Sorry about that, Jesus.

December 2011 (beginning of the third trimester), in the matching PJ’s my momma got us.

Team Newman, preggers

December 2012, Suzianne in the matching PJ’s she was too prenatal for last year:

Team Newman offspringSuzianne had a marvelous first Christmas; well, besides the teething meltdown that started as we were bowing our heads to pray at the dinner table. Sorry, Lord.

She’s got four coming in on top at once. Yikes.

Team Newman–sensing the only thing that would calm this child was 1.25 ml of infant Motrin and an 11 hour nap–left for home before folks had even finished their green bean casserole. Poor Dave didn’t even get to take one bite of the turkey he spent all day cooking until after Suzianne went to bed later that night. (sigh)

I confess I felt and continue to feel super-guilty about breaking up the family dinner, but no one other than me (I?) seems upset about it. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

Anyway! I hope your Christmas was as fun and festive as ours, and that you didn’t have to leave the dinner table while you were talking to Jesus.

Happy Holidays!

Not a baby, not yet a toddler

Ya’ll. My baby is not a baby anymore. Not only does she now understand how to communicate “no,” she shares! For real.

This tiny human who has only been on the earth 9 months knows how to hand something over to someone else for no apparent reason other than she just wanted you to have it. See:

Want some?

Would you like a felt cucumber?

For me, this is the coolest milestone yet because it signals that she thinks of us as people worthy of handing over her toys to. I’m no longer just the milk lady, or the lady who forces her to wear pants. I’m a pal!

Meanwhile, I think Georgia feels a little neglected; she now is constantly being consoled by the stuffed hippo Dave got Suzianne at the San Diego Zoo:

Are you my momma?

Are you my momma?

Sorry Porge. We still love ya.

How to start your postpartum exercise routine

Folks often are surprised when I tell them I ran my first 5k about the time Suzianne turned five months old. Let’s be clear: before my husband peer-pressured me into running, the only thing I’d ever run for was beer.

What got truly got me motivated was simply a desire (and desperate need) to get out of the house alone. Soon, I was able to run pushing the stroller. Today, my body actually craves a “long” run, which for me is around five miles. I’m not fast, but I’m proud of my consistency and distance.

Last run as a family living in Washington, D.C.

Besides my persistent husband, I have the Internet to thank for getting me off the couch, and eventually, across a finish line. I’m not alone.

Once your doctor clears you for exercise–usually around 4 to 6 weeks postpartum–give these tips a try. NOTE: during the first run, it will feel like your insides are going to fall out of your vagina, but they won’t.

Get a coach–On my own, I do not possess the willpower to keep running once I get tired, bored, or out of breath. But, if I’m being coached by an iPhone app like Bluefin’s Ease into 5k, I will keep going.

A reliable buddy also can serve as your coach. This morning, I saw two women fast-walking while pushing their teeny infants in strollers. When they got to the stairs, one woman stayed behind with the strollers while the other ran up and back. Her buddy was coaching her as she ran. When she was finished, the other woman took her turn.

Declare a goal–my goal in the couple of weeks before I started the Ease into 5k training was simply to walk like a normal person for 30 minutes. When you consider that Suzianne’s head circumference is in the 75th percentile, you understand this was an ambitious goal.

Once I started using the app, completing each day’s routine–without taking my own breaks–was the goal. A few weeks into the training, I signed up for a 5k; not backing out of that become my goal. Today, I’m pushing toward my goal of running a 10k, with the help of the Ease into 10k app.

Go public–once you tell the Internet you are going to do something, there is no going back. You may not have a blog, but I know you have a Facebook page, a Twitter account, or at the very least, an email address. Share your goals with your network; they will encourage you, keep you honest and cheer the heck out of your accomplishments.

Bottom line: if I can do this, you can! Go get’em, lady.

Crystal City Twilighter 5k, July 21, 2012

My first 5k! The Crystal City Twilighter, July 21, 2012


Three reasons type-A’s make great mothers

I used to beat myself up over being a Type-A mother.

Not sure about the heart disease part, but the rest of it sounds accurate.

But over the past month, I got my groove back. I’ve now discovered several aspects of this “personality trait” that make me a freakin’ awesome mother.

Type-A mommas inherently are:

1. Futzers. We can’t sit still when there are Christmas tree pine needles on the floor that need Swiffering, a diaper drawer that needs re-organzing, bottles that need washing, laundry that needs folding, and a baby book that needs to be taken out, flipped through, and then put away without updating. You call it OCD or ADD, we call it productivity and a clean house. Potato, patattah. Whatevs. Ya’lls socks are clean.

2. Always prepared and highly organized. Laugh all you want at my massive diaper bag. We’ll see who is snorting when your baby needs extra pants, a blanket, bib, a bedtime story, socks, Orajel, Tylenol, solid food, one of my four pacifiers, formula from my tower, or a mini Sophie. Awe, no, I’m just kidding. I’ll come to your rescue, but I’m totally gonna give you a judgy, lifted-eyebrow, “I told you so” look.

3. Not afraid of you, child. Listen, honey. I made your face INSIDE OF MY BODY while I was working, commuting AND avoiding alcohol. I will wash that face when I feel like it. Also, I will trim those nails of yours, even if I have to sneak into your room in the middle of the night. See, these things are on momma’s to-do list, and you, sweet love of her life, are not going to gum your way out of this. Now, come here and let’s fix that hair…


Refusin’ Suzan

This week, Suzianne has discovered her ability to refuse things, and she’s workin’ it like a boss. Who can blame her when I’m torturing her with evil devices such as a hair brush and pants?

I bet your parents never made you wear pants.

You know that sweet, cuddly, patient version of my spouse? You just try to outfit her with footie pajamas and see what happens. Then, there’s the awesome train wreck of me trimming her infant claws.

I’m baffled by how someone who hasn’t yet been on the Earth a whole year can be so strong and persistent.

Any day now, she’ll have discovered and perfected her ability to throw me the “Oh, Mother, please” eye roll.

This morning, as she was attempting to gum her way to freedom while I was tackling her Heat Miser hair, I looked her in the eye and gave a stern “STOP IT.” Her look back was all, “Nice one momma. Are you finished? I was kind of in the middle of a protest.”

She’s nine months old, ya’ll.

Lord help us.