Pillow Talk

Alex and I have started something new in the bedroom. After nearly 10 years together, five as husband and wife, we’re trying things we’ve never done before. And it’s all because our bodies are falling apart.

{Background}

For the past two weeks I have been suffering from a serious case of runner’s knee. {I think. This is more of a WebMD diagnosis because I don’t want to see a real doctor. Let’s hope it’s not some flesh eating bacteria or something equally clinic visit worthy.} I’m hobbling around wincing in pain every time I have to squat down. It’s wretched and if my legs weren’t my favorite body part, I consider amputation.

My poor husband fell asleep in our armchair and woke up with a knot in his back. The bulk of his Sunday afternoon equated to hobbling around, sighing heavily every time he bent over and muttering the occasional “oomph”. Pitiful.

Am I exaggerating? Let’s just say Addie found great enjoyment in following us around. Holding her lower back, dragging her leg behind her, she even perfected the deflating balloon noise as she bent over. Funny.

{Fast-forward to Sunday night, 10:00pm}

We migrate into the bedroom. Alex splays himself across the bed, cursing the evil armchair, making empty threats that he will bring said chair to Goodwill. Like a good life partner I offer some assistance and spend the next 30 minutes testing my amateur chiropractic skills. I’m pushing, pulling and cracking all the while spouting my random knowledge of Icy-Hot, Flexall and heating pads.

He returns the favor by massaging my soon-to-be-a-prosthetic knee and attempting to stretch my hamstring by hauling my feet up and over my head. {amidst my whimpers of “ow quit it OW”} True to form he offers his {unsolicited} advice of healthcare practitioners and athletic equipment.

Exhausted after all the commotion, we pass out. It’s 10:35pm.

At this point ya’ll are probably expecting my “Where did the magic go?” soapbox.

Honey, let me tell you …

When you find a man that will pull your big toe over your head and rub your hammie only expecting you to crack his back and apply some Bengay in return… that’s a man worth keeping.

Cuteness Overload

I read an article the other day stating that after the age of 25 women gain an average of 1 to 3 pounds every year.

Crap.

Since Addie's arrival I have been much more aware of those illusive 5 {okay maybe 10} extra pounds. Mostly because they all seemed to make a mass migration around my middle. They chose the weakest spot on my body {because my mediocre abs gave up around month 5 of my pregnancy} and set up shop. Now it's impossible not to notice their existence. And we are not friends.

When Addie was an infant I would occasionally find the energy for some yoga, pilates, really any activity that I could consider "active" while still lying on the floor. Let's face it, that first year you're exhausted. But after a year I had no more excuses, so I began to run.

Now, this act in itself is astonishing. To give you some insight, when I was in HS my gym teacher once told me the kid in the wheelchair ran faster than me. Even though she was a bitch, I had to agree with her. I hated running.

A year later I have run in eight 5ks, two 5-mile races and a half marathon. I have not even come CLOSE to winning any of them. But I haven't come in last either. And I have yet to fall down dead prior to the finish line... so that's a plus.

To increase my speed and performance my husband offered his {unsolicited} advice and insisted I needed some strength training.

Enter Neno Mora. Yep. Neno {knee-NO} Mora {More-ah}. My first thought, "I won't neno no mora after a workout with him". And this is the entire reason I signed up for the classes... because of my nerdy play on words. Luckily its been a good choice.

I only have three classes left. Then I have to come up with a new game plan. Hmmm... Oh and the pictures scattered throughout - that's just because she's so freakin cute.