You'll Always Be My Baby

My little man, it's been quite the week! You are officially sans tonsils and adenoids and as expected, you did much better than your manic mama with the whole thing. You were such a brave guy and thanks to the fabulous book, Goodbye Tonsils were so well prepared for it - wowing the surgical center with your pronunciation of ane-sthesi-ologist and your in-depth questions. So many questions. We had a goodbye tonsil party with a cake a la Juliana and by the time we woke before dawn to head to Georgetown Hospital, you were excited that the big day was finally here.

So excited you hopefully didn't notice my forced smile, my shortness of breath and my utter disbelief that we were about to load you up and and hand you off to some of the highest qualified strangers with sharp sticks and "magic masks" in the country.

You see, though you now look like a teenager in comparison to your baby sis and think you're Sooooo Biggggg you're still just 3. Still a baby and most importantly, still my baby. I see now why the creepy lady in that book of yours that always makes me cry/wince climbs through the window of her grown son to rock him while sleeping.

Not only do I understand, I  fully expect that I'll attempt the same perilous climb so if you could plan ahead and opt for a ranch style single story layout for dear old mama's sake, I'd appreciate it!

RBN, 4 weeks

You may now have a baby sister. You may now be the big brother. You may know how to count and sing and dance and do somethings without me right next to you. But this week, I got my baby boy back  - the one that needs me in the night. The one that has such big emotions that sometimes only a long hug and some deep breaths can make it all ok again. Thank you for reminding us both that no matter how big you get or how busy I am, you'll always be my baby. Always.

Just Stay on the Bike

It seems appropriate that just when my 5 month old starts to sleep through the night, I find myself laying in bed with a million and one thoughts, lists, questions and worries running through my head. A recent favorite: my daughter is almost 6 months old - that's half a year for those of you that are slow on the math like myself. She is not a newborn and yet...my body is nowhere near where I thought it would be at this stage and while I don't have a ton of energy to do anything about this revelation. I can't stop beating myself up about it either. The voices in my head duke it out in the juxtaposing voices of a zen master and a cross between a mean girl and a drill Sergeant. For example:

 - "you are right where you need to be right now. love yourself. rest your body. nurse your baby. lie on the couch and let your husband bake you warm cookies - you are an amazing goddess that created a PERSON plus you're back to work and did I mention, YOU'RE AMAZINGLY AWESOME JUST THE WAY YOU ARE."

ahhh, but wait. there's also this one- 


 - "yeah, does it really seem like a good idea to eat that right now? when's the last time you saw that booty from the back - it is not going to fix itself. yes you had a baby but so has pretty  much everyone gracing the cover of a magazine and by the way, THEY HAD THE BABY YESTERDAY AND THEY LOOK AMAZING! you on the other hand, sorry to say, do not. How can you set a good example for your kids, your daughter for pete's sake if you  don't: find a trainer, find a gym, start to run, get back to yoga, get in shape, get back to your "old size"?? In other words - FIX YOURSELF woman." 

Some days, the accepting & loving voice (and the cookies) win. On others, like today, the drill Sargent wins.  And that my friends is how I found myself clinging to a spin bike at 6:15 am at Zen Go, a new cycling studio in Bethesda that said all the right things to lure me out of bed at 5:00 am to pump, dress in the dark and miss that all-important morning time with my little ones. It promised to be a no-judgement zone. A place where everyone was welcome to connect with their inner self while also getting a killer workout. Instead of celebrating my accomplishment of getting out the door, into the class and on to the clip-in pedals, I found myself silently berating my lack of speed and endurance. I used to be a type A exerciser. I used to be in the front of the spin class spinning my legs as fast as I could to burn as much as I could so that I could get on to the next part of my day. Today however, not even the mood-lifting candles or the way-too-loud music could drown out the negative voices in my head. Instead of sprinting, I found myself willing myself to "just stay on the bike." And then the tears came. Thank goodness the room was dark and my face was already soaked with sweat. Thank goodness everyone else was locked in their own private battles with their bikes or bike shorts or whatever.

The tears were less about physical pain and embarrassment and more about the realization that I need to relearn how to be an encouraging friend to myself. Stopping the negative self talk is easier said than done. It's a habit I've had my entire life and up until now, it's served me well - offering up motivation, drive and the gumption to get stuff done.

 But guess what? The gig is up. I'm tired of getting beat up by me. Today because I know it's not realistic for me to acknowledge all that I do for my kids, husband, family, friends, work, etc, I will simply acknowledge that this morning I stayed on the bike.