This weekend, I ran the America’s Finest City 5k and set a personal record. On four hours of sleep. On a course with The Hill That Never Ends. By myself.
I’m kind of a big deal. (Photo credit: kind stranger)
In the wee hours of the morning of this year’s race, Suzianne simply would not sleep. Around 3:30 a.m., I was laying on the rug next to her crib plotting my Ninja escape from her nursery when my mind drifted and started processing the new and improved, Margie, The Momma, Aug. 2013 Edition.
What a difference a year makes.
In August 2012, Dave and I moved to from D.C. to San Diego to start a public relations firm. Suzianne was five months old. Krissi and Reese helped me finish packing up:
My expert logistics team.
(Dave left on August 10 to drive West with his soulmate)
Just a man, his poodle, and the open road.
On August 11, Suzianne and I made our move across the country. On an airplane. No way I’m driving cross-country with an infant.
Ubering to the airport, while Suzianne makes a weird air-nursing face.
This picture sums up my life for the first few weeks of SoCal living; I could barely function:
A Type-A momma’s worst nightmare.
Mom’s place flooded the night we arrived (water heater), so we were hotel-hopping for awhile. During this time, a dear friend in Nashville passed away, and one of my father figures in Knoxville was given weeks to live. But I was too fogged up by pregnancy hormones, financial strains and moving logistics to travel home to Tennessee. Writing that sentence is a nausea-inducing. WTF? Where were my priorities? Guest question. Honestly, I have no idea how to explain the way my brain processed things at that time.