Friday, March 11, 2011

J is for Jumping Jacks

Before you wonder what kind of exercise I am doing, please don't fear.  I walk when I need to, do things around the house, but otherwise take it easy. 

Yes, I still worry that overdoing things will hurt the baby.  This is paranoia of the oddest kind.

I've babysat kids and helped raise nieces, so once he's born I will be fine.  It's this growing of a new person inside that makes me anxious about certain activities.

But while I'm not active, my son has decided that he needs to be in shape for his first marathon this Fall.

I joke about him having Restless Leg Syndrome, but mainly it's because I really never expected the type of movement I feel.  And while I've been proud of his thoughtful quiet time at night, that ended recently as well.  The jumping was happening every time I woke to make a bathroom run, and when the cat decided that I shouldn't be in bed past 7 on Saturday, the baby seemed to agree.

The Colonel has said that this is a sign of healthy baby, and so I encourage the jumping.  I've also taken to sitting next to A on the couch, with one of his hands on my bump, so he feels what I feel.  The reactions have gone from uncomfortable over the strange thing inside me to laughing about what it must be doing to my organs.

The best one:  The cat insisted on laying on me in the middle of a kicking session and got to feel it as well.  That face he made was the most classic thing ever, and almost had me peeing my pants....

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