Tuesday, September 25, 2012

magically delicious

This is what it's come to...
Lucky Charms for dessert/dinner at 9:30pm.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Charm City Day Two (guess what? I still wasn't there...)

But, if I was:
Predictably, I always seem to fare better the second day and Charm City is no exception.
Today I just wanted to hold my own and stay (mostly) upright. Although I was DFL, I was happy to plow through the sand on two wheels every lap.
Yay, me.
And I didn't get pulled. 
(until one lap to go...)

Sounds about right.

My weekend really involved too much pasta, maybe some gelato, a perfect autumn hike on my favorite trails, some challenging yoga, warming up by the fire in my parent's backyard, and holding my best friend's perfect, tiny newborn baby girl.
Blows my mind how fast the past twenty-six weeks have passed.

I'm going to celebrate this first full day of fall with a Sweetzel's Spiced Wafer and a cup of hot cocoa, then probably fall asleep while we watch the Hangover (on TNT, so I'm sure all the good stuff is cut out anyway).

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Charm City Day One (I wasn't there)

Seven years ago I fell in love with cross in the middle of a muddy pumpkin patch.

Right now I miss red wine, rocky trails, espresso, and cyclocross.
Mostly cyclocross.

Having said that, I love being pregnant right now.
I am in awe of the kicks and movement I feel, now a predictable cycle of activity and inactivity throughout the day.
Baby responds to cold drinks, ice cream, and anything sweet...
Interestingly, Bowie and Jimmy Cliff also elicit lots of movement when I am driving.

How's that for a race report?

If I had raced Charm City today (you know, not in my current "state"), I imagine it would have gone something like this:
I fought like hell to not get lapped by Nikki or Helen Wyman, but ultimately got pulled with a lap to go...Conditions were amazing, but damn, it was HOT!  Charm City remains one of my favorite races and I can't wait for day two. Too nervous to sleep, too destroyed to do anything else.

Next year.   

Tuesday, September 18, 2012


Over the weekend, my best friend labored at home for thirty-six hours (thirty-six plus, actually...but, who's counting? Me. I'm counting.)
We were turned away from the hospital twice.
The third attempt yielded these golden words from the doc,
"Well, the good news is you are nine centimeters dilated."
At ten centimeters, one is "complete" and ready to push.
So, nine centimeters...nbd. Can she stay this time, and you know, have the baby??
I'm not surprised...I've known Beth since middle school and I've rarely seen her rattled or flustered or unhinged.
In fact, we're pretty much opposite in that regard.
Even still, I don't think Beth's loosely constructed "birth plan" involved showing up at the hospital fighting the urge to push in the elevator or receiving an epidural at 9cm if only to be able to breathe for a moment...to pause and gather herself before the monumental task of delivering a child.

At last, Beth gave birth to a perfect, pink, squirmy eight pound baby girl on Sunday evening.
I was there to (hide my nervousness) and hold her legs and breathlessly count with the nurse as Beth pushed and pushed and pushed...
I was there to see my amazingly strong friend calmly give birth to her daughter after nearly two days of grueling labor (during which I barely saw her pause or wince or complain)...labor that took us from her home, to a cafe in East Falls for lunch, back home, to the hospital (only to be turned away), to dinner at the tap room, back home, to the hospital again (only to be turned away...again), all while enduring steady and increasingly uncomfortable contractions every five minutes.
I can only hope I have a shred of her strength when my time comes. A shred.
It was pretty much the most graceful, most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.

And the little baby murmurs and sounds?...my god.

Beth & Aria


  • instant pudding (pistachio...the fake, green Jello instant pudding)
  • hot chocolate (Swiss Miss...no marshmallows)
  • sugary cereal (I still can't find Frankenberry or Count Chocula...wtf? And I feel like I can't get out the Halloween decorations until those cereals show up on the shelves at Giant)
Sadly, I'm not indulging in these cravings (yet)...the kitchen is in a sorry state and we skipped grocery shopping this weekend (too busy with broken toes, food poisoning, and babies being born).

As for babies being born, my best friend had her baby on Sunday.
More on that as soon as I get her okay.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

a little ride

This morning I rode my bike for the first time in over a month...
Understandably, it was a little bit uncomfortable.
After fifty (yes, only fifty) minutes, I was done and realized I need to make a few modifications before my next ride.
Or just borrow my mom's cushy cruiser.
Still, it was liberating to get outside and pedal...I've been missing that.
A lot.
There have been a few hormonal meltdowns this week...a few completely unexplained crying jags and all I could think was, I want to ride my bike. I need to ride my bike.
For the past nine years, riding my bike has been my number one coping mechanism, my equalizer, my thing.
Sometimes I feel a little lost when I can't get on my bike and just go.
Fifty minutes on some cinders along the creek did me a world of good.

at the bus stop this week, a mom said, "My daughter asked if I had noticed Max's mom is getting chunky..."

Thursday, September 13, 2012

girl with a plan...

I've been asked about my birth plan lately...
birth plan?

I "plan" to (hopefully) deliver a healthy baby somewhere around the 40 week mark with as much or as little medical intervention as I need.
As for for pain relief? Yes please, if possible...
and that's about it.
As you can see, there is plenty of room within my plan for changes and modifications.

But, my other plan...
Get back on the bike by late February and be ready to race show up at some endurance races come April.
That is my plan.
I'm not gonna lie...the beautiful weather this week has me positively longing for rocks and roots and tricky switchbacks.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

twenty-four weeks...Adapting

Yet again, our office is closed this week. I am broke, but so grateful for the time off.
I am making the most of these quiet, mostly lazy days at home while I can.

This morning I went to the mall.
With my parents.

My dad actually treated me to a pair of cute maternity jeans (there is such a thing...but, they are, like, seventy bucks, so thanks, dad!).
I think that's it for maternity clothes for me. With roughly three and a half months (!) to go, I am going to do my best with what I've got.
Even if it means wearing a threadbare Hello Kitty t-shirt every other day because it's comfy and covers my massive belly entirely.
I thought I was vain, but that was before I willingly ventured out at odd hours in sweatpants and no bra to get my fix of Gummi Cola Bottles and US Weekly.
I'm like a whole new woman...(or something)        

Lately, I'm going through a lazy phase and even that is kicking my ass.
When I was expecting Max, I was pretty smug about being so active, so full of energy, so awesome at being pregnant.
"I taught a spinning class the morning I went into labor...I can still zip up my winter coat...What are stretchmarks?"
This time around has been a bit humbling (thank god) and I have no problem throwing in the towel and giving in to the exhaustion of being a normal thirty-seven year-old working mom who also happens to be pregnant.
I'm pretty good at guilting myself into moving, but the past few days I have found it easy to just chill.

Just. chill.

See, I'm adapting...
Twenty-four weeks and finally, I am adapting and enjoying.
I am going to make a toasted bagel with processed cheese melted on it because that is my favorite thing to eat right now.
My eating habits are back to that of a picky child.
I pack my (picky) son's lunch and it's not too far removed from what I want these days.
Goldfish, "kid soup" (what he calls chicken broth with plain pasta), pretzels.
Max is doing better than me, though, because at least he eats baby carrots.

Putting a lot of faith in those prenatal vitamins these days...

Sunday, September 9, 2012


I'd share pictures of my little kayaking adventure with my dad this afternoon, but my camera is somewhere at the bottom of the Brandywine.

"It's like when you fall off your bike climbing uphill," my dad said, shaking his head.
I know, right?? Only me.
In spite of almost being eaten by the tree that claimed my camera and water bottle, I had fun on the water (or in the water, as it were).

 damn, I'm sore... 

just five months ago...

toasting (newly) wedded bliss

no idea we'd be a family of four inside a year of this...
And now, five months later...
Wide awake at 2am.
Hungry for nutella and toast.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

how do you feel?

  • clumsy...dropping everything these days. All day long.
  • big...makes bending over to retrieve clumsily dropped items a bit trying.
  • ready for a nap any time, anywhere
  • 23 weeks

  • nostalgic...I don't have many photos of me during my first pregnancy, but I have been rifling through those pictures and thinking about labor and birth and my newborn/firstborn son  

Friday, September 7, 2012

feeling like Uncle Rico

Reminiscing and sh*t.
Feeling nervous about the upcoming season...
oh, right...I'm not racing.
No matter.
The good old days...

photos courtesy Dennis Smith

Wednesday, September 5, 2012


Second day in a row I've woken up with Cher's "If I Could Turn Back Time," in my head...
I only have to hear a bad song a few times before it's ingrained in the recesses of useless, permanent memory.
And I spend about thirty-five hours a week listening to awful radio at work (maybe every fourth song is tolerable).
I can't escape this loop today and it's killing me.

addendum: Cher has been replaced by Uncle Kracker. What's next? Train?
Fml, indeed.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

I'm sorry, Cleveland

If the claw at Giant hadn't been "Temporarily Out of Order Sorry for the Inconvenience," I would have spent an embarrassing amount of cash trying to rescue Cleveland for my son.
I know it's wrong and I know it's (age) inappropriate, but my son loves Family Guy and has an affinity for Cleveland Brown.
I'd rather my kid watch the Cleveland spin-off than Caillou for reasons that probably deserve their own post.
My son spends most weekends or part of the weekend with his dad...I've learned to choose my battles carefully and admittedly, Family Guy is one I am willing to relent to.
What my son doesn't know (yet) is that I, too, share a fondness for Cleveland Brown.


A patient's mom, marvelling at my...girth:
"Wow, you look great...not much further to go, huh? Any time now?"
"Umm...yeah, only about eighteen more weeks."

I'm not that big.
I don't have the pictures to prove it (this week...or last week...or the week before that...maybe I should enlist Bill to snap those cute insufferable week-by-week "bumpdate" pics? yeah, no.), but I swear I am not that big.
I am not waddling.
I wore a normal, size small (albeit, empire-waisted) dress last night.
It's not like I'm eating a scoop of ice cream for breakfast (every day) or sitting on my ass reading baby blogs (all day, every day)...

Any time now?
It had to be the unflattering scrubs.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

on quitting

"Mom, if I don't like the club, do I have to keep going?"
"I can quit?"

This is me telling a seven year-old it's okay to quit (and not dancing around semantics and trying to find a nicer way to say "quit").
For what it's worth, we were talking about a Lego Robotics club at school.
I think it's important for kids to try things and stick with them...I get it, I understand the benefit of that.
I also think there is merit in trying new things, finding maybe you're not so into it and having the flexibility to bow out and move on.
I am giving him that flexibility.
I don't think there's harm in that.
In fact, I think there is more harm in making a kid his age suck it up and see it through.
Maybe things will be different when he is older, but for now I want him to have the freedom and confidence to give something a try and not have to worry about sticking with it for the duration if he thinks it sucks.

That's all.
I mean, imagine how miserable I'd be if my parents made me continue taking lessons with that scary ballet instructor.
And if they made me stick with ballet, I may not have moved on to karate or drums or model rockets or...
Or maybe I'd be a principal dancer in the Nutcracker.

who are we kidding? Even at age seven, there wasn't a ballerina bone in my body.

Yeah, I am good with this decision.