I’ve totally failed at keeping up with the Iceland recap, but I am committed to finishing. I love going back and looking at this stuff later – I’ve just been swamped since we got home and haven’t had the time to sit and focus on it. I’m now (mostly and temporarily) unemployed, though, and can add 10+ hours to my days for a little while. I don’t start the PhD program until mid-August and am staying at my job just one day every other week (essentially so I can continue working with a few long-term clients and because I love it too much to just outright leave) – so I will have time, I hope. Soon.

I intentionally gave myself this break between working my FT hectic job and the start of school, but I’ve been super stressed about it since I made the decision. I don’t handle boredom well. Love me some structure and routine and stress. I had a running list of projects and other things to accomplish (to fill up my time) until I decided that I need to take the month to learn how to just BE. To exist without pressure. To have nothing on a list for a day … or a week. I need to learn how to not be anxious over free fucking time. For real. So the list is gone.

(Though I haven’t quite been able to erase the backup one in my head.)

So the big news?

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Mason (middle name Cade) was born at 11:57pm on 7/3/14. 7 pounds, 10.8 ounces. 2 weeks early.

We had been on baby watch for a while because Jon’s child #3 had been slightly dilated for a couple of weeks and her doctor had been telling her she was ready to go – so his somewhat early arrival wasn’t a surprise.

7/3 was my last FT day of work and I had been joking for a while that she needed to hold him in until I finished everything I needed to finish … and she did. She was being admitted to the hospital as I was wrapping up and leaving my office for the day.

She had the easiest birth experience ever, I think. She arrived at a doctor appointment for a regular check-up that afternoon and was at 6cm and having contractions (that she was unaware of). The doctor told her to walk around for an hour and come back to be rechecked. At that point, they walked her over to the hospital and got her all checked in.

We hung out with her all night and she was fine. Didn’t even seem uncomfortable. I think we were all hoping for a 4th of July baby, but the nurse checked her around 11pm and said she was ready to push – surprising all of us – so they got that ball rolling.

She said exercise is harder than what she had to do that night. Said she’s felt worse pain. Said it was “easy.” She had an epidural, so I guess that plus her age plus the fact that she’s in pretty good physical shape just afforded her a really simple birth? I don’t know. Everyone was sort of surprised that she seemed so unaffected. I’m just very glad everything went well.

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He is seriously the cutest baby ever.

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Jon’s child #3 is doing SO well. Breastfeeding got off to a great start, too.

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There’s been much debate about what we’ll be called – and there’s a story to be told here – but we’ve decided on Poppy and Sassy. It has grown on me. I’m embracing the uniqueness of it.

I joked to Jon that he’s already looking the part (in this picture) …

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… though I still can’t quite believe he’s a GRANDFATHER.

They’re going to be spending the week with her mother before coming home and I’m already anxious for them to get here.

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Have I mentioned that we’re doing another round of whole 30 shenanigans? It was Jon’s idea this time following the debauchery of Iceland (and of life, in general, lately), so I’ve been doing it along with him.

It actually hasn’t been much of an issue this time around because I haven’t been logging anything or obsessing (which is ALWAYS the problem). I’ve just been eating. It’s really not that far from my typical way of doing things. I’ve eliminated dairy and rice and white potatoes and the random restaurant indulgences I enjoy a couple (or few) times a week.

We’re on day 21, I think. The only time I really struggled was yesterday when I very seriously wanted to inhale a pizza and came thisclose to ordering one on the way home from the hospital. We had been up all night the night before because of Mason’s birth and had only slept about 3-4 hours before going back to the hospital – and had then spent all day with them. We left the hospital close to 8PM last night and I was just dying. Exhausted. Starving. We got home and I ate nearly half a container of dried apricots while Jon quickly cooked dinner listening to me whine and bitch the whole way.

I’m in it for the long haul, though, I guess.

Exercise-wise – things are the same. I’ve attempted to run here and there, but I didn’t join the summer session of my running group because I’ve just had too much going on the past month. Also? It’s blazing hot.

Barely made it 2M w/out dying (88 degrees didn't help!), but survived my 1st attempt in a couple months. #100happydays

I’m still doing at least 2 strength training sessions each week, though. And the dog walking, of course.

Gym happy! So much more fun with a friend. #100happydays

I’ve had so much going on and so many changes happening at once that I’m trying to do whatever I can to keep the emotional demons at bay. Best course of action I know is good nutrition, exercise and sleep.

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