"... and then the world as we know it must be broken so that we can be born anew..."

I have Mark Nepo's "The Book of Awakening" on my desk at work.  I sometimes do a good job of reading everyday... but most times I skip over it.  Today, searching for inspiration to share with the loves of my life--a.k.a. my best friends--I opened to what I thought was today's message.  After determining that I needed to send this to my friends (along with two other pieces) I realized that technically this was the "Awakening" for yesterday, November 12.  Nevertheless, it was right on time for me.

#awakening

Feeling Super Human

Tonight, I feel like the moms that I see on Instagram and Facebook.  You know the ones that post status messages like this: "Just finished cooking filet mignon and scallops for my boo boo, baked a homemade peach cobbler--it was da bomb!!!  Babies in bed--now I'm 'bout to do me and un-wine with this Moscato #winning"  LOL.  Well tonight, that's me--minus the surf-n-turf and minus the wine...and minus the cobbler.

But I did cook.  And it was pretty damn delicious.  I give myself props because, quite frankly, I can't remember the last time I cooked something that tasted like it came from a restaurant.  I'm pretty sure it was last October, right before I found out I was pregnant...

Tonight I made Parmesan crusted white fish and roasted asparagus, and finished it off with homemade peach yogurt parfaits.  Did I mention all this was done while wearing my baby?

Then we ate.  Then I bathed Jojo--which included my personal singing renditions of Hakuna Matata and Rubber Ducky .  And now she's tucked in her cradle sound asleep.  Leaving me a little time to blog and just relish in all that I've done this evening.

Also, this happened today:

#bowdown #shebangsshebangs #teammilf

So this happened...

I had a baby!  Josephine Marley Rose was born in June 27, 2013.  She weighed 7lbs and was 20 inches long.  And I did that thing NATURAL!  No epidural, no demurral...no nothing.  I had a water birth.  It was an amazing (and freaking scary) experience...but that's for another post.

But fast forward 11 weeks to today... I've finally emerged from the fog of new motherhood and I'm ready to get myself back--well my body and mind.  Jojo can keep my heart.


Everyone told me "being a mom is hard" and I believed them.  And so I "prepared."  I did my usual thing--research, research, research.  I read books on how to have a health pregnancy (exercise, DO NOT EAT FOR TWO).  I read books on childbirth and what to expect; I made a birth plan; I hired a doula.  I read books on parenting--Dr. Sears and attachment parenting became my thing.  So I knew I was ready.

I was not ready.  It was hard is hard.  And I think having all that information made it more difficult for me in the beginning...because of who I am.  Can you say neurotic-type-A-perfectionist?   The books were great--they let me know what to expect and gave me the "ideal" for how I might approach each of those scenarios.  And for pregnancy and child birth, the books were EVERYTHING.  If I hadn't been introduced to Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Natural Childbirth, (see also The Business of Being Born),  I know for a fact my birthing experience would have been way different...but that, again, is a story for another post.

Back to what I was saying... books on parenting gave me great information, but also helped me to be hard on myself.  I suppose they were a gift and a curse--for example, if I hadn't read so much about how great breastfeeding is for mom and baby, and if I hadn't read about how breastfeeding is a major component of attachment parenting, I probably would have given up on breastfeeding by now.  So for that I'm thankful.  But I wanted to do everything by the book.  I wanted to learn all of Jojo's cues, react perfectly to every wimper or cry, be the one to comfort her when she cried.  And never, ever, ever, ever, ever..... EVER let her "cry it out."  I worried.  I cried.  I fussed. I cried some more.  I ate cookies because I couldnt drink wine (I'm breastfeeding, duh!)  And I didn't leave the house much. It was brutal.  I thought everyone was judging my parenting (especially both grandmothers).  Then, maybe two weeks ago, it clicked!! I was the one judging myself so harshly.  I was the one DRIVING MYSELF CRAZY.  So I stopped.

I went cold turkey on judging.  At this point I'm a mantra-having queen--constantly talking myself out of the postpartum crazies--"she's not thinking you're an awful mother and woman because your house is a WRECK...and if she is, you don't need her approval anyway" (true self talk had by me this week)--and realizing, in the process, just how judgmental I've been of myself (and I suppose of others) through out my life.

Anyway, all that to say, I'm ready to get back to who I am, and be even better.  Which includes getting my BODY back in action!

I grudgingly started working out with a trainer this week--on Wednesday.  I went for the second time this morning... grudgingly.  I swear I gave myself every excuse to miss it today-- I was nervous about leaving Jojo in the gym nursery (it was her first time, and I don't even really like leaving her with ANYONE).  I woke up late.  I hadn't had breakfast.  Personal training is expensive.  I was tired, and sore from Wednesday.  --But somehow I pushed through, I got there.  And I loved it.  Since being pregnant, I forgot how much I love fitness and being in shape, and eating right.  And mostly being in shape and having a sick bod.  But all that was re-ignited this morning. And for that I am grateful.  I signed up to train twice a week, every week, this month.  And... they require you to set up a bank draft (the okie-doke).  So I guess I'm locked in for a little bit, LOL.

I've been following Ripped Goddess on Facebook, and people always show their before and after shots.  I'm nervous to put this on the inter-web* but.... here is my before shot:

11 Weeks Postpartum 

#bootydofail #nothot #workinprogress

Here's what I want to look like:

#teammilf #youhadababy? #sickbod #lovedoesntneedhandles

So let the games begin!  And may the odds be ever in [my] favor....

*two points if you can tell me why I linked this video here :)

I apologize for all the mean thoughts I had about women who work out in the "Women's Only" room at the gym

So like a lot of people I am back in the gym at this time of year.  Not because I made a new year's resolution--I didn't make any.  I'm in the gym again because honestly, I am SUPER TERRIFIED of getting fat.  So yeah, I'm working out again more out of fear than anything else.  There are secondary goals as well...but they're not for public consumption.

Anyway, today marks my second day on my new 4-Week Hard Body Workout Plan courtesy of Women's Health Magazine online.  And after being away from the gym on a consistent basis for so long, I have a new appreciation for the "Women Only" room that some gyms boast as an incentive for women to join the gym.  In a previous life when I was a semi-gym rat and yoga buff and started a fitness blog, I scoffed at the idea of a Women Only room at the gym.  Why would women need a separate room, away from all the man candy strutting around the gym floor?  Away from all the new equipment and weights? No mirrors?  The Women's Only room was, in my mind, only for women who don't know how to work out.  For fat women.  For sloppy, fat women.  For lazy, sloppy fat women... who don't know how to work out.

Fast forward to Monday, 1/16/2012, around 12:00pm.  Me, in my new work out pants, with my Hard Body Workout plan downloaded to my iPhone and my earbuds in, bumping Drake, or Jay & Kanye or whatever I was listening to.  Fresh off the treadmill for my cardio warm up,  I strut down to the free weight area--you know the area with the mirrors and workout benches and men in muscle shirts lifting weights they know are too heavy for them?  Right, there.  I set up my incline bench, grab a couple sets of dumbbells, and go to work.  12 reps later I'm wishing, hoping and praying for a Women Only room at my gym. My gym doesn't have one.

So there I stayed, among the brawny (not too sexy, thank God) men, trying to disappear from sight as I struggled through the first day of my workout plan. Headlights turned all the way on.  Ankles betraying me throughout each set of lunges.  Sweat marks appearing in places where "the sun don't shine."  Weak-ass push-ups and all.  I looked terrible.  I'm fairly positive no one was looking at me.  If any man dared to look at me, I'm sure he immediately looked away because the whole scene was awkward and just unpleasant.  But of course I couldn't leave the area--too much pride for that.

I will say I felt good to finish the workout.  After completing the first day, I could tell I'd be committed.  But I also understood why women crave the shelter of the Women Only room.  In all my prior gym-ratness I failed to realize that sometimes we (women) look like s%#! at the gym.  That thought had never occured to me before.  And women never like feeling like they look like that.  We (I) like to preserve the appearance that everything we (I) do is effortless (humor me please).  And sucking wind in front of everyone at the gym is the safety pin to my life preserver....  So to all of my lady readers who frequent the Women Only room at the gym, I apologize for all of the mean things I thought about women who work out in the Women Only room at the gym.  I see why you do....

But alas my pride--and my gym membership--won't allow me to partake in the hiding place that is the Women Only room.  So I need to get in shape quick.

Two workouts down, 10 more to go.

Remember how in middle school they told you you'd use math in real life?

...or maybe they told you that in elementary school? But whatever.  When isn't important.  Don't worry about it.

The point is, just when I thought I'd proven my 6th grade math teacher--who I blame for my ineptitude in math to this day, and who I, as an 11-year-old, boy-crazy mean-girl utterly despised --wrong by not ever using math at all in real life (except when I still count the number of months or years that have gone by on my fingers...)...Alas mathematic equations come in handy for today's blog post.

The Equations of Life

While running (jogging [with a soft "j" [thanks]]) outside at Hanes Park today  this evening after work, my mind wandered and somehow stumbled upon the following simple yet highly relevant mathematic equations that I believe will shape my life for the next....month/year/[insert other duration here].

***NOTE:  This is the point in the elementary/middle school math assignment when you pull out your 3x5 flash cards--neon colored if you're as awesome as I was as a kid--and furiously scribble these equations on individual cards.  Yes.  This will be on the test.  Commit these to memory.***

Ready? Set! Go!

1. School > Work.  This true no matter what type of job you have. Period.
2. Learning > Doing.  The learning process brings about the ultimate level of satisfaction.  Once a fact, procedure or theory is "learned" it loses all importance.  Therefore, always endeavor to be engaged in learning.
3. Outside > Inside.  This equation is not absolute in that, there are certain and specific (limited) situations where inside is better.  Those specific and limited circumstances are not, however, referenced here.  So, for all intents and purposes, any activity that can be done outside should be done there whenever possible.  This possibility, of course, is non-existent when the temperature outside is below 59 degrees.
4. Serious < Silly.  Being serious is necessary at times.  Even appropriate at times.  Yet, being silly is magnitudes better than being serious.  Endeavor to be silly as often as practicable.  Regardless of whether others are amused (unless the "others" can fire you from a job that you'd like to keep).  Be silly.  Never apologize for it.  Or if you have to apologize, do it much later, by saying "I'm sorry you're not as silly as I am."  
5. Toddlers > Teenagers.  Toddlers are amazing.  Like, they are the best kids ever.  Fact. I love toddlers.  I also love kids under the age of 12.  Between 12 and like...19--it's really hit or miss.  But I digress.  Toddlers are where it's at.
6. Music = Supreme Happiness.  This equation is but a truism.  It needs no explanation.
7. Tattoos >>>>.  No. This equation is not incomplete.  This is just a fact.  Don't listen to people who tell you that when you're old you'll regret it.   You wont.  Unless you're a moron and tattooed sponge bob on you or something like that.  Then maybe you'll regret it.  Most likely though, you'll just have an ever-present reminder of the person you were when you opted to let someone engrave your skin with needles and ink in the name of art, individuality (LOL) and personality.... or why-ever you got them.  
8. Self-love = All other love.  Loving yourself is the key to loving life, and is the root from which you gain the ability to ever love another person in any substantial and lasting manner.  If you cannot accept yourself as you are, how will you ever accept another person?  If you are unlovable even to yourself, how can you expect to be lovable to someone else?  Endeavor to love yourself the way you hope to be loved by someone else. 

... Ok. Pencils down.  And for those of you whose math teachers were < than mine:

> "Greater than"

< "Less than"

 Square Root

= "Equals"

And there it is.  Math in real life.  

 

 

Hand Stands and Splits

...it's not what you're thinking.  

After too long of not doing much of anything to keep my mind and body in a state of peace and tranquility (and fitness), I recently went back to the gym and *praise dance* to YOGA!  Oh Namaste how I've missed thee.  For any return guests, you'll remember--or I'll remind you--that I was smitten with this little hippy yoga studio back in the day when I was a law student just trying to make it out into the real world.  Well, I got an UNLIMITED pass to this little place for March and found an AMAZING Monday night class.  

I get that you might not be able to appreciate the wonderfulness that is yoga if you're not a wanna-be hippy like me...or if you've never done yoga.  But this class is so legit.  For the last two weeks I've walked out of there feeling taller, lighter (mentally) and, dare I say, more limber?  

Last week we used this strange wall contraption...

 

...and this week we practiced hand stands and splits.  I'm definitely, probably an inch taller.  Don't worry about it.

SN: Was looking for pics of splits and found these:

    

I NEED TO LEARN THESE.  I think I will practice these before bed.

Side SN:  I legit looked for pics of black yogis... but apparently I'm the only black person who does yoga?  

Anyway doe... I'm back on this "sick body" thing, so you may be seeing more from me soon.  Hopefully it will be interesting.  Potentially it will be personal...maybe...probably not.  But I mean, there will probably be pics of me...and what I eat... and women's body's that I want... so I mean check back and see?

k bye..

I wrote a poem. Wanna hear it? Here it goes...

There was once a girl who renounced swine

And stopped eating meat of all kinds

But when her aunt proffered

The girl ate was offered

Now she feels like her stomach's entwined

[in a knot]

The moral of the story: People who don't eat meat SHOULD NOT EAT MEAT. Never.  No matter how good it smells or looks or even tastes. Never. Just. Don't. Do. It.  Seriously.  It's so not worth it. Seriously.

Ok. That's all I had to say.  Been living the sedentary lifestyle this week so I have no good tidings of Sick Bod info to recite.  Right now I just feel sick. BLAH.