May 26, 2012 My mom called me a salmon
I started practicing Bikram yoga in early 2009. I was terrible at the rabbit.
My rabbit looked more like a…well, whatever animal can’t touch their head to their knees or lift their butt off their feet. My rabbit looked more like an inflexible human.
But after awhile I got the head part down. And after a little more while I managed to insert the tiniest sliver of air between my butt and feet.
While preparing for my epidural this February I was instructed to arch my back in much the same way as Bikram up there, and I thought to myself, “Oh crap. I’m terrible at this. What if I can’t do it?? Perhaps I would have worked harder at that stupid rabbit if I had known it would one day lay between me and those sweet, sweet drugs.”
But, alas, I pulled through. And for the last couple weeks I’ve been able to straighten my arms. It only took me 3 years. To go from terrible to…not quite as terrible.
Just the other day I was talking to my mom about my progress in the mental health department. I felt better after starting therapy, but have sort of plateaued over the last few weeks. I told her that I think it’s just going to take time.
That’s when she called me a salmon. Slowly swimming up the river of life. If only the salmon was a yoga pose. I’d probably be pretty good at it.
- 6 comments
- Posted under Bikram Yoga, Life, Parenting, Postpartum Depression
May 20, 2012 The routine
I’m sitting on the couch.
I’m tired. Worn down. Emotionally exhausted.
I feed the baby. She falls asleep.
I don’t feel like getting up.
I pass the baby to Jason anyway.
I put on my running tights. I’m still ten pounds heavier than I used to be, and they cut into my stomach.
I trade my nursing bra in for a sports bra, and put on a quick dry tee.
I realize I forgot to put on my heart rate monitor and do it all again.
I grab my iPod and the headband I wear to keep my earbuds from falling out.
I change watches.
I lace up my Newtons. I remember when I thought pink running shoes were blog worthy. It seems so ridiculous now.
I head out.
It’s hot. Hotter than Northern California’s supposed to be.
And windy since we live near the water.
I’m so much slower than I used to be.
My heart rate tops out, and I stop to walk. I have to walk up almost every hill, even the ones that aren’t really hills.
But I continue to place one foot in front of the other. That’s all I can do.
Just keep moving. It’s the only mantra that’s ever really worked for me during a tough run.
I think about how that’s symbolic of my life right now.
My feet slide forward on the downhills, and my toes slam into the top of my stupid, pink shoes.
My feet must have grown while I was pregnant.
The new Jason Mraz single starts to play.
I turn the corner into my neighborhood and let myself pick up the pace.
My breath is heavy by the time I reach my driveaway.
I walk to the front door, through the overgrown rose bushes that frame the walkway.
The baby is crying, already hungry again.
I quickly change out of my workout gear, and wash the allergies off my face.
I blow my nose fifty times.
I wipe the sweat off my chest, and put on a nursing top.
I grab an orange soda because I always crave one while I’m running, and I’ve decided that I get to have one every time.
The baby’s still crying and I go to her.
Right now I want to hold her. Kiss her head. Whisper it will be okay in her ear.
This is the best I will feel all day.
- 15 comments
- Posted under Life, Parenting, Postpartum Depression, Running, The Couch
May 17, 2012 The things a Dad will do
To try and get his baby to smile.
Now let’s see how successful he was, shall we?
- 6 comments
- Posted under Life, Parenting
May 16, 2012 The latest in method parenting
By now I think we’ve all seen or heard about the article in Times about attachment parenting. I’m not going to comment on it at all other than to say that I had no idea there were all these different parenting styles until after Ruby was born. Normally I’m an information junkie, but I surprised myself and read not a single parenting book while I was pregnant.
Since her birth I’ve been amazed by all the methods I could subscribe to and all the rules that go along with them. Do this and absolutely don’t do that. Or do lots of that and never under any circumstances do this. Well, I’m here to say I finally decided which route I’m taking.
I’m calling it the – Do Whatever the Hell Gets Me Through Today with a Fraction of My Sanity – parenting method. You’re welcome to join. Chances are whatever you’re doing lines up exactly with the recommended approach.
Let me tell you about what my parenting style says about naps. There are three basic rules:
1) Put your baby to sleep using whatever method works.
2) Let your baby sleep wherever she sleeps best.
3) Don’t worry about any “bad habits” you might be creating.
Translation: Ruby naps on the boob, and I don’t care what you have to say about it!
Sorry for getting so defensive there. Part of me feels guilty for spending a huge chunk of my day pinned to the couch. But, quite frankly, I just don’t have the mental fortitude to battle a cranky baby for two hours in order to get a 20 minute nap in the crib. And aren’t I supposed to prefer sitting on the couch anyway?
- 9 comments
- Posted under Life, Parenting, Postpartum Depression, The Couch
