See Teacher Run...

Slowly Increasing Mileage is for Losers...Who Probably Have Non-Irritated IT Bands

2012-01-21T20:39:00.004-07:00

Saturday is always such a promising day in the Smither's household. Still a full day away from the Sunday night dread and it feels like the world is my oyster.

Sprocket had a little trouble sleeping through the night, but was bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. Apparently Sigg bottles with strings attached are very "in" with the 1 year old crowd right now.

After some scramb-y eggs and a bagel, I started the process of rounding up all my cold weather gear to head out for a run in the crisp 28 degree air. I could have waited until later when it warmed up, but I find that waiting significantly decreases my motivation and, therefore, ability to have a good run. It took some searching to find my Smart Wool headband and get Sprocket ready, but about 20 minutes later we were heading out the door.

I wanted to do a nice loop that included a packed trail, but any loop options were over 4 miles and I just didn't think I was ready to jump from my usual 2.5 miles to above 4. So, I decided on an out-and-back loop that included the trail, but was within a healthy range of mileage increase.

Within 5 minutes of getting on the road, Sprocket was completely zonked out. I got to my turn around point on the trail and without thinking twice...I just kept going. I decided to take a page from Normie's ~~book~~ blog, and approach this run with some fearlessness. It had warmed up a bit, I had a great view of the mountains, Sprocket was happy and snoozing...and it was Saturday. A great time to push myself.

Sigh.

Missing all of Mommy's Fearlessness

I pushed down the trail and then turned on Ogallalla Dr. I haven't really ran a lot since living at our new house, so I don't know the conditions of all the nearby roads. Apparently, "Drive" really meant slicked/hardened dirt road that smelled like manure.

Ogallalla "Drive"

Five minutes down the road, I found the source of the manure smell. Hey Cow!

It was much smoother than the trail, which had some ruts, but was a little rough with the Bob stroller. I started to doubt my decision of choosing the long route, but figured it was better to finish the loop than go back on the rutted trail. I forged on.

I turned on the main road to head back home and tried to cut over through a housing development to avoid any traffic. I ended up getting through the development, but felt very lost in the myriad of dead-ends, "no outlets" and windy streets of suburbia. Finally, I turned on the homestretch and with the usual tightness that accompanies soon-to-be sore IT Bands I made it home. I mapped it to find it was 5.26 miles. Nice.

Then, I erased all the benefits of my run and gorged myself on buffalo wings, potato wedges, and an obscene amount of Diet Coke.

This was taken milliseconds before he threw it on the floor for the 256th time.

Maybe soon I can make some headway in the weight department by eating clean AND working out in the same day....

Smither's Guide to Resistance Running and the Vampire Baby

2012-01-17T21:20:00.001-07:00

How can you make a measly 2.5 mile run a bit harder?

Take a baby. In a Stroller. Through the Snow. With a flat tire.


Fuh-Lat.

I schlepped out of school as early as I could and picked up Sprocket from our sitter at 4 after changing into several layers of running clothes. It was cold and windy and there were patches of sidewalk with snow and ice still on them. Sprocket was nice and cozy in the Bob with the rain cover over it.

About halfway into the run, I turned into the wind to go through a nearby park and hit some patches of snow. I just kept thinking, "why is this so dang hard?!?" I finally stopped to check the stroller and found the flat tire. I didn't really have any other options, so I just plugged away to get home.

Sprocket Had Fun.

After dinner, I was playing with Sprocket, when I noticed that my whole body was pretty sore. Apparently, my muscles were not used to this new extreme running.

In other news...
We are pretty sure that Sprocket is cutting his first tooth. Is it the bottom teeth that 80% of babies get first? Nope. It's his upper canine tooth. We'll see if it actually breaks through, but we may have a vampire baby for a while :)

False Alarm. Ish.

2012-01-16T12:49:00.002-07:00

So, what I didn't mention in my last post was that I had a dental implant put in a few days after Christmas. Remember when life handed me lemons? Well, I finally got the implant process started so that I can get a new tooth to replace the abcess-y one that got pulled. My jaw bone wasn't tall enough for the implant to be placed and be strong enough to support a molar. I actually had to have what is called a "sinus augmentation," which means that they push up the membrane between my jaw and sinuses (without puncturing it), place a bone graft to make the bone taller, and then screw in an implant rod. Sound painful? It was.

As a result, I was hopped up on Percocet, antibiotics, and steroids for a few days. There was lots of swelling and enough bruising to make me look like I had joined the Domestic Abuse club. A week later is when I made the "One Eight Oh!" discovery.

I didn't even stop to think that the steroids I had taken to reduce the swelling may have had an effect on my weight. I only actually took 4 pills, but it was enough to, apparently, make me retain some water. I DID have a week of clean eating...but I am pretty sure that it wasn't enough to account for the SEVEN pounds that I lost this week.

My weight of 173 is still far above the reading I would like, but its not quite as alarming as the aforementioned 180.

This past week was my H-E-Double Hockey Stick Week (a lot going on at school!), and I am proud of myself for getting my eating under control. I am down to one breakfast and I cut out almost all snacking -- which includes the daily PayDay bar that I was eating. Ugh.

The craziness of the week left me mentally exhausted and physically drained. I managed to make it on a couple neighborhood walks, but no real exercise besides that. I did manage to go on a fun 2.5 mile run on Sunday and hopefully I can get moving as the week progresses.

Onwards.

One Eight Oh!

2012-01-08T11:18:00.002-07:00

After a busy and partially-relaxing Holiday break, I headed back to school to continue ~~corrupting~~ shaping the minds of our youth. On Wednesday (my first day back with kids), I woke early and got ready for my day. As I donned a pair of my "school pants" for the first time in a couple weeks...I noticed some snugness that wasn't there before. I stepped on the scale to tally the damage. It read 180. That means that in the 1.5 months since I quit nursing, I have managed to gain 14 pounds. I wasn't that surprised. I haven't been active and also haven't curbed my eating in any way. If anything, I have eaten worse over the Holidays (which seems to be a normal occurrence for me).

I didn't make any New Year's resolutions (read: I am still not ready to stop eating like crap and not caring), but I knew that something needed to change. I went on a run yesterday (2.5 miles...25 minutes...felt great!) and decided that I just need to buck up and get it under control. No promises. No resolutions. No Bells and Whistles. Just bringing balance back into my life and getting my weight and fitness under control. I came home from my run and B and I went out for a "last fling" at Oskar Blues. The hot wings were great, the sweet potato fries were delicious, and the cheesy mac was just over the top. I am not a huge fan of the whole "eat like crap before buckling down and dieting" thing, but I felt like I needed one last hurrah (sp?) in order to focus my efforts.

It's funny, normally I roll out with these grandiose plans on New Year's and go hard core for a while. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Most of the time it doesn't. I want 2012 to be a great year. I want RAGBRAI to be a week of off-the-chain fun where I feel physically confident in my ability to finish the ride. I want to finally pay back the mountain and make it up Pikes Peak. However, I know that the ability to do this is not going to lie in a challenge or cold-turkey-resolution, it's going rely on my commitment to recovering from the tornado of working parenthood and carving out some energy to start the ball rolling in the right direction. It is going to have to be about being fit because it feels good to be fit.

So, here's to my first week of clean eating, better choices, and some activity.

Apparently, Sprocket is upset by my scale reading as well...

Yes, those are John Deere Overalls...with non-matching socks. That's how we roll.

Irrational

2011-12-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

"Look. I don't always agree with your decisions, but I still support you, Steven." It's a hot July evening and Lexi, Normie, B and I have finally found a patio table at an over-packed Sioux City bar and grill. RAGBRAI 2010 will start tomorrow. We have ordered our first round of brews. The moment has come. It becomes painfully obvious when I ask for "just a water" and the entire table turns to stare at me.

I tip my head back and let out a nauseous chuckle, "why don't you agree with my decision? Babies are cute."

"Babies are irrational. They cry for no apparent reason and are completely unpredictable. I just don't like anything that is that irrational."

Two nights ago, as I uncomfortably laid on the loveseat with Sprocket laying on my chest and my neck turned at an unnatural angle, I thought of that conversation. It was 2:30 AM and I was giggling in my living room and remembering how I had no clue what motherhood would really be like.

It's true. Sprocket is irrational. However, he has now entered a new stage. He often cries and has no idea what he wants...but he is really adamant that he does NOT want the status quo. Couple this with his new skills of standing up and yelling mama -- and its a night time recipe for heartache and disaster.

A few months ago, we really hit a wall. Sprocket had learned to roll over and was not sleeping well. This lasted for a couple months and had gotten to the point where he was up 2-3 times a night. We did a bit of reading and decided on a method to help him learn to soothe himself back to sleep. We embraced "sleep training" with gusto. I would go in and soothe every 5, 10, and 15 minutes until he eventually cried himself to sleep. We also slowly weaned him off his night time feedings by pushing them back an hour and decreasing the amount. The key to this approach being doable for us is that we knew he was fine. We knew he was fed and changed and the only thing wrong was that he just needed the chance to soothe himself. And it worked...within 3 days he was sleeping better. Not great. But better.I would say that 3-4 nights of the week would be straight through.

Fast forward through a bad week of sickness and a weekend in Des Moines and we now have issues again. It could be teething. It could be hunger (growth spurt?). It could be the fact that he has mastered another new milestone (pulling up and cruising). It could be that he is fully aware that he can manipulate the system. Regardless, the "not knowing" part has cracked our resolve like an overripe melon. He screams and we lay in bed discussing. Do you think he's hungry? Do you think he is teething? Do you think he is poopy? Do you think his ears are still bothering him? We tried feeding him and then letting him cry it out (with check-ins to let him know that we are still there) and he kept crying. For. An. Hour. That is when I gave up and just slept with him on the couch.

Long term solution? Absolutely Not. Short term success? You Betcha.

He slept better last night (up at 4:15), so we are hoping that we are moving in the right direction.

What can I say...babies are just irrational...but oh-so-cute.

Soooo exciting!

Drool is his middle name.

Sigh.

Lovin' the Lights

Always on the move.

East Sider Guide to Baby Proofing

2011-12-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

I grew up on the east side of Des Moines. We are proud to be our own class of people. We consider Tasty Tacos a major food group. We think Velveeta makes anything taste better -- including green bean casserole and fudge. We might not beat your football team on the field, but we will beat you in the parking lot. We even have a whole night at the Iowa State Fair that we have taken over and called our own.

I am proud to be an east sider, but equally proud to have moved on and planted roots in Colorado. Boulder is like the complete opposite of the east side, but every once in a while, my actions divulge my zip code.

Sprocket has a few new games that he likes to play. One is called "Crawl As Quickly As I Can And Grab Whatever I Am Not Supposed To." In this game, he crawls as quickly as he can and grabs anything that he is not supposed to grab. Cords, picture frames, doggy toys, DVD players, Wii games, boots, books, pens, etc. In another game, called "Make Daring Moves Near the Coffee Table" he will make daring moves near the ~~baby torture device~~ coffee table and threaten to smack his face on the 9 million sharp edges. He even succeeded once and had a puffy eye for a few days.

So, the Mama Bear instinct took over. Sure, I could easily spend some money buying the latest and greatest in baby proofing equipment.

OR...I could just use an old Diet Pepsi box to house all of our cords.

It just has to slow him down enough for us to catch him

OR...just tape wash cloths and towels to the edge of the table.

Boom.

Sick.

2011-12-15T20:41:00.001-07:00

It finally happened. Sprocket got sick.

I mean, the lip says it all.

I got sick. B got sick...then Sprocket got really sick. Lots of snot, 104 temps (that's 40C for all you Canadian readers), shivers, puke....the whole sha-bang (sp?). He had a runny nose for about two weeks, but then it all came to a head over the weekend. I took him to the doctor on Monday (after a night of sleeping with him on my chest on the couch) and he had a double ear infection. We got him on the bubble gum drugs (amoxicillin) and either B or I stayed home with him from Monday through Thursday. It was exhausting. The amount of worrying just left us mentally drained.

This was the extent of "play time" :(

He seems to be back to his smiley self this week, but has been up in the middle of the night hungry. Since he had lost his appetite while he was sick, he was making up for it this week.

So, last week dealing the sickies and this week dealing with sleep deprivation (think screaming kid from 1 to 2:15 am) has led to a pretty exhausted Smithers. It is finals week -- but for middle school that just means four days of a block schedule. Ninety minute class periods with a bunch of crazy middle schoolers is even more tiring.

I have about 5 science fair projects left to grade (out of 135...that's not too shabby) and then I am home free for two weeks to enjoy life and catch up on some sleep.

Also, it's time to start thinking about this again. I owe the mountain.

Race Report: Turley's Turkey Trot 5K

2011-12-03T09:56:00.001-07:00

It might have been 55 degrees here in Colorado, but it was freezing in Hell.

Yep. That's right. I, Smithers, ran a race. It might have only been a 5K. It might have been the first time that I have ran in about a month. It might have been very painful. But I ran a race, dammit. Clap for me. Now.

My neighbors, JRich and CRad, are runners. Both of them run with double strollers and sometimes even bring the pup along. It's more of a traveling circus than a training run, but that makes them amazing. In fact, I think at one point they went running together with both double strollers. I wish I could have been there to take pictures and then sell it to Ripley's Believe It or Not.

In true Smither's I-am-going-to-challenge-others-to-something-to-get-my-own-a$$-motivated fashion, I came up with the idea to do a Turkey Trot together. We all signed up and schlepped ourselves and kiddos down to Boulder on turkey day morning for the race.

B's sister was in town and she enjoyed hanging out and holding Sprocket while I ran. She would have joined us, but she has been having some foot problems that we later Dr. Googled and identified as possible sciatica issues. She was anointed the official race photographer. JRrich's sister was also in town from Philly and was going to do the run with us.

The race strategy started as a "we'll just run it all together and have fun" when discussed over bedtime happy hour drinks a few weeks earlier. As we found our place in the crowd of racers at the starting line, JRich asked "so, what's the plan? I we just going to run together?" CRad nonchalantly replied, "eh. I say we run this for time." That is when I saw it...the competitive little twinkle in her eye. I knew I was in for a bit of pain. The race started and we jackrabbited through some slower moving crowds. Small children may have been trampled.

We are somewhere in there.

CRad and I set a nice brisk (for us) pace and made it about 3/4 of the way around the first lap with we were joined by JRich, who had left her sister behind (Sorry, Rach!). At that point, I turned to CRad and between gasps said, "I have a feeling that we are both competitive people." She quipped, "I am only competing against the clock. I WANT a good time. I think it would be awesome." I giggled to myself and prepared for the pain fest.

All three of us just kept pushing. I didn't know how long I would be able to keep up the pace, but thought it would be fun to push myself. At one point, JRich asked the pace we were running and after I pointed out that we were running 9 minute miles (fast for us) she matter-of-factly replied, "Oh. I guess I will be puking later." Heh.

Finally, we had made it to the homestretch and I started to push my pace a little more. I ended up getting about 30 seconds ahead of the girls and then made my way onto the track for the finish. I hate track finishes. You can see the end in sight, but know that you still have a tenth of a mile left. As I rounded the corner I decided to try to sprint to the finish line (I often like to do this at the end of races). This older guy started sprinting with me. At first, I got ahead of him, but then he turned on the geezer-burners and passed me. I had nothing left in the tank and he gave me a pat on the back after we finished.

Still a loop on the track left to go!

Geezer Burners

Rach, JRich, CRad, and Smithers....We're Bringin' Sexy Back.

Apparently, he was not impressed.

After the 5K was over, we stuck around for the kid race. They had age divisions and JRich's son (4) and daughter (2) were going to run. I wish they would have had a crawling division for Sprocket, but I guess we'll have to wait for next year. L got a little stage fright and ended up finishing with mommy, but N was all game. I think he might have finished 2nd or 3rd.

She is over it.

N using his "fast feet" to finish strong.

I ended up finishing in 27:48, which is almost exactly a 9 minute pace. Not too shabby for not having ran for a month. I was a little saddened by the realization that it was the first time I had ran more than 2.5 miles since before Sprocket was born. But then I stuffed myself silly and got over it.

World's Largest Sweet Potatoes

Sprocket enjoyed his first Thanksgiving Day feast.

Yes. That is Sweet Potato on his eyebrow.

The Results

2011-11-15T20:36:00.001-07:00

Okay...Okay...so I left all 4 of you hanging for the last few weeks. As you might know, I challenged Normie to the Cab-la Goo-bla Challenge. The Mayor had been (and still is) ironically absent from the Mayoral Challenge, so I stepped up and took over Week 4.

Ring. Ring. Ring...

Normie: Hello (In Tired Voice)
Steven: Hey Normie! How did you do?
Normie: I had nine.
Steven: What? Nine! You drank nine beers.
Normie: fjaslkfjsdfasoidfjsdfn (something jumbled that I couldn't understand)
Steven: Oh my gosh...it was so much fun. I made it to 5!
Normie: Giggle. Giggle. Cable Guy Quote.aslkfjaslkfjasdkfj (more jumbling)

It wasn't until we were chatting on Sunday that we realized an issue. Apparently, there was a slight misinterpretation of the challenge. Normie rode and drank for.the.entire.movie. That is 100 minutes of cable-guy-chugging-spinning. However, that also means that I managed to get down 5 in one hour -- which impressed Normie (or she faked it really well).

Wait. Let's rewind to Friday night.

There were three categories to the challenge:

Riding:

B set up my bike in the family room and got it all set up on rollers while I went on a special run for a specific brew (stay tuned). I got on my bike shorts (second time this year!), and mounted my trusty steed. B started the movie and started to spin away. And by "spin away" I mean, barely spinning for an hour. I hate riding the trainer and I have only been on the bike once since Sprocket was born. So, I just put it in a low gear and kept my legs moving. That counts, right?

Normie hates math, so I guess it's my job to sort all this out. I turned to my trusty friend, the Line of Best Fit.

Red = Normie Blue = Smithers

Normie's Stats: 27 miles in 100 minutes...adjusted to 1 hour, she rode17 miles = 25 points.
Smither's Stats: 9.5 miles in 1 hour...adjusted for my non-fit arse...still 9.5 miles = 15 points

This category goes to Normie.

Brews:

I won't lie. This part was my favorite. Riding on the trainer sucks...it sucks a little less when playing drinking games and boozing it up.

Why, hello there, trusty friend.

Red = Normie Blue = Smithers Green = Adjusted

Normie definitely outdid me...but...there is the not-really-drinking-for-the-past-year-while-baking-and-feeding-a-kid handicap. :::Insert Evil Laugh Here::::

Normie's Stats: 9 brews in 100 minutes...adjusted to 1 hour, she drank a little over 5 in an hour = 20 points
Smither's Stats: 4 7/8 brews in 60 minutes...adjusted for handicap...a little over 6 in an hour = 25 points

This category goes to me.

Finally....the Style category.

I would like to present my case to the Electoral College.

1. Notice all this awesome math. I made graphs. I adjusted stats. I am awesome.

2. I drank Heineken, which is the official brew of The Cable Guy. That stuff tastes like butt...but I bucked up and put it down anyway.

Butt Beer.

3. I used the Koozie formally owned by one Norman R. Rice. Bwahahaha.

The floor is now open to you, Normie. Make your case...but good luck trying to beat the math.

Mayoral Debate #4: Cay-Bla Goo-Bla

2011-10-24T19:23:00.001-06:00

You might recognize this song as performed by Jefferson Airplane, in a little rockumentary called "Gimme Shelter," about the Rolling Stones and their nightmare at Altamont. That night the Oakland chapter of the Hell's Angels had their way. Tonight, it's my turn.

It's no secret to many of our closest friends. Normie and I are big Jim Carrey fans, specifically, The Cable Guy.

It all started in high school when The Cable Guy was on HBO all the time. I ended up watching it several times over a holiday break and realized that it got better with time. I proposed this theory to Normie and that is when the Chip Douglas love affair began.

This week the Mayor is being a little curmudgeon-y. "Challenges annoy me," he says while stirring the taco meat for dinner. There is no room for surly-ness in the Mayoral Challenge. So, this week I am taking over for the Mayor. I am sure there is some fancy word for when a wife takes over office in the case that the elected official has a bad attitude. What's that called? Oh yeah, "Covering His Ass."

So, this week's Mayoral Debate theme: The Cable Guy

The Challenge: One Hour on the Trainer watching The Cable Guy spinning as far as possible.
The Extra-curricular:

Play The Power Hour Cable Guy Drinking Game:
Drink every time anyone says “Steven.”
Sprint for 30 seconds any time a TV show or movie is mentioned by name.
Drink whenever Chip is at someone’s door or on the phone.
Drink five seconds whenever Chip sings with the song in the background.
Sprint 30 seconds for any broken backboard.
Drink ten seconds for any Ricky Ricardo laugh.

Scoring: A combined score of riding, brews, and style. Best of 3, wins.
Riding
0-5 Miles: 10 Points
6-10 Miles: 15 Points
10-15 Miles: 20 Points
16-20 Miles: 25 Points

Brews:
1 Brew: 5 Points
2-3 Brews: 10 Points
3-4 Brews: 15 Points
5 Brews: 20 Points
6 Brews: 25 Points
Oh, and it's prison rules, which means that each brew I drink counts as 1.25 of Normie's. Sorry, I am calling a lactating-light-weight-don't-drink-anymore handicap. Normie, lemme know your thoughts on this part, but, let's be honest, you can drink me under the table any day.

Style:
As decided by the Electoral College. This could mean best Chip Douglas outfit, best Chip Douglas video impression, or even Chip Douglas Haiku. Whoever has the most style wins this category.

This Ends Our Broadcast Day. Click.

I Needed That...

2011-10-17T21:51:00.000-06:00

Trying to balance parenthood and a full-time job has made me into a caffeine hungry shell of a zombie. Sprocket has been a little unpredictable in the sleep department and this coupled with an already exhausting job is no bueno. I feel like I am being tugged in so many different directions and so on the weekends I tend to hibernate and recuperate. For example, last weekend...I left the house ONCE.

This past Friday I led a professional development workshop in the morning and then had the afternoon off. I picked up Sprocket early and did laundry and cleaned while he napped. It was great to have time to actually clean up and get things done.

On Saturday, we met up with our friends and went on about an hour hike in the mountains near their house. It was Sprocket's first time in a hiking back pack, and he seemed to really enjoy it.

We went out to eat Saturday night and timed it just right so that Sprocket was super content and we enjoyed a delicious and peaceful dinner at a nearby brewery.

On Sunday, B went on a bike ride and Sprocket and I went on a run. It got pretty chilly pretty quickly, so I ended up turning around early so that he wouldn't get too cold. I only got in less than 3 miles, but it felt good to get out. We watched some Sunday night football and relaxed the rest of the day.

Here is the kicker...on both Saturday and Sunday night, Sprocket slept for about 11 hours straight. He fussed a bit both nights, but managed to soothe himself back to sleep both times. In the Smither's household we don't call it a trend until it happens for a week, but we will take it!

I woke up Monday morning (a day off school) feeling refreshed and rested -- a feeling I haven't felt in quite a while. Then, we headed over to one of Sprocket' NICU buddy's house and had a play date. Sprocket loved all the new and exciting toys and pretty much drooled all over everything in their house.

Taking a break from the Drool Fest.

We came home for his afternoon nap and then headed off to his 9 month well check. My little 3 lb 11 oz peanut is now a whopping 16 lb 9.5 oz chunky monkey! He is in the 4th percentile for weight, 15th percentile for height, and 30th percentile for head circumference. The doctor was super impressed and felt like Sprocket was hitting all the main milestones for his adjusted age. We made a quick stop past the NICU to drop off some goodies and see some old friends. We happened to run into the Labor and Delivery nurse that was the one that sent me to Labor and Delivery when my blood pressure spiked to 180/120 on the morning before Sprocket was born. Oh, the memories.

We came home and Sprocket capped off the great weekend, by doing this:

It is not full on crawling...but he is getting there!

I needed a nice weekend to feel like a human again. A little sleep. A little family time. An extra day off school. Life is good.

To Lactate or Not To Lactate?

2011-10-16T16:29:00.002-06:00

Hey, gang. It's been a while since we've talked about The Super Boobs. Don't worry, they are still around. If you remember, my goal was to make it to my birthday in August. That was past his 6 month birthday, and a lot of sources say that the antibodies in boob juice decrease quite a bit after 6 months. I was going crazy after that because I was constantly hem-hawing (sp?) about whether or not to keep going. I was over-analyzing and constantly going back and forth about how long to try to pump. So, I set another "drop dead" date of October 31st and decided that on THAT day I was DONE pumping and nursing.

I mean, don't get me wrong...I really love being hooked up the nipple sucking machine 3 times a day (:::Insert Sarcasm Here:::), but I think it just might be time to quit.

I won't lie, the nursing/pumping thing has been a really rough road. There are a lot of things as a preemie parent that I have had to do differently because of his preemie status...and the entire boob juice experience has been nothing like I envisioned it. I am proud of myself for pumping this long and providing for Sprocket, but I am ready to be done. I have some reservations about quitting and I think that most of those reservations revolve around the fact that I am still mourning the absence of a "normal" nursing experience.

We have enough stored boob juice to last us until around mid-December and then we will have to switch to straight formula, which I don't really want to do. However, there is one other reason that I have reservations about quitting.

FOOD.

While nursing/pumping I have been able to eat everything and anything...and still maintain my pre-preggo-ish weight. I am a lot less defined that before I was pregnant (a polite way of saying pudgy), but I am satisfied with my body image right now. I pretty much eat my way through the day without worrying at all about it. Seriously, I eat two breakfasts, a relatively normal size lunch, candy/snacks in the afternoon, about 400-ish calories when I get home from school and am starving, followed by dinner and usually dessert. My guess is that I eat anywhere between 2,000-2,500 calories each day. It is even worse (better?) when I run. On those days I feel like I just can't get enough food into my face. I have no self control and I have always struggled to balance what I want to eat with the way I want to look/feel. The past 9 months have been a no-consequences-oasis of binging...and I have loved it!

Nom Nom Nom.

Four Hours of No Power

2011-10-12T06:34:00.002-06:00

If you are a reader of See Teacher Run or Half the Rice, then you might not know about the evils of Potter's Hill.

You see, Normie is a beast. She has a lot of power in those quads (I mean, who else can do 620 squats and say I "certainly wasn't physically exhausted"?). However, sometimes her "beast-dom" gets in the way of her success. Normie likes to power up hills. She will start out at the bottom at a nice pace and even shift a few times...then you look down for a split second and BOOM -- she is gone. She is up and out of the saddle and powering up the rest of the climb. The Mayor has been campaigning for her to stop for a while now, since its not the best way to try to do long rides with lots of hill. And, because he is the mayor and he campaigns for lots of things. Most times Normie can just push through the pain of her hill climbing approach...but there was one time that she couldn't. It is not my place to share her Potter Story, but I am pretty sure that when she thinks of that hill -- she thinks of this:

Yes. That is Satin-quist.

The Mayoral Race is about being the best fit person that you can be. So, the Office of the Mayor would like to propose the following challenge:

Mayoral Debate #2: ~~Four~~ Two Hours of No Power

Time: 4 2 hours

Goal: Climb as many "Potter's Hills" as possible -- find a hill, ride as many vertical feet as possible in the time allotted, learn to not just power up a hill

Points Awarded: Divide your total vertical gain by 391 feet, which is the vertical change of Potter's Hill. Of course, style points matter as well.

BOOM.

Fireside Chat with the Mayor: "That's Five...Give Me a Beer."

2011-10-10T22:02:00.002-06:00

Week One of the Mayoral Race is in the books! This week's challenge had to be postponed since we had Mr. Smitty was in town. The challenge:

Mayor Debate #1: Super Squatter Hour of Power

Hour of power meets hour of power.

Time: 1 hour

Goal: do as many push-ups, sit-ups, and squats (body weight) as possible. Also, drink as many beers as possible.

Points Awarded: on both sheer quantity and style.

B donned his workout shorts, tennis shoes, and sweatband and began the challenge.

Super Smile!

Tuque was there for moral support.

About 10 minutes in...

I Heart NPR.


Cashed Out After 4 Rounds

The following things were overheard throughout the debate...

"Beer's not as good as it would be sittin' on the couch watchin' football."

"This is way tougher than riding a bike!"

"It tastes like breakfast!"

"I have fat calves."

"That's Five...Give me a Beer!"

"I can't count and breath at the same time. I gotta do one or the other."

"I don't feel like Rocky"

"I'm seeing things...is that normal?"

"There is nothing enjoyable about this."

"I'm not an alcoholic...I'm not an athlete...I'm just a nobody."

In the end, B felt pretty good about his effort -- but we are pretty sure that Normie kicked butt in this debate. Here are the totals from the incumbent:

Squats: 275
Sit-ups: 90
Push-ups: 23
Brews: 3
Style Points: 1,000 (B thinks its less :" I was pretty whiny -- but I had an awesome head band")

Watcha got, Normie?

Stay Tuned to find out the next Mayoral Debate and to hear about my second (gasp!) run of the week.

Finding Energy to Find the Time to Find the Energy

2011-10-08T11:09:00.001-06:00

Anyone who has ever been fit and then fallen off the wagon probably knows that fitness is a positive feedback loop -- and sometimes its good and sometimes it's bad.

When I am not running or exercising, then my mental voice reasons: "I am so tired after a long day of wrastlin' pre-pubescent parasites that I just don't have the energy to go on a run. It's chilly and I am tired and I just ate and I have to put Sprocket to bed and I just want to lay on the couch and watch TV and...."

Inaction and complaining leads to more inaction and complaining, which is the catalyst for more inaction and complaining. A classic case of a bad positive feedback loop.

Then, I finally buck up and actually go on a run. During the first mile, I run away from my excuses and laziness and inaction, which further fuels my positive feelings. I think, "This feels great. I feel so much more energetic during and after a run. I mean, yeah, it hurts...but it's a good hurt."

Action and energy leads to more action and energy. Even if I feel shitty and don't want to be running -- I still feel better about myself afterwards. Definitely a good positive feedback loop.

The hardest part about being a working new-ish mom is that it is hard to find the energy to find the time to run. However, when I do (like today!) I realize that once I find the time...it helps me find more energy. A good positive feedback loop. However, the key is to take the excitement and go-get-em feelings from the first mile of a run and stretch it out to help motivate me to go on another run. That is when the loop truly begins to change my outlook.

During the first mile of a run -- the world is my oyster. I am planning future goals, thinking about blog posts, and making promises to myself. That is not to say that the later miles aren't as good -- but nothing compares to the fresh feeling of starting a run...unless its the fresh feeling of starting a second run that was spurred on by the promises made in the first. Make sense?

Sometimes I wish I could bottle the "first mile feeling" and save it for another day to help me get my booty out the door. However, would it be as rewarding to finish a run if it wasn't a struggle of motivation to start one?

I ran. I ran 2.5 miles in 25 minutes and I feel damn good. No stroller. No Dog. Just me and the rain...an dthe 45 degree weather. So, later this week when I am tired and lazy and unmotivated...perhaps reading these words will help.

What gets your feedback loop jump started?

Oh, and for those of you that I know peruse the blog for Sprocket pics...here ya go...

The Big 4-Oh-Oh and The Mayoral Acceptance

2011-10-02T15:03:00.000-06:00

This is my 400th post! Things have been a little slow in See Teacher Run land -- mostly due to the 15 pound nugget that rules our lives. Many bloggers know that once you get behind...things start to stack up and then suddenly blogging becomes a chore. You think of all the things that you need to "catch up" on and it just gets overwhelming. My apologies.

However, B and I had our first get-a-baby-sitter-because-we-are-livin-it-up night last night -- which makes me optimistic that perhaps I can rejoin society and function on the planet in even a fraction of the pre-Sprocket capacity. "Livin' it Up" meant dinner at a nearby brewery and socializing at a fellow teacher's house, but, regardless, it was a late-ish night of adult conversation and drinks.

Now, on to more pressing business.

Recently, Normie presented a challenge to the Mayor and called him out on some of his behavior. The Mayor is ready to accept the challenge, and apparently it is my job to put this acceptance into the blogosphere. In the words of B, "You are the one that got me into this, Boss."

Here are the details of the challenge as outlined by Normie --

1. The Weight is Too Damn High -- basically, eliminate the chub. It is scored pound-for-pound.

2. Miles to Nowhere -- ride the boring ass trainer. It is scored mile-for-mile.

3. X Party Express -- do some other stuff. It is scored based on hours of cross-training.

4. Weekly Mayoral "Debates" -- do some crazy extracurricular activities. It is scored on awesomeness.

Electoral College--the candidate with the most points in each category wins that category. The candidate who wins the most categories wins the Mayoral Challenge. However, that's just the popular vote.

Normie: The Mayor has been gearing up and is ready to start the challenge...TODAY. Sunday to Saturday. Weigh-in and take a pic today. You name the first Debate.

It. Is. On.

Like Donkey Kong.

Weekends

2011-09-10T22:17:00.000-06:00

Now that I have gone back to work full time, my weekends have become an oasis. My Monday starts with a mental countdown to the weekend. On my way to work, I think to myself, "only two days till Wednesday...then my tough straight-through day, then it's Friday!"

On Monday mornings I am contemplating whether we could afford for me to just stay home. By Tuesday I am thinking of how taking care of a couple kids could add some supplemental income. I am settled into the work week by Wednesday and by Thursday and Friday I am thinking about how I am going to make the jump to Assistant Principal next year. Then the cycle starts all over again.

I love my weekends. I am behind in grading and feeling overwhelmed, but none of it matters. I get to hang out with Sprocket and B and soak up some family time that is marinated in relaxation. This weekend and the last have been especially great.

Last Weekend: Normie came to town! She got in on Friday night and we hung out and ate pizza. It was early to bed so that she could ride her very first century: The Brewery Tour 100. B and Normie left around 6 AM, and Sprocket and I met them in Ft. Collins at around 1 for some brews at O'Dell's Brewery. I made the most amazing RAGBRAI-inspired PB & J sandwiches for them: crunchy natural peanut butter, raspberry jam, marshmallow creme, nutella, pretzels, and bacon. I brought all the ingredients and made them while sitting in the brewery. Normie was quick to point out how motherhood was treating me (and her) well. She called it the "maternal super power." She is easily impressed.

My order card from the PB & Jam stop on RAGBRAI -- the inspiration for the Brewery Tour sammichs.

About 15 miles down the road (at the 75 mile mark), B and I switched off and I rode the last 25 miles with Normie. She was tired...and a little quiet, but it was a nice ride into town where we hit up Lefthand Brewery. She hit exactly 100 miles as we pulled into the parking lot of the brewery, so there was lots of cheering. B met us (with a baby, beer, and a mustache that got lots of suspicious glares) and then we decided to head home and grab some barbecue. B left with Sprocket in the car and Normie and I began the mile ride back to our house. We took a quick detour to the tasting room of Oskar Blues, which is about two blocks from our house. Normie enjoyed a pungent IPA (really, that was the description of the beer) and I tried a Dale's Pale Ale. We rode home, showered, and grubbed on some ribs and pulled pork at a nearby barbecue joint. It's no Kansas City barbecue...but it will do in a pinch.

We slept in on Sunday morning and headed to lunch at Oskar Blues with Lara and Jeremy. There was great conversation (who knew that the law book publishing industry was so interesting) and confirmation of the loosely planned Pikes Peak Ascent in 2012 (if you remember, Sprocket in my womb caused me to bow out in 2010...at the time I faked an injury in blogland).

Normie left on Monday morning (after some bacon and chatting) and B and I hung out and enjoyed the bonus day at home.

This weekend: B and I headed to a local brewery and watched the Iowa-Iowa State game with our neighbors, who are Iowa fans. Iowa State won in triple overtime and Sprocket got to witness his first state victory!

Boobie Bonus: And you thought you were going to read a post in See Teacher Run Land that didn't involve some boob talk? Ha.

The past two weekends have been especially awesome because I have transitioned Sprocket to exclusive nursing! Woot. Last Sunday, I started trying to eliminate bottles while I am at home. It was a little rough at first, but Sprocket started to do much better by Monday. We also started using a slower flow nipple on the bottles he gets while I am at work, hoping that it helped with his frustration while nursing. He is generally eating a little less when he gets bottles (4 - 4 1/2 ounces instead of 5 1/2), but we are okay with that. Nursing is going to allow me to go much longer in providing Sprocket with the boob juice (I was at the end of my rope with all that pumping) and I think that outweighs (pun intended) him gaining weight super fast. He is healthy and happy and nursing...and that is enough for me. I have had to slowly decrease the pump sessions so that my chest doesn't fall off...but I am making headway and hope to only have to pump at work starting next week. We still have some rough patches where Sprocket insists that he really wants a higher flow boobie, but I just try to be patient and make it work. I won't lie, I am still crossing my fingers...but hoping that we are on the path to more nursing and a heck-of-a-lot less pumping.

Now, head over to Half the Rice and help me peer pressure Normie into posting something for us adoring fans.

Oh...and enjoy some Sprocket pics.

Blurry...but cute.

This kid loves his pureed Chicken and Apples

Transitive Property of Sprocket

2011-08-30T06:10:00.000-06:00

Doing You-know-What = Sprocket
Sprocket = Cuteness
Cuteness = Lots of Parental Interactions
Lots of Parental Interactions = Learning New Skills
Learning New Skills = No Sleep
No Sleep = More Caffeine
More Caffeine = Diet Coke
Diet Coke = Aspartame
Aspartame = Holes in the Brain.

There you have it. Having Sex Leads to Holes in Your Brain.

No. Really. Our awesomely cute kid is learning new stuff pretty much every day. When he learned to roll over both ways, we had to stop swaddling and sleep became a precious commodity in the Smither's household. We just started getting back on track in the sleep department in the middle of last week. Well, now he learned how to get his knees up under him when he is sleeping. It results in the super cute "baby-butt-in-the-air" sleeping pose. It also results in an increased incidence him accidentally rolling over onto his back in his sleep, startling himself awake, and screaming at the top of his lungs because he is pissed off. Twice. Last Night. At 1 AM.

Good thing he is hands-down the cutest kid on Earth. Here he is giving his opinion on carrots:

The Stats

2011-08-22T17:05:00.000-06:00

Welcome to the Return of the Babies and Boobs. :)

In June, I was ready to throw in the nursing-and-pumping towel. I was just ready to be done with the whole thing. B and I talked, and he threw out my 30th birthday as a good goal for me to shoot for. It would put me past Sprocket's 6 month milestone, which is big in breast-feeding land. Also, it would allow me to see how do-able it was to pump and work full time.

I made it!

My wonderful plans of transitioning to just nursing (since Sprocket made the growth charts) in the evenings was thwarted by my son's habit of clamping down, pulling, and screaming. Ouch-o-rama. So, the pump and I have been hanging out a lot lately, but, to be honest, I don't know how much longer I can last. I am down to pumping 3 times a day, and eliminating the before-bed pump has made my life much better (since I can go to bed early and not worry about my chest falling off).

Now that I made my goal, I would like to share some stats. Since January 26th, 2011...

...I have pumped 1,048 times...that is 1,048 sets of pump supplies that B has washed (well, I help him sometimes).

...I have pumped 493 hours.

...I have pumped 7,351.3 ounces.

I am amazing and my boobs are awesome.

The End.

:::Insert Exhaustion Here:::

2011-08-20T06:36:00.001-06:00

Ten days in Des Moines followed by a week of trying to get work done at school with Sprocket followed by returning to work full-time has kicked my butt.

1. My Des Moines trip was a whirlwind. I was pretty much the chopped liver that happened to arrive with the cute and cuddly baby. :) All of our family really enjoyed seeing him, and after a few days of adjusting, he started settling into a routine and sucking down his bottles again. We had a great time, but I was definitely ready to get back home.

Sprocket having a blast at the airport

Sprocket and Uncle Jammer -- who surprised me by coming into town while I was there!

Grandma Barb loooooves Sprocket :)

Nonie and Sprocket meeting for the first time

Larry getting in on the action

Sprocket LOVED his cousin Austin

I was planning on going down to KC to visit some friends, but Sprocket was having a really rough time adjusting to all the action. It was just going to be too much for us to drive down and back in the same day. Grandma W drove all the way up from KC to go out to lunch and get in on some Sprocket time.

Apparently, Sprocket just saw a ghost :)

We had to have our traditional Sunshine and popcorn. Sigh.

2. I planned on only doing half a day of RAGBRAI and meeting Normie and B in a middle town. Instead, I surprised B by showing up in Boone and riding the whole day. It was brutal, but I did it. I was really proud of myself and had a ton of fun.

I had to pump on the road, so I brought my battery pack and a big t-shirt along. Normie caught me enjoying a Pay Day and a Miller High Life while hooked up to the Moo Machine (don't worry...I dumped all my milk since I had no place to store it!). I really hit a wall going into the second-to-last town, and B was a very supportive and patient riding partner. We got into Bondurant and stopped at a pizza joint where I ate an insane amount of cheese bread, onion rings, and pumped again. I don't think the waitress even noticed, of course, that is probably because I am a ninja pumper.

About halfway through the day, we stopped for some free beverages (it is in the RAGBRAI by-laws that you have to stop if it's free) and there was a hose that people were using to soak their heads to cool off. This lady was letting the water run onto her neck and asked me if I wanted any water. I said, "sure," and she proceeded to spray up and down my entire back with the hose. I had my phone, wallet, and camera in my jersey pockets. Our camera was ruined and the flash started randomly going off. Stupid Lady.

3. In true Sprocket timing...he learned to do this 4 days before I was due back to school.

Cute. Wonderful. Exciting. BUT, it means that we can no longer use the amazing super swaddle when he goes to bed. So, it has been a long couple weeks of a Tasmanian devil in his crib. He rolls and rolls and cries and squirms and grunts and groans pretty much all night long. For my first week back full time with the kds, I have gotten very interrupted and unsatisfying sleep. Not really how I was hoping to kick off the school year. Plus, once you have returned from the dark side of sleeplessness with a baby...it's hard to return again.

Oh, Internets, I haven't meant to neglect you....it's just that I have crawled into my cocoon of survival and I haven't really had the time to shower (ew.) let alone blog. I apologize.

In other news, I have lost about 3 pounds going back to school and on Monday I celebrate the 1st anniversary of my 29th birthday. Woot.

Catching the Curve

2011-07-22T16:42:00.000-06:00

Preemies have two ages -- their adjusted age and their actual age. The adjusted age is calculated based on my due date. So, in the preemie world, Sprocket is almost 6 months actual and just turned 4 months adjusted. Up until 2 years old, it is pretty normal for a preemie to hit developmental milestones according to their adjusted age. It is also normal for a preemie to not be on any of the actual age growth charts that are so coveted by mom's everywhere.

Seriously. Anytime I am around other new-ish moms, it is mostly talk of percentiles and milestones. It can be a little disheartening to know that Sprocket is behind for his actual age, but deep down I know that it makes sense considering that he spent the first 6 weeks of his life trying to learn the coordination of eating and remembering to breath. I know that I should go by his "adjusted" age, but I still yearn for him to begin the catch up. I picture Preemie Land as a world of worry until you reach the "caught up" oasis where the nervousness just melts away. Until then I spend my time fretting needlessly about how much he eats and whether he is getting enough tummy time. The bonus is that when people see his little 12 lb self, they think that he is a newborn. They then compliment me on losing the baby weight so quickly. Score.

The goal is to keep Sprocket's weight gain curve just a bit steeper than the curve for an average baby and, viola, we get caught up. I am a science nerd and have graphed it for ya.

Shift his line two months to the left and you will see that we float around the 25th percentile for his adjusted age. Just sayin'

The red points are his weights and different ages. We are soooo close to catching the bottom line, which is the 3rd percentile for his actual age. Hopefully, at his 6 month appointment on August 1st, we will catch that darn line.

Then, I will declare my son the Best Wonder Preemie on the face of the planet followed by a celebratory Chipotle Burrito.

Holla.

Everyone Poops Chronicles: Part Three

2011-07-18T18:16:00.000-06:00

Or "How I Lost Myself in Shiny Boxes and Throw-away Bliss"

Or "A Re-dedication"

Or "I Almost Cried at Target Today"

Or "An Excuse to Post Pics of Poo on My Blog"

If you remember, I prenatally accepted the cloth diapering challenge, and complained about everyone's attitude towards my endeavor. Finally, after having Sprocket home for about a month -- we dove into cloth diapering, even though some of us were a bit cranky about it.

Between then and now, Sprocket got a yeast infection on his bum and the diapers kept reinfecting him. So, we gave up and went to disposables for a while. I bleached the cloth prefolds and then the residual bleach caused a rash...so I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed them...still caused rash. Then, I got lazy and Sprocket started only pooping once every 3-4 days, which meant that they were blowouts and G.R.O.S.S. Do you see where this is going? Yep, we are headed right down Excuse Alley with a detour on Run-on sentence Lane. We (mostly B) have been trying to use cloth part time...

See? G.R.O.S.S.

But also Oh-So-Cute!

I went to buy a box of diapers today, and realized in the middle of Target that I hated myself a little bit. I was the environment-ruining Mom that I didn't want to be (no judgment to those who use disposables...I just didn't plan on using them). I got home and unloaded the groceries. As I headed upstairs, I quickly turned around to grab some laundry and caught this:

Damn Devil Babies Always Mocking Me Behind My Back!

That was the last straw. I am officially rededicating myself to cloth diapering. I am not really a fan of the pre-fold and cover system that we have (more details on that later), but I can't justify investing more money in cloth when I have been so lazy about it. Scratch that...I can't convince my ~~cheap~~ choosy husband to let me spend more money on cloth when I have been a Sposie Sister for the past two months. So, I think I need to get creative :)

I am headed to Des Moines, IA to visit family for 10 days and I will be using disposables during that time. I am going to have my hands full as it is traveling alone with a 5 1/2 month old and don't want to add to the complexity (Hey Look...we are now stuck on Excuse Circle!). However, I have a plan to launch us back into cloth diaper land upon my return. Stay tuned for what might be a brand new adventure in cloth diapering.

Oh -- and for those of you who noticed my absence from bloggy-world...sorry 'bout that.

Lesson Learned

2011-07-02T02:33:00.000-06:00

So, there have been lots of contests and gimmicks in the history or See Teacher Run. I like to think that they are amusing...or at least somewhat interesting. However, this last challenge really made me think about things and reflect on the motivation for fitness.

The first two weeks of the Super Friends Challenge were great. I was motivated. I was decaffeinated. I was even running (sometimes). There was some controversy around the purpose of pumping being included in the challenge -- and I patiently explained that it was like a handicap to my blog-land fitness score.

Then, it all finally caught up to me. We went to San Diego on a trip. Exhaustion from going back to work for the first time post-Sprocket finally set in. It started with me going on a Diet Coke bender and ended with me doing NOTHING in the fitness department for the past two weeks. I am so detached from the whole thing that I haven't even gone in to our spreadsheet to update my points, and I think I have even been avoiding my blog. Let's face it -- I pretty much sat on my @$$ and pumped for the past two weeks. That. Does. Not. Count.

I have, however, learned a bit this time around. I have learned that while competition is fun -- it can't serve as the biggest motivator in getting fit. It is no secret that I have struggled to be consistently fit. This blog is a record of the roller coaster nature of my fitness regime. Sometimes, I am super motivated and run my face off. Other times, I am a slug and eat way too much and run way too little. As much as I want some super shiny contest to motivate me to stay fit -- it is never going to happen. The motivation for consistent and sustainable fitness has to come from my intrinsic desire to simply be healthy. I need to not do it for points...but, instead, because it is the lifestyle that I want for myself and my son.

So, what started as a silly contest with a flashy video has ended as a reflective moment in the blog-o-sphere. The next contest will simply be an account of what I am already doing...not the cure all for my laziness.

Whew. That was Heavy.

Cousin Addy

2011-06-27T15:33:00.000-06:00

B's cousin, Addy, is going to be a sixth grader...and to celebrate she got her first email account! She promptly emailed me to let me know that she checks out the blog. This means two things:

1) I better clean up my act around here :)
2) Sprocket just HAD to say hello

He thought that holding the paper was hysterical!


He liked to grab it and wiggle...which made it fun to try to get a picture :)

Coming Soon...Sprocket's 5 month letter and some fun pics and videos of the little guy. Can you tell that I am once again using my kid's cuteness to avoid talking about my lack of exercise? :)

On Fitness and Parenthood

2011-06-21T22:06:00.000-06:00

Those two words are hard to blog about, let alone actually balance in real life. Parenthood is tough. Throughout this challenge, I have learned a lot about my abilities and my feelings on the topic of fitness as a parent -- mostly because running provides me with time to actually get lost in thought and ponder these things.

I was on a run last week, and I was feeling down. The negative self-talk that has plagued me in the past was in full force. "You are slow. You are out of shape. This hurts. Life Sucks. I want to walk. It's too hot." I was plugging away in my negative head space when I passed a kid walking down the street. He was about 11 or 12 years old, and was definitely overweight, if not obese for his age. He also had a shirt on that said "If you knew my family, you'd understand." He looked miserable as he walked down the street in the hot sun.

That is when I realized that I have the opportunity to shape someone else's perspective on fitness. Sprocket has a blank slate and it is up to me to teach him about a healthy lifestyle. Whether I always realize it or not, he is watching me and literally learning how to be a person...even now at 4 1/2 months. It's interesting to me that I used to think of "parenting" as something that starts in toddlerhood, but now I am realizing that we are already teaching him lots of things just through exposure. Fitness is definitely one of these things.

I am often frustrated with my childhood, because healthy eating and fitness just weren't important values. It is a foundation that I feel like I have been trying to get over since adolescence. We were the family that ate fast food several times in the weekend, and we were more likely to spend a Saturday watching TV vs. getting out and about. I have a pretty solid build, and I have always struggled to be "not chunky" since before I can even remember. Even at my most fit moments, I would never qualify myself as skinny. Running has been a way for me to overcome those issues, but if you have read this blog over the years -- you can see that I struggle with the ebb and flow of my fitness. I work to make running a consistent part of my life -- but there are a lot of blog posts on here about trying to get back into running or admitting that I haven't been running.

It can be different for Sprocket. I mean, don't get me wrong, I will, of course, love him if he is overweight -- but I have the power over the "nurture" part of the equation. I have the power to help him see the value of a healthy lifestyle by valuing it myself.

After thinking and reflecting about all of this on my recent run, I tipped my Bike World hat slightly to the side (you know, for extra attitude), flipped back the visor on Sprocket's stroller, and put my head down and pushed through the rest of my run. He was sleeping...but I like to think that he absorbed some of my healthy habits as he slept :)

Oh, The Irony

2011-06-19T08:40:00.000-06:00

First off, our laptop cord busted (again!), so we have been unplugged (pun intended) at home. Blogger is blocked at my school...so I haven't been able to blog. However, that doesn't mean that I haven't been active in the SBVSBC.

Normie recently blogged that by trying to decrease her "drinky" consumption that it actually led to more drinking on her two "off" days and she started substituting Coke when she would normally just have a beer.

When I read her post about it, I laughed out loud. I am doing pretty much the same thing with Diet Coke. I get three a week, and a restaurant bottomless counts as two. So, I made it the first week, but noticed that when I would normally have a Diet Coke at home...I drank a beer. AND, when I would normally drink a few refills at a restaurant...I was binging and gulping down 3-4 glasses.

Then, I started summer school this week, and it became a total shit show. I was tired. I was overwhelmed. I was fried...and I have drank more than my fair share of the Nectar of the Gods (-100 points!). I realized that the "idea" of a Diet Coke is what makes me feel good. It's like a warm and fuzzy blanky for my soul. Sick. I know.

In other news:

I made it on three runs this past week and did Jillian Michaels Shred (she didn't scream at my quads quite as bad this time). In fact, I had a total high after my second run when I didn't have to take ANY walk breaks. However, that was followed by a low on my third run when I ended up walking more of it than running. I still qualify it as a "run" because:
A) I squeezed my pale-legged self into running shorts. I think I blinded a few drivers with my reflective sticks.
B) I can pretty much power walk as fast as I run anyway.
C) Your Face.

I am feeling good about the running I have been doing, even if I have to drag myself out the door. The hard part this week is that I have to up my runs to 3 miles, and we have been out of town until today. So, all three of my 3 mile runs will have to happen before Tuesday. Tough.

Super Friends Week One: I'm Just Sayin'...

2011-06-07T23:03:00.004-06:00

Okay, so, apparently, there has been some controversy over the terms of the Super Friends Challenge.Here is the comment that Normie left on my most recent post:

I am reallly out of shape -- probably more out of shape than I have been since in college. You know, the kind of out of shape where you feel like a slug and don't take many pictures of yourself. So, my goal was to come up with a challenge that would level the playing field. Normie is amazing and wants to boost some of the things she is already doing and I have done nothing for about 7 months. While I could have just adjusted the point values more...I thought it would be fun to make my Super Boobs the equalizing factor. If you read this blog at all, you know that I L.O.V.E. to chat about my Super Boobs...and by "chat," I really mean "brag." I talked about them here, here, here, and here. I love Super Boobs. I'm Just Sayin'.

I have a feeling that this controversy may also be related to the lack of evidence of exercise. I haven't blogged since last week (very busy with summer school), but I DID make it on 2 runs this week. I took The Red Lightning (my new-to-me jogging stroller) on its first spin around the neighborhood and logged in 2.31 miles. Then, on Monday night (after my first full day back to work), I went on the same route (sans stroller) in 90 degree sunshine. I had B snap this pic after my run:

The funny thing is...I zoomed in on the picture, and this is what I found...

Apparently, my Super Boobs have a bit of a competitive personality. I'm Just Sayin'.

Finally, we get to the bummer. I did not make it on my 3rd run this week. I could provide lots of excuses, but when it comes down to it -- I just didn't get it done. I think one thing that contributed to my laziness is that I am 100 points ahead of Normie and didn't notice Super Saver's point update. It was easier for me to just eat the points than go on a run. I'm Just Sayin'.

I did manage to keep my Diet Coke consumption to three. I had one refillable Diet Coke (which counts as two) on Friday and another one on Monday morning. I was definitely hurting this morning, but I resisted the urge.

So, while my super-competitive-super-boobs would love to continue smack talking -- I would like to amend the rules. I am thinking 0.5 points per ounce (still there to level the playing field) and that Normie should get more points per mile on her bike. Also, I would like to add some points for other workouts (Jillian Michaels Shred, etc.). Also, I think that we should revisite Point MaGee's values as well. She is doing and AMAZING job losing weight and staying within her points, but I think we need to see what system will equalize us all and make it fun and competitive.

Oh, and check out Normie's awesome attempt to make a vacation weekend healthy. I think some definite point padding is allowed. She rode up the road to Mt. Rushmore. I met B on his cross country bike ride 9 years ago and rode up that same road with him and his crew. Later that night, another rider on the ride said, "Hey, how long did you have to walk your bike on that big hill?" I replied, "I didn't walk at all...I rode the whole thing!" [puffing chest out proudly]. She innocently answered, "Oh...you must have been riding really slow." Ouch. So, Normie...you deserve way more points for that hill. It is a toughie. I'm Just Sayin'.

Excuses are like...

2011-06-02T22:43:00.000-06:00

buttholes, everyone has 'em -- and they all stink! (Favorite quote of my dad's)

Um. So, Day Two of the Super Friends Challenge...not so hot in the working out department. Still more errands for summer school, visiting with a friend that traveled abroad for the last year, baking a cake for B's birthday, and the usual Sprocket care-taking. It was also 90 degrees, and I just couldn't get myself to go on a run in that heat...especially since I had been up since 4 AM (I SWEAR Sprocket can smell plans to be productive). B's 30th birthday dinner out was also beckoning me. I know, I know...excuses...but, well, it's what I've got.

However, I am still doing great in the Diet Coke front! I am saving up my 3 weekly servings of the Nectar of the Gods until next Monday when summer school starts. Oh, and of course, I pumped like a champ...so my cleverly designed challenge is still going okay. Heh. Tuque has also gone on two walks in the past two days, so he is hanging in there for the Dog-athon.

Workout? No.
But I can try to appease you with some cuteness :)

Thanks Mesinga...Sprocket loves his Monkey :)

Did it work? Did I distract you from my laziness? No? Okay, how about THIS...

Attack of the Killer Tuque!

Hahaha! I knew that would work! Apparently, I caught Tuque in motion, and it looks like he is possessed.

Now you don't even remember anything about excuses. Ah. The power of cuteness and demon dogs.

Let's Get Some Things Straight

2011-06-01T18:39:00.000-06:00

So, if you didn't already catch it -- I challenged Normie to another exciting fitness contest.Super Boob Vs. Super Beaver, or as Normie named it SBVSBC. She accepted and then added another layer that will be addressed later in See Teacher Run Land.

The next day, a friend from high school, Kyrna, came into town with her husband, Tom. They have been doing Weight Watchers and trying to lose some weight. She was intrigued by the Team Beaver Super Friends Challenge, and once she watched the video when they got home...she wanted in! Kyrna is super frugal and awesome, so her SBVSC name is "Super Saver."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Caddywumpus emailed me saying that she would LOVE to be a part of the Super twist on our old friend, the June-athon. She took part in the Jan-athon challenge...and wanted to continue her -athon greatness in June. So, she is known in the SBVSBC world as "Super Wump."

Let's Review:
June-athon = Team Beaver Super Friends Challenge = Super Boob vs. Super Beaver Challenge = SBVSBC.
It's the transitive property of awesomeness. I am teacher, you can trust me.

If you want to watch the contest, then check out the fancy "wheel of points" in the sidebar.

So, what did I do today? I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get stuff ready for summer school that starts in 5 days! Ack! I did, however, pump...in fact, I am pumping right now. TMI. That's right, I designed a challenge that lets me ease back into fitness. My Super-boobs (which aren't quite as super as they once were) are bringing home the bacon-milk for me today. Go Team.

Oh, and here is some Sprocket cuteness for ya:

Then and Now...

2011-05-29T23:45:00.001-06:00

Sprocket is four months old! Here are a few fun shots to show how much he has grown.

Arriving at home in his car seat at 4 weeks old VS.

Getting ready to run errands with Mama at almost 4 months

Binky at one day old VS. Binky at 3 months old

1 month calendar pic VS. 4 month calendar pic

Snoozing at 1 month VS. Snoozing at 4 months

Cute Crab outfit at 1 month VS. Cute Crab outfit at 3 1/2 months.
I think it might be too small :)

If you want more Mama-Emotional-Mumbo-Jumbo, then check out the Letters to Sprocket tab for a 4 month update.

I Challenge You...Part Two!

2011-05-23T20:09:00.003-06:00

Normie, I Challenge You!

** YouTube selected the Super Boob pic as the video thumb nail. I changed it, but, apparently, it takes YouTube 36 hours to update the change. Sigh. Carry on.**

Here are Details That I Didn't Put in the Video:

General Info
-- A "week" goes from Wednesday to Wednesday (since June starts on a Wednesday)
-- Contest starts June 1st and ends June 30th
-- Progress will be charted in the side bars of both of our blogs and must be updated at least once a week

-- Conditions may change as long as both participants agree
-- Your Mom.

Super Boobs
-- Minus 100 points each week that I don't run at least 3 times
-- Minus 100 points each week that I drink more than 3 Diet Cokes. Two Diet Coke can be traded in for an unlimited Diet Coke at a restaurant. What? I take my caffeine seriously...AND I am going back to work in June. Cut me some slack.
-- Runs have a minimum length to qualify: 1st & 2nd week -- 2 miles, 3rd & 4th week -- 3 miles. I know, it doesn't sound like much, but I have no ab muscles to speak of and I have only been running once since last fall.
-- I currently pump about 20-24 ounces per day, but that number has been decreasing because I have gotten the thumbs-up to nurse more.

Super Beaver
-- You can decide what qualifies as a "Super Beaver Level" workout. I trust your judgement.
-- Your Face.
-- Your Mom's Face.

You in?
If so, then respond on your blog with "Bring it On" and let the games begin!

My Very Own Turquoise Wall

2011-05-17T10:17:00.000-06:00

When we started the look-for-a-house-while-growing-a-person thing last fall, I couldn't wait to get a baby room to decorate. In fact, at one point when one of our deals fell through I vented to a teacher at my school that "all I wanted was one freakin' turquoise wall! Is that too much to ask?!?" It was nesting at it's worst, and I logically realized that...but emotionally I just wanted a freakin' turquoise wall.

Even though Sprocket was here and the hormones that cause nesting were out of my system, I still wanted to make a fun Dr. Seuss room for him. So, the first thing I did when we moved into the new house was to decorate Sprocket's room...starting with a turquoise wall, which led to a red wall!

View from the door. Quilt was made by B's Mom, the curtains and mural were made by my mom, and the Dr. Seuss boppy cover was given to us by our friends, W & J.

The Crib

The changing table

Along the base of the aforementioned turquoise wall

Shadow box that my mom made and gave to me at my shower


My mom changed the title "There's a Wocket in my Pocket!" to "There's a Sprocket in my Pocket!" Above it is a name sign that one of the NICU nurses made to put above his isolette. :)

Even the closet was touched by the nesting fever! You can see the remnants of the paper chain countdown...seems silly that I was counting down now that I know I popped 8 weeks early!

I know that having a baby is not about accumulating "stuff," but it felt good to finally be able to have a space for Sprocket. Plus, he sleeps a lot better in his crib in his room versus where he slept in the condo, which was in the Pack n Play in the living room.

Shake and Seuss.

The Baby Gods

2011-05-10T09:11:00.000-06:00

*Sorry for my recent absence from blog-o-land. We had family in town, moved to our new house, and started the arduous search for daycare in the fall! It has been a very hectic two weeks, but I have a lot to talk about over the next few posts :)*

The Baby Gods have shined down upon us! Sprocket has been sleeping for S.E.V.E.N. hours. I actually wake up after 6 hours because I feel rested...hey, expectations change when you have lived your life in three hour chunks for the past 2 months. Then, I lay there for the next hour in and out of sleep, thinking "is this really happening?!?" I recount the number of hours between 9:30 p.m. and 4:30 a.m. over and over in my head, convinced that my math must be wrong. Of course, this stretch IS punctuated by the fact that the Super-boobs have gone over 8 hours between pumpings/feedings. The boob rodeo is in full force when Sprocket wakes up hungry, and it gets a little ugly -- but we get the job done.

Now, for the details. I attribute this sleep success to three steps that have been implemented as a part of The Routine in the Smither's household.

The Routine

It is capitalized because it is that serious. As of two weeks ago, we were flailing. Sprocket was feeding every 3 hours, but the times changed from day-to-day and I was reaching the end of my rope. Some days I got to bed at 11 p.m....sometimes 1 a.m. Also, we had several nights where Sprocket was wide awake for anywhere from 2-3 hours in the middle of the night after his feeding. It was not working. So, I started doing some research on the forum that I read (it's a forum of moms with babies born in March) and found one mom that had a routine for bed time. I immediately started hatching plans to start our own routine.

Step 1: Bath Time
We were giving him a bath every 4-5 days, and it just wasn't cutting it. He smelled like a baby hobo (you know, rotten milk and residual poo). Nobody ever tells you that babies can really stink! So, we started giving him nightly baths at around 8:30 p.m., and now he smells like lavender baby soap and lotion. B says its too girly smelling, but I think its perfect! Sprocket hasn't ever really minded taking a bath, but after two weeks of The Routine, he seems to actually enjoy it.

Step 2: Eatin' Time
At around 8:45 p.m.-- 9:00 p.m., we feed Sprocket. It doesn't matter if he has eaten only two hours before or not...we stuff the kid. He is usually pretty hungry at night, so he tends to eat pretty well. We also make sure that its a bottle with formula added to my milk so that it has extra calories to hold him over at night.

Step 3: The Super Swaddle
Sprocket loves to play ninja baby with the swaddle. We endlessly try to swaddle him and he grunts and groans and strains (while sleeping) until he works his arms out, and he then flails and wakes himself up. Rinse and repeat. All. Night. Long.

A couple weekends ago, B and I were both up for about 4 hours combined throughout the night with a little Sprocket that just did not want to sleep. We decided something needed to change. That is when we learned about the Super Swaddle through B's awesome internet research skills. It was life changing.

The guy is a little weird...but he is a genius.

The grunting and groaning has slowly waned and he seems to sleep much more soundly at night. We have to play the Binky Game once in a while, but he goes right back to sleep once you put it in. Also, right after we super swaddle him, he will just lay there quietly looking around his crib until he drifts off to sleep. No swaying...no YouTube video of rain sounds on repeat...no rocking. Just quietly drifts to sleep.

Even though things have been crazy around here (moving into a new house with a 3 month old is tough!), we have at least loosely stuck to The Routine. He is only up once in the night and we are quickly approaching him being able to consistently sleep until 5:30, which is when I will have to get up to get to work on time this summer.

Update: I officially screwed myself over! I tempted the Baby Gods too much...after writing this post last night, Sprocket promptly threw out his new skills and was up at 2 a.m. and 5 a.m. Here's to hoping that it was just a fluke and we will be back to The Routine tonight.

Shake and Sleep!

Tab-O-Licious and the Hizzouse!

2011-04-27T16:29:00.000-06:00

I added some extra tabs up above. Check 'em out, fool. I figured that some of you didn't want to necessarily read my ooey-gooey monthly Letters to Sprocket, so I am filtering them out and dumping them on a different page.

Oh...and I almost forgot to tell ya...WE FINALLY BOUGHT A HOUSE!

We have been looking for over a year and have been under contract on 3 other properties at one time or another. In fact, on one house we got FOUR DAYS from closing when a lien on the title was discovered. Finally, the Real Estate Gods smiled down upon us and we closed on our house this morning.

We are moving this weekend, which should be a really interesting with a 3-month old. Hopefully, we survive the move!

B, Me, and our Oh-So-Patient-Real Estate Agent

Hot Damn. I look skinny in that picture! I would like to say it is because of all the running I have been doing. But. Well. It is not. Good story, huh?

The Day After

2011-04-25T02:01:00.000-06:00

I originally wrote this post a few weeks ago, after I had to have an abscessed tooth removed. I am not sure why I didn't publish it at the time -- maybe on some level I wasn't ready yet. It's not that deep, but it is a bit ooey-gooey. I blame the narcotics.

RAGBRAI is awesome. It is seven days of pie, walking tacos, Coors Lights, random shenanigans, and pure exhaustion.

Random Shenanigans.

This past year, I sat in the tent and cried a couple mornings because I was just so tired. It didn't help that I was simultaneously growing a person. When I think of the most tired feeling I have ever had...I think of the last day of RAGBRAI.

First of all, your body is revolting by the end of day six. Then, along comes day seven with its promises of low mileage, long hills, and overall jubilee. We finish the ride on a high and get our picture taken down by the river.

Not sure what kind of pose I am going for here.

Then, slowly meander our way to the bus to change out of spandex and find some grub for the bus ride home. B and I have created a culture on the "last bus" ran by the bike shop that hauls our stuff for the week. I won't mention specifics...you know, what happens on the bus, stays on the bus. However, I will say that its a bit like an extension of RAGBRAI.

After a 3-ish hour bus ride, we stumble off the bus into the late afternoon sun. Somebody is there to pick us up and we go home, eat some Tasty Tacos, and CRASH. It is the most glorious sleep. Ever. However, the next day we wake up...more exhausted than when we went to bed. Messy hair and drool on the pillow are evidence that we did, indeed, sleep...but our bodies are screaming for more. Some people talk about actually taking a vacation after the ride to recover. I am usually a ball of uselessness for the entire next day until I can get a solid 9-12 hours of sleep and partially recover by Monday. It's like my body is scoffing at one night's sleep and reminding me that its going to take more than that to make up for the deep level of exhaustion in which I was existing.

THAT is what it is like taking care of a baby. After my crazy Friday morning filled with oral surgery, my percocet-induced coma Friday evening, and getting three back-to-back 4 hour stretches of sleep Friday night (I only had to get up to pump...Thank goodness for awesome husbands)...I felt almost more exhausted than I had before the whole ordeal. B and I took another nap on Saturday and when we woke up B hit the nail on the head. He said, "I feel like the it's the day after RAGBRAI."

I have been trying for quite some time to come up with a way to describe the exhaustion that is motherhood from 0-3 months...and I just couldn't figure out how to articulate it well enough to post to the internets. B, however, summed it up perfectly. Its the type of exhaustion that sticks to your ribs and stays around long after you have slept a decent amount. It's like the day after RAGBRAI.

I love RAGBRAI...okay, well, I don't.

I don't love riding my bike that much. I don't love wearing arm warmers and knee warmers in 90 degree weather because of a sun allergy. And I don't enjoy getting such little sleep. BUT, I love the idea of RAGBRAI. I love hanging out with friends; coming up with stupid jokes and games to pass hours on the bike; drinking a nice and cool Coors on a hot summer day (except last year); and the overall feeling of accomplishment once the ride is over and I can tell great stories. Most of all, I love seeing the Mayor in action as he enjoys every single part of the ride. I love it all...just not at the time. :)

So, I figure my comparison of the ride to having a newborn is pretty fair. I don't love getting up in the middle of the night. I don't love hooking myself up to the God-for-saken pump 5 times a day. And I certainly don't love washing dirty cloth diapers (ew!). However, I love my little person and I love knowing that I made that person. I love knowing that my every action is what keeps that person safe and warm and protected. I love knowing that the person I made is going to go on and be something great. Plus, he is just so stinkin' cute!

See? Cute.

Even though my life is a perpetual day of exhaustion...I wouldn't trade it for the world. Plus, if I feel a sense of accomplishment after riding 450 miles in 7 days...imagine how I will feel after raising a perfect and wonderful little boy.

There you have it...what started as a post to describe the sheer exhaustion of motherhood turned into an ooey-gooey ball of percocet-induced emotion.

Go Team.

Eating Blog-o-sphere Crow

2011-04-22T12:06:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, Normie came to the internets with a dilemma. See, she started her blog with ambitions of losing half her body weight and climbing Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. Now she is wondering if these things are possible? And if they aren't...does that make her a blog-o-loser?

Been There. Done That.

For you, Normie...and ONLY you...I bring up the B-AWF challenge to reaffirm your faith in yourself. It was before your time in the blog-o-sphere, and it may have slipped by you in the archives. It is a tale of failed intentions and internet-crow-eating. It is, perhaps, one of the darkest times in See Teacher Run Land. Hopefully, it will illustrate that even your Kenyan fails to follow through on the grandiose plans.

The B-AWF Challenge stood for "Be a Woah, Finally" and was my quest to become "woah" worthy, which was an idea that first surfaced on my blog in September of 2007. Here is what I wrote when originally explaining a "woah."

About 3 months ago B, Stephe, and I were watching "You, Me, and Dupree." The scene came on where Kate Hudson walks out in boy cut underwear and both B and Stephe exclaimed "Woah" in unison (I will admit...she did look pretty hot). They might as well been yelling, "Schwing!" So, then and there I declared to myself that I wanted to be a "woah" someday.

I revisited the idea in January 2009. For my New Year's challenge, I decided to come up with monthly fitness themes to get myself looking and feeling better. I had already hatched plans for January and February.

Here is what I wrote for my January challenge:

January: Run It, Ride It, Say It, Write It.
This January, B and I have been dating/married for 9 years (Wow). So, the challenge for January follows a theme of 9's:
Run It or Ride ItRun 9K OR Ride 9 Miles*. Every.Day.In.The.Month.**
* Riding is only a valid replacement of running for a max of 9 days during the month.
**I am travelling during Chinese New Year and have no idea if I will be able to run/ride. I hearby (never thought I would use that word on my blog) reserve the right to make up those miles either before (yeah right) or after

AND

Say It and Write It
Learn how to say AND write 9 words in Chinese

I also included my plan for February

February: The Power of 14
Gotta love one of the most consumer-driven holidays...Valentine's day. Also, the day I got dumped in high school by my boyfriend. I gave him his present, he opened it, and replied, "We need to talk." Who does that? Keeping with the spirit of V-day...the February challenge is:

Do 1 half-marathon, 4 pull-ups, and go 14 days without caffeine (by the end of the month)

Note: I have never done a pull-up in my whole life and I currently drink 3 Coke Lights each day.

I made it 6 days. SIX DAYS until I gave up. I didn't run after that and I certainly didn't even think about doing a half-marathon, 4 pull-ups, or even learn nine stinkin' words in Chinese. I am also sure that my Diet Coke numbers didn't go down either. Instead, I let the B-AWF challenge slowly swirl and disappear down the internet drain.

So, Normie, there you have it. Sometimes, the internet is just full of unattainable goals and good intentions. I mean, how many blogs do you run across where people commit themselves to a goal, start a blog about their progress, and then quit blogging, literally, 2 weeks later? It happens. Fitness is hard. Blogging is hard. Fitness blogging will often just hand you your own ass. Look at me...the freakin' blog is named SEE TEACHER RUN and I haven't taught or really ran in the last three months.

I will be honest, I don't like revisiting this dark moment and I certainly don't like highlighting it for the world (or all 10 people who read) to see, but, for you...for you, it's worth it.

Admit the change to plans, embrace it, OWN it (accountability still matters), and then get your ass to Boulder to visit us and hike in the mountains. Hippies trump Half Domes any day.

Side Note: Speaking of intentions...I remember that your backpack in high school had a funny quote written on it. "The road to Hell is paved with old Michael Bolton CD's" Hehe.

Sprocket the Rodeo Clown...and Learning to Let Go

2011-04-18T17:04:00.001-06:00

When it comes to the Boob Rodeo that is nursing for me...Sprocket is a rodeo clown. He is not just holding on for dear life...he is owning the Super Boobs.

In fact, yesterday I looked down at my chest to read this...

When the heck did he have time to write that? And how does he already know about punctuation?

Last week, we went to the LC who told us that Sprocket hadn't gained as much weight as he should. We went back for a re-check today and over 7 days he gained about 5 ounces (he is now just shy of 8 1/2 pounds!).

On top of that, based on his before and after weight, he gulped almost 4 ounces in 13 minutes, which is WAY more than he takes from the bottle. Sprocket the Wonder Preemie returns to his Kenyan status!

Because of this positive change, B and I have decided to start letting go of the preemie approach to parenthood. Our worry comes from the fact that we are constantly scrutinizing every milliliter that goes into our kid...and its driving us mad. The NICU got us in the habit of being scientific about feeding -- and now it is time to let go and venture into "normal" land.

It's going to be tough...but we are nixing The Chart.

Do you see why "The Chart" is capitalized? Yeah. It's THAT serious.

On the left is Sprocket's intake -- whether he nurses or has Formula (that is what the F and BM mean) and how much he takes or how long he nurses. On the right is my Moo Log where I keep track of my pumping totals and whether Sprocket has gotten his Zantac and Vitamins. You didn't believe me when I said that we were scientific with our approach to parenting? Ha.

We are still going to track when he eats, which is nice when I have to leave right when B gets home (I am in charge of a summer school site again this summer and have meetings one evening a week) and we don't have a ton of communication time. Also, sleep deprivation has severely effected our ability to remember even the most simple things...so having it written somewhere is nice (Seriously, most days we can't remember if we have fed the dog). However, we aren't going to worry about how much he has taken. We are just going to read his cues and call it good.

Now, there is NO way that I am not tracking my Moo Status. I have come this far in keeping track of how much I pump, and I just can't bring myself to stop. I think it will be so fun to have a grand total when I get done...plus, knowing the numbers makes me proud and motivates me to keep going.

Next time in See Teacher Run Land...a possible big announcement. No, I am not pregnant. And, no...its not really that interesting. But, when your day is filled with daytime TV, a 3 hours cycle of feeding the 8 pound nugget and pumping, and sleepless nights...well, lots of things qualify as big announcements. So, eat it.

Your dose of Sprocket cuteness after he barfed up over half his meal. Is it just me, or does he look slightly amused?

Neener! Neener! Neener!

2011-04-14T13:19:00.000-06:00

This is another Babies and Boobss post. I would apologize...but, well, I am not sorry. Babies and Boobs are my new reality and, of course, that is going to ooze into See Teacher Run land. I am really thinking of changing it to See Teacher Pop Out a Kid and Only Think About Milk...but it just doesn't have the same ring to it. Right now, you are just gonna have to deal with my reality for a bit. Kay? Kay.

On Monday, Sprocket and I went to visit the LC. That's what all the cool kids call the Lactation Consultant.

Rewind: Sprocket was sent home from the NICU with instructions to add formula to his milk to increase the caloric content. Apparently, my Sprocket juice needs a little pick-me-up to make sure that he grows like he should. Well, the formula turns our wonderful spit-up machine into a gassy and screaming spit-up machine. So, when he gained weight like gangbusters, we decided to go to only adding the gas powder to every other bottle. Pediatrician said it was fine and we went about our merry way.

Then, we started nursing...and suddenly it was like we had a real life "normal" baby. Things were looking up in the Smither's household. Before we knew it...B and I were inadvertently cutting the formula bottles down to two per day. I know, because I am anal and still keep a chart of what Sprocket eats each day. Sprocket seemed happy and content, and we were enjoying our non-gassy spit-up machine.

Back to the Future: The LC weighed him and he was up to 8 lbs 2 ounces. Woot. I started to celebrate...then the math hit me...wait, carry the one....oh no, he did not gain what he should. He should be gaining about an ounce a day at this stage, and he had barely gained half of that.

Preemie-hood was dancing on our "normal" baby dreams and singing "Neener, Neener, Neener" in an annoying I-told-you-so voice. I wanted to punch preemie-hood in the face. Stupid preemie-hood.

The good news is that when Sprocket nursed he got about 100 ml of boobie juice (they weighed him before and after nursing)...the bad news is that we needed to go back to every bottle being fortified with gas powder and come back in a week to see how he is doing. The LC also reminded us to be a little less stimulating during feeds (turn down the TV, talk softly, etc.) as that may be distracting him from the task. The Smither's household is often a loud and hectic place (let's face it...I'm a loudmouth) and this might be too much for Sprocket's preemie brain to navigate.

I won't lie. It's frustrating. This isn't how I pictured parenthood...counting milliliters eaten, charting intake, pumping 5-6 times a day (that is 3 hours for those of you counting at home). A fresh wave of "fat baby envy" washed over me and I have been swimming in my pity pool for a bit. When it comes down to it...I wouldn't change a thing...but its still a little overwhelming and frustrating. I know we are on our journey for a reason, but, dang, give a girl a break.

By the way, when I picture preemie-hood and its evil-ness, I picture it to look like a Grave-ling from the show Dead Like Me. Daytime TV sucks. A Lot. And I often watch marathons of shows through Netflix On Demand. So, lately I have been plowing through the two seasons of Dead Like Me (since I finished all 6 seasons of Grey's Anatomy), so when I visualize preemie-hood...it looks like this.

Creepy.

Stupid preemie-hood.

In other boob news, the LC informed me that I am making enough baby juice for twins and that I should consider tossing the first 50 ml that I pump from each of the girls. The "foremilk" isn't as nutritious as the "hind milk" and since I have super-boobs, I am producing a crap ton of foremilk. So, if I dump the first 50 ml, then I am giving Sprocket more of the fattier juice (she used the word "creamier" but that just freaks me out). Never thought I would get to the point that a lactation consultant was telling me to throw away milk. Go Super Boobs.

In other, other boob news...I have pumped 3,100 ounces! When I started this whole thing, my friend Erica and I were chatting on Facebook (around the time she sent me the awesomely anal pumping spreadsheet), and she mentioned that she had pumped 3,100 ounces up to that point. I was in awe. She was instantly one of my Pumping Kenyans. I can't believe that I am on the road to pumping as much as Erica. HA! Now its my turn to Neener, Neener, Neener as I set to reel in E's land boob record.

Now, for a dose of Sprocket cuteness...

Dad changed, fed and put Sprocket down to snooze. This is how I discovered him when I unwrapped him. Apparently, Dad doesn't believe in onesies being buttoned -- instead, he is going for the Baby Mid-Drift look.

BABY ARMPITS!

Doggy Sniff!

For the Love of God...Stop Talking About Boobs!

2011-04-09T15:26:00.000-06:00

You will read about boobs...and you will LIKE it.

In the past seven days, Sprocket has had dried milk IN his ear...twice. There are two reasons that this has occurred, which makes this a definite Babies and Boobies Post.

Reason #1: Don't Barf on Me!
Sprocket likes to barf. A. Lot. In the Smither's household, "Barf" qualifies as anything that comes back up after a feeding. Obviously, some of it is just spit-up...but we always refer to it as barf. Sprocket will barf when anything jostling or overstimulating happens after he eats...like when we change his diaper, or burp him, or stand up to put him in the crib, or think about standing up to put him in his crib, or swaddle him, or give him a pacifier when he is not expecting it, or breath, or think of breathing. Yeah. It pretty much happens no matter what we do.

For example, earlier this week, I decided to put him in his crib at night so that I could at least crash on the guest bed in his room versus the couch in the living room. Our condo is the size of Derek Zoolander's Center for Kids Who Can't Read Good, and when Sprocket screams it wakes up B and everyone else in a 500 foot radius on a work night...so I thought being in his room on the other end of the condo and behind a door might help. I fed Sprocket and laid him down all nice and swaddled in his crib at about 3 a.m. I then tried to put his binky in his mouth and instead of pushing his tongue up and sucking on it like a good little baby...he let it go to the back of his throat. He then made some sounds that were eerily similar to a Water Chevrotain and gagged. After several seconds of me standing paralyzed and chanting Don'tBarfOnMeDon'tBarfOnMeDon'tBarfOnMe, he let loose and created his own version of Breast Milk Old Faithful. It was straight up and then right back down. Seriously, when I picked him up it looked like a milk crime scene in his crib...with a baby-shaped outline in the middle.

The next day, B asked me why our son had dried milk in his ears and hair. I just smiled and told him he didn't want to know. What happens at 3 a.m., stays at 3 a.m.

Reason #2: The Boob Fire Hose
I have ventured back into the scary world of nursing. When Sprocket came home he had a really painful latch. Remember eating Mr. Freezies as a kid? You would get all the frozen stuff down and then suck relentlessly on the plastic to get out the last bit of sugar juice. Well, that was Sprocket's approach to nursing and IT HURT. So, I just stopped nursing and went to exclusive pumping after he came home. However, after our I-am-not-going-to-touch-the-thousands-of-ounces-of-frozen-milk-you-have incident a few weeks ago, I decided to try nursing again. Sure enough...Sprocket still knew what to do and it wasn't nearly as painful as before. So, 2-3 times a day we nurse, but the problem is that he usually only nurses for about 7-10 minutes, which Dr. Google says could mean two different things:

    A) He is not getting enough and needs to nurse longer

    B) I have super-boobs and Sprocket is custom-made for me and much more efficient than the pump

I tend to think that Option B is closer to the truth, because when Sprocket unlatches I often end up spraying him in the face. Picturing a baby bird trying to drink from a fire hose might help you visualize the situation. Apparently, months of pumping has increased my supply and Sprocket makes my boobs more excited than a bag of puppies. The result is a Boob Fire Hose and baby ears full of dried milk.

I am taking the fire hose performance to the lactation consultant on Monday...nothing like random people touching your boobs to make you feel like a certified cow.

Shake and Lactate.

The Antichrist

2011-04-07T21:49:00.000-06:00

We take a break from the regularly scheduled Babies and Boobies post to bring you this random post about a church mailer.

If you remember, B and I got a flat tire in the middle of Kansas on the way to the Olathe Half Marathon. We stopped at a truck stop to get it fixed and got to hear all about how Obama is the Antichrist.

So, when this came in the mail today, it made me chuckle.

Apparently, this free seminar will detail how Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Vladimir Putin, Barack Obama, the Pope, and the Statue of Liberty all contribute to the rising of the Antichrist.

Sheesh. What in the world is going on?

Lemons

2011-04-02T07:08:00.000-06:00

Sometimes life hands you lemons...and when it does you simply cut them into wedges and squirt the juice in your eyes to drown the searing pain of your abscessed tooth.

No? Just me?

Oh.

I have horrible teeth. They look great...you know, as a part of the gum show that is my smile. BUT, I don't take care of them like I should and my whole family has crappy enamel. As my dad says, "Ignore your teeth and they will go away." I have always laughed....until now.

On Monday, I noticed that one of my teeth was suddenly pressure sensitive. I thought it was weird, because it was a root canal tooth. I chalked it up to biting on something wrong and went about my sleep-deprived day. By Tuesday it was definitely qualifying as a toothache, and I started to think I was going to have to go to the dentist. B had been on me to make an appt, since I missed my cleaning due to the whole poppin'-out-a-kid-early thing. On Wednesday, I called my dentist, but it was close to closing time and they didn't answer. I went to tutor Thursday night and it was really painful. I popped 3 ibuprofen and they sort of put a dent in the pain. I knew I was in trouble.

I woke up to feed Sprocket at 1AM Friday and thought I was going to die. It H.U.R.T. I pumped and cried and waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. Sprocket promptly barfed his whole meal on his face (think "Breast Milk Old Faithful") and so I was up again at 3 AM to feed him. Popped more meds and slept on and off until 5:30 (partially due to the pain of a thousands Suns in my mouth...partially due to the pain of a thousand screams from my son). Finally, broke down at 7 and sobbed my way into the bedroom to tell B that he needed to stay home so that I could take care of the dental hot mess.

My doctor was out of the office, so I asked Google to find me a new one. After a few phone calls, I found one that could slip me in and they told me to come in as soon as I could. They took x-rays and told me that I had an infection around the entire root of my tooth and that I needed to have it extracted. Then, a halo of light came down from above and surrounded the wonderful dentist who came in and numbed me up. It was the most glorious act in the world. She suggested I go home and eat something while I was numbed, since I wouldn't want to eat anything afterward.

One Everything bagel, a pump session, a Sprocket feeding, and 30 minute nap later and I was in the oral surgeons office pacing and crying. The numbness had worn off and I was through the roof. The surgeon had to actually numb me just to get my to the point that I could have a conversation with him about the procedure...my blood pressure was even high due to the pain. At that point, I was ready to grab the pliers myself and rip it out.

He numbed the crap out my mouth and went to work. The pressure was weird...the cracking noise was super creepy...and then it was out. Thirty-three minutes later I was on my way out the door with a prescription for pain meds and an antibiotic...and I was less one tooth. Just one step closer to turning into a total hick and showing my east side roots. I will be getting a dental implant in 3 months, because they have to let the bone heal and fill in. By the time I got home, the fast-acting-but-fast-to-wear-off novacaine had gone away and I was in a lot of pain. Popped some meds (left over from my c-section, since B hadn't made it to the pharmacy) and tried to calm myself down.

B came home with Jell-o, and pudding, and yogurt, and cottage cheese, and the most wonderful milk shake ever. I spent the rest of the day hopped up on meds and napping. By 11 PM, my stomach was upset (apparently a diet of gooey simple sugars and narcotics are a little rough on my tummy) and B even brought me a barf bag to hold just in case. I didn't need to use it...but, ugh.

My amazing and wonderful husband cleaned the condo, prepared bottles, fed and changed Sprocket, and took care of my every need. He is amazing and deserves 1,000 points in the Smither's household point-a-palooza (more on that later).

Now...we ponder. What to do with the Percocet milk that I have been pumping? Perhaps a little extra sleep once in a while might be nice. Hehe...just kidding. (Kind of).

Oh, and here is your daily dose of Sprocket cuteness.

By the way, Sprocket is rocking the baby Skullet (aka Kentucky Waterfall) these days, which fits right in with his mother who is now missing teeth. Oh Dear.

Houston.

2011-03-25T00:40:00.002-06:00

Warning: Another Babies and Boobs post. Eh. Get over it.

A few days ago, Sprocket went through an "I hate drinking milk and I am going to cry about it" phase. He had a couple days where he just had a hard time taking a bottle and seemed to hate everything about the process. We blamed it on the higher flow nipple we were using and switched back to a lower-flow NICU nipple (they sent us home with two freebie "disposable" nipples that they used and he seems to like them best).

A few days later, I realized something. His rough patch coincided (woah, I spelled that correctly the first time!) with my use of a bag of frozen milk from February. Milk apparently changes in flavor over time as it changes to better fit a baby's needs. So, I took out a second bag yesterday and mixed it half-and-half with fresh milk to see if that helped.

Suck. Suck. Cry. Suck. Suck. Cry. Suck. Suck. SCREAM!

Houston. We have a problem.

I promptly went into complete meltdown. I have over 200 6-ounce bags of frozen milk and have donated over 207 hours collecting it...and my cute little Sprocket wants absolutely nothing to do with it! Oh Dear.

I emailed one of my pumping Kenyans, Erica, and she informed me of a chemical called Lipase and sent me on my way to Dr. Google.

Me: Dr, Google, "my baby won't eat my frozen breast milk!"
Dr. G: Crazytown link, Crazytown link, you may not be storing it properly and its spoiling.
Me: Dr. Google, that's not it... "my baby doesn't like the taste of my frozen milk!"
Dr. G: You have too much lipase in your milk. Here are some moms talking about their problem.

Upon following Dr. Google's trail of information, I found that Lipase is an enzyme in breast milk that helps break down the fats and make the fat-soluble nutrients more available to baby. Some women tend to have more Lipase in their milk, which means that when its stored or frozen that it often takes on a "soapy" or spoiled taste. Baby no likey. Baby scream.

So, I had to do it. I can't believe I am actually admitting this. Sigh. Gag. Sigh. I had to taste the milk. Gag. Gag.

I poured a small amount of the thawed milk in a glass and tasted it. At first it was just funky...then it made me want to barf. I then woke up B (this was all happening at midnight...a new mom knows no time restraints) and informed him of my discovery. He replied, "did you taste fresh stuff? How do you know what its supposed to taste like?" Gag. Gag. He was right. So, I marched back out to the kitchen and tasted the fresh stuff. Still a little funky, but not quite as icky. Gag. Gag.

Here is my theory. I have a lot of Lipase in my milk, and in February I was combining multiple pump sessions into bags. The NICU's rule was that all milk should be at the same temperature before you combine (La Leche League says that it doesn't really have to be). This meant that all pumped milk sat in the fridge for a few hours before I accumulated enough to fill a bag that I would freeze. This meant that there was a lot of time for the Lipase to break down the fats before it was frozen and give it the wonderful taste of a bar of soap.

The solution: nothing. There is nothing I can do to reverse the process. I can try to prevent it by scalding the milk before storing...but there is nothing I can do to get rid of the funky taste. Which brings me to Operation Dilution. My new goal is to combine fresh milk with old milk in ratios that I can fool Sprocket. Fifty percent didn't work. Twenty-five percent kind of worked...but he was suspicious and started out pretty reluctant in the beginning.

Update: So, that was written before the Night of the Meltdown. After starting this post, Sprocket promptly stayed up for 4 hours straight (starting at 2 AM) and had a complete meltdown that was exacerbated by Operation Dilution. So, for at least a couple days I am going back to all fresh stuff to get him back on track.

Also, now that I have tasted the icky soap milk, I can smell it on all of Sprocket's blankets, etc. that he has possibly spit up on. So, today I went on a rampage and washed all of his blankets, changing pad covers, burp rags, and bassinet cover in hot water. Ugh....I now can't stand that smell. Gag. Gag.

Shake and Gag.

Crunching the Numbers

2011-03-22T02:34:00.001-06:00

Nine Point Five

The number of pounds that I need to lose to get back to my pre-preggo weight! Well, of course, that assumes that I have put any effort into trying to lose. My new Moo Status has pretty much taken control of the weight loss department of my life. My highest weight was 211 lbs the day before I had Sprocket. A week later, I had already lost 16 lbs in fluid...it came out as sweat, snot, milk and pee. Seriously. I was oozing for about two weeks. The rest has slowly melted off over the past 6 weeks. I eat like a horse and the scale keeps going down (although its much sloooooower now). For instance, for the past two weeks, I have pretty much been eating two breakfasts and the scale keeps reading lower. I have a sneaking suspicion that the last nine are going to hold on for a while.

One Point Seven

This is the distance I ran on Saturday! Rub your eyes...look again...yep, you read that correctly. I went on my first postpartum run. It wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. My back hurt a little, which probably has to do with the fact that a baby was extracted through what used to be my core abdominal muscles, which were a little non-existent to begin with. I am really out of shape as well -- so that probably contributed to the fact that a 1.7 mile run made me want to hurl. BUT...I did it. I went on my first run!

Eleven and Thirty-Six

That is the pace that I ran. I had to stop once to stretch and then took a one minute walking break about halfway through and a two minute walking break towards the end. I feel really good about that pace. I mean, I never have broken any land speed records, so why start worrying now?

Seven and Three Point Five

Sprocket's new weight! He has gained 1 lb, 4 ounces since our last doctor's visit 3 weeks ago. I can't believe he is over 7 lbs! He officially no longer fits in any of the preemie clothes that Erica gave us, and has grown into most of the newborn sized clothes.

First and Zeroth

The percentile of Sprocket's head circumference and weight/height! He finally made it on the growth charts...even if its just his noggin! Technically, he is in the 0.3 percentile for weight, but it doesn't really count as being on the growth chart until its at least 1 percentile. It's kind of fun to say "zeroth" so I am okay with that for now. The doc showed me his "adjusted age" growth curb and he was right smack in the middle of all the measurements. So, our two month old totally rocks the newborn growth charts! :)

Four

The number of vaccinations that Sprocket got yesterday that turned him into a hot mess. He has been angry and tired all night, which makes for the achievement of Fuss Bucket status.

Sixty Eight

The number of hits I got on my blog after posting the "Initiation and Porn Stars" post (that is a lot for one day in See Teacher Run land). Riveting post or common search term on Google? I will let you be the judge....but while you are here, wave hello to all the pervs. Ugh.

Three

The number of Cadbury Caramel Eggs that I have eaten in the last three days. Good God, those things are delicious! Now, scroll up to the top and re-read that part about me losing weight. Then, scratch your head in disbelief. Yep, that makes two of us.

Thirty One Thousand

The amount of the lien that is against the title of the house we were supposed to close on this Friday. Apparently, the previous owner owed a bunch of money to the IRS, and even though the house was foreclosed on and the bank owned it...it managed to slip through the cracks. So, we will know in the next three days whether or not we are back to the drawing board on this house thing. We have been looking since last spring, so its ~~a little~~ really disheartening. We have been beat by other offers and we have been ready to put in an offer when a house goes under contract...but we have never gotten this far in the process before getting screwed over. The Real Estate Gods effin' suck.

Two

The number of doses of Sprocket cuteness that ya get today...

Sleeping...


...Then screaming	.

Check out the bad-ass bandaids from his first run in with the vaccines. He totally owned those vaccines...and by "owned" I mean that he screamed bloody murder and then became a Crank Face the rest of the day.

Oh, and check out the time stamp on this blog. Gotta love mommyhood! :)

Fluid.

2011-03-19T10:47:00.005-06:00

I gotta warn you...this is another Baby and Boobies post. I promise, eventually, I will get back to talking about running.

As new parents, our life is now consumed with Fluids. How much goes in...how much comes out...what it looks like...what it smells like. We are fluid fanatics. Here are some details...

Fluid #1: Poo
You might be thinking, "poo is not fluid, wtf?" Well, when it's baby poo...it's fluid, with a lovely garnish of "seediness." Yep, breastfed baby poo looks like mustard and doesn't really smell that bad. However, we are the proud owner of a preemie -- who needs extra calories added to his milk. So, we add a few teaspoons of formula to his milk. This means that we get the mustard-poo with an added bonus of some stank. And when I say "stank"...I mean S.T.A.N.K.

Sprocket grunts a lot (another "preemie" thing) and I was trying to get his grunting on film to share. Instead, I got this little nugget. Further evidence of aforementioned fluids.

Fluid #2: Zantac
Sprocket has a wonderful back - arching - angry - faced - milk - out - the - nose case of reflux. The doctor prescribed Zantac, which only comes in one flavor: mint. Well, babies don't really like mint flavored fluid, so we have to sneak up on him while he is half out of it to give it to him. We wait until about 15 minutes before he is going to wake up and use a small syringe to put 0.5 ml in his cheek. He makes the cutest little "I don't like this crap" face and I tried to capture it on film. I got this.

Which brings me to...

Fluid #3: Barf
Sprocket spits up and barfs a lot. You might not realize that there is a difference between spit up and barf. There is. However, the only way I can explain is to use the old Supreme Court definition of obscenity, "I know it when I see it." That...that was definitely barf. He loves to wait until he has clean clothes on, or when I have put a clean t-shirt on, or better yet, the double whammy when we both have clean clothes on. Then he is all cute and cuddly and intoxicating and WHAM! You are both covered in mint-scented slime. Dammit.

Fluid #4: Boob Juice.
I'm sorry. I just can't get enough of talking about my new moo status. I think it's because it's something about motherhood that is actually measureable. Oh. and it's because in the words of Erica...my boobs are amazing. It's true. She is even envious of my boob amazing-ness.

Three weeks ago, B went and bought a deep freeze for all the Tata Elixir. We pulled out all the stored bags and organized them by date into large Ziploc baggies.

Moooo. I now have about 200 of these bags full of the goods

Since Sprocket came home, I have backed off a bit and I am only pumping 6 times a day (about every 4-ish) hours. The awesome thing is that my daily volume has not gone down. It's like my Girls are getting more efficient. Check out the graph...the distance between the blue line (time) and the red line (volume) has gotten bigger in the past 2-ish weeks. This is because I am spending less time, and pumping more Sprocket juice.

Awesome graph provided by Paco's amazing spreadsheet!

Check out the shitshow that occurred from 2/26 to about 3/2. That is what having a new baby home does to your life :) It took me about a week to figure out a good pumping schedule that worked around Sprocket's schedule and any semblance of sleep. In other graph analysis news...it's comforting to see that my volume is only down when my pump time is down. This means that my volume does not decrease due to supply issues...it's just because I pump less on those days.

Boobie Milestones? I pumped a full pint glass in one session this past week (I took pics...but it's weird, so I am not posting), and I have officially produced 2,000 ounces since Sprocket was born. On both occasions, I finished pumping and confetti fell from the ceiling while a strange audience soundtrack cheered me on while I put away the milk in slow motion after breaking through a finish ribbon on the way to the kitchen. It was pretty amazing.

Fluid #5: Gas
Okay, so this one is not really related to the baby. I just find it interesting. Before Sprocket came home, I was easily burning through 2 full tanks of gas per week in trips to the NICU and running errands. He has been home almost a month and I still have a quarter of tank left from when I filled up on the day he came home.

This shows you what preemie-lockdown is really like. RSV is a respiratory disease that looks like a cold in adults...but can be really bad for preemies. Like dead baby bad. So, until RSV season is over (late March to April in Colorado), we are on lockdown. No public places with crowds. No sick people. No fun. We have made a few outings -- lots of walks and a couple runs to Target at 9 pm on a Saturday when it's nice and dead. The whole time all I can think about is all the germs. You know when Sylvester looks at Tweety and only sees a roasting chicken? Well, when I have Sprocket out...all I can picture is the germs that are everywhere! Oh well, baby quarantine shouldn't last too much longer, and while it lasts it is great on the fuel budget!

Fluid #6: Beer and Diet Coke
I can have them again. I can enjoy one beer a day as long as I finish it at least an hour before I pump, and I have been probably enjoying way too much Diet Coke. However, it is the Nectar of the Gods and I have a hard time controlling myself. B is not a big fan of my DC habit and often reminds me that aspartame is not good for Sprocket...so I suppose I should try and limit myself.

Fluid #7: H-Two-Oh
I drink a lot of water. Usually about 3-4 liters a day. The funny thing is that I don't really have to pee it out. It all comes out in the milk. Seriously, I drank at least 3 liters the other day and only went pee 4 times throughout the day. It's a much better situation than when I was pregnant and would have to pee every 30 seconds.

In other news...
TODAY IS MY DUE DATE! I am sorry for screaming that at you, but it's a pretty big deal. Sprocket goes from being a gestational age...to a positive adjusted age today. Preemies hit their developmental milestones based on their "adjusted age" which is the age from their due date. It's a little disheartening to think that we have been doing the whole sleep deprived thing for 3 weeks and we just now have a newborn. Oh well. Onwards.

Merry Christmas To Me!

2011-03-16T14:37:00.000-06:00

For Christmas, B got me a dose of motivation and a small vote of confidence.

And now...they fit!

This is supposed to be my shocked face...but it just looks like I am yelling

Next step...to actually use them :)

...And a dose of Sprocket cuteness: Tummy Time

Everyone Poops Chronicles: Part Two

2011-03-11T13:00:00.002-07:00

...Or "The Epic Preemie Fail!"

As you might remember, B and I were ready to take on the cloth diaper challenge.

Then, we had a baby 8 weeks early and all hell broke loose. First of all, in the NICU, there is no choice. They were constantly weighing and monitoring everything that came out of Sprocket. Plus, you know, the nurses were taking care of lots of babies and laundry wasn't highest on the priority list.

Then, we got home and realized that our 5 pounder was smaller than the newborn cloth diapers we had bought. We had invested about a 100 bucks in 4 Thirsties diaper covers and 2 dozen newborn pre-fold diapers, and there was no way they were going to fit. We didn't feel like buying preemie-sized pre-folds that would only last us a few weeks. So, we trotted out the disposable diapers that we had gotten at our shower. They were newborn size as well (smaller than the pre-folds), but still too big for Sprocket.

I had to ::::Insert Audible Gasp Here:::: go buy some smaller-sized disposable diapers. By the time we finished the package of 64, he was big enough for the shower diapers.

Then, Tuque took things into his own...er, paws. B was rocking Sprocket in the glider and our pup walked in and raised his leg on an entire grocery bag of diapers and the corner of our guest bed. Our wonderfully energetic pup who has never had an accident in the house...purposefully peed all over something directly associated with Sprocket. Jealousy issues aside...it launched us into cloth diaper mode. We made due with some over-sized freebie disposables until I could get all our cloth supplies washed and ready to go.

So, Part 2 of the Everybody Poops Chronicles ends with a Crank Face with a Bubble Butt :)

Still way too big...and probably going to deal with some major blowouts...but, we have jumped in feet first!

In other news: My follow-up appointment is on Monday, where I hopefully get the all clear from my doctor. I am nowhere near running yet...but it will be nice to know that I can if I want to.

Then, geez, maybe this blog can be about something other than babies. Shrug.

Everybody Needs a Kenyan

2011-03-03T12:02:00.002-07:00

Okay, people, take your PC card out of your pocket and just lay it on the table for this one.

This post has been floating around in my noggin for a while, and I am finally ready to put it out there. In fact, I started writing this post last July.

I have always gotten down on myself when I get passed by someone that is bigger, better, or faster. This is true whether on a bike ride, hike, or run. All I can think is "Ugh! This sucks. I am working really hard and that girl/boy/lady/hulk just passed me!" I have read blogs authored by running superstars (Steve in a Speedo and his awesome preggo wife Pharmie) and thought "Wow! They do crazy workouts, I could never be serious enough about running to do intervals or tempo runs!"

Then, came a day back in March when I went on a run in the spring sunshine. I was running on a relatively busy road near our condo.I turned a corner and encountered a man running in the opposite direction. He looked Kenyan (here is where you notice that your PC card is still on the table!) and he was smiling away. He appeared to be having the best time...ev-er. It was like he was running on air. I swear, his feet were barely hitting the ground and he made fast look really easy. I instantly went to my negative place and wished I could have that much fun running that fast. I continued to trudge down the street with a head full of self-deprecating thoughts.

As I began up the slow climb towards 75th street, I came upon another runner. She was slowly running up the same hill and I passed her. As I passed her...I heard something. At first I didn't recognize the sound...and then it hit me. She sighed. A big, heavy I-am-trudging-uphill-and-just-got-passed-by-somebody kind of sigh.

That is when it clicked for me. Everybody has a Kenyan. Everybody has somebody that is bigger, stronger, and faster than them. Just as I look to others with envy and inspiration...others look to me with the same emotions. In fact, everybody doesn't just have a Kenyan...everybody needs a Kenyan. We all need someone awesome that we look to in moments of weakness...and we all need the feeling of satisfaction that comes from being that same person for others.

So, why do I mention all this now? Because I currently have a ton of freakin' Kenyans. I have preemie-mommy Kenyans (Erica and JWoods). I have pumping Kenyans (Decaf Please!). I have vitamin-popping-goal setting Kenyans that remind me why I try to be fit. I also have preggo running Kenyans (Pharmie the Super Preggo), and I am soon going to be in some need of some serious running-after-an-emergency-pre-eclamptic-c-section-delivery-at-32-weeks Kenyans. Anybody have any recommendations? I am now accepting applications.

As I have clawed my way through the past month of craziness, I have tried to always remember that, perhaps, I am somebody else's Kenyan. Perhaps, I have been an inspiration of awesomeness for somebody out there. You know, because everybody needs a Kenyan.

Now, you may put your PC card back in your pocket and check out the dose of Sprocket Cuteness.

Oh, and I like to picture that there are other preemie 32-weekers out there checking out my blog and sighing because my son is a freakin' rockstar. He got off his oxygen yesterday after proving that he didn't have any desaturations while eating, sleeping, and wiggling while awake. He did go down below 90% saturation two times, but recovered quickly and the respiratory therapist said that self-recovery is a great sign. :) My son is a preemie Kenyan.

Everybody needs a Kenyan.

1 Month!

2011-02-27T02:59:00.003-07:00

Sprocket is one month old...but really he is negative 3 weeks adjusted age! I can't believe that he has gone from incubator and IV feedings to being home and devouring 2.5 ounces by bottle every 3 hours! We are loving our new sleep-deprived life with Sprocket finally at home with us. I would love to post something humorous and creative about motherhood...but, well, I got nothin' -- wait...I have pictures! Yep, we are going to go with the pictures.

Sprocket's Breaking Out of Baby Jail Outfit

In his car seat when we got home...he needed some added reinforcement for support

He loves his swing! Well...we don't use the swinging part (Preemies aren't soothed by the motion), but he seems to appreciate sitting up a bit more.


Everybody in our household is a little tuckered out right now!

My 37 week belly watch photo...Sprocket is full term!

Awake and eating for Dad!

The home nurse set up a "room air challenge" for Sprocket on Monday. This means that they come to our house and measure his oxygen saturation while eating, sleeping, and sitting in his car seat. If his saturation levels never dip below 90%, then he can get off the oxygen! We realllly want this...lugging around an oxygen tank with your newborn is no fun -- plus, I think he would be much happier without the tubes in his nose. So, cross your fingers and send us good oxygen saturation thoughts on Monday. Go Team.

Click!

2011-02-23T16:28:00.001-07:00

I wrote my last blog post on Sunday, but didn't publish it until Tuesday at 1:31 AM. It is now Wednesday and Sprocket is coming home in 5 hours!

The NICU nurses often say that a preemie gets to around the 36 week mark (gestational age) and suddenly the whole eating situation "just clicks." It is like a light bulb goes off and they suddenly know how to coordinate suck, swallow, and breath. One of the night nurses commented that the light was flickering early Sunday morning, and by Monday he had taken all but one feeding in the last 24 hours. We got word that things were looking good for him to be home by the end of the week. By Tuesday, they were asking if we wanted to "room-in" that night. So, we packed our bags and stayed in a room at the hospital with Sprocket all to ourselves last night. He still had the monitors hooked up, but it was a great dry run for when he comes home today.

He was a crank-face at our first feeding at 9:30 last night, which definitely put us on edge. He didn't each much, but we laid him down and let him get some sleep. Then, at 12:30 a.m. and 4:30 a.m he ate like a champ! So, we made it through our first night, and now we are on our way to being discharged. I have some last minute items to pick up at Babies R Us (Thank goodness for gift cards!) and then we are bringing him home once B gets off work.

I will get my first alone time tonight when B has to run to Sears. They are having a sale on all appliances -- including deep freezers...and the sale ends tonight. So, once we get home, B has to go buy a freezer to accommodate my new cow-status. Moo.

The next time I post there will be super cute pictures of Sprocket at home...where he belongs! :)

The Never Ending Marathon

2011-02-22T01:31:00.001-07:00

This blog has never been a place for me to be melodramatic. I have never used it as an emo platform to wax poetic and look for sympathy. I mean, sure, I vent every now and again. And more often than not my posts aren't about actually running, but instead about how I should be running or how I haven't been running or about babies and boobs. However, for the most part I try to stay upbeat and funny. Its like I take any issues I am having and shove them through an optimistic meat grinder and make a clever little meat patty that I serve to you piping hot with a side of fries. That is want people want from a good blog...clever, yet realistic, cheeseburgers. Today...you just might get the pre-meat grinder-cow-carcass of a post. Sorry 'bout that.

When running any distance, there are two things that I do mentally to finish the race. First, I constantly give myself positive reinforcement for the distance I have covered. I say to myself like "good job, Smithers. You have made it halfway!" Second, I count down how much distance I have left and dream of the feeling of accomplishment at the finish line. "Okay, Smithers, you only have 6 miles left in this marathon...that is like running a 10K...just think how great its going to feel once you cross the finish line!" Let's be honest, sometimes the countdown to the finish line is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other in what some would call a "run." I keep running because every step gets me to a concrete and attainable finish line. No matter how far away I am...I KNOW that I am getting closer. I can feel it and see it on the race signs near each water station.

Having a baby in the NICU is like the never ending marathon. There is no concrete and attainable finish line. Sometimes it feels like the line just keeps moving and we never get any closer to it. For Sprocket to go home he needs to do three things: maintain his own body temp in room air, be bradycardia free for at least five days, and take all of his feedings by bottle for at least 48 hours. All three of those are in the hands of Sprocket, which means that its our job to be supportive and do whatever it takes to help him get these things done. Sometimes that means not holding him for very long so that he can get lots of rest between feedings so that he takes them orally (when you only get to hold your newborn twice a day...it is really hard to try to limit that...but we do). Every day I wake up and think that I can't possibly be a NICU parent any longer. I hold my breath and hope that today is the day that everything just "clicks" for him and we can take him home. Every day so far that has not been the case. The finish line moves again. The only thing that keeps me running this marathon is that I have absolutely no choice. I have to keep running...even if I have no clue when I get to stop. Definitely a new mental challenge for me.

So, there you have it. Everything is not always unicorns and glitter in Smither-land. Sometimes, its full of cow carcass posts. Eat up.

Sprocket Update: Still trying to get all his feedings down orally. He can definitely take every other feeding orally and we are still working on filling in the gaps and getting rid of the ng tube that runs through his nose to his tummy. He is on the lowest possible dose of oxygen...the nurses call it a "just a whiff" of oxygen. He has developed a little bit of congestion that we are trying to clear out (just like his mom...a head full of snot!), because sometimes when preemies feel congested they don't eat as much. He is up to 5 lbs 6 oz and starting to get little fat rolls on his arms and legs. :)

Why Boobs Are Like Running

2011-02-18T03:10:00.002-07:00

Egads. I actually used the word "running" in a post title. However, really this is just another "Baby and Boob" post...I just thought I would mix it up a bit and at least mention running. Maybe trick some people into reading it by adding a little running camouflage.

Running is not easy for me. There are lots of variables and I often struggle with the mental side of things. Last year (around this time) I was struggling to get my nutrition under control. I was bonking on long runs and needed to really re-examine what I was eating and drinking while running. I did A LOT of research, which included lots of websites, a trip to a local running store, and even talking with other people that have done lots of running. It took a few weeks, but I finally figured out what was right for my body. I started with my research as a base and then experimented to figure out what worked for me. I then developed a system to prepare for runs and make sure that everything went smoothly. For instance, I would mix up my Perpetuem the night before and freeze it so that it stayed cold on long and hot runs. I also got a running belt to help hold all of my bottles and always carried the correct ratio of energy drink to water. It took a while, but after a few weeks...I was a nutrition champ.

And that is what brings me to Da Boobs. Pumping really follows the same path. The lactation consultants all had information for me, and there is a TON of information online (Thanks BAM for the website recommendations!), but I had to figure out the details of my own pumping regiment. About 5 days into this whole adventure, the volume I was producing was pretty low for where it should be. I was worried. The consultant said it should be up to 750 ml (25 ounces) per day by 7-10 days post birth. This would be enough to feed a full term baby (Sprocket was only eating about 20 ml a day by this point) and establish my supply by the time Sprocket needed more.

So, to increase my supply, I got the following advice:
1. Take a supplement with fenugreek in it. It boosts supply with the wonderful side effect of making your urine and sweat smell like maple syrup. Double Bonus!

2. Drink a beer a day. This advice came from an awesome NICU nurse. She claimed some connection between yeast and milk production...but, really, I think its about the relaxation. Plus, cows can't drink beer (no thumbs to hold the bottle), so I think it also helps me feel a little more non-cow-like.

3. Massage. Yup. Erica told me to rub my boobs as much as possible while pumping. However, this created a problem. If I was holding the pumps, how would I massage? I created a solution by cutting two holes in an old running sports bra -- a poor woman's version of this...which just looks silly. The pumps are held in which leaves my hands free to blog...check email...massage...eat breakfast... You get the picture. Again...a little less cow-like and I feel like I am doing an awesome Madonna impression.

4. Adjust pumping time to whatever works for me. Consultants said 15 minutes...Erica said that was just crazytown and that I should be going for at least 30 minutes.

I then took all this information and put it in a Smithers blender to figure out my own technique. I am now the proud owner of 41-ounce-per-day-Tatas. The freezer is full, Sprocket is fed, and I have an odd feeling of accomplishment. See. Boobs are like Running.

What should I do with such an odd feeling of accomplishment? Graph it, bitches.

I Heart Graphs.

Sprocket Update: He is now up to 5 lbs 4 ounces! The key to getting him home now is to get him to take all his feedings by mouth for at least two solid days. He is up to every other feeding orally and has strung together 4 feedings in a row...but was so tuckered out afterward that he needed to get one by feeding tube the next time. They basically decide to feed him based on his cues -- how awake he is and whether he is showing signs of wanting to eat. It is frustrating, because we want him home...but it is developmentally best for him if they go by his cues. Patience is a virtue (that I don't have!).

Tonight he took his whole feeding by bottle and then still acted hungry. So, he nursed for about 20 minutes and was a little piggy. Then, we laid him down in his crib and he promptly barfed on all his blankets. Apparently, his Oh-My-Goodness-I-Am-Full-If-I-Eat-Anymore-I-Will-Barf detectors are a little underdeveloped....but, I mean, really, haven't we all been there?

I will leave you with a quick dose of cuteness...

So, there you have it. A blog post about Boobs with a slight mention of running. I promise, eventually I will move on from Boob-a-palooza. I just need a bit more time.

The NICU: Behind the Scenes

2011-02-11T09:36:00.001-07:00

Family and friends love a Z update...and we find that explaining certain things to the uneducated observer can be a little tough. Don't get me wrong -- I completely realize that we were the uneducated observer two weeks ago. However, over the last 15 days of Z's life, we have become pretty well-versed in the terminology of the NICU. So, with my new-found knowledge, I would like to give a little behind the scenes tour of Z's corner of the NICU.

Z's Home

Z's area in the NICU includes his bed, monitors, and a little cove for a recliner or rocking chair. This is where I spend about 3 hours total each day (including two pumping sessions). To the left is his area of the counter where they store any equipment that is Z-specific. The blanket is over half of the crib to cover him from the lights and allow him to sleep. At first it seemed creepy that the babies were covered like that, but now that I know they grow the most in their sleep...I am definitely on board!

The thermometer.

I know, I know...you are wondering why a thermometer is such a big deal...right? Well, it is...for several reasons. Z's "care" times are at 8, 11, 2, and 5 (then it repeats in the PM). These are times where he is fed, changed, and monitored a bit more in-depth. So, when we visit at these times, we get to take his temperature (under the arm) and change his diaper. Then, the nurse will listen to his belly to make sure its nice and gurgly, his lungs to count and record his respiration, and take his blood pressure. After that, we get to take him out and hold him. In the beginning, we couldn't hold him that often, because they didn't want him to be overstimulated. So, we lived for this thermometer...it was a way for us to interact with our baby. His temperature should be between 36.5 and 37.5 degrees Celsius...which has been a big deal that last couple days because he made it out of his isolette and into a big boy bed. We have been living for his temperature updates to make sure that he is able to maintain his own body heat without the help of the incubator. He has one lower temp on the first night out of the box, but has been fine since then. Go Z!

Holy Stats, Batman!

The Monitor...duhn, duhn, duhnnnnn. Okay, so its not THAT dramatic, but at first it was pretty darn intimidating. The top number is Z's heart rate, the middle number is his respiration rate (breaths per minute), and the bottom number is his oxygen saturation number. The respiration rate is the most inaccurate, because it picks up movements as well as breaths. So, every three hours they actually use a stethoscope to count his breaths and record it in his chart.

Preemies often have bradycardia episodes, where they forget to breathe. It has to do with the maturity of his central nervous system and the amount of work we are requiring him to do.When he has a brady, the top number goes down and a special alarm goes off. Usually, his saturation level will go down after that. He was doing a great job and hadn't had a brady for over 5 days. However, when he came out of the incubator, he started having them again. He is averaging two a day -- which isn't horrible...and they are self-resolving which means he takes care of them himself and doesn't need any stimulation to get breathing again. Once he gets used to regulating his own temp and eating on his own, the bradys should go away. We hope that happens soon, because he has to be brady free for 5 days before he can go home.

Yummy Food!

This is the machine that slowly pushes boob juice into Z's belly through the tube that goes into his belly. Right now he is up to 40 mL over 30 minutes. Lately, he has been taking more of his feedings by bottle, which we realllllly want him to be able to do. So, we are hoping that Z puts this machine outta business soon.

Oxygen!

Early this week, Z came out of the incubator and into a big boy bed. However, that requires a lot more work out of him. So, unfortunately, he had to go on a very low dose of oxygen. The NICU is kind of a roller coaster, and this is just one example of that. The oxygen is good thing...it keeps him healthy. It won't stop him from going home, so we are just taking it in stride.

The Jaundice Baby

The Pump. After I nurse Z, I get to use this guy to collect some boob juice. The NICU is great because they really support breastfeeding and having pumps and privacy screens around really helps that. The pump is not nearly as emotionally fulfilling...but I know that every drop of the specially formulated Z juice helps him get stronger. So, Pump Away.

Z Update: He is up to 4lbs 6.5 oz and has been nursing twice a day and taking bottles twice a day. He is growing, growing, growing...and we LOVE it!

Bacon Wrapped Guilt

2011-02-06T20:13:00.001-07:00

B and I decided to got with a bacon-themed Super Bowl viewing. Because I am pumping every 2 hours, we decided to stay in and watch the game. W and J (along with little X) joined us for the first half. It was great to actually socialize and feel a little more normal after the past 2 weeks.

Our snacks included bacon wrapped little weenies baked in brown sugar (seriously...they are like meat candy!) and bacon wrapped jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese. We also added in bread and cheese (I am loving the fact that I can eat soft cheeses now that I am not preggo) and candied sweet potatoes (B's favorite). Definitely a weird combination of food...but very yummy!

Ready to go in the oven...

Ready to be devoured...

While preparing the jalapenos, I got some of the seeds on my overwashed and dry hands. I spent the next 30 minutes applying every possible lotion trying to extinguish the burn of a thousand Suns. I had to pump in the middle of the burning, so B brought me a container of cold water so I could soak my hands. I must have been quite the sight hooked up to the udder machine with my hands in a bucket of cold water.

W and J brought lots of cute gifts...including a boppy pillow with a custom-made Dr. Seuss cover (super cute!), a baby bath that fits in the sink to bath Z (definitely useful when bringing home a preemie), and a couple onesies -- one of which is a preemie size that will be a perfect take home outfit. :)

I pumped after half time and that is when B and I made the decision to just stay home and not go see Z for the second time today. We have seen him twice a day since we left the hospital, and it was a tough decision. I feel really guilty. My logical side knows that he is well-taken care of and that its okay for us to take some time to ourselves. I also know that we had a really good visit this morning and he nursed for about 10 minutes and we got to hold him for a long time. I even know that the key to a healthy mom is a rested mom...and I am exhausted.

However, the irrational mama bear in me feels guilty for not taking advantage of every opportunity to be a mom. Also, he is working on nursing -- so I feel guilty for not giving him as much practice as possible so that he can come home. Nobody tells you that having a baby in the NICU would pull your heart and head in so many different directions. It is just one more part of the learning curve that is preemie parenthood. Sigh.

Rinse and Repeat.

2011-02-05T05:54:00.002-07:00

First, I just want to warn you. This blog has taken a definite turn down Boob and Baby Lane. This has happened for two reasons: 1) I...um...POPPED OUT A KID and, well, it's a little bit time consuming and 2) Clint (my c-section incision) prevents me from doing anything in the way of exercise until after my 6 week appt. So, you get Boobs and Baby until then. :)

Second, after Z was born...I considered (for about 2 seconds) going back to work while he was in the NICU. My doctor ended up telling me that there was no way she was clearing me for work until 8 weeks post partum -- which is when Z will be home...so that idea went out the window. However, I think its important to reflect on why I wanted to go back to work. I wanted to make a Z a bit less expensive (right now I am fixing to miss out on about $17,000 worth of salary) and I was worried about going stir-crazy. I am a go-getter at school, and I was worried that having a baby in the NICU meant that I would get bored.

Little did I know that my schedule was going to look like this:

7:00 AM: Wash all used pumping supplies from night pumpings
7:08 AM : Pump for 35 minutes
9:02 AM: Pump for 20 minutes
10:00 AM: Wash all pumping supplies and pack to take to hospital
10:15 AM: Begin 25 minute drive to the hospital
10:45 AM: Change Z, take his temperature, nurse, and oogle over my tiny son
12:27 PM: Pump for 25 minutes at NICU after finishing up with Z
1:00 PM: Begin 25 minute drive home
1:30 PM: Eat lunch and try to clean condo
3:00 PM: Pump for 30 minutes
3:45 PM: Wash all pumping supplies while watching crappy Dr. Phil episode
4:00 PM: Snooze for a bit
5::15 PM: Pump for 30 minutes
6:00 PM: Fix dinner with B and eat
7:15 PM: Begin packing pumping supplies to take to hospital
7:25 PM: Begin 25 minute drive to the hospital with B
8:00 PM: Watch B change Z, take his temperature and oogle over our tiny son
8:15 PM: Pump for 30 minutest at NICU
9:00 PM: Begin 25 minute drive home
10:15 PM: Pump for 30 minutes
11:00 PM: Wash all pumping supplies to prepare for night time
2:25 AM: Pump for 30 minutes
5:37 AM: Pump for 25 minutes

Rinse. Repeat.

The pumping is overwhelming and exhausting. I mean, do the math. I pump pretty much every 2-3 hours...and I am now pumping for up to 35 minutes, which means only about 1.5 hours between when I finish and when I start up again. Overwhelming or not...it is really one of the biggest things I can do for Z Sprocket until he breaks out of baby jail. So. Pump it is. Now I know why Erica thought it was so amusing when I asked her if she ever went stir-crazy while her kiddos were in the NICU. Rookie mistake.

How do I keep track of all this pumping madness. I have a pump book, and it has quickly become my Bible. I love being able to keep track and add up all my numbers each day. I am officially a Lacto-nerd.

Now, for a dose of Z cuteness...

Initiation and Porn Stars

2011-02-03T09:20:00.001-07:00

I honestly never thought that I would be a mom to a preemie. However, now that I am...I am surprised to find out that its a little like a club that I have been initiated into. Or, as a friend recently put it, I am "now part of a sisterhood...kinda."

This sisterhood knows about things like fat baby envy (yep...we envy those parents who walk out of the hospital with their fat babies 2 days after giving birth), bradycardia episodes (it's where a preemie forgets to breathe and their heart rate goes down...sounds scary, but is more normal than ya think), car seat challenges (a preemie must be able to sit in a car seat without any oxygen saturation issues before they are allowed to go home), and the lovely art of pumping, pumping, pumping (it's where you get to feel like a cow without the instant gratification of feeding your baby).

So, there are two members of the NICU sisterhood that need a shoutout. JWoods and Erica are two friends that have been through all this NICU craziness before and are on the glorious I-have-my-baby(ies)-home-with-me side of the situation.


My favorite picture of JWoods (on the right).

They have given me lots of advice that is realistic and spot-on for how I am feeling. Not only that, they have recognized that I was in no place to really do the reaching out. I think JWoods has randomly emailed me at least 3 or 4 times just to check in...even though I was in no place to actually respond until this past week. Her persistence helped me start to unravel all the crazy emotions that come attached to a pre-term birth.

I can't wait until I can be on the opposite side of this initiation process, but for now I am lucky that I have such knowledgeable and wonderful friends. Thanks Ladies!

In other news...the main focus of my mommy life has been Z (duh!) and pumping! Let me tell you, trying to give your body the message that it should breast feed is very hard when you give birth 8 weeks early. I "pumped" for a whole day with nothing but droplets coming out (which I scooped up for Z in little syringes). It was painful and frustrating. My body was just plain confused.

My first real measurable amount...of course I took a picture...that stuff was hard to get! That is 0.6 mL :)

Then, on Saturday night I went to bed and woke up Sunday morning with the chest of a porn star. My boobs were like beach balls of soreness attached to my chest. The only solution was warm compresses, lots and lots of pumping, and icing afterwards -- all of which were painful. The hardest part was trying to function around my boobs for the first time in my life. It took about 36 hours, but finally they went down and I have been able to continue functioning normally on the planet. Now my life is pretty much split into two hour chunks because that is how often I pump. However, all of that liquid gold is bottled, labeled and dropped of at the hospital to add a little fat to Z Sprocket's little chicken legs. :)

Z Update: He is back up to his birth weight and has quit intravenous nutrition, which means one less tube leading to the little guy. All of his calories come from my breast milk through a tube that goes into his stomach. He started getting 3 mL per feeding...now he is up to 34 ml per feeding! He is tolerating everything really well and I am hoping he will get to start eating orally next week. Oh...and here is a dose of cuteness for ya!

Sprocket's Story

2011-01-30T14:50:00.001-07:00

It has been a complete and utter whirlwind of a week. Honestly, I feel like I crawled into a cocoon of baby stats and meds and nervousness and still haven't really stepped out. It is as if everything that mattered before just melted away and the only thing left was B, me, and our baby.

Where do I begin? Well, let's review the build-up:
Monday (MLK Day)-- I went in for an appt because I was worried about some swelling in my hands and my higher blood pressure. Got put on "at home" bedrest (still allowed to work but do nothing at home) with a follow-up appointment on Thursday to re-check and assess.

Thursday -- Blood pressure was really high at the appointment and after some fetal testing they decided that even though baby was fine and there was no protein in my urine...I should go to the hospital to get my BP under control. I also got steroid shots to help develop Sprocket's lungs just in case.

Saturday -- I got to go home and was very excited to keep baking my baby. Stayed at home and felt like total ass until my appointment on Monday afternoon. B did a great job taking care of me and we worked on getting a bag packed just in case we ended up staying again at the hospital.

Monday -- No Bueno! My BP was higher, I was a bit more swollen, and my quick urine analysis came back a 3+ which is the highest it goes on their colored dipstick scale. I was sent back over to Labor and Delivery to be admitted...again. Lorie, one of the funniest L and D nurses, put in an IV just in case. She pointed out that putting it in would ward off any early baby spirits.

Tuesday -- They tripled...then quintupled my blood pressure meds to try to get it under control. I had a screaming headache and felt horrible. All the monitoring showed that Sprocket was measuring right on target and was as reactive as he should be at 32 weeks. The docs had me collect my urine for 24 hours so that they could get a better analysis of how much protein was spilling, which is a better assessment of the development of pre-eclamplsia. Under 300 is considered okay, and I had a value of 220 the previous Saturday (which is why they let me go home). So, the highlight of my day was peeing in a collector dish and then pouring it into an orange jug with my name on it. About 8 hours in, the jug tipped over and mixed with the ice-water bath mix that keeps it cold. I had to completely start over...but, I guess there is no use in crying over spilled urine.

Wednesday -- The Day That the Defecation Hit the Motorized Propeller Unit
At 4 AM, two things happened. 1) They took my blood pressure from a dead sleep and 2) my urine results came back. Blood pressure was about 170/112 and my urine was 5500 (remember, 300 and below is considered "normal"). Basically, between Saturday and Wednesday -- I had developed a severe case of pre-eclampsia. Kristen, one of the sweetest nurses, came to tell us that we need to go back over to Labor and Delivery, because it was no longer safe for Sprocket to stay inside my belly.

At L & D, we found out that I was 1 cm dilated and 10% effaced. They softened my cervix with some fancy drug and started me on a heavy duty muscle relaxant called Magnesium Sulfate, otherwise known as Ass Juice. They hit me with 6g in the first half hour, which caused hot flashes, nausea, and overall ickiness. Basically, I was a 45 year old menopausal pregnant lady with contractions.

Trying to stay in good humor...even with Ass Juice running through my veins

The Mag was meant to decrease the risk of seizures that can be caused by the high blood pressure and pre-eclampsia. I won't lie -- it is a little overwhelming to see them put seizure guards on the rails of the bed. Eek.

The contractions got a little worse and the doctor checked me again and stripped my membranes. That is when Sprocket started showing a few signs that weren't reassuring.

The fetal monitor that we learned was a window into Sprocket's condition

They didn't know if it was the Magnesium Sulfate or if he was becoming non-reactive. So, around 3 PM (fastest day ever!), they actually reached inside of me to shake Sprocket to see if they could get him more reactive. I was through the roof! I was already feeling like I had started labor behind the eight ball...but, this...this just put me over the edge. I felt like crap. My body was sick. And I was worried about my baby.

The doctors explained that I could continue to labor and get to 10 cm only to find out that my body (or Sprocket's) couldn't handle the stress of a vaginal delivery...or I could have a c-section. After some conversation, B and I decided that we felt more comfortable with a c-section for both my health and Sprockets.

Brad added his own commentary to the dilation countdown

Our last picture together before becoming parents!

Me waving to B down the hallway as they wheeled me to the OR

Within 45 minutes, I was on the table and our kid was entering the world.

The anesthesiologist who was in charge of my numbness during the C-section

I couldn't see anything, but B was the one that got to look down and say, "We have a baby boy!" Z was perfect! Apparently, Caucasian boys tend to do the worst pre-term. In fact, they are lovingly referred to as "Wimpy White Males" or WWM's for short. For some reason, they tend to be a bit more lazy with breathing and need more help in the NICU. Not Sprocket. He came out screaming and was breathing on his own right away. In fact, the NICU nurses later said that they were kind of bored because he was doing everything on his own.

Sprocket taking his very first breath!

It was great that once he was swaddled, they put him near my head for a solid 3-4 minutes before they had to take him away.

All wrapped up and calm after being torn from his nice, warm womb

We didn't know how much he weighed until he got checked out in the NICU, but he came in at 3 lbs and 11 oz -- only two ounces shy of the estimate given by the ultrasound. Not too shabby.

Not Happy!

This picture makes him look like a normal sized baby

Getting swaddled and calming down the NICU

Thursday: The Honest-to-God WORST Day of My Life.
Seriously. I am crying right now just thinking about it. After birth, it is mandatory that patients stay on the Magnesium Sulfate for a full 24 hours. So, I was confined to my bed with a catheter and IV until 5 pm Thursday night. I wasn't even allowed to see my new baby. The effects of the drug are horrible and by 3 PM I was a hot mess. I was crying, my vision was blurry, I had a splitting headache, a sore C-section scar, and Dr. Phil was a stupid episode. The only thing I could do was pump to try to get my milk to come in...which, let me tell you, pumping while nothing comes out is the most discouraging and fruitless activity you can possibly do while in a muscle-relaxant-induced state. I actually was able to pump about .5 mL of colostrum and my doctor relented and let me off the Mag at 4:30 pm. That is when things got fun!

I spruced up -- hospital wet wipes and a pony tail holder worked wonders. We got to see Sprocket and hold him for the first time. It was great!

Brushing my teeth using one of the pink "I'm gonna vomit" buckets

Looking back on these pics, makes me realize how sick I really was. I can't believe how swollen my face was.

He was very alert and had his eyes open when he heard our voices

B holding him for the first time

Snug as a Bug in a Rug

The first 72 hours of being a parent have been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. Nothing really happened the way we had pictured it -- but sometimes life works that way. B and I are handling it the best we can and we are excited that our Sprocket seems to be out-performing a lot of expectations for a kiddo at his gestational age. We know that there will be setbacks, but we are trying to prepare ourselves to take them in stride.

Shake and Sprocket!

Meet Z

2011-01-26T23:47:00.001-07:00

AKA Sprocket the Wonder ~~Fetus~~ Preemie

Z is breathing on his own and seems to be doing well for his gestational age. He is 3 lbs 11 oz and really let the whole operating know that he had arrived...by crying loudly and peeing on a nurse.

I am doing better....still on some crazy meds that have some crazy side effects, but I seem to be getting better as time passes -- which was not the case over the past week.

More details later :)

Home is Bittersweet?

2011-01-23T10:22:00.000-07:00

I made it home! Blood pressure came down Saturday morning -- still on the edge of "concern," but not enough concern to keep me at the hospital :) It took a combination of two drugs to finally get it under control, but it worked! My urine analysis came back with "normal" levels of protein, which is good -- since that is normally a tell-tale sign of pre-eclampsia.

The doctors were oscillating between glass half-empty and glass half-full. Basically, they have adjusted Sprocket's baking time to 36 weeks as ideal...but expect to see some action before then. Dr. M even said, "when you come to your appointments in the office -- I would just bring a packed bag each time so you have your things if you are admitted." As a science-minded person, I often want the bottom line. However, it was kind of nice to have the info presented from different angles. Everyone is really saying the same thing -- but the variety in how they say it can be interesting.

After leaving the hospital, we stopped by my school and I cleaned up all my personal paperwork and things to get ready for a sub to take over. I have no clue who it will be or what their background is...but I just have to let go and focus on growing Sprocket. That is tough for a person that lives for their job, but it's getting easier each day.

Leaving the hospital was somewhat bittersweet because I lost the security of Sprocket checks. I knew the whole time that I wasn't doing well, but I had 2 non-stress tests and multiple heart rate checks each day on Sprocket to keep me reassured that everything was okay in my belly. Now I have lost those -- and its a little nerve-wracking. I go back to the doctor tomorrow, so my utero-blindness won't last long. But. Well. I am pregnant and whiny. :)

I also gotta give a shout out to B. He has been the best baby daddy ever. He has been attentive and caring through this whole thing. He is catering to my every need and being a bedrest gestapo when he has to be.

Now, I am off to live vicariously through a 2001 version of Sims. Yep, its only day one of bedrest and I am resorting to computer games that simulate life for entertainment. Hey! It's still Janathon -- maybe I will make my Sim be an athlete as a career choice. Take that, Janathon!

Shake and Sims.

Blood Pressure it Just Too DAMN High!

2011-01-21T19:55:00.002-07:00

Said in my very best Jimmy McMillan voice:

That's right. They may be able to take away my clothes in exchange for an itchy hospital gown...and they may be able to take away my freedom to flush after peeing by insisting that I do a 24-hour urine collection...and they may be able to expect me to sleep on a cardboard bed with pancake pillows....but they can't take away my sense of humor! :) Take that Hospital People!

So, yesterday I went in for a blood pressure and urine check. They were worried on Monday and wanted to reassess whether or not I was showing any other signs of pre-eclampsia. The appointment was not pretty. Blood pressure was just too high and there was slightly more protein in my urine. They put me on the non-stress test to check Sprocket and then continued to check blood pressure.

WooHoo for double chins!

Sprocket was doing great! Lots of fluid, strong heart beat, and tons of movement. I was not doing so hot. My blood labs showed a few "questionable soft values" that made them doubtful. Over an hour later they decided that I needed to go to Labor and Delivery and be admitted.

Lots of hub-bub getting me checked in, which sent my BP to its highest -- 179/102. Eek. Eventually, things calmed down and they gave me the first steroid shot (OUCH!) to help develop Sprocket's lungs...just in case. Finally, I got over to a more comfortable room in the new mommies wing (ironic?) after my BP calmed down.

B was very proud of my "low" reading :)

So, here is the bottom line so far...doctors are trying to get my blood pressure to go down consistently and have been raising the dose of a BP med over the last day (I am now at triple the original dose). It's sort of working. They are waiting until I finish my 24 hour urine collection to do a more accurate test for protein -- which will tell the full story. Basically, I am on the evolution to pre-eclampsia and they want to try to keep that mild and keep Sprocket in my belly. So far, Sprocket is holding up well -- but, unfortunately, that is only half of the equation. They are worried about how I will fare as we try to keep Sprocket baking.

In other news, I am officially done with work! So, its bed rest for me until the debut of our wonder fetus. The high risk doctor I met with today made it sound like we are now looking at 36 weeks as a best case scenario. However, we will know more once my pee has been analyzed. Woot for pee analysis. :)

I am trying to stay in good spirits -- and the two new Smithers mantras have become "NO Squeaking Babies!" (Sorry, Erica!) and "Think Unicorns and Glitter!" (That is what B says every time they check my pressure).

Hey...remember when this blog used to be about running and shenanigans?!? Sheesh. Rent is just too DAMN high. :)

Oy.

2011-01-18T21:10:00.001-07:00

Day One of Slow-Down Smithers was...um...slower?

I made a point to walk a lot less at school, but it was tough. Don't get me wrong, its not far from place to place within the middle school hall -- but its hard to eliminate the 9,000 trips that I make down that hall throughout the day.

I got done with school and headed home to sit on my arse for the rest of the night. B was very nice and cooked dinner, took the dog out, and catered to my every need. Things were feeling good, until I took off my socks to reveal this:

Check out the indentation from my socks being too tight. Who has socks that don't fit?!? I guess the positive to swollen ankles and tight socks is that the socks push the cankle back up to the calf a bit. So, now its just a fat calf. With a Dent. Woot!

Every day is just a new adventure :)

However, if it means another day with Sprocket baking, then I am on board!

Over Pressure.

2011-01-17T20:51:00.002-07:00

Otherwise known as "The Day That Janathon Came to a Crashing Halt"

Friday -- Super duper tired and not feeling the greatest

Saturday -- Still feeling exhausted and a little "off." My legs were still cankles even though I spent most of the morning and afternoon off my feet.

Sunday -- Hands and face felt an itty-bitty swollen, so on a whim at the grocery store -- I checked my blood pressure at one of those automatic blood pressure cuff things.

140/85...for those of you not well-versed in preggo stats...that is too high. Anything above 130/90 is considered above normal. I checked again later on Sunday and got the same readings. So, this morning I called the doctor and got an appointment to check things out. When I got there, my pressure was up to 150/100, but there were only traces of protein in my urine. They look for protein because its another sign (besides high blood pressure) of preeclampsia. They also did a non-stress test and an ultrasound to check on Sprocket -- everything is great in that department. It took every ounce of strength to look away during the "money" shot of the goods (especially since B wasn't there to guilt me). According to the physician's assistant, it was a very clear shot of the good stuff.

Met with the doc who did a cervical exam (Woot. Let the fun begin!) and talked about the "next step." Basically, without any other symptoms of preeclampsia, I have been diagnosed with Gestational Hypertension. This is often the beginning of the evolution towards preeclampsia. If I go down that road, the only "cure" is to deliver Sprocket.

We definitely want Sprocket to bake a lot longer! So, Doc agreed to let me continue to work as long as I promise to slow down a lot and spend evenings on complete bedrest. No cooking. No cleaning. No laundry. No Janathon. Basically, I need to eliminate major stress and just chill.

I go back on Thursday for a blood pressure check and hopefully things will just naturally go down. If not, we will have to discuss the next step (blood tests, more peeing in cups, etc.).

At first, I was pretty bummed by the news -- but then I realized that I have a no-excuses reason to slow down at work. I have been pretty swamped lately and been going about 900 mph at school -- part of my baby bucket list. I think that putting Sprocket first and slowing down will be a great training activity for motherhood.

So, there you have it. Kind of a depressing "all-preggo-all-the-time" kind of post.

RIP Janathon.

Lazy Day...

2011-01-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

Today was definitely a lazy day. B and I sat around and watched football for most of the day. I haven't been feeling the hottest the last couple days, so it was nice to be a big, fat, lazy bump on a log.

We uneventfully walked our usual 1.25 mile loop and then lounged around some more.

Kind of funny to think that a lazy day in 9-ish weeks will look MUCH different. Eek!

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 14.65 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles
Prenatal Torture: 30 minutes

Sprocket Countdown: 9 Weeks

2011-01-15T20:45:00.000-07:00

WooHoo! I am in the single digits! Only 9 weeks left to go!

Being that I am a "glass half full" kind of person, I am going to center this countdown post around the fact that I have made it 31 weeks.

To celebrate 31 weeks I present: "31 Seconds of Video that Confirms Two Things" (Be sure to turn on your speakers...but not too loud)

Are you wondering what this video confirms? Well, it confirms:

1. My husband thinks he is hilarious and likes to mock me by catching my embarrassing preggo moments on film.
2. Pregnancy makes me snore like a truck driver...no, wait, pregnancy makes me snore like my Dad. All the pregnancy websites I have found say that its because of the swelling in your nasal passages and added mucus production. Considering that my nose already looks swollen -- its par for the course that it now sounds swollen.

Believe it or not...for the first time, I was a little hesitant to post on my blog due to embarrassment. Pregnancy is one of those experiences where after a while you forget what its like to be completely like yourself...and this video is definitely highlighting that fact. I wasn't sure that I wanted to spotlight it with added audio of the experience. But, I then noticed that the video was exactly 31 seconds long, I didn't have any good countdown material to post, and its pretty funny stuff. So, by default you get Preggo Truck Driver.

In other news...
B and I went to an ISU women's basketball game tonight as they played CU. We ended up losing in overtime, but it was fun to be able to watch our Cyclones in Boulder. Before the game, we went on a 1.6 mile walk. Janathon Day 15 goes down as another "Same Ol'" in the Fat and Pregnant Division.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 13.35 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles
Prenatal Torture: 30 minutes

Short and Sweet...Just in the Nick of Time

2011-01-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

I made it through the week! I ended up recovering from yesterday with an awesome day of teaching where everything in the lesson seemed to go my way. It helped that I planned my lesson to a tee (T?) because my formal evaluation is next week.

B and I babysat for our friends W and J so that they could enjoy their 1 year anniversary tonight. They went to a concert and we weren't relieved of our duties until 11:40. So, we just got back from a 0.8-ish mile walk.

Woah. That was close.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 11.75 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles Prenatal Torture: 30 minutes

Janathon Day 13: Everything Went to the Crapper

2011-01-13T21:09:00.008-07:00

Okay. So, that may be a bit of an overstatement...but, it did go downhill pretty quickly.

Have you ever had an issue or situation that really gets under your skin? You know, just thinking...or typing...about it makes your blood pressure rise? You start to get that climbing hotness that goes from your neck to your face as you prepare for your head to explode?

Yeah.

I encountered that situation today. It involves my teacher licensure and the complete incompetence of the Colorado Department of Education. I am still at a place where I can't have a civil conversation about the trials and tribulations that Colorado calls the licensure process. So, we will just leave it here and move on. Bottom Line: Ickiness in Smither-land.

After staying late at school (getting lesson plans done and emailing the State Commissioner of Education...yeah, it was THAT bad), I drug myself out the door and headed home. My brain was tired. I was emotionally drained. And my feet hurt (clogs, teaching, and cankles do not mix as well as one might think).

I got home and mustered the energy to go on a walk with B, and because it has warmed back up, we went on an extended loop of 1.6 miles. It felt good to clear my brain and chat with B and, once again, I was happy that I had signed up for the Janathon Fat and Pregnant Division.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 10.95 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles
Prenatal Torture: 30 minutes

Top Janathon Skill: Critical Reading

2011-01-12T21:48:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I was planning to do some Prenatal Yoga using a DVD that a friend gave me.

Once I started the DVD I realized that it wasn't a Prenatal Yoga DVD at all. Nope. It was a Flail-Like-An-Idiot-Sore-Crotchie-Causing DVD. Seriously, this lady was like the knocked-up version of Jillian Michaels. She says things like "zip up that belly" and "open that pelvic floor." The problem is that I didn't want a zipped belly or an open pelvic floor. I wanted Prenatal Yoga.

Oh well. I survived 30 minutes of the ~~torture~~ workout, even if I had to skip some of the floor exercises because I was worried about aggravating Grumpy the Crotch and felt like a whale the entire time.

It felt good to do something a little different, but I am hesitant to weigh in on the experience until I assess any after-effects tomorrow. I definitely think that I will be heading to the library to get an actual Prenatal Yoga or Pilates DVD. And, before I do the work out...I will actually read the cover.

Long Live the Janathon.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 9.35 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles
Prenatal Torture: 30 minutes

This is JANATHON...

2011-01-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

not sit-on-your effing-couch-and-watch-TV-a-thon! That is what B yelled as I sat reluctantly on the couch.

I had to tutor tonight until 7...then dinner...then the end of Biggest Loser. Before I knew it, it was 9 pm and absolutely frigid outside. So, we bundled up (I was wearing 2 pairs of pants, 3 shirts, a down jacket, ski gloves, a scarf and a stocking hat) and headed out the door. We did a shortened loop where B continued to rant about how lame it was that we weren't walking more. However, once our eyelashes had crystallized and we had made it back home, he ended with a "good walk, Boss!"

It ain't perfect. It ain't beautiful. But it IS Janathon in, um, well, January. Go Team.

The Only Thing More Boring...Janathon Day 10

2011-01-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

The only thing more boring than running laps at the rec center?

Walking laps at the rec center.

I got done with school and was ready to get home and relax, but had a harsh realization on the way to my car. It was freakin' cold! It wasn't Canada cold...but it was pretty chilly. So, I decided to make a stop at the rec center on the way home and walk laps instead of trying to get outside.

I ended up walking 16 laps, which is 1 mile. I wanted to do more...but it was just so boring.

Okay, so that's excuse language. I know I have run up to 5-6 miles on that track -- so I should have just sucked it up. But I was tired. And swollen. And just not feeling it. Still excuse language, but at least its honest excuse language. However, I feel okay about it because before Janathon I wouldn't have stopped and wouldn't have done any walking. So, go me?

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 8.45 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles

Sprocket Countdown: 10 Weeks

2011-01-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

(And a Janathon Day 9 Update)

The Big 3-0. Thirty weeks! I am 75% done with pregnancy! If growing a person were a grade...I finally have a C!

With 10 weeks left to go, I would like to present: 10 things you can do with a pregnant body

# 1: Paint It...Creepily. Ugh.

#2:Use it to Spice up the Local Newspaper with Some Controversy

Yes...she is smoking a cigarette.

# 3: Become a Whack Job and Make a Really Awkward Video to Post to YouTube

# 4: Pose for Motivational Posters

# 5: Easily Clear a Room

# 6: Pose for Awkward Maternity Photos

# 7: Start a New Division at the Lumberjack Games

# 8: Learn to Use a New Weapon So You can Be a Bad Ass Preggo

# 9: Learn to Whistle

#10: Use it as an Excuse to Bake a Cake. Ew.

Janathon Update: Same ol' routine around here. B and I took a walk yesterday and extended our usual loop (about 1.6 miles) before lunch. Glad we went when we did...because a cold front started moving in and it got way colder in the afternoon. I am hoping to add a little spice to the Janathon this week...but we will see how that goes.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 7.45 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles

A Complete Meltdown with a Side of Janathon

2011-01-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

My Friday went pretty well at school, but after school I had to work on some things that I had been putting off. I get evaluated next week by my principal, and I needed to submit my "pre-observation conference" forms. I ended up at school until 5:30 and by the time I left I could feel the exhaustion creeping up on me.

As I was pulling into our complex, B called and said that he was going over to one of our friend's condos for a few beverages. They live in the same complex and are about a 3 minute walk away from our condo. I decided it might be a better idea for me to put my ~~feet~~ cankles up and relax. So, I snacked, watched Gray's Anatomy online, and just generally vegged out. B said he would only be about an hour, so I relished in the alone time.

About 2 hours later, I was getting pretty hungry. I stood up and went to the kitchen to start looking for something to fix...my choices were bean burritos (a fall-back dinner staple in the Smithers household), Spaghetti, or boxed Mac and Cheese. As I stood in the doorway of our pantry...complete hunger and utter exhaustion washed over me. I called B and was downright nasty on the phone. I was tired and hungry...and, apparently, mad at B. I hung up the phone and had a complete meltdown.

By the time B got back home I was a sputtering, snotting, crying mess. He kept trying to diffuse the situation by offering to make something for dinner and I kept spewing random sentence fragments. Finally, he just put on his coat and said "let's go....we are going somewhere to get you something to eat." We ended up having Chipotle. After half a burrito bowl and a chocolate chip muffin from the grocery store next door I was restored to my normal self and our night resumed without incident.

The thing that is so overwhelming about the whole situation was that it wasn't a run-of-the-mill hunger meltdown. I mean, I eat a lot (preggo or not), and my hunger pretty much dictates my mood. Half of our days on RAGBRAI involve B saying, "we better get The Boss something to eat before she gets crabby." I used to get annoyed by it, but B has learned my ways and is respectful of the beast that emerges when I am tired and hungry. In fact, knowing that I am married to someone that accepts and even acts on my crabby hunger is kind of endearing.

But This...This was different. This time I could hear this little itty-bitty voice in the back of my head saying things like "it's not his fault you are hungry -- quit being so rude" or "the longer you spew sentence fragments, the longer it is until we eat." However, my hormonal/emotional side just could not listen to that little logical voice. It was too busy raging out of control. Bottom line: I was a hot mess.

That is pregnancy. Most of the things I experience can be dealt with in a logical way...and my mind tries to do that. Then, the raging lunatic comes out and beats the stuffing out of that little voice.

After all the drama of the night, I still managed to go on a walk, albeit a short walk of about .75 miles. I am guesstimating this because mapmyrun.com has launched a new Beta version that won't let me map non-road routes.

So, there you have it...another Janathon Fat and Pregnant Division day is in the books and only one husband was harmed in the process.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 5.85 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles

Michael Jackson Melted in My Classroom

2011-01-07T10:35:00.004-07:00

Science Fair Projects suck. I try to make them meaningful, fun, and easier on parents.

Every year I host a Science Fair Display Board Night. I (okay, well, the science department) buy construction paper, glue, markers, and...mistakenly...glitter. The kids bring their display boards and we have a full-on arts and crafts night.

Picture 45 fourteen year old kids in one room with a paper cutter (yeah, the scary kind), a letter cutter, and me. Absolute chaos. And I love it! The kids work so hard and its cute to see adolescent boys try to be artsy. Gluing things is just not their strong point.

This year, I had bought glitter (mistake!) and by the end of the 3 hours...there was glitter EVERYWHERE. We swept and swept and swept some more. When we were done we had a pile that looked like Michael Jackson had melted and all that was left was a pile of his sparkly remains.

I tell you this because I think within that 3 hours, I easily walked over a mile back and forth in my classroom. Of course, I can't log that for Janathon...but, well, I feel like I should at least get some credit for the fact that my job requires my booty to be up and moving every day. Oh yeah, I also put up with the craziness of 135 8th graders. Every day.

I came home and went on the usual walk with B and the pup. Yeah -- boring, but still doing more than I was before I started this challenge. Go me.

Janathon Totals:
Walking: 5.1 miles
Elliptical-ating: 1.5 miles