I So Can Not Run

I've been thinking about how to work off the pounds from the pregnancies.  I've never been a runner but I thought maybe I could start.  For those of you not into bodily function-based posts, this is your time to move along--skip to the end as it were.

Our neighbors are joggers, my good friend is a runner.  I thought if I started small, maybe by spring I'd be able to run ... somewhere.   I was wrong.  I realized nursing exacts a certain toll on your breasts.  They're either engorged, extra heavy, and uncomfortable.  Or, their empty, floppy, and unwieldy.  Either way, not conducive to jogging.

When did this revelation come to me?  When I was doing something I've done countless times over the past few months, climbing stairs.  I'm usually in a hurry.  I realized just now that I hold on to my chest as I bound up the stairs (two at a time contributes to extra discomfort.)  Now how am I suppose to look even remotely normal when I have to jog holding my boobs?  I submit to you that it's not gonna happen.  I'm going to have to look through my sports bras and see if I can make it work. But for now, I'm going to have to bench press my son or something to get some exercise.

The Big Boy Update:  My husband's goal was to get him to like his pasta.  He loves to cook pasta multiple times each week.  He wanted my son to not only like the noodles (any kind, but spaghetti for extra, slurping fun) but the sauce too.  I'm glad to report not only does he like pasta, he wants nothing else if he realizes pasta is an option.  He's been known to boycott other options in the hope of pasta appearing on his high chair.  It's also messy.  He loves it.


The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  The Big Breakfast.  She's been doing well lately with her meals.  This morning she ate seven ounces for breakfast.  It's almost three o'clock now and she doesn't want to wake up.  If we're going to make her daily ounce quota she's going to have to eat soon.  Hrm, signing off to wake her up and offer her lots of milk.