Mathematical Mama

I love to run. Never in a million  years would I ever expect myself to write those words.  Especially when I was in highschool and we needed to run a 12 minute mile.  (Honestly. I'm pretty sure I cheated to pass the class.  The gym teacher would give us paper clips for every lap we completed, and I found one on the ground.) I HATED running.  H.A.T.E.D. It was dead to me. My little sister ran all thru college.  I found this out once she moved back in with my parents and ran everyday after work and would run 5 and 10k races locally.  She even finished a half marathon last October in 2 hours and 15 minutes.  She is a total rockstar! She was never the athletic one when we were growing up.  Knowing that she ran and was so good at it gave me hope that maybe I could get into it as well. After I was diagnosed with a DVT in February of 2010, I started running.  I had gotten to the point where I could run 2 miles without any breaks (not fast, mind you.  I was still running 15 minute mile

I have craft ADD. For real.  I have 2-5 started projects hanging either from crochet hooks or knitting needles shoved in a canvas bag in my living room.  A fuzzy scarf knitted on needles that are too small to make progress in the speed of my liking.  The scarf I started for my husband.  The practice pieces, including the crocheted circle and the knitted ribbing.  And that's just my yarn projects... (Thanks to the craft night that was hosted at the GTOC last Thursday, I can finally say I know how to purl stitch.) I think that's the reason I never succeeded in writing at all.  I would start a short story that was brewing in my head and end up rushing, summing up events instead of expounding detail.    Again with the ADD... can't even stay on a subject for very long. I want to knit like my Aunt.  I want to make hats and sweaters and purses and such.  I want to make clothes for myself and my kids and for gifts. I just wish I had the patience.

My daughter is almost 5 months old. I have to keep repeating this sentence as not to completely lose my mind or drop to the floor in a fit of sobs. I stepped on the scale today. The number that flashed back at me I haven't seen since days before Z was born. I'm a small 3 pounds away from my heaviest. Ever. Even while housing children in my womb. What brought on this need to check the scale? I caught a side view in the mirror after my shower today. And about threw up. Surely this could not be MY reflection! MY body has never been in this state, surely it could never. I started to think back on my last couple of weeks. The breathlessness after walking up and down the stairs to the basement. Once, only to restart the dryer, so I can't even blame it on the over-filled laundry basket that needed to come upstairs. The terrible for me but oh so wonderful food that I had been consuming. The California dip, spinach artichoke dip, the olive spread, the pizza, the ch