Date Archives → September 2013

autumn in the adirondacks

I love Upstate New York. (And by Upstate, I mean upstate. Westchester County doesn’t count.) I love living in the wide space of the St. Lawrence valley, I love the rhythms of farm life all around me, I love the seasons and colors and variety of the year, and I love the blue haze of mountains in the distance.

This weekend, we got to celebrate autumn a bit.

First, apples. The first Cortland of the season, just picked that day, with locally made fresh cheese curd. Enjoyed at a picnic table with these favorites:

And apple cider donuts, still crispy from the hot oil bath from whence they came.

Second, mountains. Yesterday, we packed up our four kids, our friends packed up their four kids, and together, we shocked the world with our small-human population! With lunches packed, we journeyed a short distance into the Adirondacks and enjoyed trails just perfect for young explorers and strollers alike. We passed lean-tos and bridges that brought back fond memories from my childhood days, and watching my kids enjoy the world in the same way was just too fun. The sky was blue, the temps warm (thus the white undershirt gang!), and the trees at their peak of color. Three hours later, we parents were warm and tired — and the boys were ready for Round Two.

diastasis recti: fun!

I mentioned in a pre-Fiona post several months ago that I have diastasis recti. Well, that became all the more clear during my labor, which took its time starting in the first place, and then seemed to pause for a couple of extra hours (and by “pause”, I just mean “didn’t progress.” Because no, I haven’t discovered the secret to pushing “pause” at the height of labor.) Pushing required more effort, too. And I felt very, very discombobulated when everything was all said and done. That makes perfect sense, of course, if you realize that your abdominal muscles have deserted their post, and there’s nothing keeping your insides in check. Details.

During my pregnancy, I’d done lots of reading about several different exercise-based approaches to healing a diasasis (rather than surgical). I’d figured I’d take a laid-back approach, incorporating some of their principles as it fit into my life. Ha. After the strange twists and turns of labor, and the condition of my muscles post-baby, I quickly realized this wasn’t going to be something to just “fit in” here and there. So I ordered a whole kit from Tupler Technique, including the not-a-joke splint (which I think could double as bullet-proof gear?) I’ll be honest: I watched the DVD, found out how much time this would really take each day, put the splint on and realized I’d be wearing that uncomfortable contraption for months — and cried.

But here’s the other honest truth: two days later, I didn’t feel like I was falling apart anymore. I’d read that simply doing the baby-step exercises and wearing the splint would be effective very quickly, but I was really surprised at how effective.

Still, this is for the long haul.

I’ve checked off three weeks’ worth of daily exercises. I’ve only torn the splint off a few times, when the humidity + kevlar was just more than my claustrophobic self could handle. I’m going to repeat Week Three’s regimen several times, waiting for 6 weeks post partum to really pick things up. It’s really hard to find 10 minutes, 3 times a day, when I can sit still and do the exercises. And it’s only going to increase in time as the program continues on. But my midwife, my mom, and my husband said: do it. It’s part of being faithful in this season, and so I just pray as check off another box, Lord, use this. Heal me.

(I’m posting this because I heard from several people that they, too, had diastasis recti. If you’re interested in how the program is working for me, or have questions, let me know!)

pause

I just go. Non stop.

So do you, I bet. You know. You fall into bed and wonder where the day went, remember how you meant to do this and that, and somehow you never even had half a chance to remember. Does it count as forgetting if you never had a fighting chance??

But some days, I get to pause. And sometimes, in highlights, it looks like beautiful sunrises during early walks, homeschool opportunities right out your own window, babies who love each other, simple lunch turned into a end-of-summer hurrah, a spontaneous trip to the playground with friends, and beautiful boys who play their hearts out and enjoy each day until they just can’t keep their eyes open another minute.

seven fleeting years

I remember sitting on the second story porch of our first apartment with my 8-day-old Jameson. It was a delicious September afternoon, with warm sun and a breeze stirring the trees around me. I remember what he was wearing — soft baby jeans and a navy cardigan from my mom — and I remember holding his little bundle of a body so close. He nursed, and I sang to him. And I cried as I sang, my heart hurting with the gift of that moment and the simultaneous knowledge that it was disappearing as quickly as I savored it.

Today I continued to persevere through the semi annual Great Clothing Exchange, and as I stood folding load after load of freshly laundered summer clothes, I pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from the dryer — and paused.

I held them up: skinny waist band, custom made for my thin as a rail son. Long legs, custom hemmed for his bean pole body. I made them last summer out of vintage robot fabric, and his face beamed when he realized the project running through my sewing machine was for him.

Robots. Skinny waist. Thrill over Mama-made clothes.

Those things don’t last forever.

I folded them slowly, not really wanting to put them away. Can we just stay here? Can he be my little boy forever, and can he jump up and down with sheer glee when I make something for him?

He’s seven now, you know. Seven.


Out with Daddy on his birthday-eve. This is his first ever medium cone. Next time you order a medium cone, try smiling like that. I have a hunch that it’ll turn your whole day into one big thankful fest.