Turning 30

I turned 30 yesterday. I thought it was no big deal, since having a baby accomplished in one fell swoop all that the 30s meant to me: stability; a shift of focus from activism and social life to family and work; losing my figure and gaining wrinkles. (I do have to wait for the 10 more years of worldly wisdom, though.) I was surprised, therefore, to start crying at my mom's funny card: close up of a dog, captioned, "At least you don't have that 'old person' smell."

In spite of the Swadfather throwing me a great surprise party on Sunday, Speedy and I spent yesterday being cranky together -- our moods were a chicken-and-egg sort of thing. In between crying bouts (his), I did manage to do a couple of hours' work, and to obsess a lot about the childcare situation. I can't and don't want to stay home with him full-time, but I am dreading leaving him with a stranger. Any wisdom out there?

One cool factoid from my work yesterday: OSHA regulations state that exposure to noise at 110 decibels for over 1/2 hour requires hearing protection. Any guesses how loud a baby's cry is? (I'll have to leave the sitter some earplugs.)

Running as Anti-depressant

BTW, Runner's World this month has an article on an ultra-marathoner mom who has struggled with depression, and the dynamics of depression among runners.

Just 10 minutes of pedaling at a moderate pace on a stationary bike is enough to boost mood... But runners get an even bigger payoff: sustained, high intensity exercise, specifically running, appears to have extra benefits, especially where stress and anxiety are concerned. A team of researchers at the Universtiy of Missouri-Columbia measured anxiety levels of female runners, ages 18-20 and 35-45, beofr and after 33 minutes of moderate or high-intensity exercise. The women who ran at 80% of maximum arerobic capacity (a slightly faster pace than would allow you to carry on a conversation with your running partner) were found to have experienced tha sharpest decline in anxiety. What's more, the anxiety relief continued at least 90
minutes after they had stopped exercising.

"The Long Road Back", Christopher MacDougall, Runner's World, March 2006, p.72

Hitting Bottom?

At women's spirituality last night, someone used the phrase "hitting lowest bottom." It made me realize that hitting bottom can only really be identified in retrospect. It's less about how badly-off one is, and more about what one makes of the experience.

I've had worse times in my life than the past 3 months -- days when it really was hard to get out of bed -- but I never "got" that I wasn't in control. "Clearly," I thought, "If I could just be strong and get it together, I would be ok." Now, in contrast, I am generally functioning pretty well, even by my own standards. But I know that I cannot be a mom without the help of my friends, and that I am most definitely not in control.

During my week-long blog hiatus, I realized that the tightness in my foot (from nursing in bed, and probably too much running without cross-training) is plantar fasciitis. Sunday, feeling totally trapped in my own messy house, without even being able to escape for a run, I had to dump Speedy on the Swadfather (who had a paper to write) and go over to friends' to cry. Okay...to cry a lot. They listened, and then said, "Do you have anyone who might want to babysit for an hour or two? Good. Why don't you call them right now. We'll get the number for you."

Why not? Because then I would have to figure out what I wanted to do with time to myself, besides the occasional dispensation to work out. But, because my friends are both wise and good, I gave it a shot: Wednesday night, the Captain hung out with an over-tired Speedy, while I bought myself dinner and used the free wi-fi at O'Naturals. I returned home much more relaxed, to a baby who had consented to go to sleep, even though he's decided to wait me out rather than taking a bottle.

Zoom, Zoom, Zoom!

Just a quick post tonight -- must get food and sleep. I ran 3.2+ miles on a rolling street course tonight. Ran the entire way, at a 10:23 pace, and felt like I had a couple more miles in me when I got back to the house. Soooo good! It helps that we're having a warm snap -- it was 53 degrees when I went out, and much of last week's blizzard had melted.

One other quick note: I had a change of fortune at new moms' group today. Here I've been worried about how I measure up to these women, and today I learned that they think I can do it all. Not only are we already having dinner guests, working, and working out, but I have a partner who does most of the cooking! No, it's not a contest, but it does feel good to know that the grass is always greener.

Comments, "More..." & Lurking

1) I've changed the settings so anyone can comment, though you'll still have to do enter the characters from the annoying anti-spam image. (Sorry... I know how much spam The Swadfather gets.)

2) You may have noticed I've been tinkering with expandable posts. I think I've got it, though Blogger's WYSIWYG editor hinders me more than it helps. Back to vanilla HTML. Anyway, you shouldn't have to scroll through entire posts on the main page anymore. If something interests you, the "more..." link should take you to the full post.

While we're on blog user notes, I guess I should fess up that I'm a major lurker, myself. In the blogosphere, as in life, I'm pretty much of a "you never call, you never write" kinda gal. Really, I just hesitate to open my mouth if I don't have something substantive to say -- this blog to the contrary. However, I don't hold you to the same standards, so say howdy!

Perceived Exertion & Pregnancy

Ran on the treadmill tonight -- later than usual because Speedy again refused the bottle from his abba, and I had to do the final tank-up before leaving. The Swadfather thinks it's just a timing issue -- getting to him before he's really hungry. I hope so.

I did 2.5 miles in 30:55 (that's 12:22 min/mi) today. When I was running during pregnancy, I told myself, "This is just like those martial arts movies where the guy trains with weights attached to him so that when the big fight comes, it is effortless." I reasoned that I was lugging around an extra 30 lbs., distributed quite unevenly (that's not counting the weight I had to gain by backing off my training in order to get pregnant), plus the constant stuffy nose, shortness of breath, and having to stop to pee every 2 miles or so. Freed of all that, I expected to be running faster after I gave birth!

I didn't factor in third-degree tearing that would require 7 weeks of healing before I felt reasonably certain that all my insides would stay put when I jogged. When all was said and done, I had a 2 month lay-off, starting 3 weeks before delivery, when I just couldn't call what I was doing "jogging" any more. (I did, however, speed-walk around the labor and delivery floor -- trailed by my partner, my doula, and the Captain -- when my contractions stalled.) You can't emerge as a faster runner after that sort of down-time.

What would have helped, though (other than keeping up with the perineal massage...too weird...), is knowing more about what I could safely do early in my pregnancy. Because I couldn't get any straight answers, I did very little. Luckily, when I finally got to see my midwife, she said, "If you're used to running 20 miles a week and slinging 40 lb. bags of compost, don't stop unless you want to." Even though I immediately went back to running, weight training, and doing normal activity at work, I had lost some ground already, and picked up at about 75% of my original speed, distance, and weight. Later in the pregnancy, backing off to that level was appropriate, and I continued to modify as my body asked me to, but early on it was safe to do more.

If you find yourself in a similar situation and find "listen to your body" too vague, try using the Borg Perceived Exertion Scale. You know what "moderately hard" exercise felt like prior to pregnancy (or injury, illness, etc.) -- aim to exercise at or below that intensity, knowing that your pace, distance, weight, and body mechanics will all have to shift over time. This allows people at all levels of fitness to exercise safely, without recommending heart-rate and weight limitations designed for sedentary folks to those of us who have very physical hobbies or jobs.

Incidentally, for women in trades that involve heavy lifting or strenuous work: I stayed 100% in the field until the start of the 3rd trimester, and didn't go indoors completely until the final month of my pregnancy. I got better at asking for help (to the relief of my Latin American, male co-workers), but I kept carrying plants, shoveling mulch, and squatting to weed and plant. As far as I can tell, the bigger dangers on the job are dehydration, overheating, hearing damage after the 24th week, and exposure to diseases and hazardous substances. (I'll lay out those pieces in a future post.)

Perfectionism and its Discontents

The women's spirituality group of which I am a part just started reading The Spirituality of Imperfection by Kuntz and Ketcham. I was not around for the decision to work from this book, but it seems tailor-made for my current life situation. To Cosmogrrl's recent posting praising FLYlady's method of getting organized, I replied that for me it was just further temptation to perfectionism -- a tendency that has only worsened in me since becoming a mom.

I remember reading in a pastoral counseling class that mental health is defined largely by having flexible, constantly-updating schema of the world and one's place in it. If you buy that -- which I do -- then parents should be, paradoxically, some of the most sane among us. Every day contains some tweak to the cosmic map: the ol' pinky-as-pacifier trick no longer works; you're no longer carded for beer; someone's actually allowing you to be a parent?!

Maybe it would be more correct to say that we won't stay sane for long as parents without a whole load of flexibility. The Swadfather pointed out to me the other day that my standards for cleanliness have gone up since having Speedy, even though all the books say, "Let housework go." Really, though, the kitchen sink is about the only thing over which I feel I have control. I'm hanging on to it. I try to let it go, but I'm to busy letting go of my whole notion of who I am, what I can do, what defines me. Even running, the one time when I still feel like myself, sure of the boundaries of my own body, requires me to let go of defining myself by my physical strength, my speed, my in-tactness.

Kurtz & Ketcham suggest that perfectionism is modernity's answer to a chaotic world. I would answer (and I'm not prepared to back this up) that a sense of chaos has always been there, as has perfectionism, in such guises as art, religious devotion, and militarism. Even Eve's "kaniti ish et ha-Shem" has been translated as, "I have brought forth a man, just like G-d has done."

It seems that from our very origins, we have been trying to get back to being divine. Perhaps the worst form of idolatry? Certainly, the cruelest to ourselves.

Back in the Saddle Again

It's a new week, and we're mostly healthy and back on track with running, milk consumption, and housework.

The Swadfather stayed home from davenning this morning and surprised me with a clean kitchen. I took Speedy with me, and missed most of the service while trying to give him a bottle, feeling like the meanest mommy in the world for insisting that he take pumped milk instead of the real deal. (He has been refusing bottles for days. I was starting to fear that I wouldn't get more than two hours away from him until he starts solids! So, we finally decided that today had to be the day. Crying all around, and I relented and nursed him.)

At Shabbos lunch, Letter A's mom made me feel somewhat better about the bottle-feeding thing, reminding me that Speedy is his own little person who has his own reactions to things. Even if he's only 12 weeks old, I am not entirely in control of his moods, appetites, etc. And by the way, what made me think he would take a bottle from me, of all people?!

After a nap and havdallah, I went to the gym and did 2.75 mi. on the treadmill. Even with the remnants of sinus nastiness, I was able to run for almost half an hour without a walk break. Meanwhile, the Swadfather coaxed Speedy into taking about 5 oz. from a bottle. And there was much rejoicing. Yay.

Some Experience Preferred

We went back to that new moms' group today, and it went ok! Not only did Speedy not cry the entire time, but the other moms also shared things that made them sound... well... human. Apparently, we all have irrational fears spurred by the popular press (leaving the carseat on top of the car, etc.), get unsolicited advice from old ladies when our children fuss in public, and futilely hunt for crying babies in our bedclothes at 3 a.m., even though we don't co-sleep. (Okay, y'all, it's still funny, but it's not just me!)


Two weeks is a lot in baby and new-parent time, too. Speedy's tolerance for activity is higher -- he spent a good deal of time flirting with the other babies, trying to get one particularly surly 4-month old to smile back. And I've learned more about how to read him and keep him from doing off the deep end -- valuable knowledge for maybe the next 3 weeks of his current life-phase, I'm sure, but exciting nonetheless.

Ah, the Swadfather (a.k.a. Jesse, the fastest swaddler in the East) returns! This week has been a big one for realizing how my aesthetic has changed since having Speedy. Specifically, I now measure sex appeal by a man's ability to bounce my child to sleep, operate the stroller and install the carseat without my intervention, and surprise me with clean dishes. (As I write, the Swadfather informs me that he brought comfort food for the sickie: brownies and sweetened condensed milk for cafe con leche.)

Work with Me, Baby

Speedy & I went into the office yesterday to pick up materials for a safety program I'm putting together and install some trial landscaping software from NE Grows. After catching the wrong bus, walking longer than planned, and emergency nursing in the park by Town Hall (covered by a blanket -- not for modesty, but because it was so cold and windy), we arrived to the delight of Nana J, the office manager who "retired" this summer. We worked for 3 hours! This working mom thing might actually be possible.

I have been skeptical about working from home, ever since a cursory web search revealed that WAHM (work-at-home-mom) has come to mean specifically former SAHMs who now run one or many home-based entrepreneurial ventures, ranging from designing fabulous diaper covers to telemarketing. Moms who renegotiate their existing work to be home-based seem to have another name, which I have yet to discover. If anyone can enlighten me (or better yet, point me to resources), I'd be much obliged.

Encouragingly, my visiting mom, an architect, mentioned she recently found a photo of herself doing a site visit, in which her (now college-age) infant daughter is visible in a carseat on the kitcen counter. The sales rep at a local nursery also shared a story of taking her kids on site with her when she worked as a mason. She brags about hosing off mud-covered pacifiers, and about her daughter finding the perfect chinking pieces when she was a toddler!

Training Updates

Everyone in our house has been derailed by a nasty cold this week. I have the least to complain about, but The Swadfather was hit pretty hard.

Maybe I haven't mentioned: The Swadfather is running the Boston Marathon again this year with the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge team. (DFMC benefits the Claudia Adams Barr Program in Innovative Basic Cancer Research. Please consider making a donation in the name of someone you knwo who has been touched by cancer.) We discussed the marathon while I was pregnant, and I signed on, knowing he would be training while Speedy was a newborn. I figure, heck, at least one of us is really running! But what a lot of pressure to be training for a marathon when one's partner is living vicariously through you. There are days where I can't listen to TSF's planned route, current training diet, or aches and pains, because I want to be back out there so badly.

As it is, I should be able to run a full 3 miles by mid-February. I ran for 22:40 straight on Monday at a 12 min/mile pace, and I expect to be able to do a full 30 min. this week. Had a lousy run on Thursday, but was probably paying for the cold and another day of schlepping Speedy to NE Grows (in the driving rain, nursing merrily all the way, as he seems to be preparing for his 3 mo. growth spurt.)