Congratulations

YAY! A BABY GIRL HAS JUST ARRIVED!

Boot Camp Blues

So.
Boot Camp was great last Thursday.
It was outside. I sweat. I smiled. I chatted with other Boot Camp Mamas.

But then I obsessed. I googled. I saw the health nurse and called the doctor...
You see, I was really quite surprised that the course included running. Don't get me wrong- I love to run -but I was pretty sure 3 months was too soon for Baby. I had imagined something quite similar to what we did but without the bursts of jogging.

Finally, after too many waffley sounding answers, I phoned a friend. A friend that knows EVERYTHING about babies. (She knows so much in fact that it makes me a tad nervous.) A friend that would give me a straight, informed, honest, answer. Even if it wasn't the answer I wanted to hear.

She is an Infant Development Consultant. If you need answers on any toy, activity, exercise, food, developmental stage, worry or poop colour -She's the one to call. Just don't tell her that your Bumbo Chair is on the kitchen table or that you've got a Jolly Jumper - Or you're going to get it!

Sure enough, after I checked in with her, I learned- No Running with baby until at least 6 months! She said, "Did you drink when you were pregnant? Did you surf or ski? Why take the risk? It is not worth it!"

Of course, I cried.

I'll blame it on hormones but I just felt so conflicted. I want to do the right thing for my precious girl. I want to get fit. I want to play out side with her and other moms and babes. People run with their babies all the time, I thought. So why did I feel so nervous about it? Why is my gut telling me -it's too soon?

Just because I was looking for a "Yes", and I wanted to ignore what my heart knew all along, I contacted the BOB stroller people. They sealed the deal by saying 8 months- especially if you're going off road.

There you go.
So, sadly,and I really do mean sadly - Boot Camp is nixed for now.
The leaders were very understanding and are going to refund my money. I am hoping to sign up again in the spring. I quite certain that I'll still have extra booty to Boot Camp off by then.

No matter how whiny this sounds- you have to understand that I really do want to do what is best for my little Ruby. We waited way too long and we love her way too much to blow it all for some cheap, sweaty, spandex covered thrills.

I've got my whole life ahead of me. I know I'll get my groove back and become the hot yummy mommy I've always dreamed of being. But these early months with my baby girl are fleeting and I am going to savour every last drop.

Thank goodness for my breast pump and my evening Bikram and Bellyfit classes!

Hummm...Maybe I can use my refund to sign up for that Hip Hop Class I've been eyeing up?

"Oh honey, hubby, oh darling of mine... Can I go out tonight?"

Mountain Baby

I don't think there is anything more precious than a baby with healthy, fat, rosy cheeks.

Gotta love that fresh, crisp, fall, mountain air.

I feel so sappy, happy and blessed.

Something about this time of year brings out the romantic mushball in me.

Leaves blowing across a grey sky.
The smell of coffee brewing, roast dinners and woodsmoke.
Me snuggling under my warm quilt on the couch.
Wearing fuzzy jammies.
Rain drops on the roof.
Heaven.

And this is going to be the best fall ever...
Because of you,
Ruby.

My Angel.

3 Months!

If I were to ask you -How much freakin' laundry can a 15 pound person make?
Your only answer, if you respond honestly, can be- A SHIT LOAD!
Literally. Did I mention I am washing my own cloth diapers now?

It is quite shocking. The sheer volume of laundry I've been doing is a strange sort of marker in my life. A milestone. A right of passage if if you will.
I am wife. I am mom.
I am now the type of woman who does laundry.
I am the sort of woman who does laundry, not just once a week-but every day.

It is for this reason that I am anxiously awaiting my new,albeit entry level, front loading washer/dryer "team". Our current set aren't really team players anymore -at all. It's not their fault though. They came with the house and I make them out to be circa 1960.

Also, Do you know my little girl is now a whopping 3 months old. She's practically doubled her birth weight, she's talking up a storm and she's started this adorable little scootch by pushing herself on her back with her feet. She makes my heart melt.

I am also quite proud of myself because I've graduated to sleeping in my own room. I've moved from 4 steps away in her room to 8 huge steps away in my own room in my own adult sized bed -Hubster included.

It feels scary, strange, lonely, exciting, and romantic. Who knows? At this rate, we may have to break out the condoms by Christmas.
Kidding.
Kind of.


My world would be complete (Isn't there always something -Dang! Could you imagine how simpler it would be if we could just be satisfied with how blessed we all are) if I could just see the shadow of my former, I am realizing now, buff self within my postpartum pudge.

I know "It will come." and "It takes time" .
And, ultimately - I am cool with it. It's just that I have been wearing yoga pants, not the sexy kind, for over a year now and I am having reoccurring nightmares of the high school bully calling me a fat cow in public.

I know I've got nothing to prove to anyone and my body just grew and gave birth to the most magnificent of miracles...but that doesn't mean I am not going to fixate.

Besides a girl's allowed a bit of vanity, isn't she? Even if she's doing laundry in sacked out, puke stained yoga pants all day.

So today, I'll smile as I chuck a load of pissed in diapers in my shiny new set...Because, tomorrow is the first day of Baby Boot Camp.
And there's nothing like a good ass kicking to make this Momma smile.




See what I mean about the talking? She may look like her Daddy. But she sounds like her Momma.

Check me out!

Oh yeah, this little girl has got some moves. Not only can she hold her head up, kick her feet, and poop ninety miles an hour...She, my friend, already knows how to work the menfolk.

That's it! She is grounded until she is at least 40! Either that or I will have to avoid bathing her and start dressing her in burlap.


Although she looks innocent, like a twin of her angelic Daddy... She is not afraid of talking smack like her crazy Momma. Like me, she seems to be quite a talker. She likes to coo, flirt, and chortle at her friends, the toys, but when she turns on them it gets pretty ugly. The evil eye comes out and the trash talking begins.
She will chastise, insult, and argue with each stuffy in turn. She's not afraid to call them out on their bullshit.
It is adorable.
It makes me proud.

I don't know why the text in this post is underlined or weird coloured. I can't figure it out and it is seriously pissing me off! Gotta go...the baby is stirring.