Mama and Naddington Bear

Below you will see N in her new bear suit. She hates it. I think it's the hood. She squirmed and pulled on the hood with her signature death grip our entire walk last night. Why the suit? Though it's nothing like back home, winter has hit a bit early this year in Sicily. The wind in the evenings is quite chilly.
Today I attempted the 7 mile perimeter run. (I got N into daycare three days this week, hooray!) I say attempted because at around the 4 mile mark I suddenly felt like I was having a heart attack, I could feel the blood pounding in my throat and had to keep coughing to slow it down. I never do this, but today I actually had to start walking. I was on the hayfield side of the flight line and decided I didn't want to die alone in the middle of nowhere. I know we all die alone but this was a bit too lonely, even for my somewhat melodramatic tastes. Not to mention the fact that I don't want to die on foreign soil, or die period for that matter. So I will try again tomorrow. Perhaps I was dehydrated, perhaps there was too much adrenalin from this morning's craziness. Who knows.

Nadia Version 0.7

I've been writing to Nadia since she was a wee embryo but because a lot of people have already done this in their blogs, I decided to do a blog update separate from her letter. But I'm tired so from now I'll just be doing the letter. I guess I'm a copycat. Oh well.

Dear N,

Today you are 7 months old. It has been quite the month for major milestones. Well, one big one at least. After weeks (or was it just days?) of finding you in the morning or middle of the night, rocking back and forth on your hands and knees, you are officially crawling. And crawling well I might add. You seem to be particularly motivated by edges of our imposed borders. The edge of the blanket, the edge of the futon mattress, the edge of the alphabet playmat. Have you already been lured by the appeal of the forbidden fruit? The fruit in this case being the rock hard and slippery floor or the DVD player?

I included the following picture because it gives a small glimpse into what our day consists. Multi-tasking. Here we are trying to get out the door to a party, I'm getting you ready while trying to take a family picture while trying to gather our stuff while Dad is getting his shoes tied with one gimped arm. I'm exhausted just writing about it.

Another milestone is the whole solid foods thing. You are now eating rice cereal, squash, sweet potatoes, peas, carrots, green beans and pears. I'm sure this kind of detail will be of no interest to you when you first read it but when you have a child of your own maybe you'll understand why I include them. I like to go back and read the baby book my mom prepared for me, I find it interesting to compare you and I. Here is my conclusion so far, we were very different babies (as I imagine we will be adults). I was huge, you are not. I took naps, you do not. But I digress. Feeding you is no longer the huge mess it was to begin with as we trained you not to grab at the spoon. I know, I know, you need to learn how to feed yourself. Well that day will come, maybe once you understand that the handle is a much better place to hold, the part with the food? Not so much. The funniest thing about your eating is that as soon as you have finished a bite, you open up your mouth wide for me, often before I have even set it back down into the bowl. Even a daycare worker commented on the hilarity of it.
Ah yes, daycare. Before I 'splain myself I need to embarass you for a moment. The other day you were caught with a boy 8 months your senior, holding hands (I'm pretty sure you had him in a death grip) while on a walk in the buggy. Turns out this boy is the son of one of daddy's bosses. It was so cute one of the women took a picture but then had to end the triste because E. started to put your hand in his mouth. But anyway, daycare, why, how, when? Oh yeah. I'm afraid that because your already short and erratic naps have become even more so, I think you will be going a tad more often. Just for 2 hours a day, or a few days a week, but it's so I can get the exercise I need to be a good mom. Yes, I feel guilty, especially because I think it is because of these trips that you seem to have a perpetually runny nose. But then I remind myself that you seem to really thrive on being around other kids, especially older kids, and I need that time to avoid a psychotic break, especially now that your dad can't hold you for the forseeable future. If only there were a third parent just there to hold you, my life would be two hundred and seventeen percent easier.

You favourite sounds this month, besides the ever-evolving shrieking, screaming, and laughing, are "eumba," and "eumum." Again though, you decided to tuck these nuggets away recently. I can't wait until the next installment of Naddington Talks. It's a real nail-biter!

In the toy department, you have learned to throw them. You routinely throw your key ring off the side of the jumperoo and squeal with delight when I come to pick it up. You love those keys your aunt S. sent you. They're probably about 15 years old and have been abused by many cousins before you. I'm shocked that the hard plastic doesn't hurt your toothless, yes toothless, gums as you chomp down. You crazy girl. Tried and true toys like your turtle Chauncy and Bunny Foo-Foo are always victim to your slobber but whenever I bust out a new animal you are very hesitant to befriend it. Almost afraid, like in the case of Roger, your beagle. When they come in to give you a kiss you startle, pause, and then shriek. Today I found my old frog and a knit ball. You watched that ball so intently as the bear and frog played soccer. You were all like, "what . is. going. on. this is freaky, but strangely entertaining." And the bear and the frog were all like, "Nadia! Come play with us! Kick the ball, grrr, ribbit, etc..."

So as you can read, you are very cute and funny. But before I go we need to have a chat. Nadia, you need to like the running stroller. This would save us money in childcare and you in runny noses. I absolutely need you to start liking it. Okay? This is non-negotiable. Other people might suggest I just let you fuss/cry for a while so I can finish my run but so far I haven't had the heart.

Next point of contention. Please stay asleep after I put you down. I know, I know, "but mom, I go to bed earlier than some babies, that's the trade-off! I get up early and occasionally wake up for an hour just as you're going to bed but least I give you a couple of hours break!" Yes but Nadia, other babies give their parents breaks during the day, these breaks are called naps, so their parents aren't so desperate to put them to bed. I'll give you the naps if you give me the evening time. Deal?

But even after the long and frustrating days when I haven't slept or exercised enough and you have been too bored, I still miss you after you go to bed and recap your hilarity with your Dad. You're my favourite topic of conversation and I don't care how many people think that's lame.

Love, M.

Naddington Bear

I got a bit more sleep (by going to bed at 9:30 last night....sigh, I have no life) and a bit more exercise than I did yesterday so today has not been quite as bleak. Plus I got 1.5 hours Naddington-free. One day at a time.....

Who Let the Dogs Out?

You know that thing you read about, that thing parents, especially mothers, feel when the newborn arrives? That feeling of being completely overwhelmed and afraid, like the world has suddenly closed in on them? Yes, that one. Well I get it now, almost 7 months later. Why now? Maybe because I spent the first six months recovering from surgery, figuring out what makes my baby tick, trying to incorporate the ticks and the tocks into my life, and getting my body back. Or maybe it's because there is a trash strike and the pile of rotting and wet garbage outside our complex is attracting even more stray dogs, prompting turf wars in the middle of the night. Maybe it's 7 months of early mornings for a tried and true night owl. Whatever the reason, it sucks. And we're stuck here even longer, until April. Oh yeah, and J had shoulder surgery on Monday so will be in a sling for 6 weeks.

I'm too tired to go into the rant I was mulling over all day. I will tell you that we went to housing to try to get the nearby town to come out and catch some of the dogs and their response, as is always their response, was that they don't have money for such things. The only way they would come is if the dogs were diseased or vicious. Um, just because they haven't yet attacked someone doesn't mean they won't. That's what they do. Does a baby need to get mauled before something is done?

Sorry, I'm pissy. I feel like I'm never going to get anything done ever again. I can't even take N to the gym anymore or put her in the jogger. I have to get someone to watch her to work out, especially now that J can't hold her. At least in Norfolk we will have friends and family who will hopefully lend a hand every once in a while. Here I have to pay people to love her.

Oh yeah, the picture? A toy for sale at our favourite furniture store. How fitting for the *cough* location.

What Day is it?

I was going to post something today, but I can't remember the main bullet point. I'm tired. There was the something I can't remember, the something to do with running 10 miles yesterday at about a 9-minute mile pace (1:31 total) and the something about Nadia crawling. Maybe I'll remember later this week.

After the Rain

(Family shot, the towel around my neck for the bimba in case the rain returned.)

Finally, a break from the 100 degree heat. It rained yesterday and everything breathed a sigh of relief. I slept better last night than I have in months. It seemed like summer was hanging on longer than usual this year as if to prove that Sicily, in all of its brutality, is not finished with me yet.

The overcast skies were particularly appreciated because I decided to do my long run outside yesterday morning. (The treadmill is getting more and more boring for anything longer than 3 miles.) 6 miles in 50 minutes. It was glorious.

Happy birthday, BU!

Baby Jogger Pride

We did it. And by we, I mean Nadia, the jogging stroller, and I. We ran an entire "race" without a single squawk. I am so proud.

Today was the annual 9/11 formation run. Formation meaning the group of 30 or so chief- selects ran in formation at the front with the CPO trainers behind them. (J's group.) No one was allowed to pass them. It wasn't a race, just a 5 km (3 miles) memorial run. There were other commands behind them running in ranks and I wasn't sure if they were to be passed so I started at the very back. We had gotten miss N up at 5 this morning to ensure she had cereal and adequate milk before strapping her into the stroller but I knew she would be tired by 7:10 and was worried she would go into rejection mode. She didn't, and we had a blast. It probably helped that it was still quite cool outside, the sun hadn't yet made it's deathly presence known. (We are experiencing an unusually hot September, temperatures still pushing 40 celcius.)

The pace started off surprisingly quick considering the cadence singing and methodical marching but shortly into the run I felt the need to start working my way up. With every group I passed, I would hear comments, "I'm embarassed...a baby just passed me,""That's awesome," "Got any room in there?" "We're being beaten by an infant!" It was great. I laughed every time. By the end I was right behind J's group and wanted so badly to pass them too but held back.

And I clocked in what I believe to be my personal best, despite thinking I would be slowed down by the stroller. I didn't have the exact seconds on my cell phone clock, but it was somewhere between 24 and 25 minutes. Yesterday I thought I had done a fast 3 miles on the treadmill at 27:28 so maybe the stroller actually helped me go faster, giving me something to prove. Or maybe trying to pass people egged me on. I don't know. I do know it was quite a different experience from last year when I was 14 weeks pregnant and felt like I was running through cement. Today I didn't feel even close to maxing out. Life is great!

Lament of a Lonely Runner

A series of decisions made by a few led to a series of unfortunate events yesterday. It all began with J's decision to do a triathalon of a 500 meter swim, a 12 mile bike and a 5 mile run. (Notice the mixing of imperial and metric systems, as advertised.) This decision was followed by my decision to do the run (not officially, just for fun) with the baby jogger, rather than stand around all morning. And so ensued my tale.....

I asked several people in advance (my husband included, remember that) where Comsta was. Comsta is very important in this tale because it was the building at which the runners were to turn around, so, the halfway point. I knew in what direction I would be heading and knew vaguely where it was, but not exactly and even had a small inkling that it might be on the other side of the base. I was assured that there would be obvious signage. Okay. Check. Also important to note is that J and I have discussed at length our desire to run the perimeter of the base together but have decided that we need to work up Nadia's tolerance of the jogger first. So far she has only lasted about 25 minutes which is perfect for a 3 mile run but not even close to long enough (unless you're a Kenyan male) for a 6 mile perimeter.

Miss N was a bit out of sorts yesterday, suffering from a cold, and not allowed to go back to sleep after her 5 AM wakeup as the race started at 8. We were so pressed for time that I ended up feeding her her cereal outside the gym while we waited for the heats to start. J was in the 3rd heat and once he started in the pool, miss N was well on her way to sleepytown. Or, at least I thought. So I set the drowsy little angel in the stroller, buckled her in, and off I went. Immediately she perked up and started fussing so I gave her her turtle, Chauncy (she likes him mostly because he has rings attached to his bum that she likes to suck on... google that!). As I approached where I thought to be the turn around, she started indicating that her tolerance was being reached. Okay, I thought, I can push on through till the end. She may cry a bit, but I can pick up my pace on the last bit. Once at the water station, I looked around desperately for a sign telling runners to turn around. No sign. And no indication from the waterboy either. Okay, I'll push on. Bikes zoomed past me and I took note of who they were so as to notice when they doubled back. You see, I knew they were doing two laps of something... didn't know what, and thought they were doing 12 km because I knew for sure that the sign advertising the race had said a 5 km run. It stands to reason that the bike distance would also be in metric. Why had I not paid closer attention? Because I had no intention of biking, so why would I care?

Anyway, I pushed on. At this point I was out in a field near the runway. No more shady trees, just a blazing Sicilian sun. I had a towel draped over the stroller canopy so Nadia wasn't getting sun, but she was getting pissed. Quickly. And there were no bikes doubling back. Nor were there runners I knew had started the run shortly after me and should have caught up to my stroller-pushing slowness. I looked at my watch...25 minutes in.... what? I thought desperately. I knew the stroller would slow me down, but twice as slow? This makes no sense. What about all my recent speed training? Did I miss the turn? Surely there would have been a sign!

Now Nadia is really letting me have it so I relent and pull her out of the stroller. Because the sun is now behind me, she doesn't want to be carried on my shoulder, facing the sun. She wants to be carried facing out and of course I left the sling behind. So I walk, I carry her and I push. More bikes zoom by me. I see a marking on the ground that reads, "2.5 km." H...ol...y....crap. I am the worst runner ever. I am stuck in the middle of nowhere with an unhappy and tired child. All of a sudden, J whizzes by me, breathing, "you okay baby?" He's gone before the punctuation. Does it look like I'm ok? Do you think I pulled the baby out for fun? Do you think it is I that got sick of the stroller? Do you think I am using her as an excuse to wimp out of the run?

Realizing that I was in a hopeless situation, a situation that not even the father of my child was going to help me out of, I knew that I had to finish. So I gave Nadia a few sips of water, doused her hair to keep her cool and placed her back in the stroller. She instantly started crying but I knew that she must be uber-exhausted by this point and had to fall out soon. She did and I kept running. And running. And soon I was on the other side of the base, having been lapped by J on the bike. Hmmm, it seems that I have run along the property lines of the base, I thought to myself, that seems awfully akin to a perimeter. But the bikers are only biking 12 km, so one lap should only be 6 km? So why is this taking me an hour? Even with the walking, 5 or 6 km should not take that long. These are the mind games I started playing with myself. Finally I decided that I had indeed run/carried a baby and walked 6 miles. Sure enough, I was right.

Now, you all know that I run 6 miles on a regular basis, so it wasn't the distance itself that bothered me. It was the fact that I knew Nadia was not ready for such a distance. The fact that I was not mentally prepared to try and push the envelope with her. The fact that I was too proud to ask at the first water station where to turn, thinking that if I was only a mile in that the waterboy would think, "what a wimp!" The fact that looking like a wimp would confirm peoples' belief that having a child means losing one's shape and strength. The fact that I didn't trust my ability to run well. The fact that J didn't put 2 and 2 together and take 5 seconds out of his not-in-contention-for-winning bike ride (sorry J, you know I love you and I'm proud that you did so well!) to ask, "did you decide to do the perimeter, cause the turn around was back at the first water station!" The fact that unlike other spouses waiting for their competitor with camera flashes, I instead jumped immediately down J's dried out, tired, throat with a belligerent, "why didn't you tell me to turn around?!?"

Sigh. It all turned out alright. I got a great workout. Miss N woke up from her nap all smiley, reassuring me that I didn't scar her for life. J and I are still married. He finished the race. It's all good.

J's excuse? "I thought you had changed your mind and decided to run the perimeter!" Also, in my shoes, he would not have been annoyed. Perhaps. But I gotta say, tunnel vision must be a male trait cause I know I and at least one of my friends, were the situation reversed, would have turned around on our bikes and asked our partner, "what are you doing? why did you decide to do the longer run?" Because we would have instantly noticed that something was happening outside the boundary of our neat and organized little plan. A plan tailored for the mood and tolerance of a 6 month old.

Food And Stuff

As you can see, feeding miss N her morning and evening cereal is quite a messy affair. I decided from the beginning to be zen about the whole operation and let go of trying to contain the gruel and all its fury. I even take her onesie off before hand now. Why use a bib when a hand goes into the mouth and then strokes a head of hair, inserts a foot? Why indeed. Let them eat naked! (with diaper of course).

I wouldn't say she wants to marry the cereal, but if she's at all hungry, she will down quite a bit of it. That's my good little eater.

This time next year she will be eating cereal and many other foods in Norfolk, Virginia. Yup, J got orders to leave some time around February. I'm not thrilled that he's going to sea again but I'll be happy to be back on the continent, close to friends and family. Closeness is relative.