As probably apparent from many posts on this blog, baby #3 upset many routines. Or, maybe it's just that baby #3 came, then we only had six months left in Manila, then we returned to DC, and our routines would have been turned upside down anyway ... but I "blame" it on baby #3. Not that we resent baby #3 at all. Au contraire, he's usually a joy to have around, assuming he's not banging things on the coffee table or hitting anyone out of frustration for not being able to actually fully speak yet.
This week, though, I was reminded of what a doctor told me in high school: my minor scoliosis would be fine as long as I continued to dance or do other things that kept me limber and gave me a strong abdomen. After I stopped dancing in high school, I took up various activities - pilates, swimming, yoga, among others - to accomplish this goal. I was doing pretty well, until June 2012, when my neighbor-yoga-teacher moved away and I just couldn't bear sitting in two hours of Manila traffic for a one hour yoga class - especially in my last trimester OR with a nursing baby at home. Self-practice attempts with three boys at home failed miserably.
Flash forward almost two years, with no activities other than my daily walk commute. While that cannot be undersold (I've regained a good amount of strength, actually, and returned to my pre-William pregnancy weight), I haven't paid attention to my high school doctor's warning. And after a weekend of Patch using me as a jungle gym and Ian being insisted to be carried, I found myself just barely able to walk. GACK.
After a week of hot packs, ibuprofen, and a screaming toddler (sad I wasn't carrying him), I can finally just barely reach my fingertips to my toes. My normal is a full palm on the ground, but I can't complain too much given the pain of the last week. A friend at work suggested that I take advantage of my cave-like office, shut my door, and do 20 minutes of self-practice yoga each day before lunch. Brilliant. And no ability to complain about baby #3 interrupting things.
Wm has "DEAR" time at school ("drop everything and read"). Come tomorrow, I need to put a yoga-equivalent reminder on my Outlook. Anyone out there good at coming up with catchy acronyms?
This week, though, I was reminded of what a doctor told me in high school: my minor scoliosis would be fine as long as I continued to dance or do other things that kept me limber and gave me a strong abdomen. After I stopped dancing in high school, I took up various activities - pilates, swimming, yoga, among others - to accomplish this goal. I was doing pretty well, until June 2012, when my neighbor-yoga-teacher moved away and I just couldn't bear sitting in two hours of Manila traffic for a one hour yoga class - especially in my last trimester OR with a nursing baby at home. Self-practice attempts with three boys at home failed miserably.
Flash forward almost two years, with no activities other than my daily walk commute. While that cannot be undersold (I've regained a good amount of strength, actually, and returned to my pre-William pregnancy weight), I haven't paid attention to my high school doctor's warning. And after a weekend of Patch using me as a jungle gym and Ian being insisted to be carried, I found myself just barely able to walk. GACK.
After a week of hot packs, ibuprofen, and a screaming toddler (sad I wasn't carrying him), I can finally just barely reach my fingertips to my toes. My normal is a full palm on the ground, but I can't complain too much given the pain of the last week. A friend at work suggested that I take advantage of my cave-like office, shut my door, and do 20 minutes of self-practice yoga each day before lunch. Brilliant. And no ability to complain about baby #3 interrupting things.
Wm has "DEAR" time at school ("drop everything and read"). Come tomorrow, I need to put a yoga-equivalent reminder on my Outlook. Anyone out there good at coming up with catchy acronyms?
2 comments:
DIP! = Do It, Pam!
My suggestion has the bonus diplomatic reference, you notice. ;-)
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