Momercise

After two or three weeks worrying about the size and corresponding survival of my babies, a period of time when they slept more than ate, the twins decided to wake up. 

And eat. 

And eat. 

And eat. 

Which meant Peter and I lost the ability to sleep. And sleep. And sleep. 

There were nights, when we were feeding babies at 8:00 PM, 9:00, 10:30, 12:00, 1:00 ... you get the point. Round the clock. If one was sleeping, the other was eating. And just as I would settle back into bed, the other would wake up, grunt, poop, and want to eat more. Then I'd pump, do dishes, and try to go back to sleep, only to start the cycle again. 

The portrait of marital love and devotion became Peter and I, sitting side by side on the love seat in the nursery, heads back, eyes closed, bottle feeding and burping babies with the slightly soured smell of spit up misting the air.  

While the idea of napping with the babies is great, it becomes difficult with three other kids who want their activities to carry on: the soccer games, bike rides, school pictures, homework, block parties, playdates, dance classes, piano lessons, and of course pumpkin picking all vying for your attention.

 

 

(But I've got to say, in return, the three older ones have become great helpers.)

So I find sleep where I can. My body has a newfound ability to go into REM sleep for the 15 to 30 minute stretches I can afford. I've also been sleeping in a bit, going against the title of this blog. And I've frequently chosen sleep over exercise. 

I ask myself though, do I really need it given the hustle of mom life? There's a reason my grandma, a mother of eight, stayed so trim without a daily exercise regimen. Running after multiple children and keeping the house in order all day is definitely a work out. 

To illustrate, I've put together this 10-circuit 90-minute full body work out that starts at 6:30 AM for me. (yes, I consider that sleeping in.)  

Circuit 1: Arms and boobs: Arm raises holding four once bottles for fifteen minutes while pumping. 

Circuit 2: More arms and a little back. Burp babies, change babies, lay them back down. Repeat until everyone stops fussing.  

Circuit 3: Legs. Down the stairs, make coffee. Up the stairs, put a pacifier in. Down the stairs, set out breakfast, pack lunches. Up the stairs, Bobby can't find his sporty pants. Down the stairs, Margaret needs someone to sit with, draw face on Pumpkin and put next to her. Up the stairs, Mary doesn't want to wear tights, look through drawers for leggings. All the way down to basement, get laundry out of dryer, find sporty pants and leggings. Up the stairs, someone needs milk. Up the stairs again, finish getting Mary and Bobby dressed. Put a pacifier in. Down the stairs and breath. 

Circuit 4. Legs. Repeat above cause something obviously went wrong. 

Circuit 5. Dehydrate. Sip already cold cup of coffee. Energize. Eat a handful of Cheerios. 

Circuit 6. Full body. Wrestle Margaret out of her dance costume and into something she can wear to school. She doesn't like what you picked out. Repeat. 

Circuit 7. Back. Pull overflowing garbage bag of diapers out of pale and lug outside. 

Circuit 8. Abs. On hands and knees, scrub off jelly that has fallen on floor, been stepped in and then been smeared around the first floor on a pair of someone's tennis shoes. 

Circuit 9. Sprints. Up and down the stairs three more times because Bobby forgot his socks, Mary forgot her text book, and then Margaret forgot her purse, which you argue she doesn't need, wasting five valuable minutes of your morning.  

Circuit 10. Cool down. Lunches in back packs, fill water bottles, hugs, kisses, hoist children into mega automobile. 

And done. Breath.  

With all this said, something clicked this past weekend for the babies. They started to sleep 4-5 hours at a time and wake up in sync to eat. Peter and I slept. It was glorious. 

That same svelte Grandma that I mentioned used to say, 'this too shall pass.' In the moment, when you are suffering the tortuous pangs of not sleeping, it seems like it never will. That frustration will get the better of you. You cling to the invaluable help that you have, and remind yourself again that the moment is fleeting. 

 

The moment passed this weekend. And as it did, I went for a run.  

Lo.