It’s such a drag when you get a cold – especially after going for so long without one. But it hit me hard on Tuesday, and at several points I thought I might faint.
Does anyone else do this? Go in for physical activity because it seems the lesser of available evils? I took Charles and Buster for a walk on Tuesday afternoon, fever, chills, dizzy spells and all because I thought that if I hung around the house with them, the mayhem would be uncontrollable. After all, Tony was out that entire evening for a meeting, so I had to have some way to live through the chaos of a rambunctious almost-two-year-old and a crazy dog. It’s not so much that they’re all over the place (they are), tearing down toys, throwing stuff, begging for more food (dog and boy), it’s that Charles is getting big, and I just can’t handle picking him up all that much anymore. He weighs something like 33 or 34 pounds and my back hasn’t been in good shape for a long time. And he wants up ALL THE TIME. Up to look on the top shelf of the fridge, up to open the microwave for you, up to sit in your lap for a story. Up because I can’t get him to come my way for something and I need him to so he must be picked up or risk being dragged bodily across the pavement. And if he doesn’t go up when he wants to, or does go up when he doesn’t want to, the tantrums ensue. Totally normal, I’m told, as he tries to assert his will on the world. But a tantrum involves a time-out, which involves me picking him up and putting him in a timeout (I know some people have children who voluntarily go to time out. Charles is not one who submits to just punishment easily), which sort of defeats the purpose of not picking him up, you know? In the end, staying home = exhausting.
So I took them on a walk. And that’s when I realized that I probably shouldn’t have even driven to pick Charles up from the daycare, because man, was I drunk on cold virus. Was that walk a stupid thing to do? Probably, but the cold had moved from being a vile portent of doom to a lesser annoyance involving massive amounts of snot and a funny voice by the next morning. So my W/L record with mild exercise when sick is 1-0. We’ll see how this works out the next time I am sick.
Incidentally, my W/L record with exercise while hungover is 0-1. As a senior in college, a couple of friends and I lived off-campus in a nice little house in an old neighborhood with wobbly, old sidewalks, bulging with 50-year-old tree roots underneath (one of which ate into our sewer pipe within a month of us renting the house, causing the sewer to back up into the basement – it had apparently happened before, but the previous tenants didn’t see fit to report it to their landlord. I guess they liked living with the smell of the muck? And these people went to Whitman?). So, it was winter, and I’d partied the night before, likely at The Green or the Sig House, and I decided I needed to go for a run. Long, blue spandex under shorts (the blue spandex later had a second life in my Supergirl costume for the Beer Mile later that academic year), a sweatshirt, and a hat and I ventured out into the 25-degree weather. Only to bite it on the sidewalk a few blocks from the house. The gouge in my knee took four weeks to heal and went through an awful pussy, green stage that my poor mother had trouble looking at when I was home for Christmas break. I finished the run, though, because you don’t bleed very quickly when you’re freezing and dehydrated (the hangover cloud has its silver lining, too). I still have a scar.
So, yeah, I’ve been trying to get back into the fitness thing since Tuesday, but when my alarm rang at quarter to six this morning, I just turned it off. After all, I’m still recovering, right? The snot production part of my body seems to agree. But then I read this, and that part about endangering future children if I don’t get back to pre-pregnancy weight really has me freaked. I know I complain about my weight a bunch, but I have one of those bodies that is not very nice if it isn’t truly skinny – the weight I gain goes directly to my hips, butt, thighs, face, and now (thanks, Charles) stomach, leaving my boobs looking even punier by comparison. But besides the vanity (which I was totally able to forget while I was pregnant, only to learn from this article that Charles will probably battle obesity his entire life because I gained a bunch of weight during the first two trimesters, which you’re not supposed to do, and kept gaining for a total of 50lbs weight gain, OMG), now I have to worry about my future children? How unfair. I am currently researching diets. And motivators, because I truly lack the drive to get up any earlier than 7 am. What motivates you to get out of bed early? How did you lose the baby weight (if weight retained two years after the birth of said “baby” can even be classified as such)?
Also, I read this today, and it is something I feel strongly about. Think before naming your children! For goodness’ sake, at least check what the top ten names for the year are and try to avoid them… and please, please, please don’t name them after a Twilight character unless you are a 13-year-old girl whatiswrongwithyou!
There are a lot of parentheticals in this post (sorry about that).