This weekend was…interesting.
On Thursday we took Ginny for her two-month “well baby” check-up. She now weighs 9 pounds, 2.5 ounces and is 21 inches long. Everything is going according to plan. she is growing and cooing and even holding up her head very well for her age. She even got her first shots and only cried a little bit. Of course at some point we both looked at each other and realized that there are plenty of babies BORN at 9 pounds. Which just totally blows my mind.
Anyway. We got Ginny home, after driving past a polling spot where THOUSANDS of people were voting early, and decided that we needed to set up a photo shoot of Ginny in her Halloween outfit in a pumpkin patch. We didn’t feel like driving to our church pumpkin patch at that point so we set up one in our front yard with our own fake carved pumpkins. Ok, so the pumpkin patch is ready. the Pumpkin herself is ready. We place her amongst the pumpkins, dash for the camera and….
Every. single. time. our hands left the baby….she began to wail.
Yea, did I mention that we are new to this whole parenting gig?
Intellectually we knew that some babies get crabby after their immunizations. but heck OUR baby was an angel on an airplane, surely she will weather the whole immunization trauma with aplomb.
We got two decent photos out of about 30. The rest look like we are torturing our darling baby. Here are the two good ones.
After the photo shoot, things went even further down hill.
Ginny wouldn’t sleep all Thursday night, so Martin and I looked at each other on Friday morning and made a judgement call: we aren’t safe to drive therefore we can’t go to work. My mom took Ginny for 6 hours or so during the day with the plan being that Martin and I were supposed to get some much needed sleep.
any guesses what happened then?
well we had just settled in for our long awaited nap…when the phone started ringing. and ringing. and ringing.
was it someone’s campaign trying to sway our vote at the last minute?
it was my sister-in-law Kris calling to tell us that my brother Stephen had been in a car wreck. He was hit by a guy going 80 mph and both drivers were on their way to the hospital. My brother in a neck brace and strapped to a board.
Turns out he has so much damage in his neck from previous accidents that they had trouble telling new from old. but they were pretty clear about the conclusion: his neck is MESSED UP. Not broken, but he is in a lot of pain. The pain killers they have given him have sent him spiraling into delusion and depression too, compounding his already myriad problems.
Ok, so much for sleep.
So went Friday, Saturday and most of Sunday as well. It has been a rough weekend.
Georgia lost. Texas lost.
but there were two bright spots:
the Falcons crushed the Raiders.
I uncovered my recumbent bike. It has been huddled under pillows and throw blankets in one corner of my living room for the last year in a kind of neglected pitifulness. Every time I looked at it I would grind my teeth in frustration thinking “when do I have the time?”
Well this weekend, in spite of babies that won’t sleep, brothers I can’t really help, and football teams that can’t catch the dad-blamed ball, I MADE time to get back on the bike. I did one 30 minutes session and about five little 15 minute sessions.
What finally got me over there? A wonderful friend of mine, who runs and works out obsessively shared something with me last week. She told me that she NEVER wakes up eager to get out of her nice warm bed and run. She loves it once she is doing it, but that one revelation specifically from her was mind blowing. I just always assumed that she must be mentally wired different than me.
Turns out that nope, we would both rather stay fit by just curling up with a good book and a hot cup of tea. But she learned a long time ago how to make herself get up.
I guess I am finally catching on.
oh and Ginny finally started remembering how to sleep on Sunday night. Just in time for us to get sufficient sleep to be able to come to work today.