Sunday, March 10, 2013

If it's not housecats, it's toddlers.

Dante has been eating my palm tree.  We have a palm in our living room because I can't live anywhere without filling it with plants.  I was sick most of last week (more on that later), so I didn't go into the living room, like at all.  When I finally emerged from my haze of sickness, the middle part of an entire branch on my palm was bald.  Our nanny said that Dante has been waiting until she's doing something else, pulling a leaf off, and eating it.  Now, I had this problem before with Onyx.  If he can get to a houseplant, he will destroy it.  But I never expected to have the same problem with my baby.  We decided we needed to focus on teaching him to only give plants "nice touches," which is our code for please don't smack mommy in the face.  We may have to expand our biting phrase from "we don't bite our friends" (thanks for that one, Jenn) to "we don't eat our friends."  Eli is taking me to the nursery (for plants, not babies) on Thursday so I can pick out some new green friends for the rest of the apartment.  I'll have to make sure everything I get is non-toxic.

Now some of you may have heard that I had Delhi Belly this week.  That is indeed true.  It was hellacious, and I hope it never happens again.  After four days of not being able to keep anything in my stomach, I came out of the bedroom for breakfast, and our housekeeper looked surprised.  She said I looked skinny and looked very concerned.  I went back into the bedroom.  One of the side effects of being sick was that I was incapable of doing 30DS.  I made it through three days before The Great Purge, so I got to add extreme muscle soreness to the usual symptoms.  I could barely hobble to the bathroom every five minutes.  After a week in bed, I felt weak, but my muscles weren't sore anymore.  Being a determined sort of person, I restarted 30DS on Friday once I could stand upright again.  It was harder than the first time.  Probably because I had little to no energy, but I forged ahead and made it through the full workout.  I've been doing it every day since, and I haven't gotten to that extreme muscle soreness point that I was at when I started puking.  I'm not complaining, I just think it's interesting.  I had decided that I'd have to start over, but my muscles are telling me I should add in those first three days.  With that in mind, I'm on day 7.  Four more days of level 1 and then Jillian can start kicking my butt in new ways.  We're on a first name basis now, Jillian and I.  My end goal is to get to the point where my clothes fit comfortably again.  And not my post-pregnancy clothes.  My clothes from before Dante made an appearance.  I miss my clothes.  Partly because they're still in France, but I would miss them even if they were here because they're not comfortable to wear anymore. 

I have a lot of emotions wrapped up in my body image because I worked hard to get myself in shape.  I struggled to learn how to eat healthy, I forced myself to exercise until it became a habit and then an addiction, I made myself healthier.  The best part for me was that I saw myself as an athlete.  I could run a 5K without stopping, hell, I did it everyday at the gym.  Dante will be eighteen months old on Wednesday.  That's one and a half years since he was born, and I still look like I just gave birth.  I struggle to get through the 5K that used to be easy for me.  To me, that's not acceptable.  I love my C-section scar and I earned those damn stretch marks, but I want my athlete's body back.  I refuse to be ashamed of the extra weight I'm carrying though.  It's not a moral judgement, the weight doesn't mean I've "been bad."  It means I've been busy with other things in my life and my fitness level moved too far down on my list of priorities.  When we come back to the States in May, Eli and I are planning to run the Wisconsin Zombie Mud Run, a 5K with obstacles.  I know many of the zombies from the Haunt (I even made some of their costumes once upon a time), and I know I can run faster than most of them if I can get myself back in shape.  These are the goals, people.  Wear my clothes again, outrun zombies. 

This is my poor bald plant.

This is the culprit.  I'm pretty sure Dante is sitting on Onyx's head with the intention of torturing him into sharing all his houseplant eating secrets.  Or this is his version of "nice touches."

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