Three months old!

My baby is already three months old! We took some pictures a few days ago. Here are some of my favorites:
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And that was enough!

Running, running. . .

I finally went for my first run! I know I said I was going to do it weeks ago, but then I got busy packing and moving, and ummm. . . I guess just making excuses to avoid running. But I did it, I started my half-marathon training. I'm going to run in the half-marathon in Detroit Lakes in September, so I still have about fifteen weeks left on my twelve week training schedule.
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So last night, I just decided I would see what I could do. And for some reason, I was nervous about it. Maybe I was just afraid that I would make it one block and then collapse. Anyway, I spent at least ten minutes in the kitchen looking at the clock (8:47), looking at the thermometer (60.1 degrees), drinking some water, looking at the newspaper, looking at the thermometer (59.8 degrees), drinking some water. . . until I decided I just needed to go. So I rushed out the door, across the front yard, and to the street before I could change my mind. I got about a block away from my house when I realized that I probably should've planned this run a little better. I didn't stretch at all and my legs were already burning. But I kept going. And going. And going. I was going, not fast, but I was doing it. About two blocks away from my house, my shoes came untied. I didn't care. I was going to run the whole way even if I lost my shoes doing it.
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I made it home, tired and already sore. I had no idea how far I'd gone. Maybe four miles? At least two. . . So I hopped in the car to measure my progress. I drove. And drove. Wait, is the odometer working? It hasn't even been a tenth of a mile yet? I probably didn't even make it a half mile! And the odometer turned and I kept driving. Every tenth of a mile seemed to take so long. But I kept driving and it kept turning. Now I knew it definitely wasn't four or even two miles. Please be at least one mile! And it was 9/10ths and then, finally, the odometer reached one mile as I turned into the driveway. So I can run one mile without stopping. Its not amazing, but its a start.
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I learned some things on my first run:
1. STRETCH!!! Before and after running. Obviously.
2. Buy flat shoelaces. Why do they even make rounded ones? They never stay tied.
3. Find my ipod. I spent the whole time thinking about running and how far I was going. Not fun.
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I still do not enjoy running. But I will keep going.

She works hard for the money (part two)

It was a Friday last August and I was pregnant and sick. All day, every day. It was a struggle to get to work in the morning, but that morning, I had patients at the nursing home that I needed to see at breakfast. So I pushed myself to make it, bright and early. But I probably wasn't looking too enthusiastic about the day. And I couldn't find my glasses. Pregnancy also made me pretty absent minded. I spent a lot of time looking for my pager, keys, therapy materials, car, and anything else I needed to keep track of. So I sat down next to my patient, lets call him Bob. Now Bob was a difficult patient, mostly because he truly believed no one could help him. I spent so much time trying to convince him that I could. So we were discussing his swallowing disorder when I noticed something different about Bob. He looked. . . hip. Different than he usually did. Somehow he looked so young for his eighty six years that morning. But I just couldn't figure it out. And then I saw it. "Are those your glasses?" He said yes. "Bob, are you sure those are your glasses?" He insisted they were, but I wanted to get a closer look. He handed me his glasses. They were not his glasses, they were mine. He was wearing my glasses! Which look something like this:
And his look something like this:
I went to his room to retrieve his glasses. He could finally see and I had a better day.

Don't fall on her either!

My blog is named for my baby and her many near accidents in her short little life. I guess they're not really her accidents-- just ours. She, in fact, has been nearly smooshed by many a rear. Poor thing. So I began to wonder if babies are often sat on, tripped over, kicked, or elbowed by their parents. I searched and searched, but couldn't really find any information.

Our family moved from Montana to North Dakota last week. We were working on cleaning the garage and there were boxes and garbage and bags and garbage and garbage all over the place. Sadie was strapped to my chest in her carrier. And I tripped. Forward, of course. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I tripped, I'm pretty clumsy. I'm starting to think that someone should perform screenings and not allow such clumsy people to become parents. So as I fell, I grabbed on to her back with my left arm and braced myself with my right. I hit the ground with my knees and right arm pretty hard (I scraped up my knees a little, but don't worry, I'll be ok). And Kaleif ran to us. He worries about his little girl and often tells me I need to be more careful. He's right. Anyway, he asked if she was ok, am I sure she's ok, did she hit the ground, is she ok? And yes, she was fine. She didn't touch the ground and didn't even cry-- I don't think it even scared her. But I'm trying to be more careful. And I've come to the conclusion that yes, people do sit on their babies (or fall on them!)

Fresh cut grass (or weeds)

I've needed to mow for awhile now. The problem is, every time I get ready to go outside and get to work, it starts raining. So now my grass looks like this:

My dad would be so disappointed in my yard. Its not like its nice even when its groomed, but it has gotten pretty out of control. So with a little prompting from my landlord ("Do you think you guys will get a chance to mow the grass before you move?"), I decided that today, come rain or come shine, I would mow, or at least start to mow. I dug around my garage and found my Scott's 16in. Elite Push Reel Lawn Mower (that's it, there in that picture). Are you looking for the motor? Yeah, it doesn't exist. I bought this mower last spring-- I'm not sure if I was feeling really environmentally friendly or just cheap. Anyway, this is my only weapon against the fast-growing forest around my house.So I put Sadie in her carrier and we got to work. One of our cats, Tucker, kept trying to attack the mower. I think the cats were sad to see the grass go. They have fun pretending they're big lions, the kings of the jungle. The short grass doesn't give them much room to hide and hunt.

I generally like mowing, but I do not like mowing the front lawn here. We live on one of the busier streets in Billings and when I mow, I seem to attract a lot of attention. I guess a girl with a baby strapped to her chest wrestling with a push reel mower is interesting to people. I would probably stare too. In fact, one sunny Saturday last spring, a drunk man on a bicycle stopped and asked if I wanted to use his "electric" mower instead. Ummm. . . no, thanks. Actually, I think my mower would be pretty good at cutting grass. The problem is, my lawn is about three percent grass and ninety-seven percent weeds. So I usually have to push through each part three or four times before it cuts. However, my mower is excellent at cutting through dandelions. I don't think Scott's will be hiring me to advertise for them any time soon.I made it through most of the front yard after a few hours of work. Maybe I'll tackle the back tomorrow.

She works hard for the money (part one)

I put in my two week notice at work yesterday. It was bittersweet, because though I'm excited to move closer to home, I really love my job and am sad to be leaving it. I was so lucky to get such a great job right out of graduate school-- as a speech therapist at Billings Clinic hospital. Being a speech therapist is great. I work with patients in the hospital who have had strokes, head injuries (please wear your seatbelts), and other diseases and injuries that cause commuication, cognitive, and swallowing disorders. Though my job is pretty serious sometimes (I've seen some pretty sick people), most of the time its both fun and funny.
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One afternoon, I was with one of my patients who had a head injury. She was a delightful lady with serious short term memory deficits. We were working on some activities to improve her memory when one of her doctors came in the room. He started telling her about how her kidney function had improved and how she was healing so well overall, when she interrupted him and nodded toward me:
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Patient: She's pretty nice. . . she's your girlfriend, right?
Dr: Um no, I don't think my wife would like that very much! (He laughed)
Patient: Oh, you're married. (Then to me) Are you married too?
Me: Yes I am (I smiled. Oh and my cheeks are pretty pink. Embarrassing!)
Dr: So if you keep improving, you should be able to get out of the hospital soon and. . .
Patient: Well, thats good. And you two are married to eachother, aren't you? Or is he just your boyfriend?
Me: No, we're not married and he's not my boyfriend (I smiled again. And my face turns red).
Patient: Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you two were together.
Dr: Alright, so right now, you need to just keep focusing on your rehab. Do you feel like your memory is improving?
Patient: A little bit, I think. I'm working pretty hard.
Dr: Well keep focusing on therapy and. . .
Patient: She's pretty cute, you're lucky she's your girlfriend. And she's a nice young lady!
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Ok, so now my face is bright red. And I think I probably started sweating too.
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Dr: Oh, she's not my girlfriend, I'm married (awkward laugh). So keep up the work and you'll be out of here soon. I'll see you tomorrow!
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And he rushed out of the room. We went back to our memory work and I spent some extra time with her that afternoon. She really needed it and I was avoiding that doctor!

I believe. . .

Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
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~Victor Hugo

I ran so far away. . .

So I think I want to run a marathon. And if you know anything about my athletic abilities, you're already laughing. When I was in second grade, I got an incomplete grade in gym class because I walked the mile. I think it took me something like 35 minutes. I just really don't like running and I'm not good at it. I don't even like running when playing sports I like. See, I played softball for more than ten years and I loved it. I even played a few times with Kaleif's co-ed team in Bellingham. During one game, I hit a great line drive to center field and ran as hard as I could to first, then second base. I even scored a run on the next hit. When I got back to the bench, Kaleif said, "Are you ok? Are you hurt or something?" When I answered no, he said, "Are you sure you're ok? You look like you're hold back when you run." He was absolutely, geniunely concerned. Actually, that was my maximum running capability. So, thank you. It seemed that everyone on the team, no matter how old or how big, was much faster than I was. It doesn't help that Kaleif, a former college wrestler, is just naturally athletic. I like to tell him that our daughters will likely get his athleticism while our sons will probably get mine. He doesn't think that's very funny.
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Now you're probably wondering why then, I would want to run a marathon. I don't know. Maybe its the chance to conquer something that I know will be so difficult for me. Anyway, I started looking at training schedules for marathons and realized that most of them start with a little ten mile run. Hmmm. . . nevermind. So with a little more research, I decided to try a half marathon first. I'm starting my training tomorrow with a three mile run. I think I can do it, though I guarantee I won't like it. Who knows, maybe I'll develop a love for running over the next twelve weeks. So if you see me out running, please don't stop to tell me how slow I am, I already know.

What swine flu?

On nice days, I like to strap Sadie in her stroller and walk to the grocery store. We always have a good time. . . at least until we get to the store.

The problem is, the stroller just doesn't have enough storage space for the things I need (and don't need) to buy. In fact, last week I decided to try to shop without a basket and ended up with a can of green chiles trapped tightly in one of the stroller's cup holders. Embarrassing. I finally got it out by flipping the stroller upside down when I got home. Don't worry, I took Sadie out first. So yesterday when I got to the store, I decided to grab a shopping basket. Between carrying the basket, pushing the stroller, and talking to my sister on my phone (it was a very important conversation, as it always is when Bethany calls) my hands were full. As you can likely imagine. I'm pretty sure I even ran into at least one person and a few displays.

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I made my way toward the pharmacy where I thought I would find diapers, which was really the only thing I really needed to buy. They weren't there. I was just browsing and talking to Bethany when I was stopped by a woman standing in the pharmacy line. "Oh my! Look at her! She's so precious! How old is she?" Ok, I guess I'm getting used to this kind of attention. Pushing a baby around is like wearing a sign on my forehead that says "Please talk to me, I'm desperately lonely!" So I told her that Sadie is nine weeks old. "Oh! Well aren't you just a pretty little baby! Hi sweetheart!" And then. . . she reached down and grabbed Sadie's little left hand. Wait-- aren't you standing in the line at the pharmacy? Maybe I shouldn't assume, but could that mean that you are sick?!? Now, I'm not usually a germ freak, but all this swine flu talk has me a little paranoid. "Well, she is pretty adorable". I smiled, said thank you, and resumed my shopping. Sadie fell asleep, thank God, because when she's awake, she loves to have her hands in her mouth. And I just didn't like the thought of that lady's germs in my baby's mouth. She slept all the way home.

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When we got home, I pushed the stroller into the living room and ran for the bathroom to grab my Norwex antibac washcloth. When I got back to Sadie, maybe three seconds later, this is what I saw:

Really, Sadie? You couldn't wait for three seconds? Gross. And you had to pick your left hand too. I took her hand out of her mouth and wiped it off, in hopes she hadn't slobbered up all of the germs.

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I guess this is what being a mom is all about. Maybe we should just stay home. . .