Seattle Observer

You wonder where they get some of their characteristics from hey? Well, in this case it’s pretty obvious. I love to snooze, and so does Naomi. During the week, I set my alarm so that I can hit the snooze button the maximum allowed. If I oversleep, it’s usually not because the alarm never went off… it’s because I snoozed too often and the alarm clock has had enough. On weekends, I can wake up and fall asleep over and over again, until it’s really time to get up. [don’t you also have the most vivid dreams between snoozes?]

So, Naomi is another snooze queen; in the morning –after 12 hours sleep- we first hear her jungle yell. It’s her wake-up shriek, and it’s usually followed by silence. Then about 10-20 minutes later there’s some babbling and a whining cry, which usually dies down after a few minutes. This can repeat itself a couple of times. Then she usually starts playing with her blankets, the water bottle that’s in her crib, and talking to the teddy bear, to books, or any other item in her room.
We’re next door and can’t help but smile at the happy sounds and the fact that we also got some snooze time in that morning again!

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She loves puddles. We can’t walk by a puddle without her stomping around in it. The muddier, the better. Depth is not a problem. And the fact that it will be cold and wet afterwards doesn’t come to mind. And there’s no complaining if we have to walk around with wet feet after either.

It’s really funny. Too bad I can’t find rain boots in her size.

These picture were taken in Golden Gardens when Willem’s sister and family were in town from Holland. When their eldest –Willem’s nephew Jan-Hein- was a toddler, Willem would take him out for walks in the park and the boy would always come back muddy and wet. Now Anneke knows how come: Willem is all for letting kids play in the dirt and water. And I must say, apart from having to go for dinner wrapped in a stroller blanket, it’s fun indeed in the moment!

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Of course, you want to hear great things about your child, and as a first time parent (little to no reference from young children growing up) I tend to double check my observations with the experts (I.e. the daycare teachers, and basically anybody who has an older kid). We’d noticed that at the daycare, and other occasions with other children, Naomi doesn’t always join the group. She wanders off and starts playing with something else, and rejoins the group activity in waves.

Given the paranoia of the possibility that my child is ‘abnormal’, I asked the daycare teacher whether she generally participates with the group activity, or whether she is disruptive to the class. The response was that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Naomi, and that it’s her character; she’s a leader by nature. And in fact, often times, the others want to see and join in on what she’s doing – which she doesn’t always appreciate by the way.

Is that maybe why she wanders off without looking back at us (whether at the park, at the airport, or anywhere else)? We once tested how far she would go, in a safe park environment. She was about 100 meters away before it was us who called her, because we couldn’t believe she had not once looked back! She glanced over her should briefly, and kept doing her own thing. And maybe it explains why she seldom looks to us for approval in what she does.

We let her – we actually like it. Miss Independent.

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Today I noticed there are aspects of Seattle that remind me of China, and more and more;

Not only are there no doubt more Asians integrating with the incumbent Seattleites, but it’s also all the construction going on in certain areas. Add to that all the street musicians and I am warped back to the days when we lived in Beijing. There goes the neighbouhood – haha! 

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That’s all you really need with a little one. No fancy toys, no room full of stuffed animals (although she loves them – ALL of them). I stopped worrying about bringing a bag of tricks when we go out for dinner, because she is happily entertained with what’s available on the table. For the longest time she really didn’t need much more than a spoon. Anything else was bonus.

As she grows older, she can hold her attention longer, but also gets bored more easily, so we just need more variety. But with a bit of creativity, you don’t have to drag half the playroom with you. It also teaches us to be content with what’s around us.

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Have planted myself at the (one) neighbourhood cafe/coffeeshop/restaurant for a glass of wine and to try to catch on on email.

Having a rough week. Nothing that I can’t handle, but I notice that changing scenery really helps.

In short, we’ve all be suffering from various viruses the last weeks, and I’m so tired of being weak. Work is busy as always and I’m 2 people short staffed. Did I mention I stepped on a scale for the first time since pregnancy? DON’T DO IT!

So, it’s time to get to work, on all fronts: I need to get healthy again (the wine I ordered is red, and I promise to drink lots of water), loose the excess weight and get enough sleep to give the being supermom another try. Supermoms don’t complain. Supermoms have high flying international jobs. Supermoms look fabulous. Supermoms do exiting things with their young toddlers. Supermoms don’t have bags under their eyes. Supermoms have dinner ready for husband and kid on time, every time. Supermoms also have time for sports, walks to the park and to socialize. Supermoms pick their kids up from daycare on time, and arrange kids outings for more then their own.

The list goes on and on … the more I write, the less eager I am to be a supermom.

I should just be me, and mom.
That should be good enough.

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That’s the name of the Triathlon I ended up doing. It’s not nearly as spectacular as the real Escape from the Rock Triathlon in San Francisco, but it was good enough for me.

I can’t really say I had trained super hard, but I was in reasonable shape, until … I got hit with a mega flu that floored me, 6 days before the event. Checking in with people whose opinion I valued for this, I decided to set myself to do it, and make the final decision the day itself. My swim coach (or in actual fact the guy who had taught me how to swim breast stroke/freestyle) encouraged me to go for it. Better to try and not make it, than to live with regret. And he’s right, thanks Ed!

The miracle worker though was the massage therapist (at Dream clinic) who virtually flushed away whatever illness I had residing in my body, and that Sunday I felt better than I had in a long time.

The goal was to finish, and the uber goal was to be back in shape when Naomi turned one. Well, I can say I achieved my goals, even though I realize I will probably never look as good as I did when I got pregnant, and my time at the race was pretty darn slow. But it’s the experience that did it for me;
Getting to the field in the morning with Lauren (who had done the Danskin two weeks before in the cancer survivor group!), setting up the gear for the transitions, waiting by the water, wondering how much of my newly acquired skills I would remember to use in the water, exhausted job from water to bike, the great surprise of my husband coming to see me, and encouraging me through T1 (the first transition), enjoying the bike ride over the I90 bridge center car lanes, transitioning to the run, while feeling I am going to make it, running the last stretch and even encouraging others, and sprinting the last meters with Lauren by my side. And of course, then talking about the whole thing as if it was nothing.

All in all, it was pretty cool. But I don’t think I’ll be come a regular anytime soon. Training takes a lot of time, and it has to be your passion, even if you do the triathlons just for fun. But I escaped from my little rock, against the odds.

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This morning as I left the locker room of the gym, another spinning class regular asked me how things were today. I replied with “forgetful”, because that morning I had forgotten to bring part of my outfit and as I walked out I had forgotten to fix my hair. What she said to me next seems very small and insignificant, but at that moment it was exactly what I needed to hear to bring my life back into perspective. I had gotten up at 5:20AM to eat enough to serve as fuel for the 45 minute cycle workout, pack my bag with the days work clothes and try to make it on time, or at least to come in during the warm-up. I had slept 6 hours during which I had woken up twice (how come I sleep so light while I am so tired) and the previous nights were not much longer. Those few words “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re another woman now that you’re a mom.” summed it all up.

Every time I feel unhappy with something, or inadequate on something else, I try to refocus on all the good I’m doing, and all the joy I get from the reason for this life change. But I can’t help but be frustrated at times that my performance at the office may not be as good as it was before I had to be at the daycare center each evening. Or that I should by now have shed the post-pregnancy weight and regained my toned figure (and fit back into all my pre-pregnancy clothes!).
But the fact of the matter is, I should not be working as many hours as I used to before I was a mother, and work should not take priority over family life. And the reality is, my shape will never be what it was, and I will have to find a new balance in feeling good with my body, with a different level of fitness.

Am I compromising? That might be the hardest to admit. But heck, I’m compromising to fit the little miracle into my life; to balance the necessity of work (which happens to be something I enjoy – and I am fortunate in that!) with the most important thing in life, family.

So, next time I feel that a morning workout, a full day of work, a few hours with Naomi, a cooked meal and some time with my man is “not good enough”, I should really remind myself that indeed; I am another woman now.

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Every woman knows that the pre-pregnancy body is exactly that: pre-pregnancy. Consequently, the post-pregnancy body is a combination of unwanted blobs, textures, lines and softness. So, I made myself a promise: after my first child I would sign-up for a triathlon.

And so it was that in late summer of 2008, Jessica is registered to swim half a mile (approx. 800 meters), cycle 12 miles and run-walk-crawl the remaining 3 miles of what’s the considered the easiest of all triathlons. Seattle and surrounding host tons of triathlons, and this one is happening on the day that Naomi turns one year old. It’s called “Escape from the Rock”.

To get in shape I use a set of techniques;

- Bootycamp for one month; to kick-start the process by getting up at 6am and running around and doing core exercises in Seward park (see picture of the group)

- Mary Meyers Triathlon clinic; to get the hang of the race vibes and triathlon-specific preparations

- Mary Meyers Swim clinic; because I need to learn how to swim crawl/freestyle properly (or actually at all … I usually have fins on my feet when I am in the water, or a board to stand on!)

- Forcing my girlfriends to also sign-up for the Triathlon, so I’m not alone when I drown half way the swim in the lake (or at least have fun practicing)

- Fear; am scared now. I think I may have underestimated the whole deal. A half a mile swim is much longer than I thought, and that I’ve ever swum.

The point is, I’m getting back in shape and that feels good. Although I’m long ways to my pre-pregnancy toned arms, hard bum, 2-pack-when-holding-breath, I’m feeling better about my body, PLUS I have a darling little munchkin to enjoy every time I don’t go running, swimming or riding.

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At least, I don’t feel old, or mature, or responsible enough to be a mother, and a job keeper, and a manager and an example for others. What I mean is, when did I start being an adult?

Now in my mid-thirties, I see younger people looking at me the way I looked at my aunts and uncles when I was a child. They were old, they were mature, they were adults. When they said something, they spoke out of wisdom and if they would have a laughing fit, I was surprised that adults behave that way too and let themselves go like that. Simple fun, however, was reserved for children. And the process of education and aging would lead to becoming an adult, at which point you can make serious decisions, worry about real problems and be concerned about others whom you bear responsibility for.

So, I never really figured myself having evolved to that stage. In fact, the way Willem and I joke around I don’t expect we’ll ever be the icon of maturity that I always figured adults were, and I would someday have to become. A sigh of relief actually, because according to my previous descriptions, “adulthood” seems synonymous to boringness.
Willem and I are anticipating the day that our children will look at us and be embarrassed by our childish behaviour. We also suspect Naomi will be smarter than us and poke holes in our adulthood at a young age, realizing her mama and papa don’t know have all the answers and make plenty of mistakes still.

I guess all parents go through that, and all children need to come to the conclusion themselves that we’re all human. But I don’t hope to be as serious as that I always thought ‘older’ people had to be. Maybe the old is in the fact that you have make more big impact decisions; that you have responsibilities that go beyond just one person; and that you have to have to balance give and take for the long-term well being of relationships.
Man – that sounds old!

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