Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Is it Saturday yet?



I can't wait until this week is over. If I never see another hanger, card stock tag, price sticker and safety pins after Saturday, I'll be a very happy girl.

A couple of months ago, I decided to get a table in the annual in the Kids Giant Garage Sale, hosted by the Ottawa Chapter of the La Leche League Canada. On Friday, I spent three hours sorting and folding clothes before inserting them in plastic bags before labeling them. And I wasn't even done. A couple of hours here and a couple of hours there, I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel. However, I still have yet to sort through toys. God help me.

So the insanity continues. However, I hoping this venture pays off as it is time to clear house of a good portion of baby clothes. While I like the thought of keeping darling daughter's clothes for a possible second child, I'm trying to be realistic. I have no idea if or when child number two comes along. Plus, I can't keep hoarding Rubbermaid bins of clothes in my basement. I'm running out of room. So it is time to say goodbye.

However, dear husband doesn't make it easy. "Do you want to give that away?" he asked while I was tagging a footless sleeper last night."She really looked cute in that."

"Yeah," I replied. "Did you think she looked cute when you were swearing under your breath, wondering how to get her in it?"

The conversation soon ended and there were no further remarks from the peanut gallery.

So my kitchen looks like a closet and I'm tired of pinning tags onto clothes. I can't wait for Saturday to come and go. I may tear up when selling darling daughter's clothes, but my basement will thank me.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Gotta run . . . update number six

Sometimes the stars align and you have one of the best runs of your life.

Although I'm new to running, I do believe I had one of the best runs of my life, or one of the best runs to date.

Since running is going so well and I've clearly proven to myself that I can run 5k, I've decided to take my running up a notch. I'm going to train for the upcoming Barrhaven Run for Roger's House 10k run. I've had my doubts that I can run 10k, but I showed myself this evening that I have both the will and the drive to do it.

The plan was to run 7.4 k tonight. The other night I ran 6.2k so I figured I could get to 7.4k, even if I had to walk a bit. Every time I lace up my shoes for a run, I wonder to myself if I can finish it. And every time this thought pops into my head, I tell myself that I will do my best because that's all I can do.

One of the things I'm starting to hate as a runner are dealing with major intersections. I don't want to wait for a red light. I want to run. Running on the spot doesn't do it for me. I hate when my runs are disrupted as it interferes with my momentum. I easily got past the first intersection. Half-way through my route, I had to run though a four-way stop. There was some confusion among the drivers stopped at the stop signs as to who should go first, but I wait for no one. You snooze, you lose, Plus, isn't there a pedestrians have the right-of-way rule? So I kept on running and let the motorists fight it out among themselves regarding who had the right-of-way.

Once again, I didn't have to wait for a red light at the major intersection. By this time I was closing in on the 6k mark. The soles of my feet were beginning to get tired, but I kept on running. My goal was to at least get to the 6.2 mark. Anything after that was a bonus.

Once I got past the 6.2 mark, I found some extra energy. Crossing a busy street (didn't have to wait for traffic), I was on my way to finishing my route, which ends at the top of a big hill. I gathered every ounce of energy I had to run up that hill. Just at the moment I thought I would finish my run, something inside of me pushed me to keep running. Running is funny that way. Just when you think you don't have anything else more to give, you do. I listened to my feet and I ran. Plus, since I didn't have to wait for any traffic, it seemed right to continue and run. Ultimately, my feet took me to my front door.

According to gmap-pedometer.com, I ran for a total of 8.1k. Simply amazing. When I first started running, running a 10k race was in the back of my mind. I thought the goal was too lofty, too far out of my reach. But it isn't. It is in my grasp. Running has been so good for me. It has helped to regain long lost confidence as well as renewed my ability to set challenges and goals. Now thoughts of running a half marathon is now sitting in the back of my head. But that goal seems too lofty, too far out of reach. However, we shall see as I never thought I'd run 5k, let alone 10k.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Taking a ride on the crazy train

I think the parenting gods are unhappy with me, and as such, have cursed me to only get five hours of sleep at night. I hope the curse soon lifts as my face feels numb. It always feels numb when I don't get enough sleep.

Darling daughter hasn't been sleeping well since Saturday night, the night before I ran my official 5k race. I wasn't surprised. It is some kind of weird parenting law of physics that if I have somewhere or to do something important the next day, darling daughter won't sleep well that night.

Since Saturday night, the quality of sleep that everyone is getting in this household has rapidly diminished. I had to sleep on her floor on Sunday night because she was unable to sleep without anyone in the room with her. We had an okay night the next night. When I mean okay, I mean that no one had to sleep on her floor. The next night, dear husband had to sleep on her floor because she couldn't sleep. Luckily, no one had to sleep on her floor last night. But if the pattern continues, I'll be pulling a twin size mattress into her room tonight and be kept awake by every sniffle, snore, toss and turn made by darling daughter.

As such, darling daughter hasn't gotten any quality sleep in five nights. However, lack of sleep hasn't inhibited her energy levels or the fact she still insists on getting up at 6:15 a.m. in the morning. Six fifteen comes early, especially when your head finally hits the pillow around 1 a.m. after spending some time trying to quiet a restless child.

So to the parenting gods: could you please lift my curse? I'd love to get more than five hours of sleep. And I would also love to feel my face again.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Becoming a semi-digital social networking dropout




Currently my relationship with Facebook can be filed under the it's complicated category.

Even I, a prolific status updater and Facebook addict, reached the breaking point and decided it was time to leave. I deactivated my account on the weekend. However, I am addicted and going cold turkey didn't exactly work out.

Social networking is a double edged sword. I find myself wasting time, browsing through the news feed, checking up on "friends" that I've not talked to since catching up more than two years ago and posting witty, but mundane status updates. Who really cares that I've just finished the first of many loads of laundry and the laundry cycle never seems to end? or making meatloaf for dinner?

I realize people use Facebook as a medium to connect with friends and family. Email? As if! Writing emails is a dying art. People post messages on friend's walls, sends them virtual gifts, comment on photos or send messages through Facebook. Who has time for email these days?

Lately, I'd find myself checking Facebook up to 15 times a day. While I wasn't on it for very long, I'd take the time to login in, browse the news feed, update my status if I wanted and log out. And then check it 15 minutes later. Oh, I've tried to curb my Facebook usage, but it doesn't work.

I've been thinking of leaving Facebook for the last three weeks. It has come clear over the last month or two I need to start living life in real-time, not on Facebook. I'm not alone. I came across this article on the Globe and Mail about how people are ditching the social networking site and becoming digital dropouts. On Saturday afternoon, I deactivated my account. Immediately, I started to have second thoughts. One of the reasons I stay on Facebook is to post photos of darling daughter. Dear husband's family lives on the other side of the country. Unfortunately, due to the distance, they will likely only see her grow up through photos. And I will only see my nephews and nieces grow up through photos as well.

One could argue that I could have created a Flickr account to share my photos with family and friends. But really, who is going to check it? As one friend pointed out to me, it is just one more site to check. Since everyone in my life is on Facebook, it didn't make sense to leave completely.

Facebook doesn't make it easy for users to leave its site. Deactivating my account means that my Facebook friends don't have access to my profile. Every status update, comment and photo still exists as I can reactivate my account at any time by signing in. So really, all I've done is logged out. I am looking into how I can completely delete my previous account.

So I made a compromise. I created a new account under a new name that is strictly for family so they can have access to photos of darling daughter. While I've always had somewhat strict privacy settings, I've buckled down and tightened the privacy controls on my new account. Yesterday, I noticed I was checking Facebook several times during the day, wanting to know what people were up to through their statuses. I realize that the news feed fuels my addiction so I took the extreme measure of hiding everyone profile from my news feed. Honestly, I do care what people are up to, but there is no point of having a new Facebook account if I'm going to fall into my old Facebook-addicting behaviour. If there are no status updates, then there is no reason for me to be constantly checking my account throughout the day.

I've also set out some guidelines for myself which include curbing updating my status. Unless I've got something meaningful to say or share, (and making meatloaf for dinner doesn't count) then my family won't be seeing any status updates. My virtual self will attempt to live out a quiet and simple existence on Facebook.

I miss my old Facebook friends. I really do. I miss reading their status updates, browsing through their photos and laughing at their comments and posts. But I need to curb my addiction. And if becoming a semi-digital social networking dropout is what I need to do, then I'll do it. If you need to reach me, reach me through email. It is a dying art that I hope to get reacquainted with again.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Race day


Two months of training resulted in 32 minutes to reach the finish line.

Yesterday, I ran my first ever 5k race. Unfortunately, race results have yet to be posted, so I'm not exactly sure of my finishing time. There were no timing chips so timing was done manually. Bounding over the finish line, the clock was ticking very close to 32 minutes. And that is a pretty good finishing time in my books. I plan on framing my bib number as I'm extremely proud of what it represents.

Running in a race has a totally different feel than running with a friend or alone. There is definitely an energy of competition. And it is hard not to feed into or succumb to it. While most runners were likely running just to run to have fun or achieve their personal best, some were quite serious. Elite runners in the 10k race quickly blew by me while I was struggling to get to the halfway point.

So along with my friend and running coach, C, and her sister, we ran. The last kilometer was hard. I really wanted to walk, but I kept on telling myself that I had less than a kilometer to go. It was exhilarating to see people cheering along the sidelines. Approaching the finish line, I picked up the pace and surged over the finish line. I'm not too sure where the energy came from, but I think it was from the will to hurry up and finish the race.

I never thought in a million years I could run a 5k race, let alone run. But I did. Race Weekend is coming up in about six weeks and I'm looking forward to that. There is also another run in Barrhaven in mid-June. So many runs. So many possibilities.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Gotta run . . . update number five

There are some things in life that are good for me, but I don't like doing. I place lunges and hill running in that category.

I hate lunges. Hate them. But they are good for me. Although it has taken several years, I have developed an appreciation for them and what they do for my butt.

But hill running. Ugh. I'm not too sure at his point that I can develop an appreciation for hill running.

Until I started running outside, I didn't realize how big the hills in actually are in my neighbourhood. When I encounter a hill while driving, I step on the gas pedal. I can't do that I'm running as I rely on my own two feet and endurance to get myself up the hill.

In the last couple of weeks, I have been running mainly one particular route and it involves a large, windy hill that I consider fairly steep. For the last week, I've "cheated" by running down the hill, not up it. (However, I have to run up a hill on the way back). Yesterday, I decided I would run up said hill and if I had to walk when I reached the top, then that was okay.

As I've written before, a big portion of running is succeeding at mental game that plays out in your head. Yes, I want to stop, but can I take one more step? Can I take another step? And one more after that? Turning the corner towards the hill, I started to worry if I could even get to the bottom of the hill, never mind run up it. But once I reached the hill and started my ascent, I started running small steps. Once I reached the top, I kept on running. Although I did want to stop, I wouldn't let myself because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to start running again. I finished the course without one walking break. Pretty good

C, my friend and running coach, enjoys hill running as it builds endurance. She says that she didn't like it at first, but she now appreciates it. I personally think hill running is an acquired taste, one that I have yet to acquire.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Mixed messages and hypocrisy

I came across this article in the Toronto Star yesterday and I shook my head.

According to the story, British Columbia artist Kate Hansen posted three of her paintings depicting mothers nursing their babies on a Facebook group for portrait and figure artists on three different occasions. Three times the images disappeared. She received an email from the Facebook Team earlier this month, informing her the paintings had been removed because they violated the social networking site’s terms of use policy.

After making inquiries, the official response from Facebook to the Star is that the paintings were accidentally removed.

Sure. Whatever you say, Facebook.

This story doesn’t surprise me. In recent years, there have been stories about breastfeeding photos being deleted from Facebook. And it isn’t only Facebook. Around the time darling daughter was born, a furor broke out in British Columbia when a breastfeeding mom was ushered into a changing room at a H&M store in Vancouver after she attempted to breastfeed her two month old child in the store. At the time of the incident, employees told the mom it was store policy as breastfeeding may offend customers. In the end, the store backed down, claiming no such policy existed.

We live in a world where we don’t want to offend anyone. We also live in a highly sexualized world where sex sells everything from clothes to cars. We don’t blink twice when we see scantily clad women plastered on billboards, on magazine covers or their flashed on television. But our sensibilities are offended when a mother tries to breastfeed her baby in public or posts breastfeeding photos or paintings on Facebook.

Are you freaking kidding me?

While many will argue that women need to be discreet when nursing in public or use nursing rooms, this is hypocrisy at its finest. A woman is using her breasts what they are intended to do: to feed her child. Society views breasts as sexual toys, rather than life saving devices. To say to a woman she should covers up or go to a nursing room is sending the message that her breasts are offensive and to breastfeed her child in public will possibly offend others.

A recent U.S. study revealed that hundreds of lives could be saved as well as billion of dollars in medical costs if all American women were to exclusively breastfeed their children to six months of age. According to the study, 12 per cent of infants in the U.S. are exclusively breastfed to six months of age.

One of the lead authors of the study stated that women shouldn’t be blamed for low breastfeeding rates as they are not adequately supported from the time their babies are born.

Very true. To be honest, I am not sure what the breastfeeding rates are in Canada. According to a Statistics Canada study released in 2007, the extension of maternity leave from six months to one year resulted in breastfeeding targets recommended by public health agencies have been met.

However, the study also revealed that women weren’t more likely to initiate breastfeeding or attempt breastfeeding due to extended leave entitlements. But extended leave did result in women breastfeeding longer.

I’ve been giving breastfeeding some thought after reading this thought provoking post written by a blogger I follow. Then I started thinking: what is causing low breastfeeding rates? And I came up with some conclusions based on my own personal experience.

Firstly, women don’t adequate support. We are told breast is best, but often we are left on our own to figure out how to do something that we’ve been told that is natural. You may have one nurse tell you one thing, only to have another to tell you something else, resulting in confusing and conflicting information. I was able to access a breastfeeding program through the hospital I gave birth at. However, there were barriers. The program was only accessible to women who had given birth at the facility and they were only able to access it until their child was three weeks old. There was also a financial barrier as it cost $13 a visit to park in the parking lot.

Secondly, women need a stronger support system. Unless you know other moms who are or have breastfed, you may find yourself alone. I know I was. I did get support from a friend living in the U.S. Neither my mother or my grandmother breastfed. In my grandmother’s day, women were encouraged to formula feed their child as the reasoning by doctors was that you knew exactly how baby was consuming. I couldn’t rely on the experiences of my mother or grandmother because they had none to give me.

Thirdly, society needs to change its attitude when it comes to breasts. We are told that breast is best. But then we are told, in subtle ways, that breastfeeding in public is something that needs to be done discretely or avoided all together. God forbid if you whip out your boob to feed your child while sitting on a mall bench and offend someone in the process. The way Facebook treats breastfeeding photos and images is a reflection how society views women and their anatomy. Why is it okay for Heidi Montag to show off the results of her new breast augmentation surgery on the cover of People Magazine, but images of nursing mothers and their babies are deleted from Facebook? Women shouldn’t feel like they need to hide in their homes or in a changing room store to breastfeed. I have used nursing rooms. They are wonderful things. But sometimes nursing rooms aren’t all that convenient, especially if you have a hungry infant on your hands and the nursing room is two floors up from where you are shopping. I’ve breastfed in public, and sometimes I wasn’t all that discreet as darling daughter would knock off the blanket covering her. And I always found those breastfeeding cover to be a pain and awkward to use. So I gave up and stopped worrying if I was offending someone when I was breastfeeding in public.

I believe time will change this. But time takes time. Hopefully this will won’t be an issue when my own daughter reaches her childbearing years.

Monday, April 12, 2010

You know when you are an adult

. . . when you get excited about purchasing a central air conditioning system!

Yep, we do lead exciting lives in our household. While I'd love to put the money that we are about to invest into an European vacation, a holiday isn't going to keep us cool in a heat wave this summer. Plus, our air conditioner is old and needs to be replaced. It isn't very energy efficient. It is loud. And it is unable to keep the upstairs cool. So we are going to bite the bullet and get one before the HST comes into effect on July 1. While I'm not looking forward to paying the bill, I'm forward to having an air conditioner that I don't have to turn off when I'm in the backyard because it is too loud.

I never thought I'd feel like this. I wonder if I'll have the same tingly feeling if or when we need a new furnace . . .

Friday, April 9, 2010

Things I would tell my toddler self

As darling daughter exerts her personality and independence, I ask myself why is she in a hurry to grow up? Obviously, she is growing and wants to explore the environment and world around her. But I'm in no hurry for this stage to pass. Time is flying by and one day soon she will be a teenager, asking for the car keys. In less than four months she will be turning two. She's starting to string two words together. Lately, she has been squawking, wanting out of her stroller. She tries to "help" me fold clothes (not much folding goes on). Saying the word no to her is unacceptable. (However, she has no qualms telling me or dear husband no while flailing her arms to make her point clearer).

Yesterday, we went to a local museum. When I was changing darling daughter, she was putting up a fuss. Sympathetic, I remarked, "Yes, I know that it is hard being 20 months." While my remark may sound cynical, half of me is being truthful. As an adult, it is hard to imagine how big the world around must look like if you are a toddler. Obviously, they must feel frustration and confusion when trying to communicate with adults, especially when they're just learning how to string two words together.

But at the same time, I am being a bit cynical. From my point of view, the life of a toddler looks pretty darn good. And I don't think I'm the only mother in the world who feels like that. While I was changing darling daughter, a mom who I spotted in the cafeteria earlier, was washing her hands at the sink and she overheard my comment. She smiled and said that she has told her husband that she wants to be pushed around in an oversized Chariot and eat snacks that have been prepared by someone else. I laughed and replied that sounded like a great idea.

Watching darling daughter hit the toddler years, I wonder to myself, did I truly appreciate my toddler years? And what would I tell my toddler self now?

Perhaps I would address the following points with my toddler self:

* Sit and relax in the stroller. Don't be in a rush to get out. Soon enough you'll be too big for it. Plus, isn't it nice to have someone push you around?

* The food and snacks Mom makes for you is made with love. Please be respectful and not chuck it on the floor.

* Don't be in a rush to help with household chores such as laundry and dusting. Believe you me, there will be lots of time for that.

* No doubt about it, teething is a pain.

* Naps are good. You may not think so now, but have at least one nap a day. When you are older, you'll be wishing you can find time to nap.

* Vegetables are good for you, even broccoli.

* No is not a bad word. Sometimes it needs to be said.

* Bibs are a proactive way to avoid stains.

* And don't be a hurry to grow up. I realize the world around you is a place that needs to be explored, but soon enough you'll be an adult and dealing with adult issues. Take this time to enjoy your toddlerhood as you'll only be a toddler once in your life. And enjoy the ride, especially the ride in the stroller. One day, you may find yourself pushing one.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Gotta run . . . update number four

Twenty five runs.

That's what it has taken for me to run 5k. I ran 5k straight, outside, with no walking breaks on Tuesday evening with my friend T. At first, I had no inclination that would run 5k, but I did. T is a true competitor spirit and I knew she wouldn't stop for walking breaks. So we ran. The last leg of the route was the hardest, but I pushed through and made it. We finished in 32 minutes.

The question then became: can I run alone without taking a walking break?

When I run alone, I push myself by asking myself if I can get to the next intersection, the mailbox off in the distance or to the hill. But sometimes I just stop for a walking break. The other day, running coach and friend, C, asked me why I stop for breaks. Good question. I'm not too sure if it is because I need it or I think I need to stop. But sometimes I feel like walking breaks aren't a good thing. Yes, I think I want that break, but if I take that break it will be harder to start running again. Perhaps it is just better for me to push through and keep on running.

So yesterday, I ran alone. I didn't think I'd finish without a walking break because I had ran the last two days. After tying my running shoes and walking to the starting point, I started to run.

I got to the first intersection, then the second and third. I ran past the mailbox and the intersection near the elementary school. I changed the route by making a left onto a long drive that is a part of my route. Instead of running up the big hill, I ran down it. However, I had to run up another hill (you don't realize how big hills actually are until you are running) on the way back. I wanted to take a walking break after I made it down that big hill, but I kept pushing forward. Once I made the last turn towards the finish line, I kept on going. I even picked up the pace. With my heart beating and my lungs crying out for air, I finished in 39 minutes. Although I'm not too concerned with time at this point, I should point out this route is a bit longer than Tuesday's route. According to the odometer of my car, it is 5.2 kilometres, while Gmaps Pedometer measures out the route at 5.4 kilometers. I'll happily take the Gmaps measurements as the official distance.

I'm not too sure where I go from here when it comes to running. Heck yes, I'm going to keep on running, but I'm not too sure if I should work on time or start slowly increasing distance. But I do know that running is addictive and my feet are starting to look forward to the quality time it spends with the pavement. I haven't ran on a treadmill in more than a week and I'm not too sure if I can go back to running on a droning machine. It's weird how things can change.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

A yummy solution for sour blueberries



I want to thank my friend J for this great suggestion when it comes to dealing with sour blueberries.

Over the weekend, dear husband bought several pints of blueberries. When I went to wash some for darling daughter for a snack, I discovered one of the pints were sour as old heck. This is not the first time this has happened. I've tried to bake with sour blueberries in the past, but I've have had little success.

With the possibility of six pints of sour blueberries hitting the garbage bin, I cringed. But what else could I do with them? I turned to Facebook and asked my peeps.

Suggestions given to me included making pancakes, jam and using them in hot cereal. Other than the jam, I was hesitant to bake or eat them due to their sourness, until J suggested cooking them with maple syrup.

And here what I did. I weighed out 400 grams of blueberries (as it turns out only one of the pints were sour), dumped them into a sauce pan and added 300 millilitres of maple syrup. Brought it to a boil, before letting the mixture simmer on the stove. While it was simmering, I used a potato masher to mash the berries. I cooked it for 30 minutes until it was basically a purple mess. I immediately poured the mixture into a container, let it cool and put it in the refrigerator.

And it worked! The maple syrup covered the sourness of the blueberries. However, the mixture is too messy and runny to use as a pie filling, but it would be good on pancakes, French toast and on cheese cake. Now I just have to make a cheese cake to go with the blueberry goop. Yum!

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Car seats and vomit is a gross combination

There is nothing like a vomit incident to cut short a family outing.

I am convinced that darling daughter suffers from occasional motion sickness. We’ve had our share of vomit incidents while travelling. One of the worst incidents we experienced was last spring when we were in the States on our way to visit friends. She threw up at a restaurant and then later when we were back on the Interstate, she threw up again all over herself and the car seat. I hate cleaning up vomit from car seats. It sticks to everything and it seems impossible to clean up. It is disgusting.

Since dear husband has the week off, I’ve been wanting to go to a sugar bush. Unfortunately, this week looks pretty crappy weatherwise. But this morning, it looked okay. So after packing the diaper bag, the stroller and an extra couple of coats, we were on our way.

We were two exits away from Kinburn Side Road when darling daughter vomited. It is scary to watch your toddler vomit, especially in their car seat. Dear husband quickly pulled the car onto the side of the highway and we got out to assess the damage. She was covered in vomit. She was in tears. And no wonder. I wouldn’t want to be covered in vomit, either. I thank my lucky stars that I forgot to put her in her new hoodie that I knitted for her. I would have cried if she had thrown up on it.

So we did a quick clean up, got off at the next exit, turned around and went home. Field trip over. *Sigh* After stripping her out of her vomit covered clothes and giving her a bath, then there was the task of cleaning the car seat. Thankfully, water, vinegar and elbow grease got the car seat squeaky clean. But I still hate vomit. Dealing with it is one of the grosser sides to parenthood.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Gotta run . . . update number three

Two separate runs. Two very different experiences.

On Friday, I ran outside with my running coach and friend, C, for the very first time. As predicted, I was a mess. I was unable to get my erratic breathing under control. I felt out of breath throughout the run, due to the fact I was running too fast. I had to take three walking breaks. Even though it was only four kilometres, it wasn't a very good run.

In retrospect, it was a great learning experience. C informed me that I was running too fast. Actually, I run faster outside than I do on a treadmill, she told me, adding that I needed to find my pace, one that suited my breathing.

Today, we ran again. And I had a very much better result. First off, C set the pace. It was slower than Friday's run. My breathing was under control. For me, a good part of running is succeeding in the the mental game. Can I get to the next corner? Can I get to the next intersection? Can I even make the next step?

I ran past the point where I usually take my first walking break. Can I get up the small hill? I asked myself. Yes I can, I replied when I ran past it and to the corner.

More questions started popping into my head.

Can I get past the corner? Yes.

Can I get to the mailbox? Yes.

Can I get to the next intersection near the elementary school? Yes.

Can I get to the end of the street? Yes.

Can I get past the park and to the houses in the distance? Yes.

And this is where it starts to get tricky. In this particular route, there is a hill. In fact, it is a big hill. I don't like big hills. I could change the route and run down it, but I've decided I need to challenge myself, despite the fact that I usually walk up the hill. In fact, I usually walk from the corner, past the park and up the hill. But today, I was in the zone. I dug in and ran up the hill. Once I crested and got past it, I needed to stop. And even though I had to take a walking break, this was a huge milestone as this was the first time I ran so long outside without stopping once. According to Gmap Pedometer, I ran roughly 3.1 kilometres. Amazing! I never thought in my life I'd run 3.1 kilometres. But now I have shown myself that I can.

After a walking roughly two minute walking break, I dug in again and ran the rest of the course. Towards the end, we pushed it, picking up the pace to the finish line. In all, I ran roughly five kilometres when you exclude my walking break. Last week I thought I was nuts to even start running. The goal is to run a 5k race without stopping. Now I am on my way in doing that. And I'm even starting to enjoy running outside. Amazing!

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Love of chocolate must be a genetic thing

I learned something about darling daughter this morning: she loves chocolate.

For Easter, I filled plastic eggs with goodies such as toddler gummies, puffy snacks and M&Ms for an Easter egg hunt. This is the first time we have willingly given darling daughter chocolate. During the hunt, M&Ms spilled onto the floor after darling daughter threw one of the plastic eggs. Looking at the mess she created, she gingerly picked up a M&M off the floor, popped it into her mouth and she was instantly hooked. She no longer wanted to hunt for Easter eggs. She wanted to eat chocolate.

It took some cajoling on our parts to get darling daughter to resume the fun. At one point, I had to place some of her new found stash on the tray of her booster seat so she could have a wee bit of a taste of her goodies while she continued to hunt for eggs. Once the goodies were all gone, she wanted more chocolate. Facing the prospect of a hyper toddler on a sugar high, I had to put my foot down, which resulted in tears. Fortunately, some toddler gummies helped to sooth over hard feelings.

So darling daughter has a sweet tooth just like her momma. It must be genetic.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

On the road to getting answers and recovery

Today is a good day. I live for good days. And who doesn't? But lately, some of my days haven't been so good.

In October, I blogged about having a miscarriage and how I found the silence to be deafening. Two months ago today, I suffered a second miscarriage. This time I was further along. Sadly, what I experience was a missed miscarriage. I didn't realize I had lost the baby until I went for a dating ultrasound.

Quite simply, the last two months have been horrible. I thought I paid my dues in October when I miscarried the first time. Apparently not.

I'm the type of person who demands answers. For 10 years I was a journalist whose job description was to get answers for my readers on issues that were important to them. And I think I did a damn good job in that regard. Unfortunately, I have gotten no answers as to why I have suffered two early miscarriages. My family doctor says she can give me a list longer than her arm as to why miscarriages happen, but she can't give me a specific reason why this has happened to me.

That isn't good enough. I want to know. I need to know. The responses of "these things happen, it's bad luck, there was something wrong with the baby" simply infuriate me. I don't want to hear that crap or feel the sympathetic but awkward gazes from my doctor who is unable to give a specific reason why I've gone through not only once, but twice. I want answers.

Hopefully I will be getting answers soon. Today I felt a load lifted off my shoulders when I got a letter in the mail confirming my appointment to a fertility clinic. When I was holding that piece of paper in my hands today, I felt like I've turned a corner in my recovery. Although I've been told that 40 per cent of couples who suffer from some sort of infertility won't get answers as to why they are experiencing problems (and I've got a gut feeling I'll be put in that category), 60 per cent do get some sort of answer. And right at this moment, I just want an answer. I just want to know why. Because the not knowing may be one of the worst part of this whole experience. Was it something I ate? Was it something I did? Did I exercise too much? Did I worry to much? Is it low progesterone? Or do I have some undiagnosed condition? And the unanswered questions go on and on.

And getting answers is part of my recovery. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me she was expecting. Although I did experience a twinge of sadness for myself, I did feel true happiness for her. I didn't burst into tears or feel like I've been punched in the gut, which usually happens when I hear pregnancy news. And that made me happy for both me and her. I consider my reaction to her wonderful news as a positive sign that I'm on the road to recovery. And while it is still early days, I realize that I've got a long way to go in coming to terms with my losses.

And if I don't get answers, then I'll have to live with that. And maybe I can take some comfort knowing that I've done everything I possibly can in my pursuit to get answers.

In some respects when it comes to miscarriages and pregnancy loss, especially when it comes to the medical community, I could write a novel. But in some respects, I can't write about his subject. The pain is too much. The National Post published this story describing the lonely pain of pregnancy loss. It is an excellent read and the brave and courageous women who were interviewed for this story sum up my feelings. Pregnancy loss is a subject that is often ignored, which is a tragedy since it happens so often. And by talking about it, hopefully the taboo around this subject can be eliminated.