This morning I got up and decided to haul my sorry self upstairs to do some yoga. I took this prenatal yoga book out of the library in December and have so far used it 0 times and incurred $5 worth of overdue late fees when I forget to renew it. Anyway, so I got the yoga mat and a chair as recommended by the book and I plopped myself on the floor to get going.
I've always considered myself to be relatively strong and in decent shape. I don't exercise regularly, butI can still move my living room couch by myself. Actually, I might border on the freakishly strong. (sorry if my brother is reading this, he is laughing himself silly as he IS freakishly strong. it's genetic. my father once lifted a school bus. long story. but very true)
I've also been practicing yoga for probably about 7 or 8 years now pretty regularly. I like it. It has the fluidity of dance without the tights and crazy old french ladies who make you call them "Miss". Can anyone tell I took ballet class from age 4? Sometimes I'll be standing in my kitchen waiting for something to boil and realize I'm using the kitchen island as a barre and running through releve.
I'm reading through this book and thinking, "Gad! these are way too easy, how is this going to help me in anyway". Then I started to run the sequence. I can't do anything. I can't align anything properly and I can't hold the poses. My arms are weak and my posture is horrible. I actually started crying.
Two things can happen here. I can give up entirely and embrace my new being of gelatinous goo or I can try to do a little more everyday to regain some of my strength. I actually told my mother once that I didn't think she should be on a diet because moms were supposed to be fluffy. The fact that this woman hasn't murdered me is amazing, but does explain some of the tics. I have to somehow bridge the disconnect between who I am and what I think "mother" is supposed to be.
This is a long winded way of saying that I'm just not sure that I'm fit to be in charge of someone else's life. Let alone two lives. I can't even feed myself. Which brings on another rant...
WHAT C AN HAPPEN WHEN YOU KNOW TOO MUCH:
So I'm at 20 weeks which I happen to know is a big brain/nervous system developemental period. This is why synapses start firing. So, I should be eating all sorts of brain food. Fish and almonds and omega-3 cookies (oh, hmmm, maybe not so much of those) I am thinking of fighting Petey for his fish oil capsules. Am I eating these things? No. Of course not. The idea of consuming fish actually makes me puke a little in my mouth. and I LIKE fish. and it's lent. It's so easy to get. But the smell, the mere thought, is too much.
What am I eating? Here's yesterday's food tally:
Breakfast: (10:30am) 2 large bowls of frosted mini wheats
Lunch: (2:30pm) greek yogurt with fruit. but it was only a cup of yogurt.
Dinner: (5:30pm) Grilled cheese sandwhich and two spoonfulls of bean soup. Couldn't force the bean soup down so I ate ritz crackers with peanut butter instead. yum nutritious.
(10pm) H came home late so I made kung pao chicken and a salad in an attempt to eat again. I managed to force down 2 slices of avocado and a little lettuce from the salad but the smell of the chicken was a no-go.
Water consumption: 5 glasses.
Seriously? this is not enough food. but I'm just not hungry again and nothing appeals to me. I certainly wasn't going to grill myself a tilapia fillet and sprinkle it with almonds. I actually had a conversation with my own belly where I informed the twinlets that they were not going to be allowed to eat like this once they were outside. Then someone kicked me in the ribs.
And so, the title of this post is exactly what my poor children are destined to be if I don't do something to redeem this entire pregnancy and possibly my life.