[Note from Jodi: Many thanks to everyone who helped with support during the broken arm incident. It’s funny that it helps to hear that other people have been there – and worse – but it does help. Thank you everyone. Also, if you haven’t noticed, the Appaman Raffle is taking place right now, to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Click here to find out what the prize is, and click here to donate any amount to my Personal Livestrong Challenge page. Thanks!!]
It’s Going (yawwwwn) Just Fine.
I know that my memories of being pregnant with Roan may be a little distorted. For instance, when people ask if I had morning sickness with him, I reply that I did not. I proclaim that it was an easy pregnancy, in which I was finishing up some college courses, secured a great job, facilitated group sessions with drug addicts and worked right up to the day I was to be induced.
However, I do remember one snippet of a conversation with my brother-in-law, Rocky, where I proclaimed that I couldn’t understand why anyone would do this more than once, to which he replied, “It’s because you will forget”. He was right as rain. I have been having a fairly easy time thus far being pregnant with Roan’s teammate (whom he is certain is a girl. I feel it’s a boy. Anson inexplicably is firm that we have twins though about 6 ultrasounds have shown otherwise.) Still, before I became pregnant, I could do pretty much everything I wanted to do, PLUS everything Roan and Anson wanted me to do and feel like I had energy to burn. I was teaching five Muay Thai Kickboxing classes per week, running about 15 – 20 miles per week, and was at this hard-fought place with my body where my weight was cool with me while I was still eating all the things I felt like I wanted to eat. In short – my body felt like it was my dominion.
|So, predictably I’m about to tell you it’s all changed. True it has but the thing that’s getting under my skin? I’m tired. I’m tired as I roll out of bed in the morning, after I drop Roan off from school, I have to work up my energy to put my house together every day and it takes all my power to show up to Muay Thai. I feel lucky that the nauseous thing has so far pretty much stayed at bay, so I’m not going to complain (hang on is this complaining? No no, just documenting. Seriously. If you could hear my tone, it would be upbeat and friendly and not whiney at all no sireeebob. I’m not even bringing up the fact that I’ve broken out my “big girl” clothes.)|
|This energy deficit was so pathetically evident on Sunday for Father’s Day. Anson, Roan and I went to a favorite restaurant for brunch (I had yummy Sour Cream Pancakes). Then we hopped the subway to get to Dylan’s Candy Bar, which is an extravagant candy mecca owned by Dylan Lauren (daughter of up and coming designer Ralph). Walking in there is like licking twelve lollipops while simultaneously mainlining a bag of chocolate. The air is sweet and cool and smells of everything good. Everything. While Roan was losing his mind going through the three floors of candy shop, I had to go sit down and drink a bottle of water. Because I couldn’t keep up, because I am 102 years old. So I finally got my mojo back and suggested we take the Sky Tram over to Roosevelt Island to hang out on the grass by a beautiful little lighthouse and the boys were into it. We arrived, and this time not only did I sit rather than play freeze tag, I demanded a smoothie. I don’t know who I am anymore. It was actually a lovely day and both of my guys love this new more vulnerable and tired me, but I don’t think it’s all that cute.|
I suppose I can take solace in the fact that the day spent my Roan, as evidenced by him falling asleep one full hour before bed time, and putting up no resistance as we carried him to bed, only muttering “Is your wrist strap on? Is your wrist strap on?” That’s very telling, isn’t it? And Anson is laying here next to me, tearing up while watching Extreme Home Makeover (Ok, that’s possibly crossing the TMI line because he will never admit that in public but if I’m lying I’m dying it is happening right now) and it is all of 8:13 PM and I see him fading. So, in essence, I’m going to frame it up t
his way: being pregnant has finally helped me travel to a place where relaxing on the couch trumps doing dishes, and playing Wii counts as quality time for the family. Everyone seems to be adapting just fine.