Toy sale

I feel like a full-fledged mom. Last week, my sister (along with her little guy and Day-zle) introduced me to the world of toy warehouse sales. It was quite fun and I admit, a little overwhelming. I didn't realize how out of touch I am with the universe of toys. Actually, I don't think I was ever really in touch with it. I wasn't much of a toy lover when I was a kid. I think I was one of those rare kids who wanted clothes for gifts, but had a select few toys that really appealed to me...that, and whatever looked good in the Consumers Distributing catalog ;)

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Mother's Day

It was a goodie.

How funny is this?

I've written recently about my two favourite shows of all time. I then saw this during one of my Ally marathons and found myself laughing out loud.

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The Lazarus Effect

I took a huge interest in HIV and AIDS in my third year of university. I took a Sociology and AIDS course and learned so much about the disease and the stigma around it, and it seems, I was forever changed. At first, I decided to take the course because I thought it was a good mix for the three fields I was studying -- Sociology, Biology and Zoology. It turned out to be more than that.

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The End

Warning: I'm totally being melodramatic but if you're a Lostie, you'll understand.

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Another Ally

...er, well, Allison...Janney.

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Ally McBeal

I got the box set of all the Ally McBeal episodes (and more!) for Christmas from Mr.S. Ally McBeal is my most favouritest show of all time (right up there with LOST, but for totally different reasons).

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Twenty-eight

I am now 28 years old.

Not two years to 30.

Not 7 years from internationally legal.

Not careening downhill to my doom.

Not ahead or behind schedule.

I'm perfectly 28.

And, it was a perfect day.

Low-key.

With the man and boy.

Good morning Momma. Fish tacos. Club.

Kisses@lunch. White chocolate brownie. WCB MASSACRE.

28 in chocolate. Our baby boy&me. McHappy Day dinner.

Paul's gift. BOP IT!...? High scorer + D-nut.

Dance it! Likklekakes. Us.

Thoughts on Mommyhood - The first scare

Being a mother is hard work. While there are definitely rewards and more sweet moments than I can count, the tough times that are really draining. I learned that this past week.

D-nut got his first round of immunizations last week. He didn't freak out when he got the two shots, nor did he have any fever or strange side effects, but he did become inconsolable after he woke up from the nap that began on the ride home from the doctor. Poor guy. I heard a whole other kind of cry and it just broke my heart. It was so sad to see him be so upset and not have much to comfort him with other than feeding and Tempra...both of which worked. He was a-ok the day after.

Then this weekend, we had quite possibly the most emotionally draining and terrifying experience of our lives thus far.

Scared.
Sad.
Frustrated.
Worried.
Confused.

All understatements, but the best words to describe it.

As a new mother in completely foreign territory, I found myself trying to put on the bravest face, meanwhile trying my hardest not to completely lose it, become useless and fall to my knees and beg God for mercy (which I did anyway). We prayed all day, prayers for help, for strength, for courage and patience and then surrender to His will. Tough stuff. I once heard that a mother's prayer for her child is the strongest prayer there is. I wasn't about to deny that.

There were also tears, lots of them and at first I felt like maybe I should stop crying so much. Then I realized: who says tears are signs of weakness, of giving up? I can cry because I'm scared and worried but still be hopeful and faithful that he's fine. I can cry with my husband for our son and it's okay.

I dreaded this day, the day when my first child would have his first scary experience, likely more scary for his parents than for him. It's so upsetting to not know what exactly is wrong and not be able to get clarification from him. Ugh. What was baffling was that he seemed totally fine, totally himself.

It turned out he was fine, no harm done and nothing to worry about. All the hours spent with my family in waiting rooms, in examination rooms, holding him until my arms felt like they were gonna give...all worth it just to hear he was okay.

Phew.

We love her...

My First Run...as a Mom...officially!

I just finished my first run as an official mom (i.e. with the baby out of my womb). By the way, I've cooled down, stretched and showered, in case you were thinking me gross for blogging all sweaty and nasty.

I feel good.

I feel energized.

I feel different...as in, different from what I usually feel like after a run.

I haven't run in months...

The last time I ran, I was pregnant and very cautious, naturally. As I said before...way back in October, I found it quite challenging to pace myself, to keep myself from going beyond what I last did. Instead of challenging myself to go faster, go farther, I had to challenge myself to go slower, stay nearer. My thoughts were often "Should I be doing this? Is the baby okay? Does he mind all the movement? Should I stop? Slow down. Dang, I feel heavy..." While my doctor said things were fine and that the exercise is good for the baby, I still had those thoughts.

This morning was great.

I had been building up to today since I got the OKAY! from my doctor on Wednesday to GO GO GO! at my first appointment since I gave birth. When she asked if I had any questions, my first question was not about breastfeeding, sex, stitches, bowel movements or anything like most women ask (according to my doctor). My first question was "Can I start running again?" To which she replied, "Oh yeah, GO!! You're definitely good to go." To be honest, after I got that green light, I forgot most of the questions I had been meaning to ask. And so, since Wednesday, I had been clawing for Saturday morning, this morning, for my run. I would feed D-nut and go after one of his morning feedings. And that I did.

While I felt a little guilty and selfish leaving him, I knew he'd be okay with his Poppa and it's not like I'd be abandoning him or something. I'd be right back! It's a funny thing to remember that he is not my life and so my life should not revolve around him, as much as he does need me. And so after quick goodbyes (because if they were any longer, I would not step out the door, which is pretty much half the effort of going for a run or any form of exercise...you have to show up), I set out on my "Maiden Mom Run". I stepped out the door and realized I hadn't seen the front of our house in nearly 2 months. Oh my goodness. (I've been leaving the house through our garage which is on the other side of the house...I haven't been a hermit.)

I was off. Not as in "off to run"; my body was off. Things did not move as smoothly as they once did. I felt heavy and I felt like I needed someone to tend to my joints with an oil can. I also realized that my doctor wasn't joking when she said to make sure I get a good sports bra. For the first time I wondered about nipple chafing. Ew. I chose to wear my "race bra". It's a really good sports bra that I reserve for races because I think it makes me run better. (It probably doesn't.) I needed more support than that. But man, did I feel good! And after around 500m, this Stella started getting her groove back. It sorta felt like my muscles and my joints were remembering the movements.

And so, when things were back to normal, I was left alone with the rhythm of my feet pounding the pavement and my thoughts...which focussed on my son. "My son"...whoa. I felt so happy! I thought of his face, his little hands and feet, his growing belly and thighs, the faces he makes when he's in a playful mood, our new game of what I call "Kissy Face"...and then I found myself running pretty fast. I don't know if it was additional motivation or the need to run home so I could play with him.

But I did get home faster...and I did play with him.

I'm a running mom!

(Taken post-maiden mom run...sweaty and nasty.)