I will survive!

Let's just get this cuteness out of the way first ...

I like this picture because he looks a bit like his little owl friend.

This one's a little nicer.
Grabby-grabber.
Smiley-smiler.
Rocking the green toque in the sunshine.
www.amyquarry.ca

Jaxon is 3 months old! Phewft, we made it this far. The fog of newborn-ness is over, and things are looking good. I think we'll keep him. He treated me very kindly at night for many weeks, but has started initiating bonding time at some very inappropriate hours. When he fusses in the night, I usually try to just give him his soother. That usually used to hold him over until morning. Not so much anymore. He's falling into a bit of a pattern; usually falling asleep on me between 8-9 and then going to bed. From midnight till 7:00 he could be up anywhere from 1-4 times. Usually about 2 or 3. I'm pretty sure it's a growth spurt. What am I talking about? He's always growing! I weighed him at 12 weeks and he was 14 lbs, 5 oz. I think that's 50-75th percentile. Not too shabby. I'll weigh him (and myself) next Monday, when he'll be 14 weeks. I'm a bit behind in starting his immunizations, but will be seeing our old (but new again- so glad he took us back!) doctor for that after Easter.

Lately he's not quite so easily put off when he wants to be held, fed, soothed, and sometimes protected. He knows what he wants, that's for sure. He's started to grab anything that comes within his reach - sometimes my hair, he often pulls his soother out of his mouth, he likes to pull any blankets up to his face. We think he's already playing peek-a-boo.

He has behaved very well for Paul when I leave the house for just over an hour for boot camp. He hasn't needed to try a bottle (breastmilk) yet, and I've been gone four times already. He stays pretty content the whole time. This is a huge relief, as it makes it easier for me to get away and just focus on me for a bit.

So, about boot camp. Today was Day 4. Wow, I feel remarkably stronger after tonight's class than I did a week ago. Over the weekend, after only 3 sessions, I started to suspect that it might actually be making a difference. Already! My jeans started to feel a bit looser, and not a I-haven't-washed-them-in-over-a-week" kind of looser. Almost like I was, maybe, smaller. Huh. Imagine that. (Max asked Paul the other day why he says that so much. :)

Today we were timed for a few skills, to see how we improve over the weeks. First was a run. Ugh. I hate running. It even took place near where I had my cross country running races in elementary school. My gym teacher talked me into joining the team. I hated every minute. I was shocked when he told other students to watch me if they wanted to learn how to pace themselves. Ha! Watch me if you want to see an awkward girl try to make it through the course without passing out or barfing up a lung. Seriously. It was a miserable time in my life. And it always rained on race day.

I digress.

It was raining lightly this evening as we all hoofed it up the hill. For you locals, it was from right across from Godson Elementary (just west of Ware Street on Bevan, there's a park trail entrance there) all the way up to Emerson Street. And back again. (Later I asked how far it was, and Trainer Man said it was about 1.5 km.) I only stopped to walk twice. Once, just at the top of the hill before making the return trip, and once down on the home stretch before I gave my final heave-ho and made it back to Trainer Man. My time was 11 minutes, 57 seconds. I was amazed that I (almost!) ran that whole time. I was even more impressed with myself (ahem) when I heard that the guy with the fastest time did it in 8 minutes, 45 seconds. Yes, there is one guy in a group of about 18 women. He's there with his girlfriend. How sweet. Considering I was only 3 minutes behind him, I was very encouraged. As much as I DID NOT enjoy the run, it wasn't as traumatic as our one lap around the track was on the first day, last Monday.

Then we went in the gym to do a few more time tests. I did 62 crunches in one minute, and just barely managed to do 41 push-ups in a minute. I'm not a push-up kind of girl. I always get a funny clicking in my shoulder, and my upper body/arm strength is minimal. I did "lady push-ups", and only lowered myself a very small amount before pushing back up. But I gave it a good effort, for which I'm proud of little me for doing. I felt even more empowered when the girl I was partnered up with for some other drills was a bit on the lazy side, and I knew I had more stamina than she did.

When I came home, I was actually able to show my boys most of the stuff that we did in class. Last week, I had trouble looking over my shoulder to back the van into the driveway, barely made it up the stairs on my quaking legs, laid on the couch for half an hour, and felt ill for another 2 hours after that. I'm not loving this hard work, but I'm not hating it as much as I thought I would.

Huh. Imagine that!