I'm out of excuses

Now that Eli is over 13 weeks-old I can no longer be considered as “recovering” from child birth.  His schedule is pretty consistent, and I have free time.  My gym pass doesn’t expire until July, we bought a jogging stroller, and we traded in our speedy race bikes in for a more family friendly bike ensemble complete with kiddy trailer.  There is absolutely nothing to keep me from exercising except myself, and  I’m completely out of excuses.

 Thus it begins.  We’re counteracting my strong tendency towards laziness with an even stronger tendency: competition.  In addition to signing up for a half marathon (in Zach’s case a FULL marathon) in September we have challenged our good friends the Cowarts to a “Healthy Lifestyle Competition” (in other words, who could out-survive the other in the zombie apocalypse).  Zach being the genius trainer and nutritionist that he is, has developed a point system for our rivalry below.

10 min running: 1 pt
15 min Yoga, sports, biking: 1 pt
Weight lifting session: 1 pt
20 min walking or hiking: 1 pt
One week of no sugary treats or soda: 15 pts
5 servings of fruit & veggies a day: 2 pts
1 lb weight loss: 15 pts

Every month the losers will contribute to buying a book or movie for the winner's library and at the end of the summer the losers pay for the campsite.  But let's be real.  It's all about the bragging rights.

Here's to losing those double chins.

 

Seriously, SO BLESSED

Our babe is now legit.  Socially initiated.  He has been blessed.

In most Christian faiths babies are baptized soon after birth, but because we Mormons wait until children are at least eight years-old to be baptized we have a sort of naming blessing for them in Sacrament Meeting to introduce them into the records of the church.  One thing we miss out on: godparents.  

Zach:  I'll be honest, the only thing I know about godparents is that I think Rafiki was one and that they can be guilted into free babysitting.

Rafiki about to beat up some hyenas.  Not necessarily a godparental duty. 

  I love the idea of godparents.  To have someone other than the parents chosen to take an interest in the child's spiritual upbringing and personal development seems like a marvelous idea because, as I’m already learning, we parents need all the help we can get.  We chose my cousin Anthon and his beautiful German wife Melissa (you thought we weren’t serious, didn’t you guys?) as Eli’s godparents.  In addition to being spectacular people, they can offer Eli serious culture that Zach and I (both born and raised in Provo) might be lacking.

Coincidentally, it was Melissa who took these amazing pictures at Eli’s blessing.

The mini man of the hour

Newly minted padres

The Judkins grandparents

The Magleby grandparents

Eli with cousin Oliver.  They'll be more thrilled about each other later.

I love this picture.  I love that baby.

Apparently we are allowed one more Godparent, so applications are still open.   The prerequisites, as seen, include being pretty awesome and able to take cute pictures of Eli so we can gush about him in our blog.  Oh, and free babysitting.

Progress has been made

The majority of the time we are in the steady, predictable, mostly event-less churn of life, but this last month has marked a few definable points of accomplishment:

Zach is DONE

He is officially finished with his didactic learning.  (And yes, I did look that word up privately after I pretended I knew what it meant when Zach used it on me.)  Now all that's left is a year of six week rotations left before he's a full-fledged pharmacist.  I am so relieved to be done with tests and projects and agonizing over grades that aren't even mine.

Our marriage turned THREE

I think we can both agree that this last year of wedded bliss has been the most eventful so far.  My graduation, becoming pregnant, moving to Salt Lake, my first real job, new car, first time making edible curry (albeit STRONG curry), a trip to California, having a baby, and Zach finishing his classes made for a thrilling time.

We decided to celebrate by blowing all our rewards points on Ruth's Chris Steakhouse and we have since come to the conclusion that it was totally worth it as long as you never look at the bill.  But in all seriousness, the quality of the food was out of this world AND they gave us free desert.

Eli sleeps THROUGH THE NIGHT

I would not wish the first six weeks of motherhood on anyone.  I don't understand when people say they wish their babies would stop growing or that they were that small again.  They have obviously forgotten the nitty-gritty of newborns.  Yes, your baby is cute (when he's not screaming, spitting up or pooping) and yes it's fun to discover life with your new addition (when you're not also discovering your body post-pregnancy) and his poop isn't THAT stinky (it's just all over you and those 10 diapers a day) and sure he's precious when he's awake (even if all he does is STARE, and not necessarily at you) but the exhaustion of sleep deprivation makes you see it all through foggy glasses. 

Now that he sleeps on a predictable schedule, smiles, laughs, and is not constantly cross-eyed I am enjoying the slow return of my sanity after diving into motherhood.   Watching Eli progress day after day is the great joy of my life.

Back to work

I had mixed feeling when I learned that my property management job was willing to let me come back part time.  Turns out it's a sweet gig- working makes me appreciate the time I have at home and being at home makes me appreciate time at work.  Sometimes being completely strapped for cash is a blessing in disguise.

Ignorance is bliss



There are really only three occasions that I wish Eli were a girl instead of the chubby ball-o-boy that he is: when shopping for formal occasion outfits, when I see flowered headbands, and when I give him his baths.

Eli LOVES his baths.  You get him all squishably naked and lower him into that nice warm water and he just... relaxes.  And because he's so relaxed there's about a 50% chance that within the first 30 seconds of his bath you'll see a small fountain bubbling up as he adds his own addition to the water.

Peeing the bath usually results in much hullabaloo as I quickly yank him out, lay him screaming on the towel, rinse out the tub, and refill.  We both agree that it's a decidedly unpleasant experience, so much so that if it happens towards the end of his bath I seriously debate the merit of refilling the tub instead of just accepting an abrupt end to bath time and go straight to drying off.

As I was rehearsing this process for the 20th time last night I thought how nice it might be to have a girl and never really know if she had soiled her bath water or not.  I could always assume she hadn't and proceed happily on.  Then I remembered.

My mother-in-law introduced the modesty washcloth as a way of comforting the babe during the bath, but it also doubles as a pee-blocker.  Genius.  Now I never know what's going on down there unless it's being scrubbed.  And that's the way I like it. 

As my mother says, "The secret to the solution is dilution."