What’s up, bitches?

So I don’t really have anything earth-shattering to share with you, but I decided if I don’t get on here and blog something, this precious “space” just might die forever, and then what would you do?

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It’s been sort of a clusterfuck around here lately, also known as normal life for someone with a baby and a toddler. The toddler is having what probably amounts to pretty typical toddler sleep issues since the transition into her big-girl bed. She gets up several times a night, refuses to go to bed, wakes at the crack of dawn. Naps are spasmodic. We’re working through it and trying to be as understanding and gentle with her as possible while not letting her walk all over us. Or drive us batshit. It’s a delicate balance.

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The baby sleeps pretty great most nights though, so it’s rare that I’m up with both of them at the same time. (When that does happen though, oh my fuck.) Codie generally wakes once or twice, nurses for a few minutes and drifts back off to sleep. I’m sure she could do without the nighttime feeds (she’s done it a few times already), but I’m not ready to approach any sleep-training/CIO methods because A) I really don’t mind the nighttime feeds, B) I am terrified of her cries waking up Kenzie, who does not just drift back off to sleep and C) I am a giant pussy and can’t stand to hear my children cry. So the last thing I need at 3 a.m. is TWO of them crying, and if all I have to do to avoid that is pop one of them onto my boob, so be it. She is (with any luck) my last baby, so I might as well savor every special embrace.

struggle hug

In nonbaby news, I signed up for a race! I mentioned in my last post that I don’t want to waste money on a race entry if I’m going to suck at running, but hypocrite that I am, I’m doing it anyway. There’s an afternoon 5k a week from Saturday at a local winery, and I thought it’d be a good benchmark run.

I’m still about 20 pounds overweight and have not yet conquered the elusive 10:00 mile, but I’m starting to feel a little more firm and less flabby. I now fit into two pairs of running shorts and THREE pairs of pants. (I used to call them my fat pants; now they’re just my pants.) I’d like to do a whole post on my thoughts about whether running/working out actually helped me recover faster this time around (spoiler: not really) but for now I’ll just say that the extra weight is hard on my knees and I’m having to do a lot more (meaning, any) strength work and conditioning just to keep from hurting myself.

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I love running with my new smartphone! It eliminates the need for all the other devices I had to carry while running (phone, Garmin, ipod). My only complaint is that the Android phones are so bulky, I feel like I’m running with a tablet on my arm.

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A shame you can’t see my thigh gap from this angle.

Last in shit you don’t care about, we’re flying to Albuquerque in October and I’m sort of terrified. Our last flight was more than a year ago and it did not go well. At least this time, we’ll have the whole row to ourselves. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to come home with loads of expert tips, like: be sure to take at least four different baby carriers because you never know which one you’ll need; hand out homemade gifts of canned tomatoes to all your seat mates; buy an extra seat for your infant so you don’t have to hold him; pay six bucks for a shitty glass of wine served to you in a plastic cup. (That last one is for real.)

Oh, and just so there’s something other than GIFs in this post, here’s a cute picture of my daughters spending quality time together.

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#sisters

KISSES.

I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

Today is one of those days that if I hadn’t been able to run, I’d probably be sitting in the middle of my living room, sobbing. It started when my eldest tore out of her room screaming at 2 a.m. and came to a head 12 hours later, when I’d JUST gotten both of them down for naps and the battery on Codie’s swing died. As soon as it stopped rocking, she grunted, arched her back, opened her eyes and began to wail.

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Anyway. Let’s not fight about who’s busier or more tired or who works harder. I know I’m a stay-at-home-mom and I should be fucking grateful, checking my privilege hither and yon, but christ, some days I feel like sitting in an office where nobody is crying or throwing up on me might be a whole lot easier.

And then I remember pajamas all day.

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Kenzie has been on a destructive streak. She’ll sweep everything off a table onto the floor and then just smirk.  She’s exhibiting her leadership skills as the leaners-in like to say, and we’re trying so hard to be firm and consistent because we all know that people who aren’t disciplined as children grow up to be assholes. But she’s making us work for it.

You don't tell me what to do!

You don’t tell me what to do!

She is also refusing to stay in her crib. The first time it happened, it proceeded a bedtime fit so it wasn’t THAT much of a shock. But the second and third time, she quietly hopped out, opened the door and strolled casually down the hall into the living room. Last night, there was a storm and rolling thunder that started at 2 a.m. and continued until dawn. Nobody slept except the baby.

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We’re going to do the whole toddler bed transition thing soon, but we’re trying to approach it as delicately as possible so we don’t fuck her up even more. I don’t want it to seem like we’re rewarding her for getting out of the crib by giving her an even easier way to get out of the crib, you know? Any advice you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

A positive: she is astonishingly cute and bright and funny when she’s not driving me batshit insane.

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See?

Not to be outdone by her sister, the smaller of my progeny is refusing to take a bottle. Honestly, I always thought people who complained about this just weren’t trying hard enough. Kenzie always took a bottle and because I had one kid who took bottles, I assumed I knew everything there was to know about babies and bottles!

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But, while it is true that a baby probably WILL take a bottle if she’s hungry enough, many people underestimate just how stubbornly they can refuse, kicking and screaming and pushing that bottle away like it’s full of the black plague. So for now, Codie and I are tethered to one another and I have to wait to have a drink until she’s gone to bed for the night. At which time I an usually too tired to do anything but crawl into bed myself.

I know, I know, my misfortune is breathtaking.

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She is, however, ALMOST sleeping through the night. Most nights she sleeps from 9 or 10 p.m. until 4 a.m., and usually goes back down again for another two or three hours. I know it won’t last. I’m fully prepared for the 4 month, 8 month, 12 month and 2.5 year sleep regressions.

But, cheeks!

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I own you.

This morning I dropped them both off at the gym childcare and ran outside by myself for 45 glorious minutes. My crotch was aching and my knees were creaking, and I’m still 20-25 pounds overweight and ridiculously slow, but I’m optimistic. I feel closer to normal.

I have not jumped the gun and signed up for any races. I have no intention of wasting money on a race entry if there’s any chance I might suck at it. There’s plenty of time to get back to being a badass motherrunner when I’m getting more than four hours of sleep.

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obligatory triggery postpartum weight loss post

So as far as I can tell, when most bloggers reach two months postpartum, they’re anywhere from zero to seven pounds from their pre-baby weight. Oh, not that they care! They totally don’t even pay attention to their weight! They just weighed themselves in order to answer YOUR questions in this blog post. And they totally don’t track their calorie intake either. 3pounds I wrote this impatient post approximately three weeks after I had Kenzie, when I had apparently already lost 30 pounds. Now, almost seven weeks after having Codie, I’ve only lost 20 pounds (so I have like, 25 left to go but i’d settle for 15) and NONE of my clothes fit me except sweatpants and one pair of cargo shorts. Even my t-shirts are too tight. And that giant size ZZ Moving Comfort sports bra I bought in the second trimester? Too tight.

Everybody says the weight is harder to lose after the second one, but in typical me fashion, I thought the rules didn’t apply to me and I was enough of a badass that I’d blink and all the weight would be gone. bitches_gots_to_learn_orange Full disclosure, though: I have been eating like total garbage. I know I’ll probably lose a few pounds as soon as I can break myself of this doughnuts-everyday routine, but it seems easier to just start running a lot again rather than change my highly enjoyable and firmly rooted dietary habits.

I got my first messy postpartum run out of the way on Tuesday, and another one on Friday. So many parts of me are tender, but nothing feels pulled or strained or fractured or prolapsed yet, so I think I’m off to a good start.

Of course I’ll keep you posted, dear friends.