Atomic Tonic

Linnea is four months old. I have no idea how this has happened.

Twice last week she slept from 8 to 5. I'm not complaining, no, it's just. When she does that? I don't get to run because 5am is when I'd leave the house. But you know, not complaining. And I can't really blame her for my lack of motivation this week. I guess I can blame being four months postpartum, but that's me and not her. The hair loss is certanily me. As is the overwhelming desire to eat. Doesn't really matter what it is, I'll eat it. And I'm not even really hungry.

It's a good thing Linnea is cute because four months postpartum is kicking my ass. I'm a wet hot mess and there's so much to tell you but I can't seem to form the sentences. I put Linnea in the car the other day. Got in myself, put the key in the ignition. Released the parking break and noticed that the car was already in drive. On our inclined driveway. I can't even park a car, nevermind organize a paragraph. I will try stringing a bunch of stuff together.

Farfar came to visit. We almost had scabies but then we didn't. I made mexican chocolate ice cream and then marzipan ice cream. I've been wearing the prescription glasses I bought 5 years ago. Am no longer squinting. Went grocery shopping. Explained strawberries to Matilda. Been watching her watch them for signs of doneness since.

Things are hopping over here. Things aside from my brain. The kids are in constant motion (Matilda)

and sucking their thumbs (Linnea)

and chatty, the both of them.

Why you gotta be so cruel? If you keep hurting my feelings like this, I'm going to have to break up with you. For a little while. Nothing permanent, mind. I can't stay mad at you. But truly, you're not good for me right now. I've been keeping score.

10 weeks postpartum I ran a 5k in 26:53. Not fast, certainly, but ok for 10 weeks out. Two nights ago, nearly four and a half months postparum, I ran another 5k. 28 and change. 28 + minutes! I had to walk. Twice. I could feel my stomach rolling around under my stretched abdominals. I felt like a sausage. It was horrible. Last year, 2 months pregnant, I ran that 5k and got a PR and a medal. This year I got an upset stomach and had to remove both sports bras at the finish line, under my singlet, and nurse Linnea.

(That last part was comedy, actually. I had my mother bring the kids to the race. I figured the commotion would entertain Matilda and distract Linnea from the baby witching hour. What it really did was send both kids into a spiral of hysterics, one right after the other. Boy was my mother glad to see me finally cross the finish! Those 28 minutes count for at least an hour of Grandparent Duty because my kids, they can really lose their shit.)

Anyway running, you're making it hard to love you. I tried again first thing this morning and you wouldn't let me in. I've resigned myself to puny 5k distances in crappy time and forcing myself to go 5 on Saturdays with my club. I'm doing it but my heart's not in it.