another week

One of my student's dad's asked me how my energy was today. He saw me racing up the stairs, juggling a pile of papers, a bag of books and a line of children.
Great! I smiled. Well, except for those times I feel like I've been run over by a train.
We laughed and I kept on bustling. And that's just the way things seem to be rolling right now.

The intense swings of energy do amaze me. There are days when I pick up Els after a full work day only to pass her along to Jeff to head to the studio to teach class. And it feels totally fine. I bust through asanas and energize my students, all the while marveling at my ginormousness in the mirror, the muscles that still seem to work beneath those special new layers of padding. I come home and the two of them are caught up in some sweet game and the house is warm and happily chaotic.

And there are nights like tonight where I feel like I could have gone to bed at 5:30. Thankfully one of Eliana's new favorite games involves getting into my bed and playing nighttime, except she's the mommy and I'm the baby. The minute we close our eyes she whispers, cry, mama, cry! So I feign wail and she comes over and rubs my back and sings me songs. A lot of the game also involves numerous trips on her part from my bed to her room to retrieve an extensive number of babies who will help cheer me up. Thankfully for me, it involves hanging horizontal on my fabulous prego pillow, waiting for another goofy command from my little boss.

I had this realization the other day about this pregnancy. The first time through, it felt like such an insular experience. It was mine and it was Jeff's, but it really wasn't anyone elses. We hadn't become a family like that yet. There was still so much I didn't understand about that word.

This time it seems everyone who loves me, who loves us, is a part of this pregnancy. Of course Jeff. Of course Eliana. But there are the kids at school who incessantly ask me if I've picked a name yet (the other day they were so excited because they had proudly picked Mufasa for him). And the beautiful ladies who still come to yoga each week, still let me lead them through the flow of one breath to the next. My colleagues and the parents of my students who make kind, thoughtful, humorous comments bringing light and comfort to the whole gig.

So when I'm feeling guilty because I don't write to him in my journal every night like I did with Eliana, when I can't believe that I haven't attended a pre-natal anything class, that I've hardly cracked a prego book, I have to remember that this time is so very different.

Different and deep in a different way. Last weekend I left town with my girlfriends to celebrate Casey's numero dos. There was such depth, such wisdom in that group, a major part of it stemming from our collective roles as mothers. My friendships have altered so much since Eliana's been born. They are so real, so raw, so candid, so necessary. I love those women with my whole heart and feel totally myself in their presence. So little guy gets that. That strength and security. That nest.

How do I feel? This week I've felt tight. Like my skin has expanded and stretched to a new, uncomfortable dimension. My belly button is like a wild little alien, so stuck out, just begging to be commented upon. I remember reading something the first time around about women who put band-aids on their popped bellies. I remember having this very feminist, very how-dare-you-not-show-the-natural-beauty-of-it-all reaction to that notion. This time I kinda get it. Because sometimes you just want to go about your business and feel normal and be able to look in a mirror without your eyes instantly being drawn to that funny little nug smiling at you, reminding you how very different it all is.

Eliana and I are having a harder time fitting in the tub. But I'm holding firm to our evening rituals. I might not get as much of her as I want during the day, but the evenings are ours to cherish. Our baths are getting longer and longer, our games more elaborate. Eliana has this fascination with going to the doctor. My sister recently sent a big box of my nephew's old books and Eliana is holding strong to Mr. Rogers Goes to the Doctor and Bernstein Bear's, At the Doctor. Between the two titles (at multiple times each a day), we are pretty well-schooled in the doctors office scenario.

Tonight she was the doctor and Froggy, the sponge puppet, was the patient. She told him that she was going to use her otoscope to look at his eyes and nose. No joke. Then she told him that she had placed a clean white paper on the changing table. Froggy said, Don't you mean the examination table? And she said, Oh yeah, essamination. Essamination table with a clean white paper just for you, Froggy!

She is so full of pure love, pure life. Her Nana and PopPop arrived back in Missoula this week. Watching the three of them together is so beautiful. The love she has for them. The pure love they radiate for her. The extreme volume they are capable of producing together.

This week is an extra full one. My dad and Mary arrive tomorrow and then Hilary and all nine of her dancing ladies arrive for a performance later in the week. Just typing that out makes me take a deep breath. Because breaths really are key. My body isn't tolerating a lapse in breath. The Braxton-Hicks are kicking in and let me know when I haven't sat down, when I haven't had enough water. An awful leg cramp the other day reminded me that I hadn't had enough calcium. An urge to build myself a giant spinach salad at the Good Food Store reminded me that the greens hadn't been coming in the way they should. Pregnancy is so cool like that. I am infinitely appreciative of my body's ability to keep me in check.

I'm also appreciative of this time, alone, quiet, on a Friday night. While each day feels pretty monumental, there does feel like there's sufficient time to re-charge. Eliana loves her time at home with her parents, but also thrives on outings with her Grandparents, at the museum today with her little buddy and Kelly their babysitter. She doesn't seem to be suffering. And I guess the little man is doing pretty well too. So even in the thick of it all, they continue to grow and thrive and learn. Know they are loved, even if we have to take time apart.

Sooner than I know it this snow will melt. The irises and daffodils will shout, watch out! He's almost here. And I'll anticipate turning inward, bringing my attention wholly to this little family. To long, sweet, moment to moment days with one chatty little girl and her sweet, tiny little bruddah.