Coming Back to Life (or some derivative thereof)

I am feeling much better. Still have a runny nose and a more annoying hacking type couch. I'm pretty sure i have lost every ounce of cardio strength I had pre-PT. Speaking of which, I excused myself from PT. Eric is working a temporary days shift, and I have no child care to speak of. PT, DONE.

I am feeling better, but I realize that I need to keep up with the stretching and strength training. Yeah... maybe tomorrow. Or not.

Eric is now sick, and I can tell he feels like crap. He's not saying a word though, perhaps in fear of what I might say after he asked me how long I was going to "milk it" during one of my worst days last week. Ummm, yeah. Don't worry, I threw a bunch of baby food at him to show my displeasure. But I do feel bad for him. He's looking pretty bad, and he's been working a lot to top it off. I hope he gets better soon. I'm not a fan of snot.

On another front, I am making soakers, shorties, and longies. It's taking me too long to get them complete, between this eBay venture, being sick, and my Anatomy & Physiology class. When I get enough stock, I plan to open a boutique here.

Here's a sample:

Letting Go

My pain in the ass is still a pain in the ass. Despite four weeks of PT, I am still suffering from the deep, er, gluteal pain and the resulting sciatic issues that derives from it: pain and burning down the back of my leg, a sharp ache in my hip, and now a tingling sensation all the way on the sole of my foot. Add to t his the horrible side effects of the muscle relaxants my doctor prescribed for me, and I am rather unhappy with the way my body is misbehaving.

My x-rays were clear. My MRI is yet to be checked, although I did complete a terrifyingly claustrophobic session this Wednesday. I honestly don't think the MRI will offer any golden nuggets of Aha! That is what's wrong with Monica! I cranked up the treadmill on Wednesday, and I ran a mile at (GASP!) 5.0, and all I got for my workout was a pain-filled Thursday sitting on the heating pad and downing pain meds. This soon resulted in a three-hour nap.

I hate naps. Taking a nap mid-day makes my head feel fuzzy, and then I get nothing accomplished for the rest of the day.

I've pretty much self-diagnosed myself with piriformis syndrome. It fits all of the symptoms I have, plus it seems pretty common in runners and women. I fell in the shower 1.5 years ago, when all this pain in the assery began, and I am pretty sure I hit the exact spot on the side of the tub. I've since learned that an injury to that muscle causes swelling and stiffness, which in turn affects the sciatic nerve. Yippee.

My physio thinks I need to build up my muscle strength, which it all out of whack, especially after my pregnancy last year. It makes sense. A full-on baby belly can do some major damage to the muscles and connective tissue in the abdomen. So I focus on building muscle strength, and I come to the point I don't want to be at: not running.

Not running has been one of those ideas I've pushed to the back on my mind for a while now. I've been doing so well, and I am desperately trying to lose weight. What finally hit me, after my last foray in the gym, was that I am not giving my body the time it needs to heal and adjust. So I am going to forgo the run for a few weeks, maybe longer. I will try the elliptical, the bike, or the pool instead. I will focus on eating healthier, and watching my caloric intake. I will try and let go.

Now is not the time to build miles, obsess about the scale or become a gym fanatic. Now is the time to love myself enough to get better, stronger. I need to take care of myself now, at this stage instead of telling myself that I will be happy when I get back down to my goal weight.

It's going to be hard, that I know for sure.

Mommy Lessons

Miss Mia is eight months old, and she is on a tear. In the course of just a few weeks, she began crawling, pulled herself up to a standing position, started feeding herself puffs and crackers, and (finally!!!) slept through the night.

She is still a Mommy's girl, protesting loudly whenever I am out of her sight. She is shy to strangers, and she likes to cuddle when she is upset. She has Eric's sense of adventure and my determination. Hence the two bruises on her forehead. I have a feeling she will be getting her share of bumps and scrapes in the future.

Mia knows what she wants, and she isn't shy about letting us know when she is not pleased. Usually this entails loud shrieks or, humorously, rolling her tongue and making a razzing sound.

She is a squirmer. Diaper changing sessions are tricky, as she likes to roll onto her hands and knees and make a quick break. Getting her dressed is even trickier. On good days, Eric and I are both home and present to tag-team her.

She has an amazing sense of humor. When she smiles -- showing her two bottom (and only two) teeth -- it warms my heart. We haven't always fit together like two matching puzzle pieces. There have been days where I wondered if I would ever feel connected to her like I did my much more easy-going son. But I have come to love her for who she is. That is the lesson she has taught me.

I Suck at Loving Myself

There are so many things I do well. I'm a loving mom, and I think I'm generally a good wife. I do well at school, and I always work hard in whatever post I find myself. I'm driven, and goal--oriented, and extremely competitive. I do not quit, ever. So I find it especially difficult to cut myself some proverbial slack.

My house isn't as clean as I would like it to be. I haven't lost any weight yet. I don't read to Mia every day, or even most days. I haven't worn make up in a while. I have a voice in my head that ticks off my faults one by one, and I think it may be eating me alive.

I have this long, extensive list of woulda, shoulda, coulda's in my head, and I am feeling a little overwhelmed. I tell myself that I am not working, an that I should be easily able to balance all of my duties. I'm not though, and I find myself getting sucked in to too many time wasters during the day. It's easy to focus on the "unimportants." They keep my mind from dealing with really needs dealing with, if that makes sense.

I need to slow down, praise myself for the good that I do, and love myself as unconditionally as I love my kids. They deserve to have a mom who is confident, in control, and disciplined. I need to smile more, laugh more, and enjoy the moments more, instead of worrying about all of the minor things I didn't get done today. You know, those things that don't matter in the scheme of things.

Getting Over It

Today should have been a relatively happy day for me. I finished week five of the C25K program, which boils down to about two miles of running, with no walking breaks. I did it, I did it with Mia in the jogging stroller, and I did it without stopping.

It has come to my attention, and not in an easy way, that I have been partaking in that old pastime called "wallowing." It's ain't pretty, and it ain't good. There's a certain indelicateness about wallowing; it has implications that suggest unkemptness and self-indulgence. I promise that I have been bathing, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Really.

It has come to my attention, however, that I have been spending my time waiting for something or other, and figuratively emotionally crouching, as though waiting for the blow to land. This is, more or less, stupid. This is not really living.

Despite all my running success, I feel full and slow, unable to really deal with certain issues that need to be addressed. Sorry for being vague; public forum and all. Tomorrow, I am going to take a few hours for myself, away from the kids and the husband and the house full of chores to be done, and I am going to get over it and move on.