10....11...12...?

Okay, I've completely lost track of weeks. In all fairness, after the first two months, I don't think keeping track of weeks is really necessary. Those first two months, it seemed like each day was a huge step towards his progress from newborn to infant, which made weeks really significant and different. Don't get me wrong, my little man changes every day still, but I think it's more appropriate to assess his achievements by the month from now on (until I lose track of those). Here's how his age is going to measure: "Oh look, he's 2 months!" "Now how old? Oh, a little over 2 months." "He's about 2  1/2 months." "What's that? Oh, he's just about three months old." "Oh yay! He's finally three months!" And so on.. Plus, what kind of sick person makes you do math when asking for your age? That's why they ask you on forms at the doctors office your date of birth, and then also your age. No one needs the extra math. Not even those who went to medical school.

This past week was a big one for me! Well, nothing too big, but I got back and taught my first Zumba class since before the baby!! I was going to go to an instructor's class to see how I'd do getting back into full swing Zumba for an hour (I'd only built myself up to about 40 minutes in my family room), and instead, she ended up being sick and asked me to sub. I'm still no where near 100% to how my body used to move or even my endurance, but I lasted the hour and felt so amazing afterwards. I felt like my old self again. Just me. I wasn't a mom. I didn't have the stress of going back home to take care of everything all by myself. I didn't even care that I wasn't at my best. For that hour, I was in my happy zone and there was nothing that could take that feeling away from me. It was pure freedom. Yesterday, we had a Zumbathon. I wish I could say it went as well as that Thurs night class, but I somehow got a stomach flu bug the night before so I was incredibly weak and tired, but managed through.

Which brings me to my next point. Being a sick mom sucks. It really sucks. There were a few times I thought I'd throw up on Ryan while trying to feed him. I went from chills to hot sweats. I could barely move from the couch to change his diapers-I stacked them all up next to the changing table so I didn't have to go out of my way to throw them out. At one point, I went to get water, but left my cup by the couch so I just made a new one because it hurt so much to travel. Ryan was a good sport though. He didn't mind snuggling all day on the couch with me, or even having his play time on the couch seat next to me while I sluggishly waved stuff in front of his face. It was miserable. And the puppies didn't even want to cuddle me-which they usually do when I feel sick. I felt so abandoned. The good news is at least I'm used to it. I usually only get extremely sick on the days G ends up working over night, in the field, or just super late. I'm used to being miserable by myself-I guess that's a good thing since I really have no choice. I'm just so glad I was able to sleep it off and make it to the Zumbathon the next day-with whichever energy I had left in me.

Other than the sickness, being a mom has been so great. Seeing my little boy's smiles every morning makes each day worth it. Same with the pups, watching the weird little things they do cracks me up. I love all of my babies so much (right now, Cato and Denali are both trying to lick the exact same spot on Cato's leg. What?). I've discovered that all of those love songs I've listened to throughout the years about people from my past now all apply to my little man. I think Elton John's Your Song is my favorite to sing to Ry. It's so cliche, but it's so true-once you have a baby, nothing and no one else in the world really matters besides him. He becomes the center of your universe and the love of your life. I read this article online and it said, "You never realize how much your parents loved you until you have a baby," and it's true. The love you feel is incomparable and it makes you appreciate your parents even more. It's such a crazy thing. How could I have gone 27 years without realizing this? It's almost a cruel lesson-I wish I'd have gone my whole life knowing this feeling from the start. And now this little man will grow up having no idea what I've endured until he has his first child.

Anyway, I got my little guy to sleep, which means I have maybe 15 minutes to get ready for the day. Must make use of my time. Until later my friends! Love to those who read :)