WINTER SURVIVAL GUIDE

Growing up in California, "winter" was an entirely different concept to me than it is now.

During January of my freshman year of in college in the Pacific Northwest, we were just shy of breaking the historical record for most days of rain in a row (33 days in 1953) and I was thisclose to packing my bags and transferring to a southern California school, to trade my rain boots and down jacket in for sunscreen and swimsuits.

But I didn't and I'm glad I stayed. I ended up marrying a Pacific Northwest native, and we're here now with our little family.

When you're somewhere that wouldn't be your first choice, you have to make it your first choice. Here's how I survive winter in the Pacific Northwest:

1. I get outside even when it's cold. I have been terrible at this lately, but it's one of my goals for 2017 and motherhood in general; to get fresh air every day. Even just a few minutes can make such a change in my mindset.

2. I bundle myself. I just now, this year, bought a warm hat. (??) My husband thinks I'm crazy. I never really found a knit one I loved, but these are ethically made and cute. I've also been loving my double insulated jacket and have my eye on these boots.

3. I bundle the baby. I've written about winter gear for babies here, but got a few more items that are worth a mention:

This poncho is meant for babywearing, like with an Ergo, which is Trey's favorite mode of transportation currently and I happily oblige (hands free!), but it also works great as a car seat cover. I love that it comes with a detachable hood that can be used for facing in or out of a baby carrier. Something to note that I've learned recently is that typical down jackets (that buckle under the car seat straps and create bulk) can be dangerous for babies on the off chance they end up in a car accident and need those straps tight to work properly (article by the Car Seat Lady here) so the trick is to bundle them after they've been buckled in, to keep the straps as close to the body as possible, and also warm. This car seat cover does that, and so does this fleece one (if you don't need as warm of coverage as the down one). The arm slots on these help them stay on, instead of a typical blanket that falls off, and they are the grow-with-me sizing to last a few years. I'm also using this warm hat that covers the ears and these boots.

4. I make it a point to work out. I have definitely failed at this one. But I'm convinced endorphins could save the world, at least my little one. I'm trying to find ways to get my heart rate up in the winter when it's cold. I know many people who love their gym memberships, but I am a outside-running kind of girl, so I'm trying to get creative here.

5. I plan a trip. Every February we fly south like little snowbirds, on a purposeful trip to see my grandparents in Southern California and also to get some sun. It doesn't have to be expensive or lavish, many airlines have discounted fares this time of year. Even just having this on the calendar mid-winter is something to look forward to, and sitting by a pool soaking up Vitamin D for a weekend is just enough for me to make it to spring in one piece.

And of course, when all else fails, there's always more coffee and/or wine and maybe even a good old fashioned paper chain. Spring will be here before we know it.

Shared in partnership with 7am Enfant, the winter baby gear brand I love. Thanks for keeping us bundled.

LEARNING HOW TO MERGE

Pre-baby life and post-baby life sometimes look vastly different for me.

Pre-baby I did things like: curled my hair, had organized closets, made dinner, showered regularly.

Post-baby I do things like: compare the safety ratings of car seats, run out of dry shampoo and laundry detergent more often, shop for the baby instead of myself, and play and laugh more than ever.

Sometimes my pre-baby life feels like a lifetime ago, and in some ways, it is. But this new version of my life and myself has so much more to offer, creating something even better than before.

I used to be a runner. I loved to run. Running and group exercise classes are my top two favorite forms of exercise.

But I have an 8 month old baby and I just now got a jogging stroller. I have no idea what took me so long to make this happen. Sometimes you're so in something that you can't really see clearly, you know?

I think the first bit of motherhood was like this for me. But now, at 8 months postpartum, in the middle of winter in the northwest, I have a jogging stroller. The timing seems simultaneously odd and perfect.

Because there are some things from my pre-baby life that are too good to leave behind. Things like self-care, exercise, and endorphins. These are the kinds of things I want to bring with me into this new self that I'm becoming, as I begin to merge my old life with the new.

Running is one of those things that feels like it's at the core of who I am. I ran my first 5k at age 12 and have ran many races since, including three half marathons, (which is the longest distance I will likely ever desire to run thankyouverymuch) but it's enough and so much more for me.

I feel like myself when I run, and as a new mom, sometimes I just need that little reminder. That even though I have this new identity as a mom, at the core of it I'm still me. The me who loves to run and read and write and design. The me who is all those things and a mom. Not one or the other.

Babies demand a lot, and it's a good thing to give into that, giving up sleep and time and priorities for now, but it's also good to hold onto a few things that are non-negotiables. For me that looks like taking care of myself so that I can best take care of my baby. I can only pour out all my love, time, patience and attention when I'm filled up first. Running is one way that I'm trying to do more of that.

Stroller pictured is by Thule (too-lee), the trusted outdoor gear brand, and this post is shared in partnership with them.  Originally I chose this stroller because of the Baby Gear Lab jogging stroller review here, and while I absolutely love it for running, I was surprised at how great it also performed as a day-to-day stroller. It's lighter than the Bob or Nuna, the straps click in much more easily, and the three wheel design instead of four is a game changer in terms of maneuverability (and as a bonus it's the least expensive compared to the other two by a landslide). If I was doing it all over again I would just have this stroller as my main one, plus the car seat attachment for the first few months. Truly a great buy.

THINGS I HEARD WHILE PREGNANT

Photo: Meredith Bacon

I stumbled on this blog post recently, written while I was Very Pregnant. I never published it at the time, and then I had a baby, and then 6 months later here we are, but I loved the words and the message and wanted to share it.

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I didn't start showing until very late in my pregnancy (thank you, first baby) and no one even mentioned or commented on my pregnancy publicly until I was about 28 weeks along.

At first it was pretty innocent, mostly "Congratulations! How are you feeling?" Or, "When are you due? Do you know what you're having?" followed by mostly sweet stories of their own pregnancies, or if I was really lucky, their horrible/dramatic/awful birth stories, and other pleasant, encouraging things to tell an expectant mother.

Around 30 weeks, the comments started to shift from people sharing their own stories to their thoughts on how I was doing as a pregnant person.

All in the same week I heard: "Oh my gosh you're so BIG!" and two separate instances of "How far along are you?" And when I'd answer, they'd follow up with a "Oh wow, you look so much farther along than that!"

Oh wow is right.

My sister in law told me the only appropriate response in that situation is, "Thanks! You too!"

I was shocked, and truthfully, very unsure of how to respond.

Do I agree? Disagree? Blame it on a big lunch/lots of water/pregnancy bloat/etc etc, or share that actually, I feel even bigger than I look (which is obviously whale-status and maybe not even possible considering the level of commentary I was receiving)? Or do I simply confirm the small detail that I was, in fact, pregnant?

I was dumbfounded.

I developed a strategy for whenever I heard strange comments (and there were many). I'd immediately smile and/or laugh, graciously deflect and say "I knowwww!" (why was I trying to make them feel better?) and attempt to shift the conversation as quickly as I could. A part of me just really wanted to respond with, "I'm actually not 29 weeks like I just said, I'm 42 weeks! I'm like, totally overdue and am actually on my way to the hospital right now to deliver triplets!"

I felt like I needed a statement that extreme because it was the only way I could rationalize how BIG I was - surely I wasn't just carrying one child, surely I wasn't that few weeks along.

But yes, it was only one child.

And yes, I was that "few" weeks along.

It was so strange to me that suddenly, it was acceptable for anyone - friends/strangers/family/my grocery store clerk to comment on the size of my body, of all things, and not just a neutral comment, but on how large I was. This is still totally bizarre to me and I can't think of any other situation in life when people feel that it is ok to comment on how alarming your body size is, to your face, publicly.

After looking back and chatting with friends, I realize this is just kind of what comes with the territory of being pregnant. By some stroke of luck, I ended up with a fast metabolism and come from a thin framed family, which I realize is like winning the lottery for some women who would give anything for my jean size. I remember the feeling of being "too big" though, and the comments that came with it. During that time it was hard for me to remember the purpose of being so large: that my body was growing me a healthy baby. The shocking and off-handed comments were a glimpse into the shame-land that so many women live in daily, and a sad distraction from all the good my body was doing for me.

The appropriate response to someone who is Very Pregnant is this: "You look beautiful. Congratulations." Anything else is unhelpful at best and scarring at worst. Our words are powerful; let's make sure we choose them wisely.