The pause button. If life came with a remote control, it seems like every mother claims she would choose to hit the pause button so she could enjoy her baby just a bit longer. Since having Atlas I’ve become very aware of statements other moms make regarding their children. Statements like, “I wish she would just stop growing!” or “I hate that he is getting so big!” and “I wish I could freeze time and enjoy this baby stage longer.” Statements like the above always made me feel a little inadequate as a mother. Why? Well, because as other moms were desperately trying to hit that proverbial pause button, I was frantically looking for the fast forward button on my life’s remote control.
I never prayed for the time to slow down when I was soothing a colicky baby at 1am. I never wished that time would freeze when Atlas screamed bloody murder every time he sat in his stroller…or the carseat…or really any place that wasn’t my arms. I never wanted Atlas to ‘stop growing so fast’ when I was nursing him every 2 hours…or when he would cry for what felt like hours and I had no idea why because he had no way of communicating his needs to me. In fact, I prayed for the exact opposite of what every other mom seems to pray for.
“Dear Sweet Lord in Heaven, if you will make this day go by quickly I’ll give you whatever you want. My firstborn? You want my firstborn? Because you can totally have him.”
For the first year of Atlas’ life, I struggled to keep up with motherhood. I loved Atlas with all my heart, but I found the stages of his development utterly exhausting. Every stage he entered was certainly better than the last, but I never truly categorized a stage as “THE BEST!” Never, ever, ever did I wish time would slow down so I could enjoy a certain stage a little longer. I assumed that was just a motherhood gene I was missing and in all honesty, it made me sad that I really had no desire to savor those 2am diaper changes and feeding sessions.
And then Atlas hit a year and everything started changing for us. Atlas began walking around 10 months and by 12 months he was trying to say words. That was a game changer. He seemed like a happier kid almost overnight, which made me a happier mama. I still wouldn’t say I’m searching for life’s pause button, but I am trying to record moments in my mind so I can replay them over and over again because the moments are simply too wonderful to be forgotten.
Like the way Atlas sings Bible songs while lifting his hands up in the air and shaking his little booty. I’m confident it is the cutest thing that’s ever happened on planet earth. And the way he dances through his baby music class…gah!Be still my heart!
Oh, and the way he whispers, “I luuuuub yooouu” when Dave & I put him to bed at night. And then he screams “Niiiiiight Niiiiiight” when we leave his room and he proceeds to say “Byyyyyeeeee mama. Byyyyyyyeeeee dada” 621,487 times before drifting off to sleep.
Today he came up to me, grabbed me by the face with both of his tiny hands and kissed my lips no less than 10 times. I will think about each of those sweet baby kisses on his wedding day and cry. I’m sure of it.
I’m trying to memorize the pitter patter sound his feet make when running around our house – especially when he runs naked to his bathtub every night screaming “baaaaaath!”
He must say “Hiiiii” to every person he sees. Even if they don’t see him. It’s the best and I’ll be sad when he outgrows that. But then again…maybe he won’t outgrow that. He is Dave’s child and my husband is the friendliest man I know.
And the way he hugs Ob & Marley tightly, with his eyes squinted shut and says, “aaaaawwww.” Gosh. I don’t ever want to forget that sweet sound.
He laughs at everything these days. We took him for a ride in his little blue car when it was snowing this week and he couldn’t stop giggling at the snow pelting him in the face. My heart will break a little when he outgrows that baby giggle.
And he insist on helping us with every household chore. Laundry. Dishes. Taking the trash out. He wants to help with ALL the chores and while this can be annoying sometimes, there are times when I
think…actually, I know…I’m going to miss this. He just wants to be doing whatever we are doing and I find it absolutely precious.
On the day I send Atlas off to kindergarden, I’m confident I will cry. And I’ll cry when we drop him off at college. And I’ll cry when he gets married. But it won’t be because I miss holding an infant or because I long for those middle of the night cuddle sessions with a fussy baby. It will be because I miss the stage we are in now. I will miss the sound of this feet running down our hallway and the sound of his giggle. I’ll miss his hilarious version of a whisper. I’ll miss the kisses he so freely gives right now and the way he reaches up for me to hold him while saying, “Uuuuup, Mama! Up!”
If life handed me a remote control, I still wouldn’t hit the pause button right now. But I wouldn’t hit the fast forward button either. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not a pause button sort of girl. I still don’t ever wish time would freeze because as much as I love this stage, I’m very much looking forward to the next stage, and the stage after that. I’m looking forward to t-ball games and birthdays and even high school. I’m excited to watch Atlas grow up into the man God created him to be. To be completely honest, I’m even sort of looking forward to an empty nest one day (one day very far away). I quite like my husband & I think it will be exciting to one day share our home with just him again…with frequent visits from Atlas and my grand babies, of course.
I’m savoring moments of motherhood these days though – soaking it all in. I very much hope this time is imprinted on my heart and in my mind with such detail that I can always revisit it and smile like I smiled today. If in 30 years someone handed me a remote and a DVD (or whatever people are watching movies on in 2045) of my life, I would gladly hit the rewind button. I would stop the tape to when Dave & I were young, free and in love (I was cuter back then)…but then I would want to fast forward to the love we share now. A love that is deeper and more meaningful and just all-around-better. I would probably still fast forward through the infant stage with Atlas, but then I would quickly hit play to watch right where we are today. This is where I can tell it is starting to get good. I would curl up with Dave and enjoy some popcorn as we watched the messiness, craziness, hilariousness and sweetness that our life is right this second. And I would cry. Tears of joy that all these blessings happened to us and tears of sadness that it all passed so quickly. I’m sure of it.
I wanted to pop in today and thank you all so much for the sweet comments and e-mails you sent following my last post on HG. My heart was overwhelmed by the love and encouragement I received and I was so blessed by each of you who took time out of your busy day to pour into me and my family. So, from the bottom of my heart….thank YOU!
A few people asked how my workouts are going now, so I figured I would dedicate a post to the topic of working out while pregnant.
First, let me start with a disclaimer. I didn’t work out at all while I was in the middle of fighting HG. For those of you who have suffered from it, you know exercise is impossible. Even after I found the medications that worked for me and I entered the second trimester, which is known for bringing more energy, I still wasn’t able to exercise. I had to initially work on getting my strength back for daily living. I had to focus on gaining back the weight I lost. I had to get my stomach to a place where I could eat normal meals and hold them down. That took some time and patience and eventually I got to a place where I felt ready to sweat again. So, first things first! Don’t exercise until you feel ready! Even when you aren’t battling HG, your body is working overtime while pregnant, so respect what your body is doing by listening to it.
With that said, here are my tips for working out/running while pregnant.
- Always eat before and after exercise: Gone are the days where I could run for 45 minutes and then wait 2 hours to eat. These days, I don’t stand a chance unless I eat before and immediately after my workout. My go-to recovery meal is a Juice Plus Complete Shake mixed with vanilla almond milk. I usually drink this within 20 minutes of finishing a workout or run. I try to fuel up with something healthy (apples, blueberries, string cheese, etc) but
sometimes usually I end up grabbing 4 cookies before a run and that works too. I just can’t do anything on an empty stomach or the nausea hits me hard.
- Always cool down: I never cooled down after a run or workout. Especially after I had Atlas. I was always moving quickly from 1 activity to the next and that meant I didn’t have time to cool down. I can’t do that now. If I finish a run or workout and immediately go into the next task, like laundry or unloading the dishwasher, I get very dizzy. I have to take time to let my heart rate come down gradually and stretch to avoid feeling like I’m going to pass out. This usually looks like a 5 minute walk following a run or various stretches on my yoga mat following a boot camp style workout.
- Rest days are a necessity: I can’t workout 5 or 6 days a week right now. My body gets fatigued if I push it too hard, and when the fatigue sets in it can quickly turn into nausea. When that happens, Atlas suffers because I am not able to care for him and play with him so I am very strict on not skipping rest days because I don’t want his life negatively impacted over something like running. I usually shoot for 3 or 4 days a week of exercise. Most of my runs are 4-6 miles and most of my workouts are the 30 minute advanced Nike Training Club workouts. This schedule works for me because I’m able to push it on the days I run and play with speed work and still allow my legs and joints plenty of recovery time.
- Don’t shower immediately following exercise: Okay, fine. This is something I rarely did before I was pregnant. I shamelessly fall into the category of the “I worked out 5 hours ago and still haven’t showered” stay-at-home-moms. But, on the rare occasion I have tried to shower immediately following a run or NTC workout, I get extremely nauseous. I have no clue why. I assume it has something to do with overheating? I have to cool down, drink my Juice Plus shake and then wait a while before getting clean. I know…how unfortunate for my family.
- Be flexible: I am a morning person when it comes to workouts. Always have been, always will be. I love starting my day by sweating. Those morning workouts went out the window real quick though when HG set in. I think a lot of pregnant women deal with some level of morning sickness, so I assume a lot of pregnant chicks can’t workout in the morning. I have to wait for my medicine to kick in before I begin a workout to ensure I don’t end up puking the rest of the day. Now I squeeze in a sweat session in the afternoons, which isn’t so bad but it definitely took some getting used to. An afternoon workout is better than no workout at all, right?
- The treadmill is your friend: Since I’m currently running with a baby on my bladder, the treadmill has become my best friend. I still prefer running outside with Ob, but most days I find it easier to run on the treadmill because I can quickly hop off and run to the bathroom if need be. Some days I can make it 5 miles without stopping to pee. Other days I literally have to stop every 1.5 miles. Is that TMI? Probably.
- Listen to your body: The other day I was running and I set out to do 5.5 miles, but I cut it short at 3 miles because I could tell I wasn’t in it that day. I rarely did this before pregnancy because I’m more of a “suck it up and do it” person when it comes to my running goals. However, with this pregnancy I am trying very hard to respect my body and that means listening to it when it is screaming “STOP!” I fought some serious nausea that day and I was thankful I didn’t push myself to run farther because I’m confident that would have only made my sickness worse. To be honest, I still feel a little gun-shy when it comes to exercise because of how sick I was, so if I’m feeling even a little ‘off’ I don’t workout.
I think the most important thing to remember when working out while pregnant is to be PROUD of yourself. Who cares if your pace slows down and you have to modify your pushups and you have to omit the burpees. At least you’re fighting to maintain a level of fitness. And some days it is absolutely okay to blow off the workout and just go for a nice long walk with your dogs. Heck, I did this before I got pregnant and it was a good decision back then too. I think the important thing is to find what you love doing and do it to the best of your ability.
A few of you also asked if I plan on running through my entire pregnancy and the answer is NO! I’ve heard too many stories about women who have permanent bladder damage due to running when they were full term. As much as I love running, I am willing to put it on the back burner to avoid peeing my pants every time I sneeze. I would like to run up until 24 weeks and then see how I’m feeling from there. If I start feeling too much pressure and strain, I may stop sooner. I wasn’t able to run at all during my pregnancy with Atlas due to HG and a pulled ligament, so I am just thankful for the weeks God is gifting me to run with this child. If I have to stop running next week, I’m okay with that. I’ll just countdown the days until I can slip my Mizunos back on and hit the pavement.
My ears are ringing. My entire body is covered in that light sweat that comes just before you get sick. I can feel the nausea from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. My throat burns from the last time I vomited…and the time before that. My head is pounding as I sit before my toilet silently begging God to just cut me a break. And then, just before I get sick for the 8th time that day, a golf ball hits me in the head. Atlas has followed me into the bathroom and he’s armed and dangerous. I finish getting sick while dodging golf balls (that requires skill, my friends) and I lay on the floor to try & recover. The cold hard tile actually feels good against my back. As I lay on my bathroom floor, I remind God that I don’t have to carry this baby because in my current state, I feel He needs the reminder. I tell Him that I don’t have to deal with this sickness. If He doesn’t want to help me, I can help myself by having this pregnancy terminated. I remind God that I’ve already had HG. It’s time to give someone else a turn with it. Perhaps the girl who lives 5 minutes from her mother – she seems like a good candidate for this sickness. I am 1,000 miles away from my family and while that may only be a 3 hour plane ride away, I may as well be in Uganda because nobody is flying 3 hours up here to help me with my ‘morning sickness.’ But the reality is, I know in my heart I can’t have an abortion. I have prayed for this baby – so specifically. I want this baby. My husband desperately wants this baby. I’ve been told by doctors that since I’ve had HG for 2 pregnancies now, I can go ahead and assume I will most likely always battle this during pregnancy. That harsh reality burns in my mind. Standing between me and the baby I want is a dark road paved with sickness and isolation. And I already have a baby (the one currently throwing golf balls at me) and I can’t exactly care for him when my head is stuck in a toilet. I can’t make his meals when I feel too weak to get out of bed. I can’t read him a bedtime story if I end up in the hospital getting fluids to counteract the extreme vomiting like the doctors are suggesting. I believe in my heart God has a purpose for me and this baby I’m trying to grow, but I also believe He has given me way more than I could ever handle.
So there I was…laying on my bathroom floor, which oddly enough felt like rock bottom.
That’s where I was the last 2 months of 2014. I suffered from Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) for nearly 8 weeks during this pregnancy. HG is unrelenting nausea and vomiting. It is not morning sickness. I repeat: It is not morning sickness. For weeks, I would get sick morning, noon and night (think upwards of 10 times a day). As in, I would wake up at 3am running to the bathroom to get sick. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I really couldn’t even drink water without feeling like I was going to puke. I lost 10 pounds. I stopped going to the grocery store. I stopped walking the dogs. I stopped playing outside with Atlas. I basically stopped living. And the only thing harder than the sickness was having people compare what I was going through to their morning sickness. I think HG is something people don’t understand unless they’ve walked through it, but if one more person asked me if I tried eating crackers before I got out of bed I thought I was going to blow up. When you have HG, it isn’t that certain foods make you sick. Everything makes you sick. Water makes you sick. The motion on the TV makes you sick. Noises make you sick. And that sickness isn’t confined to the morning hours. It really is so hard to explain and I think that coupled with the fact that we received zero outside help, resulted in me feeling incredibly isolated. Some of those closest to me had the audacity to question my faith in God when I opened up about just how alone I was feeling. Friends and family were quick to tell me to pray and trust in God to make me better, because let’s be honest – everyone wants to be the mouth of Jesus and that’s super easy advice to give. “Just pray your nausea away and trust God has a plan!” Very few people want to be the hands and feet of Jesus and actually take time out of their busy schedules to come watch your 15 month old while you sit in the hospital for 48 hours getting fluids because the reality is you can pray until you’re blue in the face but for whatever reason, God isn’t taking this sickness away right now so you need medical help.
Luckily, I married a really great man. When Dave saw I was really losing my grip during this pregnancy, he got me to join a support group for women who have suffered from HG. That support group saved my baby’s life. I was ready to have the pregnancy terminated before I began connecting with other women who have suffered from HG. I heard from women who suffered from HG for their entire pregnancy, but walked through 9 months of hell because they so desperately wanted their baby. I heard from women who fought HG through 2 pregnancies and when they realized they were going to have to walk through HG yet again, they opted to have their 3rd baby aborted. I wept over each story – & I rarely cry. But I could relate to these women. They all hurt. They all felt robbed in some way. Robbed of future children. Robbed of the child that should have been. While HG isn’t usually harmful to the baby, it is incredibly traumatic for the mother. It is a mind altering experience to be so sick for so long. As the stories of these women sank deep into my soul, I realized God had in fact given me a gift and while the packaging most certainly sucked (how’s that for honesty?) I wanted to fight for the gift He graciously gave me. I wanted to be a story of hope for other women…for my future baby. I wanted Atlas to know I fought hard so he could have a built-in best friend. I wanted Dave to have the second baby he deserved. I didn’t want my story to end with, “I just couldn’t fight it one more day” even though I felt that I seriously couldn’t fight the sickness one more day. So, as the weeks went on I sank further into the sickness, but as a family we somehow pressed on.
And for weeks, HG stole from me. It stole precious time that should have been dedicated to my husband, baby boy and dogs. It temporarily took some joy out of our home, which was increasingly difficult during the holiday season. Although, we ate Thanksgiving dinner in our pajamas due to my sickness and I think that is a tradition we will keep around forever.
The Bible says, “The thief does not come except to steal, kill and to destroy. I have come that they may have life and they may have it more abundantly.” I recited that verse several times during my fight against HG. That terrible sickness almost robbed me of my baby, but I believe God’s desire is to make my life more abundant by the addition of this precious child into our family. I pray the lives of others are made more abundant by knowing the person I hope my baby grows up to be. That thought fueled me to keep fighting. I’ve never had an abortion. I don’t even pretend to know the size of the hole that would have left in my heart. But since I have given birth to Atlas, I do know the love that is in my heart for him is bigger than anything I could imagine or express. The thought of forfeiting that kind of great love made me sick to my stomach and while the main reason I even considered an abortion was because I wasn’t able to care for Atlas, the driving force that kept me going through the blinding nausea was my love for Atlas. That makes total sense, right?
If we’re being honest, I don’t think I learned a lot from the weeks I suffered from HG. I’m not sure why I walked through that sickness with both my pregnancies. No big epiphanies happened. I learned I could do hard things, but delivering Atlas taught me that. I was reminded I married my perfect match when I married Dave and my love for him grew during that time. I was reminded what a wonderful gift health is, but the common cold may have been a sufficient teacher of that lesson. I never thought I would be the kind of person who would consider an abortion. I had that act reserved for the desperate teenager who wasn’t quite smart enough to foresee the consequences of their actions – not a happily married woman who wanted a baby. I used to judge women who got abortions. Not in a nasty “You’re going straight to Hell in a hand basket” sort of way, but in a “How could you do that?” sort of way. While I’m so thankful I fought to keep this baby I’m carrying, I hold no judgement for the woman who opted for a different route. Perhaps she didn’t have a husband cheering her on. Perhaps she too fought for her baby, until that last spark of hope burnt out and her world became too dark to see. Whatever a woman’s reason, it is now something I hear about and my first reaction is deep sympathy and then grace. And maybe that’s what God wanted to teach me through this? To give a little more grace? To others. To myself. We are all trying to live this life the best way we know how. Some of us are trying to live it perfectly because we are OCD and psycho. Sometimes even the cruelest actions can be fueled by sincere and good intentions. Maybe if we all judged less and loved more, people would be more open to seeking help when they find the light growing dim in their world.
I’m currently on a cocktail of prescriptions that my wonderful doctor prescribed me and those meds have been nothing short of a God send. I came off the medications about 2 weeks ago and ended up getting sick multiple times that day, so for now I am sticking with western medicine. The second trimester brought with it more energy too. It also brought with it all the same side effects of puberty. You know, acne, rabidly changing body, etc. But whatever. I’ll take the good with the bad. I’m walking dogs, laughing with my husband, chasing Atlas around, running, exercising and making meals again (I’m actually shoveling cookies in my mouth as I type this) and I couldn’t be more grateful. I honestly thank the Lord every time I get out my vacuum because I’m so grateful that I have the strength to serve my family by cleaning our house. When you are on bed rest for weeks, you miss the mundane chores of life. I know it sounds crazy, but I missed changing Atlas’ diapers (although, I could have done without the last one I changed tonight – like, whoa). I missed doing the dishes. I missed it all. Because those little tasks that I so often complain about actually make up my life as a wife and mom. Those little chores are some of the ways I let my family know, “I love you and I love caring for you.”
I can feel our baby move now and that is a gift that almost brings me to tears (but seriously, I rarely cry). The baby has a name, as we know the gender now, so in an amazing way our home already feels fuller. The movement of this baby is a daily reminder for me that we were meant to have life and have it more abundantly – but sometimes we have to fight tooth and nail for that life.
I wasn’t sure I would ever write about this because I am not proud of my reaction to HG. Admitting I considered an abortion isn’t something I care to broadcast. However, God has been leading me to share this for the last several weeks and I hope it is because this story can help someone out there. Maybe you are pregnant and suffering from HG and reading this and thinking, “I can’t do this.” I’ve been where you are and I’m here to remind you that God is seeking to give you life more abundantly, and while the packaging may look all wrong, I encourage you to fight for the life you’ve been given. Be a story of hope. Maybe you’re reading this and you’ve been judging a lot of people for things you can’t even begin to comprehend. I hope this encourages you to try a different approach – one that includes a lot more love and a bit more humility.
If you or someone you know is suffering from HG, I highly recommend you check out this for help and encouragement! And if you know someone who is suffering from HG, don’t try and comfort them with stories of how you survived your morning sickness. That will only lead to them visualizing ways to torture you.
Today marks the last day of 2014, so naturally I spent today’s run (YES, I ran today! WHOO HOO!) reflecting on the lessons I learned this past year. I realized most of the lessons I learned (*ahem* and am still learning) over the last 12 months have been learned in the deep, dark, scary trenches of motherhood. I thought I would share a few of the nuggets of wisdom I gleaned this year with you guys.
- Things don’t matter. People do. I’ve always enjoyed indulging on nice things. And then I had a baby. And then I watched all my nice things die…and not just a quick death either, but a slow and painful death. My Pottery Barn table has teeth marks in it…and the teeth marks aren’t from my dogs. Atlas went through a phase where he loved to chew on the wood. Not.even.joking. My clothes are used daily to clean up messes not limited to; dirty mouths, runny noses and spilled milk. My dry clean only clothes are in a pile labeled “Not to be worn until 2020″ – at which point, I’m hoping they will have gone out & come back into style. My fancy throw pillows have been defiled in ways I’m not yet prepared to discuss. I now know why my grandmother covered her furniture in plastic when we came over as kids. It wasn’t because she was tacky. It was because we were uncivilized little monsters. So this year when everyone kept asking me what I wanted for Christmas I really couldn’t think of much because the truth is, I’ve learned that things don’t matter. So many of my things have been ruined, but I couldn’t be happier because I have my family and my family has their health. The nicest things don’t make for the nicest life. It isn’t the designer table, but the people that sit around it that make a house feel like home.
- People give crap advice. Only listen to your mom. Now that I’m pregnant, I can’t tell you how many people have told me, “Sleep now while you can. You won’t ever sleep with 2 babies.” I got that advice a lot when I was pregnant with Atlas too. Here’s a little FYI for all you folks who like to hand out unsolicited advice like the above. You can’t store up sleep! I could hibernate for a month and still not be prepared for the sleepless nights that come with a newborn. There is no savings account for sleeping. You can’t stockpile it. The reality is your body does what it has to do and you survive. My mom said it best, “Having 2 babies under 2 will be hard, but you’ll survive, just like everything else in life. Remember it is a season and it will pass. You won’t have babies forever.” That’s sound advice. Ignore everyone but your mom…but please, keep reading this post. Obviously my unsolicited pearls of wisdom are the exception.
- Don’t judge, lest ye be judged. I was the best mother you ever met…until I had Atlas. I could tell you exactly why my child would never throw a fit in public and how he would eat brussels sprouts for breakfast (because I said so, duh) and how he would always be dressed impeccably when we went out to the grocery store…and…and…and…if you were a mom you would have had every right to ***** slap me had I ever said any of those things to your face. Because I was obviously an idiot. Just the other day Atlas and I were in Whole Foods and we got into a scuffle over who would hold the carton of eggs. The scuffle ended with a dozen eggs cracked on the floor and my 14 month old in a puddle of tears right next to them. If you didn’t hear the carton of eggs hit the ground, you most certainly heard the sobs of my child. Everyone was staring. I was that mom. I could see the people judging who had obviously never attempted grocery shopping with a baby. And I understood where they were coming from because I used to stand in their shoes and judge the mom with the demon possessed child in the supermarket. But now my kid was the one who was acting possessed and as I think back to the baby I used to judge I realize they were actually more human than I realized. I owe a lot of moms an apology. These days when I see a mom in a supermarket with a 4 year old mouthing off, I don’t judge. I smile and nod and say a prayer that Jesus will help me when I inevitably get to that stage of parenting.
- Marry someone who will walk through the difficult seasons of life with you.
This is unsolicited advice for all my single friends out there. Don’t just marry the guy that you have a blast with on vacation and who makes you laugh over a fancy dinner. Marry the guy who will see you through your darkest hour. After finding out I was pregnant with our second little treasure, I went into a pretty dark place. I may or may not talk about this in more detail down the road, but for several weeks I suffered from HG (extreme morning sickness/nausea/vomiting) and as a result I became very depressed. You don’t get sick days when you’re a mom, so I had no choice but to continue caring for Atlas during my sickness and it took a huge toll on me mentally. I got to a point where I just couldn’t get sick one more time. Mentally. I was done. I just hit a wall and it was like I stopped functioning. I was barely existing. But Dave hung in there with me. He made meals. He played with Atlas. He bathed Atlas. He walked dogs. He encouraged me. And he didn’t judge me. He didn’t judge me for losing heart. He didn’t judge me for being angry and crying. And that meant more to me than he will probably ever know. 2014 taught me how lucky I was to marry a man who not only provides for our family and cares for me, but truly lifts me up when I’m down. If that advice doesn’t suit you, then I will suggest you marry rich. I assume you can’t go wrong with that route either, although I can’t say for certain.
I also learned today that 5.31 is the exact number of miles a 14 week pregnant chick can run before peeing her pants. I know you are glad I got that mystery solved.
What did you learn in 2014?
We got Atlas something extra special for Christmas this year!
We are thrilled to announce that we are expecting another baby (aka Atlas’ best friend forever)! Atlas isn’t very excited about having to wait until the summer to actually play with his gift, but we assured him it would be worth the wait…and we also got him a ball pit to play with in the meantime.
I’ve been MIA the last several weeks because this pregnancy has left me with extreme nausea (just like I had with Atlas), but thanks to the second trimester + some new meds I’m starting to feel human again, just in time to enjoy the last little bit of this special season.
I hope you have a wonderful Christmas with those you love most and I’m so looking forward to sharing another year with you all!
“It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes or bags!
Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more.”
Merry Christmas, sweet friends!
Call me crazy, but I’m a little excited about Halloween being over because now I feel as though I can embrace all things Christmas. I love October and the start of all things fall, but the Andrews’ household will be lucky if we make it 2 more weeks without our Christmas stuff coming out. I love Halloween and I adore Thanksgiving, but Christmas is my favorite and I like to soak up the holiday season for as long as possible. I would like to say to all you people out there who hate seeing Christmas stuff on display in September, “I’m sorry.” I am the problem. I bought egg nog today.
But before I start trying to spread Christmas cheer and singing loud for all to hear (Seriously. Sorry. I can’t help myself.), let me back up and at least show you that we did celebrate Halloween.
Atlas was the most adorable elephant I’ve ever seen.
He marched in a Halloween parade, passed out candy to trick-or-treaters and had a blast running up and down our street.
Funny story from Halloween: We ordered Atlas’ costume over a month ago because we are awesome parents. However, we never tried it on him until 1 hour before we were getting ready to leave to go to the Halloween parade because we are stupid. It almost didn’t fit him. It was like he was rocking under armour. Valuable piece of advice –> Make your kid try their costume on before the actual holiday.
It all worked out though and the kid had a blast.
Atlas actually slept until 9:30 on Saturday morning and we were convinced he was dead because our child never sleeps past 7. I must have asked Dave 5 times, “Do you think he was kidnapped? Do you think he stopped breathing? Do you think he had an allergic reaction to the Snickers he ate last night?” We finally went in to check on him and installed his drop cam as soon as he woke up (his room is pretty much finished being decorated. Yay!). I think I may take him trick or treating every night for the rest of his baby life if it makes him sleep until 9:30. I wonder if I could get our neighbors down with that?
And then because we didn’t eat enough sugar on Friday, I made these.
Not too bad for a box mix. And then we got doughnuts this morning to eat while we cheered on the NYC marathon runners. I’m actually craving a salad if that is any indicator of just how much sugar I consumed this weekend. But I ran 6 miles today, so that has to = roughly 6 pumpkin reese’s, right?
Don’t answer that last question.
I hope you had a Happy Halloween and your week is off to a great start!