Deep Winter

Marko got it first on Saturday, then Laurel on Sunday. By Sunday evening, M had it too, and I got it shortly after. Monday became a sick day for all four of us, lounging around in our pajamas and watching 8 hours of television. We occasionally staggered into the kitchen for ginger ale and pedialyte. It snowed again, so M made his way outside to clear the sidewalks. Laurel, who was feeling better, thought this was great fun, unlimited tv and no chores. I realized we have very few baby holding devices to strap Marko into. He's mostly free range, which works fine, unless both parents keep laying down "for just a minute, I just need a minute."

I went to a complimentary personal fitness session at our gym on Sunday afternoon, where the trainer ran me through all sorts of foreign motions...burpees and push ups and leaping up onto a board and then back down again. She measured my body fat and declared it to be "not good, but not terrible."

"I'm still breastfeeding my son," I told her. She stared at me for a second and then wrote down a number. My new body fat percentage goal.

She launched into a series of questions about my previous fitness goals and why I had failed to reach them. Then she asked me about upcoming class reunions. Bikinis in the summer, and so forth. She asked me what sort of exercise I enjoy doing. "I like to walk," I said, without hesitation, "Really, really far."The session ended poorly, with my fitness goals not really lining up with their sales pitch, but I was happy to have learned a few new exercises along the way.

Still, I regretted the entire thing the next day, when I woke up after vomiting half the night and was incredibly sore. Combine the hit-by-a-truck flu feeling with too many burpees and...wow. I couldn't even move.

But all things considered, it wasn't a bad day of snuggles and stories and watching the snow fall from inside our cozy house.