Sarah Too

My mind is a blur of thought these days. In October of last year, I made the decision to quit coaching CrossFit and stay home full time to care for Bman (and grow increasingly larger during the last months of my pregnancy with our second child). It was a sea change for me. When I confirmed my pregnancy around this time last year, it was a relief and a terror. Relief that the Mister and I no longer needed to debate whether to have a second child. Terror that we were about to upset the "new normal" we fought so hard to establish after the birth of Bman. Neither of these feelings is revolutionary or unique to us as parents.

The decision to stay home felt much the same as learning I was pregnant. I was relieved of the responsibility of coaching, and I was terrified that I no longer had any work outside the home to define me. I never imagined I would be a full-time stay-at-home parent. [That isn't a judgement statement. I also never imagined living in DC. Or Miami. Or Iowa. Or doing CrossFit -- ever. Life happens, y'all, and I'm winging it.] Now, my "Knowledge & Skills" portion of my resume includes: potty training, infant/toddler nutrition, reverse psychology, thermoregulation of caffeinated beverages, counting down from 5, multi-tasking with one arm, and operating heavy machinery while sleep deprived.

Now that we are 4 months in with baby boy dos -- BabaLou -- we are making our way toward another new normal. The Mister starts PT school for real in a couple of weeks with a full, FULL course load that has him reducing his own coaching responsibilities. Thank goodness he didn't start school until now because the first couple of months with a newborn and a toddler were...not super.

I don't love the baby stage. I pretty much HATE the newborn stage. In my pre-parenting life, I enjoyed so. much. sleep. SO MUCH. Eight to 10 hours of sleep each night. Perhaps a short nap each day. God, I have daydreams about sleep these days. And it grates me having another creature NEED me (and need so much OF me) SO much of every day. Don't get me started on breastfeeding, either, and how terrible those first few WEEKS were as baby and I tried to learn how our nursing relationship would work. It is ironic to me now that BabaLou will not take a bottle because I seriously almost quit trying with breastfeeding. I spent several nursing sessions investigating the cost of formula.


I really enjoy Bman's independence. I'm jealous of the adventures the Mister and Bman take together because those were the things I wanted to do with him and places I wanted to experience with him. I know we will have those adventures together in the future, but when I'm pinned down to the couch with a hungry or napping infant I am imaging those adventures will never. ever. happen again. NOT EVER. Clearly, sleep deprivation keeps me from being dramatic.

Let's also touch on CrossFit and post-partum fitness. What a goddamn mindfuck, to put it delicately. First, it's a challenge just figuring out how and when I can workout. Second, it's a challenge to find my limits and push them intelligently for my own benefit. Third, it's an extreme challenge not to compare myself with others or even my pre-pregnancy self. This third thing. That's the kick in the nuts for my ego -- every workout. I have to talk myself into a better attitude every time I finish my workout. My internal monologue goes a little like this:

 "I did all I could without risking injury. I'd rather leave the gym feeling I could have done more than feeling like I did way more than was good for me. I JUST had a baby. I have two kids under 3 -- I'm effing tired. I'm almost 37. I JUST had a baby. I just have to make progress. I miss my effing pullups. I effing HATE pushups. Why are we ALWAYS doing pushups? I really should not weigh myself. Just today -- I'll just weigh myself today. I'm almost 37. I really need to stop eating crap. I'm so hungry. And tired. I miss my body. And sleep. I seriously do NOT want to have to buy all new clothes. When will I get my pullups back? I'm so glad I got to workout today."

And that's the most important thought I have -- that last one. I'm always so glad I made it to the gym. I got to talk to adults! And I got to move my body without anyone attached to me! And I did all the pushups even though they looked sad and limp by the end. I accomplished something for myself. The rest of the day can go to the cats and the house and kids.

All of this rambling leads me to this: if you remember, my New Year's resolution for 2016 was "to succumb to this season of life -- caring for tiny humans who need and demand so much -- and soak up whatever surprises each day brings." I'm there, y'all. I am ALL UP IN this season. I have many days where I'm dripping in impatience and yelling and lying on the floor in a heap of "I'm spent," but I am not stressing about anything other than caring for tiny humans. If laundry gets done, it's gravy. If a hot meal gets made, it's gravy. If a bill gets paid, or an errand gets run, or an outing (or cleaning) occurs -- it's gravy. Because all that matters right now is loving my boys, feeding them, and keeping them safe. THAT'S IT. It is an immense weight off my shoulders to know that this is my one objective for each day. This is how our family works for now and I feel like it is working well. [Props to Amazon Prime. And ordering groceries online. And fairy grandmothers. And wine. And chocolate. And ice cream. And Mickey Mouse. And Mom friends who "get it." These things all help this work.]

In life as in fitness, these seasons are cyclical. Some seasons see more pullups, PRs, girls' nights, and work outside the home. Other seasons see a scaling back and starting from the beginning. I hope whatever season you are in, your are finding the light. If your season is dark, may the light grow brighter. And if your season is light, may you share your brightness with others.