the dishes last night before we watched Downton Abbey. I wonder what Mary will do? Sleep! Sick?! I can't get sick! Who will cover my classes? How will I function with the kids? What if this is the start of Influenza?!?! NO!!!!!! SLEEP!  (no joke - DA was totally part of it!)

If you can't tell, I'm a little freaked out right now about illness. After nursing sick/feverish kids all of last week (HD the first three days of the week, RL the last two), I feel like I've been waiting for the other three shoes (i.e. Lincoln, Ben, and myself) to drop all weekend long. How could we not get it, right? Especially me since the brunt of the nose wiping and "cover your cough!"s were my job last week? Because you know you only tell a kid to cover a cough when they've just coughed directly in your face, right? Also, when you add illness to the house where I'm already in charge of covering so many diaper changes and bathroom assists, it is a damn miracle that my hands haven't fallen off due to excessive hand washing. Thank goodness it has been warmer the last few days, otherwise, my poor skin would be a dry and cracked mess. However excessive hand washing is my only real defense against this crud, so I've been doing it for a week straight, but obviously I missed some germ bugs based on my fwirey fwoat this morning.

The good news is, it has not gotten any worse and no other symptoms have popped up yet throughout the day. And yes, I did get the crap ton of dishes done, to boot, this morning, so now I'm going to do my best to catch a quick nap while the littlest littles are still down (which, by the way, my dear hubs totally jinxed this weekend when he told friends, "Yep, we've gone a lot longer with naps for Raegan [side note: that's true - like a freaking year past the age where HD gave them up], but I suppose at some point here she'll give up her nap." And sure enough, yesterday she got up and wandered around the upper level of the house to the point of waking up LT and today was crying when I left her in her bed, wailing, "I don't want to nap! I don't want to nap!" Husband owes me coffee for this. LOTS of coffee.)

Ho, Ho, OH NO!

When we set out on Christmas Eve for our travels to see Ben's family for the holiday, the only potential blip I could foresee on our radar was a possible (and yet major) let-down from Santa because HD had specifically requested Angry Birds Transformers from the Jolly Old Elf and all this mama managed to get for his stocking were two ABT books. Still the right franchise and all, but I wasn't sure that one sticker book and one reader were actually going to win the 5.5 y/o over. Thankfully, the stocking surprises were still met with "Just what I wanted!" and dimples, so all was well and we had a really nice visit with the Welsch family. The children had a blast playing with their cousins and all the new toys yesterday,  so even though LT did not nap well either day we were there or sleep well Christmas Eve night (no, there were no stripy pajamas involved) and yesterday by 3:30 p.m. I was beginning to wonder if Christmas is the longest.day.ever.in.the.history.of.all.the.days, it was a great holiday. Because of all the not-sleeping, however, we decided to come home today instead of tomorrow and were on the road early enough to be home by mid-morning. Until we weren't.

Just after we pulled off I-80 to come south into Hastings, the van decided it no longer wanted to accelerate. Ben was given no indication of anything happening - it just up and lost the ability to change gears. Thankfully we were no longer on the interstate and were able to coast down the hill/ramp to the nearby gas station where we parked, turned it off, and tried again, only to find that while we were safely off the road, we clearly weren't getting back on it anytime soon.

Ben got on the phone to our roadside assistance program (thank goodness for decent insurance!) and I instantly called a friend who I thought would be home and who I knew happened to have enough seats in her own vehicle to come get us, if need be. Thankfully she answered right away and was instantly on top of it, heading out the door to come get me and the kids. Ben ended up waiting (for over an hour and a half) for a tow truck to arrive so he and the van could get a lift to the dealership where we get it serviced in Hastings which is where it will remain until next week because, hi, it is the day after Christmas and no one else is open to even give us any answers much less estimates/repair timelines on how this is all going to resolve itself. Let's hope it is an alternator or some little electrical problem and not the transmission!

Anyway, thanks to Dear Miss L, the kids and I (and all of our luggage and presents - HD's main concern) got home in time to eat lunch and get the overly tired baby-man down for his nap which he is thankfully still taking. MUCH improved over the last two days, so I guess he is glad to be back in his own bed. I am glad to be home, too, especially since it appears that our trip home could have been much scarier/worse or might not have happened at all had this little (please, be little!) van trouble started any earlier. Not that Ben's folks wouldn't have housed us for as long as needed, but after a really busy few days, I think it is good we got the kiddos home so they can unwind and recoup on sleep and just take it easy while Ben and I are both around for the next week. Good thing we have all the new presents to keep us occupied since 1) we are more-or-less housebound - as a whole family, anyway - until who knows when and 2) who knows how expensive this fix will turn out to be! Any chance Santa brings new transmissions to good Mamas and Papas?!

Update: Transmission. If I click my heels together three times, will Santa please fix this for me?

Fake It 'Til You Make It

Living in the present. This is a primary goal for many yogis/folks in general and there are some major benefits to doing so. Not wishing your days away? Another excellent approach to your life's journey, especially since none of us know the true sum of our endless numbered days (musical reference? anyone?). All that being said, though, I find myself entering December with a slight attitude of being ready to close out this calendar year.

2014? It's been a Dicken's-sort-of-year, and on many levels, I have worked my arse off during all of the ups and downs. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, this year has brought more challenge and growth than any other I can remember. From intense therapy sessions to my yoga marathon and now my three part-time jobs on top of the ever present full-time mama gig, I've had my hands full. And not that any of this schedule and plate spinning is going to go away, necessarily, but I guess I'm looking forward a bit to 2015 with the hope of it bringing more settling, more slow down, and more time to just be (which is ironic seeing as I'm tapping my toes waiting for January to arrive, not quite able or willing to just be in the now NOW. How very human and humbling is that?!).

For one, there won't be any more training marathons after January - at least not for a while. Once I finish my prenatal modules, I'm taking a step back from adding hours and certifications so I can focus on where my own practice is and really hone in on the prenatal stuff. I am so beyond excited to bring prenatal yoga to Hastings, but you can bet your sweet, sweet bippies that I want to do so in the best and safest manner possible for those mamas-to-be! So, yes. Time to study. Time to prepare. Time to practice. That is part of what I hope to find in 2015.

Another hope I have is to continue enjoying the progress I have made in the last year. The calm and the peace and the reserve I've been working on and stock piling? I already see their benefits when I'm able to handle the changes in schedule or the inevitables and randoms that pop up when you are parenting little Littles. Although, some days, I'm learning that the best approach is to fake it 'til I make it. Like today, when I wanted to put on my Eff You Tuesday pants (but opted for my pink elephant tank instead) when for the second time in as many weeks, my plans that I made for myself to have an actual daylight hours break away from the house mid-week fell through (dramatic pause and eyes closed HD glare when you say the next word) again. The first time it happened, I made a girlfriend laugh when I said, "Silly me. I thought I was actually going to get time to myself." But today felt less funny and more isolating than anything as it served as a reminder that during the day, I'm on my own. If a babysitter can't come, I can't get away. Duh, right? But when that reality smacks me in the face, especially when I've tried to carve out some time to take care of myself, it can be overwhelming and deflating.

The beauty in these moments of too much (and what feels, selfishly, like not enough) comes in the breath. That I am here and I am blessed to keep breathing. That I get to keep taking deep breaths as I fake my way through the let down or the sadness until suddenly I find myself on the other side. Sometimes it takes many, many breaths to get there, you know?

Today's other side? Brought to me by yoga, of course. I taught a lovely class this afternoon and quite openly acknowledged just how Tuesday-ish Tuesday can be. We laughed and we moved and we made it. Step One. Also boosting my spirits tonight? The fact that a babysitter did come through for this evening so the hubs and I could have yoga date night - one of our rare but favorite occurrences. Also also boosting? Today I observed, both when teaching and when taking, a shift in my body. Suddenly (even though I know it's not sudden - it's a year+ of work), my hips are more open and I'm coming deeper into pose after pose after pose. And for the first time ever? Tonight?! I got up in upward facing bow! Urdhva Dhanurasna (which is one of my favorite Sanskrit names because it sounds just as fierce as the pose is) in the house (or rather, on the mat!!!!)!!!!

Tried to recreate it at home - had to use the baseboard to help and yes, my hands
are nowhere near where they need to be (under my shoulders) but are you
kidding me?! This is huge progress!!!

So even though this day turned out to be not what I planned (wait. are they ever?), and I'm tired and the dishes still aren't done, I'm going to call it a success because it was another step. Toward the new year? In the right direction? To the yogini I desire to be? Yep, yep, and yep.

To continue taking breaths and steps - it is all any of us can hope to do.

Quiet Balance

Huh. Darn near two week in to November, and this is only my second post for the month. That's actually not that far off my norm - historically I manage 1.5 posts per week - but compared to the major upswing of posts in July, August, and October, one a week seems small. Quiet.

There are several reasons for this.

One reason would be no yoga trainings. If you look at the three months of this year with the highest number of posts, they all correlate to my various classes and workshops. And not that there is anything wrong with the trainings, but they certainly give my brain a lot of information and emotion to sort through, which is what writing always does for me. Without one of those in the last six weeks, I've had time to settle in and continue to get my feet wet with this whole yoga teaching gig. Less to process - more to do. But fear not - prenatal module No.2 is coming in early December, so I'm sure that will spark another flurry of posts!

The settling in and feet wetting, though, are more reasons for quietude on the blog. I've been teaching a LOT in the last month, taking on some extra subbing duties both at the studio and the Y and honestly, between all of that and my CCC teaching and managing/loving on my sweet family, there's been little time for anything else. My own practice has been pushed to the back burner a bit by of all of the goings on, too, and what I've come to realize now that the schedule itself is quieting down is that I have to better protect my own time. I believe that any teacher, in any subject matter, has to continue their own education in order to remain effective, but in yoga that is more true than any other area in which I've ever studied. If I don't continue to show up on my mat to do the work, I won't be able to help others do the same. I've had glimmers of this earlier in the year, but now I know for certain that I have to take in all that's going on in my house and my family and my three part-time jobs and still make time for me, and it needs to be on the mat. Beyond writing, it's the other place I process best.

As for the other reason for less posting? I think the last few weeks have just been a fairly introspective time for me, and while it may seem to some that I lay it all out on the blog (which is a fair assessment since not much isn't up for discussion here), there are times when my introverted nature takes over and my words stay wrapped up in my head. Again, this is not something I view as a negative or as a criticism of myself. It just is what it is. I love the times when I feel the pull, the need, to post a lot. I'm also quite fond of the days and weeks when my mind isn't narrating stories day in and day out. I like to think that having these moments of contrast means I have a fair amount of balance, crazy/full as life may seem these days. And for a busy mama who spends her days and weeks spinning countless plates, I cannot think of anything that sounds better than staying balanced.

Sneaky

I have a thing for lamps. You can ask my hubs or my family and they will tell you - the funkier the lamp, the more I am likely to like it. Part of my collection is a small bedside lamp that I've had since high school or before and I adore it. It's so old that it actually feels like it is made of something (heavy) and if I knew anything about metals, I would insert that detail here. Since I don't, I'll continue by explaining that while this isn't my funkiest of the funky lamps, it is still one of my favorites (even though the shade is totally busted and also a wee bit burnt in one spot, but that is another story altogether). Imagine my surprise the other night, then, when I went to turn on this very familiar lamp before bed and couldn't find the knob that is, you know, the essence of a light being able to do its job. After groaping (is that not a word? my computer claims it is not) [update: groping!] around for far longer than I should have to on a lamp I've had for 15+ years, I stuck my head down to peer under the shade and saw this:

No knob! (and yes, I really want to paint this room something other than 

the purple it was when we moved in - almost three years ago!)

While I had no idea where the darn thing was, I knew right away who my culprit(s) was (were). The children have taken, lately, to playing around on my bed in the mornings, messing with the alarm clock radio that sits on my headboard shelves (which, no, still does not explain my early morning mess up last week), as does this lamp. I did the cursory scan of the shelves and under pillows and blankets and the bed itself, but no knob. Then I noticed this: 

A small wicker basket from my Africa travels that does not normally reside 

upside down. Intrigued, I flipped it over and whaddya know - the knob! 

Thankfully, this is an easy fix for my funky lamp. You simply hold the knob in its spot, twist, and viola! Good as new. But seriously, children? This is what you decided to do when you broke Mama's lap?! I can only imagine what kind of shenanigans they'll be getting into in the ages and stages to come...I can only hope that their antics continue to make me laugh as much as this one did!

P.S. And no, I'm not currently reading The Kite Runner. I'm already light years behind on reading it, but it's on my list and my bedside table, so I'll get there someday. I am keeping track again this year, though, and will post titles read in December. I'm up to 40ish, so far, I think!

Early Morning Confusion

OH, my. So I know some of you saw my Facebook post yesterday about non-sleeping and feverish babies, right? Well, yesterday turned into quite the day with stage five clingers, an RL fever over 102, and a two-hour stint at Convenient Care because our regular doctor's office was so overly jammed with patients that they couldn't possible see us until this morning and the cough Lincoln woke up with after his nap was too alarming to wait overnight. It was, clearly, A Day, full of breathing treatments and leaky faucet faces and crying whenever I set one of them down (except for when we watched Curious George: Christmas Monkey (twice)). And all of this after Lincoln had The Worst Night of All the Nights on Sunday. He made noise all evening long and that continued after B & I turned in for the night even though nothing was wrong any of the multiple times we checked/changed him. After midnight, I took the upstairs room so Ben could get some sleep before school and I saw every single hour on the clock the rest of the night/morning. At best, I got 1.5 hours of sleep in a row. Perhaps that explains what happened to me this morning?

This morning was to be my first early morning sub at the Y for their 5:45 a.m. flow. This has been on the books for weeks now and I was so ready. After I got home from subbing a class at the studio last night, I set everything out in the kitchen, just like a kid on the first day of school. KindleFire (my music source) with special 45-min playlist, written-out sequence, water bottle & granola bar,  and purse - all ready to grab and go when my alarm went off at 5:15. And yes, I set my alarm. Trust me, I checked it at least five times last night and then stared at it forever this morning when I discovered at 5:59 that I was very much still in bed and very much not subbing! Oof. So not cool.

The second the time and my location registered, I grabbed my phone, saw that I had a bunch of missed calls and instantly dialed the number back, apologizing the minute the other end picked up. To that person's amusement, I was in full-on panic mode and didn't even realize who I was calling! It was not my supervisor (which I should have known because, hi, I have her number in my phone already! but I refer you back to panic mode to explain this confusion) but a friend from the studio who knew I was subbing today and had planned to come to class. She was obviously at the Y and knowing that a no-show, or even being late, is not my norm, called to check on me. Thankfully she said folks were fine and being gracious about everything, but oh, my. I felt so bad. And so confused!

I honestly have no idea what happened. Did the alarm go off? Did I turn it off? Did I not set it properly? I know I was super tired and worn the eff out after yesterday and the previous night of poor "sleep" but I was so ready to do this today, so what the world? At least everyone has been understanding of the mistake and I still have Thursday of this week and next Tu/Th to redeem myself. And you can know I am serious when I say that I'll set more than one alarm to make sure I get there!

Pieces and Peace

It occurred to me the other morning that I've come a long way, baby, in terms of the whole helicopter parent thing. That, or maybe my life is just living proof of all those first kid vs. third kid infographics we see on the interwebs because I found myself in the kitchen, washing dishes, not really caring that it was far too quiet in the living room where RL and LT were playing. When I stuck my head in to check on them (still wearing my super fab purple rubber gloves)? I saw this:

(super fab gloves removed for photo opp)

Poor Baby Harrison. I would have never let him get away with such shenanigans (although he's had plenty of his own shenanigans, thank you very much). I mean seriously - pull the folded laundry out of the basket so I have to do one of my least favorite chores again? No. But Third Kid Me? Yeah, she took off her rubber gloves, photo documented it, and then went back to the dishes thinking, "Welp, at least they are entertained and no one is screaming (yet)." And more truth? I was pretty impressed because that basket of folded clothes was totally sitting in the living room for a solid four days (maybe more?) before they got into it, so that's awesome, right?! 

These two Littles seem to be following a trend lately, as this is what they did last Friday (perhaps I was again trying to get dishes done? Or maybe I was packing for Omaha? Not sure, but I clearly I was in another room for this great fun of taking every.single.kid.book.off.the.ding.dang.shelves): 

Like how LT is mugging for the camera? Goofers. 

But remember when I pretty much lost my mind when Toddler HD destroyed his Busy Boxes or whatever we called them a couple - three?! holy c.r.a.p. - years ago? I've got to stop and recognize this progress and be so thankful for how much more contentment I've got in my life now, even as I find myself faced with more pieces and opportunities to come apart at the seams than ever before. Thank goodness for a different perspective. For amazing support systems. For coping mechanisms. For peace. 

Little Owl

Oh, Miss Raegge. This morning RL found a big cardboard box (thank you bolster order!) to play with in the living room and she had a fabulous time coloring it, climbing in and out of it, and setting up shop (which actually meant calling it a spaceship and then a white car and then a school and then a sleeping house). She played pretty much on her own for the better part of 1/2 an hour like this - hopping in and out in order to run over and find new treasures in the desk drawer (lanyards, paper clips, unspecified sets of keys, etc.) to add to her box. At one point she was having a birthday party with a cake and candles, naturally, and when she blew out the candles, I overheard her say (in perfect imitation of the Too Much Birthday book from the Berenstain Bears), "I only want five babies!" Well my ears totally perked up at that and I had to clarify, "Five, Raegan? You want five babies?" "Uh-huh. Five!" she told me and the whole exchange made me smile and reflect back on this weekend (P.S. HD is a huge fan of babies, too, and has told me before that we should have ten - I may have baby fever, but whoa, we are not having ten! - so don't be surprised if someday I'm a grandma with lots of grandbabies!!).

During our first prenatal module this past weekend, we learned that when a woman becomes pregnant with a girl, that baby girl already has all of her eggs inside her that will someday become her own children. Isn't that the most amazing fact?! When you track it forward and backward, it's rather mind boggling. It means that when Raegan was in my tummy, I also carried the eggs that will become her future children and my grands. It also means that my mom technically carried all of my kids in her baby bumps and my grandma carried me once upon a time, too. When you look at pregnancy and family in that way, doesn't it just make you feel so connected? My maternal grandmother has been gone for over a decade now, so to suddenly have this knowledge that connects me back to her is incredible. It's a beautiful intertwining of past, present, and future, really. And when Raegan declared that she would someday have five (that was a fun typo - I just typed fine the first time), I had no doubt because I've already carried those sweet babes and can't wait to hold them again.

Another realization this weekend was learning more about the story of Lakshmi...not from a point of worship, but rather awareness of her connection to and symbolism of beauty and abundance. She is the goddess of "wealth, fortune, love and beauty, the lotus flower and fertility" which is perfect for a mama with baby fever and who also has a daughter who is suddenly talking about her own future baybeys. I also had to smile bright when I heard that Lakshmi's creature vessel is the owl. If you've been with us from the beginning, you know I love all things owl for my Sweet Baby Girl (even her crazy baby owl eyes). I also smiled at that information because our teacher had encouraged us to wear Lakshmi's colors (pink and gold) and adorn ourselves beautifully this weekend with jewelry and whatnot and look at what I almost packed:

Costume owl jewelry that I have tucked away to someday give Miss Raegan. I ultimately decided against it because I knew I wouldn't want to practice in it, but how amazing is that? Once again, I already had the knowledge and the connections within myself. I just needed to see them. Very auspicious indeed!

Closing this Chapter

What a gorgeous day! Beautiful, cool weather that actually fees like Fall...a visit (and peach pie) from my parents...a super fun flow class this morning in which I took everyone through some of my favorite music and asanas (needless to say, they weren't all so happy that Broken Toe is one of my faves!)...and a semi-sort-of-we're-just-gonna-call-it-easier week ahead on the calendar. After the last few weeks, all I can say to that is, whew!

Today also feels, if not a wee bit sad, then at least a little bit nostalgic because I think Lincoln is done nursing. Actually, since he hasn't nursed a full session since before yesterday, I should just say, "Lincoln is done nursing," but then that makes it feel more real and right now, that all feels so bittersweet.

I mean, Baby Dude is 14 1/2 months now and that's an even split between how long I nursed his brother and his sister, so I know he'll be just fine, but with all of our crazy run around otherwise known as Life, I know I am super going to miss nursing because those are our sit down/be close/snuggle times during the day. And LT is such a good snuggler - I'm sad to be missing out, already, on those moments with him. But maybe today is just hard because it is new. And maybe it is hard today because  I'm trying to keep my distance a little bit so he doesn't smell milk on me so we actually can make this happen. 'Cuz that's just it. There is a totally a flip side to this that has me a little excited.

I mean, Baby Dude is 14 1/2 months now! He's growing and getting around and I'm ready for both of us to have a little more independence in our day-to-day. In a couple weeks I head back to Omaha, just for a long weekend, for training, and I'll be real honest - I don't want to pump day in and day out again like I did all of July. Granted, it's a long weekend and not a month, but still. If I know he's OK with a sippy and table food and all that, then I'm good with it, too. Plus we're ready to see if the world is ready for one more Little Welschie and after my experience with LT's pregnancy, I know I do not want to be pregnant and nursing again. That was so physically draining on my body, so if we get a little separation between those two activities this time, I think it will be for the better. Plus, this was totally LT's idea so why force it if he's ready?

It started last week when he skipped his mid-day nursing session one afternoon, just at random. Then there was Root Canal Tuesday when Gma gave him a bottle before his nap but I didn't pump to replace that feeding. And then there was Friday when he didn't nurse much at any of his feedings, and then yesterday when he just flat out wriggled off my lap every time I tried to nurse him - even straight away in the morning! So today we are just going with it. More snacks and cups of milk/water and me just not getting too close. In fact, I haven't even attempted any feedings and since he's not chasing after me asking for it, I think he's OK. I, on the other hand, am literally hurting (woke up not feeling too bad, but now that we're halfway through the day and he hasn't touched me, I'm feeling the milk) and aching a bit in my heart, too, because it feels like a big part of our relationship to put down. But of course everything is fine and I'm just having an emotional response to closing this chapter. I know that. The nice thing is, I have pictures this time to remind me of what it was like to cuddle and feed my sweet babe these last 14 1/2 months. Snapshots that B took and professional pics both exist to document that bond and I am so grateful I had a change of heart/reasoning this time.

Now. Who has advice on how to ease my physical discomfort these next few days? I don't want to pump because I don't want to keep stimulating my milk, so....any thoughts on what helps?!

=======================
Update: Thank goodness for wise mama friends on Facebook! Their ideas and encouragement have me using cabbage leaves and looking forward to my first NyQuil in six years later tonight. The cabbage feels amazing, by the way, especially when it is first on, straight from the fridge. Very soothing. But it smells bizarre and I keep catching whiffs of it that make me go, "Huh? Oh, yeah" and I can only imagine how I would smell to others right now (Ben's busy grading and hasn't seemed to notice my odd odor).  I also caved and pumped for five minutes to relieve some pressure because, as it was wisely pointed out to me, I do not want to get mastitis, especially since this is a rather abrupt cut-off of my supply. Here's hoping these techniques keep me comfortable and healthy over the next few days!

Keeping My Cool

I didn't realize it until I just sat down to write, but this morning marks a bit of a milestone for me; it was the start of my fourth year attending meetings with my local MOPS group. Four years? Is that even right? I'm no math teacher (bless my hubby's heart), but I'm pretty sure that's accurate. Whoa.

While I lived for attending MOPS meetings my first year, the last two years have been pretty spotty for me. In a way, it reminds me of my attendance with Baby Weighs - which each new kiddo, my confidence has grown and I've managed to navigate a little more on my own. I was so isolated and so alone when I began MOPS that I desperately needed that adult conversation and friendly company. But then in my second and third year, as more kiddos came, I thankfully had some connections established which allowed me to miss meetings without triggering sheer panic at the thought. Good thing, too, because a lot of what kept me away was illness from being pregnant (two years ago when I found out Mr. LT was on the way) and then dealing with sick and/or reluctant Littles (um, pretty much all of last year). When you have three under five to haul around but of course you can't go if even one of them is slightly ill, you get stuck home. A lot.

Anyway, all of this is to say, I'm glad I gave it a go again this morning/this year. I have met some amazing women through this group and to see some of those smiling faces that I don't otherwise see around town is always a joy. Also, I've got a lot going on in my world right now and it was comforting to come back to a space that has seen me up and down (and very, very tired) and be able to share in the excitement that "It's all happening!" How very blessed I felt to be chatting with various mamas, hearing from each one that they are happy for me or proud of me. Was it an ego boost? A pat on the back? You bet. But more than anything, these moments - these conversations - are affirmation of this journey and this light I now have. The joy I see in their faces and hear in their voices? It's because I carry the same in my own face or my own voice when I talk about yoga and where my family is today. Last year this time? Totally didn't have it. Not that I was at wit's end, but it's almost unbelievable how much growth and change can come in just 12 months time. And I am beyond grateful for everything in these last 12 months!

For as much as I enjoyed myself this morning, I was also pleased that RL and LT made it through the meeting in their own respective childcare rooms. Linky wasn't too thrilled when I left him, and Raegan was a little weepy, too, but she was beyond fine when I went back to get her. All smiles and telling me how she had snack and played with five kids and made a budderfy (of the most beautiful coffee filter variety, I might add). Totally cool. And while Lincoln obviously couldn't report back, he seemed fine. Until he wasn't.

We got home and sheesh, that kid. He was just super fussy, even after I changed him and nursed him and everything. I just could not figure out what he needed, so I took him for his nap even though I'm supposed to be working on stretching him past noon so I can get to preK to get HD every day without the kid falling asleep on the way to/from the Y. So I got him down and he finally calmed down and then it was time to feed RL and she lost it - because her Kraft Single tore as she opened it. Not even kidding. Five minutes of wailing and tears over a piece of cheese. And then there was Round Two when it tore again as she tried to eat it. In the middle of this, there were lots of "NO!"s and "DON'T LOOK AT ME!"s and lovely two-yr-old-isms such as that. And all of it was LOUD which was great seeing as we were sitting at the table which is in the room directly below where the baby had just started to nap.

All of this is to say, however, that I'm going to pat myself on the back right now because I did not freak out. I did not scream and I did not have the same pangs of guilt and insecurity and doubt that I have had after so many other MOPS meetings. There. I said it. I've always liked going to meetings and often times I'd walk away feeling like I learned something or could be a better mom, and then I'd get home and my kids would be tired and I'd be sweaty and everyone would need to eat, and I would end up screaming at some or all of them. Not pretty, but true. And then I'd feel awful because why couldn't I just be a better mom like all those moms at MOPS?! But here's the other truth - I'm not the other moms at MOPS. I am just me. And I'm learning, every day, how to be the best version of me that exists, while remaining fully aware that best is never going to be perfect. I'm going to have moments of anger and frustration and insecurity; it's what I do with them and how I move through them that matters.

Today, I am proud. I didn't let my fussing, screaming kids agitate me. In other words, I did not take on their behavior or take it personally. Their meltdowns? They were just happening because that's life, not because I'm a bad parent, which is pretty much why I was always yelling in the past - freaked out that if I didn't make them better behaved and perfect at home, then what would the public think of or say about them?! Because that's another lesson I'm learning right now - that I cannot control what others say or think. I can only control myself and right now I'm working, working, forever working, to see the good.

So did my two littlest drive me slightly bonkers for an hour today? Yes, yes they did. But then my oldest got dropped off at home by a friend who also happened to compliment his behavior and then he and I had the best lunch date of sandwiches and chips you ever did see, just the two of us, and I walked away from this whole morning with a smile in my heart after all. Does this mean I'll never sweat or freak out again? Good heavens, no. And although avoiding all that sounds nice, I know the real growth comes from experiencing those moments; without them, I wouldn't know just how special today really is.

Pocket Pillows

Somewhere, somehow, at the very end of the school year or the very start of summer, I stumbled upon the coolest idea for wiggly preschoolers. Perhaps someone suggested it to me, because I can't find the exact item on any of my Pinterest boards, per say, and it's just a bit too clever and crafty for me to think that I invented it all on my own, but here you have it - The Pocket Pillow (I did pick the name. I think.):

Not that's ever been a serious concern, but we have been told that from time to time, Harrison struggles to keep his hands to himself at school or that he doesn't always sit still during Circle Time. Now, if you've met my husband, the man who never stops shaking his foot/leg, or me, the woman who struggles to stay in one place for more than five minutes at a time (unless writing or reading), you might not find this surprising. Just sayin'. And trust me, as The One who gets touched nine times out of ten by HD, all the live long day, I know he likes to be close. He's always been that way. We discussed ideas in the past with his teacher for ways to curb this at school, but nothing ever stuck. Then, somewhere, somehow, I came up with a lap pillow that might help. But this is no regular pillow; it is a weighted lap pillow with pockets for roaming hands and ribbons for fidgeting fingers. Viola! The Pocket Pillow! 

After clearing it with HD's teacher, I volunteered to make some for his classroom and the YMCA preschool in general. I started with five and I'm hoping that any of the teachers can use them for any of their students - not just HD's class. I haven't done any sewing since college, so I really can't say if any of this will hold up to the test of rough and tumble (and wiggly!) preschoolers, but I gave it a whirl and I'm sharing my process with you here. 

First off, you might remember this picture from an earlier post this week:

My very first sewing machine all my own! I found it on Amazon for a good deal and even though it is computerized and capable of all things fancy, I'm just thrilled I didn't break it at any stage of this simple project. A friend had to help me with the bobbins and getting it threaded the first time, but I survived rethreading the bobbin and the machine on my own today (without swearing too much), so yay for that! 

Speaking of cussing (there's a transition for you!), I will admit that while these pillows were made with love, they were also anointed with a wee bit of swearing (just typed sweating, which is probably accurate, too) - Sorry, Miss A! The embellishing stage of this was really the hardest part because it took the longest and my poor fingers took a beating from it. Pushing a needle and thread through denim (which I picked up at Goodwill) to get all those ribbons and buttons attached took its toll on my hands and my potty mouth. Whoops. But look at how beautiful the ribbons are! And as long as the kids don't carry the pillows around by them, they might actually stay in place. 

After the decorating came the stuffing. I don't know enough about OT to know just how heavy I should have made these, but each one does have a bean bag on the inside to add just a little bit of gentle and hopefully calming pressure to the lap upon which it sits. Now this step was a brainchild all my own and I'm calling it a brilliant one at that! I was at the store last night to get fastening supplies (I went with velcro even though I know it might be noisy if someone starts messing with it but goodness graciousness - I did not want to mess with zippers or buttons at this point!) and was wandering through the school supplies (I was without kids, so yes, I wandered through Walmart. NBD.) and saw these little pencil case bags in the clearance aisle. They were not an amazing clearance item, but since the only other suggestion that had been given to me was cutting up and ironing shut painter's tarp to keep the beans both dry and protected, I thought this was genius! So easy! So perfectly sized! So no-sewing-necessary! I didn't weigh them, but I think each holds approx. two pounds of dried pintos. 

Plus, somehow, they ended up matching the color of the beans, so they're almost aesthetically pleasing, too, even though hopefully no one ever sees them (except for cleaning, which is totally why we wanted them to be openable anyway, hence the velcro-not-buttons-or-zippers).

And here's the whole batch...some school themed, some Husker themed, and some just for fun, but hopefully all built to last (at least 'til Christmas) and to help calm some squirmy preKers.

As for what was left of this pile after the fact? Well that's going to be pretty cool, too. Next weekend I'm participating in a Sole Hope Cutting Party with friends at a local church where we will take old jeans, cut them into shoe-shaped patterns and then send them off to be made into shoes for kids in Uganda who are getting sick because their feet are exposed to jiggers and germs. Please come join us if you can or consider hosting your own. Hooray for the helping! 

Captain Cranky (yoga) Pants?!

In case you were wondering if coming home from a marathon weekend yoga extravaganza makes a person all Zen and awesomesauce, let me tell you, there are no guarantees. At least not with this yogini!

My Thursday night - Sunday morning trip (thank you babysitters (Grandparents!) and Ben for helping me with the logistics of this!) to take a handful of classes and a workshop at LHOY went really well. Amazingly well if you consider where I was with my back just a week ago this time. Last Sunday I wasn't even sure I'd be able to do any of this weekend, but this weekend I rocked it. For realz (yes, I just went there). Thursday night was take one/assist one and both were super fab. The take-class was my first back in over a week and it was slow and gentle and just what my recovering back and worried nerves needed to feel secure again in my asana. And the assist-class was awesome because, helloooooo, it was my last one! Nothing like a Type Aer's love for checking items off a To Do list to make a girl feel good, you know?!

Friday and Saturday were where the real yoga marathon came into play. Friday morning I took three classes (one of which was Restorative, so if you know what that means, you also know how great that felt) during the morning/mid-day and then headed back to my friend's house where I was staying to start planning for the yoga classes I'll be teaching locally starting in September (more to come on that soon, in a different post). I'm not used to having quiet time during daylight hours and so it was fantastic to get that afternoon to myself and then some social time with my girls that night. Yay, sushi!

And while Saturday didn't officially start for me until 10 a.m. (Skype'd with the kids prior to that which was beyond hilarious, mostly because they kept wanting to talk to my host/friend instead of me), once I hit the mat, I did not stop. In the time span of four hours, I took three hour-long classes (at two different locations!), two of which were full-on flows with the middle being a Basic. And alllllll three were hip openers! Based on how sore and achy my hips are today, I can now officially tell you that it might just be possible to open your hips so much in one day that they get completely pissed at you, so maybe I wouldn't recommend that same approach for anyone else. Truth, though? I loved yesterday. I was wobbly jello by the time the third class ended, but wow, was it a fun day. Not that I often forget, but I had a "Yesssss. This is why I practice yoga!" moment during those classes that made me feel so on fire (in a good way!) and so strong. It was awesomesauce. And, to increase the awesomeness, I then got to participate in a three-hour workshop on assisting and a handful of my YTTs were there too AND we got to be social afterwards, which was so very fun (Yay, sushi! Again!) and so very needed. I've missed them these last three weeks after spending the whole month of July together, so it was beyond good for my soul to see them again. Plus, did you see the shirts T & I got prior to this workshop? Because sweating with our omies is exactly what we did all July long!

After all the fun and hilarity of the last few days, I suppose it was natural to have a less than smooth landing when I got home today. Speaking of landing, did I mention that I felt like I just got home from my intensive last Monday? As in, it took me from August 2-August 18 to finally feel like my head came back down to Earth and I was prepared to be at home with my Littles and getting ready to teach my various classes (writing and otherwise). Yikes! But more Yikes! today when I got home at 8:30 this morning (because I woke up at 5:30 and sure, doesn't that sound like a humane hour in which to rise and hit the road for home?) and was totally unprepared, again, to be here. To be instantly bombarded with Mom! Mom! Mom! Paint my face! What's for lunch? Paint my face! Where's my snack? I'm thirsty! Paint my face! Mom! Mom! Mom! (for the record, I did paint them like Angry Birds this morning, if for no other reason than to quiet them for five seconds) and faced with laundry and unpacking and just all the stuff that comes with returning home. Sooooo not prepared.

To add to my lack of patience this morning was the fact that I was scheduled to teach Family Yoga again this afternoon. That's all well and good and I've had my class planned out for days, but I was seriously Captain Cranky Pants all day long and even though I did my very best to sit and shake that off prior to teaching, I didn't get rid of it all the way. So when it was my kid(s) whining and complaining and being uber distracting during Family Yoga, I about lost my sh!t. I didn't totally cross that line, but I was close. In past weeks/classes, I've been very careful to avoid trying to parent/teach at the same time, but today I couldn't see/hear past them, so I stepped into (somewhat tired and sore and cranky) Mama Mode in the middle of class. Thankfully it was a smaller group today and the other participants were mama-friends who were there with their kiddos, so while I felt bad for getting flustered during class, I also knew they would understand and overlook the whole thing. And, true to their characters, both were super gracious when we talked about it later and we came to the agreement that that is just life.

And it's so true. In fact, our conversation made me see that moments such as class today are exactly why I will keep practicing yoga all my days...I need my practice to keep me going in the other moments, away from the mat and sometimes even on it, that are less than pleasant. Plus, the whole experience shows me how much growth I've had. A year-ish ago? I would have flipped sh!t, thrown my hands up in the air, and most likely stormed off (OK, probably not if I was teaching because even when pissy, I'm more professional than that), but still - that was my previous reaction to anger/frustration. Today, I was able to address it, adjust my headband to cover the outbreak of sweat at my hairline, and breathe my way through it. It still wasn't pretty, but isn't that the real lesson my children can take away from today's Family Yoga class? That you just keep going, even when life is sticky and uncomfortable, because eventually you're going to find even ground again and probably much sooner if you use your coping skills instead of blowing up completely. Mr. Rodgers said it all with his line, "What do you do/with the mad that you feel?" (which, btw, is totally a Daniel Tiger song lyric now), which is what today (and all other CPP moments) returns me to - choosing what I do with my feelings because,  holy wow, they're all coming anyway...might as well work toward the higher good with each of 'em!