Did I say he was well?

Poor Stephen.  I feel like I cursed him by writing a post about his health, because wouldn't you know it, now he's so miserably sick he can hardly stand it.  And it's all my fault.  Me and my dumb post.

Here's a little timeline:

Last Sunday -- I write about how healthy my hubby is.
Three days later -- Stephen cleans up a bleach spill under our bathroom sink.
Next morning -- He wakes up feeling like he has a sinus infection
That day -- We drive into the mountains for three days of seriously chilly camping, through most of which Stephen is dripping, sniffling, and shivering.
Sunday morning (yes, Father's Day) -- Stephen wakes up with a killer fever and stays in bed for one of the lamest Fathers' Days in the history of Fathers' Days. 
Yesterday -- The sickie talks to his doctor and confirms what he'd suspected: he got a chemical burn in his sinus lining while cleaning up that bleach.  I did not know that was even possible.
Today -- Another sick day, due to sleepless night and some seriously bloody snot.  What is going on with those sinuses?

Moral of the story = I will never write another post that includes the word "well" and any other family member in my household, lest the curse return.

Wellness Man

When Stephen and I were first married, and even after the birth of Benito, we loved to get outside and get moving together.  We'd go hiking, we'd play tennis, we'd play soccer, we'd take walks rather religiously, we'd play basketball, we'd even walk to places we needed to go.  We'd hoof it to the library, the grocery store, the post office, the park (which with only one child around does feel like a must-do), and restaurants.  You name it, we walked there.

Then came baby #2.  Our exhaustion increased, our energy decreased, and our desire to do anything beyond take care of our children's immediate needs all but disappeared.  Weeknight or weekend family exercise made way for more sedentary activities, and before you knew it the habit had been completely lost.  We still took the occasional hike or small walk, but it was nowhere as regular as it once had been.

Being a woman who was in and out of pregnancy and post-partum body fluctuations, I had to take matters into my own hands.  Thus began my on-again, off-again relationship with running.  Stephen, however, had a harder time fitting something regular into his routine.  We moved, he changed jobs, the church neighbors decided to throw a hissy fit over Saturday soccer on the back lawn, I had a demanding young women's calling, we had another kid, then he got an even more demanding bishopric calling, and his free time is now at its highest premium.  Finding time to work out seems more difficult than ever.

And yet, the desire remains.  Stephen is a naturally healthy person.  He eats well, he sleeps a lot, he does what he should.  So I know that not having a regular exercise regimen for the past four years has been hard on him.  Now comes the good part of this lengthy post: every spring Stanford has a campus-wide wellness program.  You get your cholesterol tested, you go on campus walks, you take a nutrition class, you learn more about good health, and they give you a fun little check at the end.  Nothing big, mind you, but enough to motivate a man like my husband.

Stephen has really taken matters into his own hands this year, deciding to spearhead the weekly HR walks, which get him out moving during his lunch hour at least twice a week.  He also faithfully wears a pedometer, something I'm ashamed to say I teased him about at first, to track his daily steps.  I've noticed him parking the car a little further away in parking lots, suggesting we walk places together, and he's definitely been more willing to play soccer out back with the boys lately.  He'll do anything to try and reach that goal of 10,000.  Speaking of soccer, it looks like church soccer will start up again on Saturday mornings, and with summer gardening in full swing, I'd say Wellness Man is back in the saddle again.  It's good to see him happily making exercise a priority, and he's definitely seeing the benefits.

Look who's two

The birthday cake is baking, the birthday girl is napping, and the birthday party at the grandparents' house is approaching. Meanwhile, the birthday girl's parents can't believe how fast our baby is becoming less and less of a baby.

Can it really be two years since she entered the world in her surprisingly gigantic glory? Well, we weren't too surprised after two other big babies, but the doctors who were "positive" she wouldn't weigh more than seven pounds sure got a shock when out rolled our 9 lb. 8 oz. butterball. Or two years since her calm, newborn spirit made both of us feel like we should toss out the names we'd been considering and go back to one we'd picked five years earlier (when we were so sure Bennett would be a girl)? Or two years since she turned her little head away from nursing to hear the music on a TV commercial we were watching in the hospital?  Or two years since she met her two crazy older brothers, who were quite honestly more excited to eat Stan's donuts than do anything else in that hospital room, including see their baby sister or hug their exhausted mom?

Amelia Jane, please stop growing up.  Right now.  That's an order.