Healthy Habits -- and a Happy Kid -- by Jamie

I was not a very active kid. I preferred cookies to cartwheels, and reading to running. And it showed: I was a rather chubby child, who struggled with a weight problem throughout much of my youth. It wasn’t until my mid-20s that I truly discovered the joys of exercise; I joined a boxing gym, and, as I strived to succeed in the sport, found my endorphins flowing, and my energy increasing. After just a few weeks of boxing, I set off on a quest to become stronger and faster and added running and weight training to my routine. Ultimately, my body became leaner, my heart grew healthier, and I became a gym-rat.

I’m known at my current gym as “the woman who worked out until the day she gave birth”—and it’s true: I exercised about 6 times a week throughout my pregnancy, and would have been at the gym on the day I went into labor, but I had an early OB/GYN appointment that day that deterred me; I gave birth that evening.

Soon after my C-section, I was out walking again, with Jayda strapped to my body in a Baby Bjorn, and I returned to the gym less than a month later. Exercise and eating healthfully are important to me…and I want them to be important to my child. But, as I know from my own experiences, you can’t force exercise on a kid if you want it to become a habit for her; instead, she has to enjoy it.

Like her mom, Jayda has a passion for sweet things. For a long time, I could get away with giving her fresh fruit, Greek yogurt with honey, or homemade zucchini-carrot bread as a treat. But of course, as Jayda grew, her grandparents, daycare friends, and our shopping forays introduced her to cupcakes, ice cream, candy, and other not-so-healthy snacks. I still try to limit Jayda’s treats, and make healthy substitutions whenever I can. (For example, one of Jayda’s favorite places is the “ice cream store” where, unbeknownst to her, we both eat low fat frozen yogurt.) However, since I don’t want to create an eating-disordered daughter and deny her all the foods her contemporaries are eating, I’ve been simply focusing on getting Jayda to exercise more, instead.

When Jayda was about 18 months old, I signed her up for a gymnastics class—and a year later, we’re still attending once a week. She loves it at The Little Gym, and 45 minutes of climbing, swinging, and running around are never enough for her. Weather-permitting, I take her to the playground after daycare as often as I can, and while sometimes she just wants to swing, and sit and watch the other kids play, other days, Jayda is a real little monkey, climbing the jungle gym and racing around in circles. Regardless, the playground is a place she looks forward to going to, and that’s what’s important.

Because my little girl has been begging me to go to “dance school” for months now, I’ve signed her up for a class in January, and she can’t stop talking about it. If dancing brings her as much joy as I think it will, she’ll be twirling around incessantly once class begins. Add to that the yoga class that Jayda’s daycare starting offering a few weeks ago (and which Jayda loves—and constantly practices at home), and it looks like my daughter is turning into a pretty active child. More importantly, she’s enjoying her activities every step of the way.

Recently, I began taking Jayda to my gym with me on the weekends; it has a free daycare center and she adores the woman who watches her there. As soon as she wakes up on Saturday mornings, Jayda asks me, “When is mommy going to exercise?” and “Can I come, too?!” Having a toddler who begs to go to the gym must mean I’m doing something right!

What Me Weary? by Jamie

People who know me are used to my complaints about Jayda waking up at 5 a.m. every day. But the fact is, pre-Jayda—before she was even a glimmer of an idea in my head—I awoke willingly before 5 every morning to go to the gym. I religiously devoted at least 10 hours a week to working out—hard—and I also worked full-time, did some additional freelance work, ate ridiculously “clean” (keeping myself at less than 10% body fat year-round), and still managed to go out on dates several times a week. I also suffered from insomnia, and rarely got more than 5-6 hours of sleep a night.

Fast-forward to my present-life. I still get to the gym 5-6 times a week, still eat very healthfully 90% of the time (though I allow myself to consume more food these days, and thus, carry a more reasonable amount of body fat), I rarely drink (and when I do, it’s just a well-savored glass of wine), and I currently work from home. However, lately, several times a week when I put Jayda to bed between 7:30 and 8 p.m., and I lay down beside her to rub her back, I wind up passing out with her (and am shocked when I look at the clock and discover it’s after midnight and I have to force myself up to go brush my teeth)! I also find myself looking forward to bedtime…and have no problem sleeping through the night—and for as long as Jayda will allow me. I even crave naps on the weekends—though Jayda never lets me take them. In short, now that I’m a mom, I’m tired!

I passed a recent physical with flying colors. And more often than not, people tell me I don’t look my age. So why am I so exhausted? I have a friend who is constantly chasing her bolting toddler through stores and restaurants; I rarely have that problem since Jayda generally doesn’t race away from me, and she never wanders far. Jayda’s not an overly-active kid—just a “normal” one. She’s also a fairly even-tempered child. She certainly has her share of tantrums, but I’ve met plenty of kids who are much harder to manage. And while Jayda is a ceaselessly curious child—always asking me questions and probing me to produce creative answers—that shouldn’t physically exhaust me…or should it?

Maybe it just comes down to one thing: Taking care of someone else requires a whole lot more energy than simply taking care of yourself. And while I’ve always had stress in my life (who doesn’t?), and I’ve always found ways to manage it, knowing that you’re solely responsible for the one person whom you love more than anyone and anything in the world is a stress like no other. And it’s the kind of stress that never goes away. I guess I just need to accept that…and get as much rest as I can. And while I do still plan to be 40 and fabulous this February, maybe I’ll just have to make sure I do it before 8 p.m.