So I got on a roll, and as usual things get all crazy. Allow me to explain…Our base school is less than desirable, yet our home, location, and proximity to family are all great. I applied for a school transfer for At-man and we were lucky enough to get it. The only downside is that since it is a year round school, he will start in a couple of weeks, much sooner than I had thought. And hows this for a slap in the face with reality…The bell rings at 7:45. SEVEN FORTY-FIVE!!!! The child doesn’t even wake up until 8:00 and even then it’s all about how tired he is, as if a day of transforming Optimus Prime from a robot to a truck and back again is really THAT taxing.

Having completed the period of having all life sucked out of me, I mean, my first trimester… and knowing that I will have to be getting up at the crack of dawn soon anyway, I have started to get up at 6:00 to workout. So far this is going great, however, by the time the kids go to bed I start to feel like my feet weigh 20lbs each and damn it’s hard to get up from their bed to hit the computer when you are the meat in a snuggle sandwich.

I was sure I would spend a bit of time online the last couple of nights only to have At-man come down with one of those special fever,vomiting AND a sore throat combos. I am now up to my armpits in laundry. Not to mention my favorite side note to any sickness where a child can only drink sprite. When you put Sprite in a sippy, it blows up and spills out everywhere. Those take and toss cups do it too. Either the kids spill it on their own, or it comes shooting out of their cups. I should have paid more attention in physics. I think all the moms who aced that class probably know just what type of spill proof cup to buy their kids for minimum soda spillage.

So between waking up at the crack of ass, washing sheets and cleaning up Sprite spillage, I am beat. I put Em to bed last night at 9:30 (I know it’s too late for a 2 year old but it is summer time) and I woke back up lying beside him at 11:30. There went another night. I crawled into my bed, had a bowl of Cookie Crisp and passed out. At 3 I was woken by Em who had crawled into bed and started coughing and kicking the H-E-double hockey sticks out of my back. I would be mad but he does have a cold, AND look how cute he is…

In addition to the guys being sick, I have been celebrating national appointments week by attempting to get my latest ultrasound, haircut, glucose test, doctor visit, and At-man’s teeth cleaned all within 4 days of each other. Here is the latest picture of my little girl…

I like this shot because she looks very dramatic. Just look at the way she has her little hand tossed up over her eye, almost as if to say…”OH MOTHER, I am so very weary of life on the inside…sigh…” then she looks away. If she has the drama down this good in utero, just imagine what she will be like come time for Jr. High.

Oh well, what started as a very well organized post in my mind has taken a turn once again underscoring the fact that I am currently incapable of clear thought. Please bare with me on that. Only 3 months to go…

I confess, I was not always a fitness nut. There was a time when I was more regimented about my after dinner drink schedule than my workouts, but after having a couple of kids it was obvious that my priorities had to change. Wanting to find both a release from the pressures of motherhood and a way to lose the post baby pounds, I thought I’d give running a try.

Like most women, I found that as soon as I committed myself I was “off and running” so to speak. I was feeling good, moving down dress sizes, sleeping great and then it happened. One day I just found that I didn’t feel like lacing up the old running shoes. In retrospect, it was all Paris Hilton’s fault. Alright, I know, it was my own fault. I had let myself fall into an exercise rut. Like so many of us fast out of the gate, I was heading straight for a wall. One day off became two and before you know it, I wasn’t far from where I started, not a happy place to be. What I needed was a way to fool myself into commitment. It was around this time I found it, the 5K.

Race For The Cure was coming up and I was ready. Why not? It’s only a little over 3 miles, it’s for a great cause, AND you get a free shirt. Not too shabby I thought. I signed up with a couple of friends and penciled the date on my calendar. “I am a racer”, cool…wow… WAIT! “I am a racer?” “What was I thinking?” Racers are all skinny and muscle -y. They eat tons of pasta and wear really little shorts. How could I EVER run in a real race? But there was no way out. My friends wouldn’t let me live it down if I canceled out on them now. I decided to do the only thing I could. Train.

I ran the next day and then the day after. There was no way I would be last. I will become a runner. Every day that I felt like rolling over under the covers and turning on the Today Show, I thought of myself, all red-faced, huffing and puffing my way toward the finish line dead last, and you know what? I would jump right out of bed and out the door I’d run. When we got to the race, I ran the whole time. I was a lot closer to the back than the front, but it didn’t matter. I had accomplished something besides wiping a 6 month olds bottom, and it felt GREAT! What in the world was I worried about? Why had no one told me about this before?

I signed right up for another, and then another, I just couldn’t stop. I bought a baby jogger so I could take my sons with me and now my husband joins us from time to time. What started as a way to trick myself into staying motivated has become a way to stay in shape, spend time with my family, and relieve stress. Not only have 5K’s changed me for the better, they also set a great example for my children. They are growing up to see that taking care of your health is an important commitment. As an added bonus, many races are held as fund raiser for non-profit organizations so they are also being exposed to different charities and learning about why it is important for people to help one another.

If you are trying to get into shape, or maybe lose some post baby pounds, think of road races as a great way to stay motivated. The average person who has never run a day in their life could still tackle a little over 3 miles in about an hour, not too bad. Many races also offer a one mile “fun run” if you want to test the water. Just think of it, daily inspiration to exercise, time with your husband and kids, helping others AND you will never be at a shortage for white t-shirts again! What other family activity can promise that?

I am trying to be better about taking an “Official” monthly belly picture. Since this is my last pregnancy I don’t want to go back and think I missed anything. With At-man, I didn’t even think to do this. With Em everything just flew by so fast we never had a chance. This time I have the mom thing down enough I can actually have an idea and follow through while pregnant.

I am also trying to get my head around the idea that I will actually have a daughter. Pray for me that I don’t screw this up. I don’t think I know a single woman who doesn’t blame her mother for one thing or another and the idea of being the target of such blame is terrifying. I already love her, I just don’t want to subconsciously fill her with body image issues, a fear of intimacy, low self esteem…you name it.

Boys are easy, they love mom. Sure all parents and children have their ups and downs, but I never hear mommy issues creeping into a conversation amongst men. I’d like to see it though. “It’s mommas fault I never made it to the NFL.” “Oh yeah, my mom told me Coors Light tastes like pee, how am I supposed to enjoy it now?!” I guess only time will tell.

It’s fun to enjoy them now though, just look at these guys.

A family of bellys. When they saw D taking my 6 month picture, they had to get in on it. There is nothing I can do to get a nice picture of them together and smiling AND looking into the camera, but when they saw the chance to pull up their shirts, both of their faces lit up. Don’t even dare me to suggest a little tummy flashing to get a decent smile in this years Christmas card picture. I’m so on it!

Pregnant brain and a bad case of Friday Afternoon Syndrome are not exactly conducive to writing a post but I just wanted to get this out before it melts into the hundred or so other lost items floating around in my head.

At-man came with me to the doctor today because he wanted to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I guess this post is just to remind myself when I am old and gray, of the look of total joy on his face when the doctor placed the dopler on my belly and he heard the first sounds of the baby swishing around in there. It was almost like he had formed an instant bond with his new sister. He had brought his real doctors stethoscope from home and my O.B. showed him where to put it so that he could check the baby himself. I have no idea if he really heard anything or not but he was so excited he was jumping all around the room. He has got to be one of the sweetest kids I have ever know, and I want to make sure I get that out so I can look back fondly upon this time 10 years from now when he is a sullen teenager who no longer wishes to be in the same room with me.

I think I have said that every age At-man has been so far has been my favorite. I love babies for being so soft and needy, toddlers cause they’re so damn cute but the thing about parenthood I most enjoy is watching the person they are becoming and so every year becomes my new fave. Em is so very 2 right now in every manner, shape and form of the word, and although he is so squishy and adorable and sweet (when he choses) and he is such a marshmallow, I hate to admit I am sort of looking forward to a time when he is capable of reason. At 5, At-man is able to understand the concept of “No dinner, then no dessert” and “If you want to watch a movie, all the toys must be put away”. He still has chubby cheeks and likes to snuggle, and isn’t afraid to call me Mommy in front of his friends yet. 5 kicks ass!

As you can see, pregnant brain, I have totally gone from a quick note to remind myself how sweet At-man was this morning and ended up in an ode’ to 5. Believe it or not, I actually aced the essay portion of my S.A.T.’s