The mental break is needed. I know it won’t be a particularly restful vacation – how is it possible with 3 children, the youngest of whom enjoys waking up at the crack of dawn? But it will be a break from the daily grindhouse, of that I am sure.
It also means a small break from my half-marathon training. Yes, that is going quite well, but the long runs will take a small backseat over the next two weeks or so. I will aim to run 3-4 times a week regardless, they just won’t be more than 10k. I worry about losing momentum but I think I have developed a good base which should carry me through.
I hope to return from the lake with a rested mind. My patients need it. I need it.
I am sitting in a salon chair finally getting my hair done. It desperately needs some help and this was the only time I could fit it in. I
work this afternoon and then I am off for almost three weeks.
Three more hours of patient visits to go.
Three more hours of lab reports, consults and prescription renewals.
Three more hours of dealing with other people’s problems.
Yesterday I started to worry that I was getting depressed again. I suddenly just felt … I don’t know, I felt off. I felt like I just didn’t care about any of it anymore. I didn’t want to go home and face the chaos of trying to clean and pack and deal with the kids.
But then I got home and amongst the chaos and dirty faces and piles of laundry to fold, I felt immensely better. I was happy to be home. I can’t begin to describe how reassuring that was to feel. Despite the state of emergency that my house is currently in, I was happy to be home and in the middle of it.
I don’t need a break from my family, house or kids. I need a break from work.
It all started with a little television show called The X-Files. I was obsessed. Of course aliens are real and have been visiting our planet for decades! Of course the American government covered up the events in Roswell, New Mexico. Now, before my fellow physician colleagues out there call for a psych consult, let me be clear that I don’t really believe any of that. Sure, sometimes it’s nice to think that we, humans, are not alone in this vast universe, but I certainly don’t believe that we are being visited on a regular basis by other intelligent creatures from far away galaxies. Nor are select individuals being abducted from their homes and experimented on in spaceships. (Though, as an aside, have you ever been in an MRI machine? The bangs and clicks those machines make are startling similar to the sounds that abductees often describe. I’m just saying.) The concept of “We are not alone” is an intriguing one. One pervasive human trait is our fear of being alone. I think we pair bond for that reason (and of course to reproduce, but really I think, to avoid being alone). How can we be the only intelligent life in the universe? What makes us special? Was it happenstance? Divine intervention? A fluke?
Speaking of mish mash. On a trip to Montreal about 8 years ago, husband did some research on where to eat and what to do in the city. He found a little greasy spoon outside the city that had a wonderful reputation for something called the mish mash. Apparently this was the place to go to for a hangover breakfast. And that’s exactly what we did. The restaurant was called Cosmos. Run by a Greek family, the house specialty was the mish mash – fried mashed potatoes, bacon, sausage, eggs and anything else you wanted, all mashed up together. Seriously, it was one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had.
Shockingly, we found out a few years ago that Tony (top) was killed in his home, his son a suspect in the murder. So sad and tragic.
I started this blog in September, 2011. I was a month away from starting back to work after my second maternity leave. I felt like I had learned so much from experiencing pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum depression that I realized how much it helped make me a better doctor and wanted to share some of that experience. Little did I know that three and a half years later, I’d still be writing and would have close to 350 followers! It’s been fun being able to see where all my visitors are from. Some of you are thousands of miles away, others are just hop, skip and a jump from my back door, and some are from cities I’ve never heard of! Some of you are active contributors, others merely quiet observers.
There is nothing like leaving your children with their grandparents for a few days and having a relatively quiet house. The older two kids spent 3 days at my in-laws this week and despite the fact I still had to wake up with the baby, I slept in every day and felt relatively human again.
No doubt the kids got whatever they wanted – popsicles, freezies, cookies, crackers. I’m sure there were some healthy choices but let’s face it, what happens at Grandma’s stays at Grandma’s.
So the kids are back today and the reprogramming begins. Over the past few days, they’ve apparently forgotten how to say “please” and “thank you”. “I want” is back in their vocabulary. It’s kind of funny, actually. The same people who, 35 years ago insisted their children have proper manners, have decided its okay that their grandchildren behave like heathens. Boggles the mind, folks!
Still, time away from parents is a good thing. I always enjoyed the time I spent with my grandmother precisely because I could do whatever I wanted, eat whatever I wanted and watch as much TV as I wanted. Good times!
We had planned on taking the kids to the Museum today but it’s bitterly cold out and no one has time for that. As I write this, the kids are watching Sleeping Beauty for the hundredth time, playing with their Christmas toys. The house looks like a tornado came through (again!), so I best be signing off for now.
My FB feed today is full of comments about the weather. It’s a snowy, slushy mess today. It’s February, for heaven’s sake, what do people expect??
Hubby said this would be the perfect week to have gone south. I reminded him that indeed, 5 years ago this week, we were in Negril, Jamaica on our honeymoon.
We stayed at CoCo La Palm on the seven-mile beach.
Heaven. It was pure heaven.
I have been wanting to go back ever since we left. The locals were incredibly friendly, we loved how everyone was on “Jamaica time”. We’d order a Red Stripe and maybe it would arrive a half-hour later. So we quickly learned to order several at a time (ha!) so we were well stocked.
As I look out my office window today, the snow and slush make me want to get on a plane right now with the family and hit that beautiful beach again.
I think I am ready for winter to be over. We’ve had our fair share of snow and sleet. I want to see my tulips sprouting. I’d like to put my boots away. It’s time.
Yes, it’s that time again. The time that vacation ends and the real work begins. I probably shouldn’t complain too much as I am really only going back to work for a week because we have to close the office for a major renovation. Oops, did I just out myself? Meh … whatever.
As I write this, I am physically exhausted. After spending the morning watching the London 2012 Olympic Games (I’m a huge fan, did I mention that?), my husband and I took the kids for a long bike ride – 19.75km, in fact. Yep, not only am I running (my girlfriend and I cracked the 5km mark last week!), I am also biking almost 20 km!
What on earth has gotten in to me????
I almost don’t recognize myself. A month ago, I was feeling very lazy, un-fit, flabby and tired. While I still feel tired, I am feeling more energized than I have in a long time. Sure, my weight hasn’t changed much, but I do notice a subtle difference in the flab. The spare tire is deflating. The flab is toning. I have to pat myself on the back, I am so proud of myself for getting up off my ass and getting active.
Now that I am going back to work, the real job begins. Keeping up with my workout schedule.
I never really understood why people run. To me, running is hard. I’d much rather get on a stepper at a gym than run outside. I see a lot of patients in my office with various injuries from running. Though, I suppose being able to run is important in the event of a zombie apocalypse, right? Heaven knows, I can barely keep up with my toddler as she runs full tilt across the playground. It’s embarrassing, frankly. Disgraceful, actually.
I used to be in fairly good shape. Back in residency, I would go to the gym 3-4 times a week. My favourites were the stepper and the elliptical. Eventually I got brave and tried the treadmill. I think I could run up to 15-20 minutes on the treadmill when I was at my peak of fitness then. Quite an accomplishment! But then I moved back home, started working full-time and gym time became more and more difficult. Then I got pregnant, twice. Now, a year and change later, I am out of shape, huffing and puffing just getting up the stairs carrying my toddler. Enough is enough. I was all set to bite the bullet and get back to the gym when my husband suggested I just start running. This was a few months ago. So, I thought about it. Yup, that’s about all I did. I thought about running. Didn’t like the sound of it. Thus, I procrastinated a bit more.
Fast-forward to this month. It’s vacation. Daughter is in preschool 3 days a week and husband and I have free time with our son. I got the dust off my bike and hopped on. In the last two weeks we have gone out for about 5-6 bike rides. I can already feel my body craving more. My girlfriend invited me (again) to join her “boot camp” a few nights ago. I decided to go.
I loved it. Loved it. We ran 3 and 1 (3 minutes running, 1 minute walking) for 23 minutes. Then we did hills and in between hills we’d do abdominal work or leg work. I felt great at the end of the 1 hour and change we worked out. My friend showed us some yoga to stretch afterwards too. Those endorphins are awesome!
The next day? Every single muscle in my body was screaming at me. Everything hurt. At first it was “oh my god, I’ve injured myself” kind of hurt; later it became the “it feels good” kind of hurt. The day after that? Oh my goodness, it was even worse. That was today. Rather than sit on my butt and complain, I decided to contact my girlfriends to see if they wanted to go for a run. I know, crazy right???
Now, try not laugh. I ran (with a bit of walking) 3.36 km in 30 minutes. This is how I looked when we were done.
What’s even more crazy? I have a date to do it again in 2 days.
Yesterday, I got a sudden urge to clean house. Maybe it’s because we are going away for a week and I want to come home to a tidy house for once. We make valiant attempts at keeping a tidy house, but I honestly don’t know how people do it with children. As soon as I can say I’ve cleaned the kitchen, I turn around and it looks like a tornado hit it. Really? Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. Our garage is a disaster too. There is so much stuff in there, I’m not even sure what all of it is. There is lots of baby gear – swing, buzzy chair, playmate, bumbo – stuff that my son has now outgrown. I don’t think we were intentionally hanging on to it, it just kind of got forgotten.
Every other day, my husband and I have a discussion about a 3rd child. As much as I would love to have more kids, I have to think we are done with the two beautiful children we already have. I mean, why mess with perfection, right? (I jest.) When my son was born, everyone assumed we were done. After all, there we were with the million dollar family. (I’m still waiting for that million to appear in my bank account.) I remember clearly the day when my son was a few months old that I realized I was sad. Sad because deep down I think I already knew then that he was going to be my last child.
Recently a girlfriend of mine had her 3rd child. When I was visiting her in the hospital and holding her child, I briefly imagined what it would be like to have another. Suddenly I realized we’d need a bigger car – oh no, the dreaded minivan! We’d also need a bigger house, and the vacations we’re planning would be delayed another few years. Oh, and lets not forget that I’m fast approaching 40! (But that’s another post.)
So today, as part of my desire to clean house and purge, I gathered up all my maternity clothes and took them to the local Goodwill store. A friend of ours came by yesterday and picked up some of our baby gear, and the other stuff was taken off our curb within an hour of it being put out. And, not only am I purging the material stuff, I am also on a mission to purge the extra baby weight I’ve been carrying around since my daughter was born. I’ve started riding my bike this month and I am determined to join another friend in her weekly boot camp, starting tonight!