A little ranty rant about post-pregnancy chub. Feel free to tell me to simmer down now.

I should be working out right now.

That phrase is pounding in my head any time I find myself with a minute to spare. Right now the kids are both taking a nap and this hour and a half of pure silence and bliss is pretty much the only opportunity I have to do whateva I wawnt. Do I take a nap? Mop the floor? Write a blog post? Well, if you could see the bags under my eyes and the state of my kitchen floor, you’d get a pretty good idea of which things I’ve been neglecting. You already know this blog hasn’t been feeling the love lately. I’m sorry, blog. You’re my redheaded step child. The thing I usually choose to do during this time is exercise.

Remember how I told you about the postpartum depression thing and how it made me all weird and zombie-mode and like, skinny? Good news! I don’t have that problem this time! I’m not skinny at all! Don’t get me wrong here, I’ve actually been feeling quite amazing the past few weeks and I’m so thankful I’m not going through that awfulness again. It’s been a completely different deal this time. The best word I can use to describe it is relaxed. The same drama is here again, but I just haven’t let it bother me. So yes, I’m enjoying every minute with this little guy and his sweet big sister and I wouldn’t change a thing about my life right now.

EXCEPT!

I have some excess chub. Okay, a lot of excess chub. I’m making an effort to be positive and kind to myself (hug a tree and sing Kumbaya with me) by not using the F word even though that’s how I really feel. For some reason I had it in my head that eating nachos every day of my pregnancy wouldn’t do my body any harm because, ‘Eh. It’s only 50 pounds. I lost that in 3 months before! Neener.”  Umm. Someone hand me my brass knuckles so I can punch skinny me in the head.

I clearly fell into the trap of eating poorly during the last year and am having a harder time getting rid of the extra pounds than I’d like. I know I sound crazy because it’s been 5 weeks since I had Jack. I KNOW. I’m eating healthy, exercising daily, drinking a crap ton of water and still. Nothing’s happeniiiiiiing.

Being relaxed and content is a very fine trade for PPD and I wouldn’t go back there if you gave me all the cute shoes in the world. It’s just a little discouraging, that’s all.

(My chubby ankles wouldn’t look good in those shoes anyway.)

(KIDDING.)

 

Baby #2 – Twenty One Weeks

This week has been nutso. My brain is hurty.

I went to Ikea with my Mom and Maddie, redecorated the living room, have been working on about a bagillion pinwheels in preparation for my friend’s baby shower this Saturday, and have been spending all the hours in between either working, making 8 thousand lists of things I need to do/buy/clean, or making crazy stressed out faces like this:

(I’m in a random Britney reference phase right now. Just go with it.)

In pregnancy news, I’m blah blah blah getting fatter blah. Remember when I was all, “Bring on the weight gain, baby! I’m not afraid of you!”?? Yeah, that was silly. I think the weight gain fairy has been paying me nightly visits, and instead of money under my pillow she’s leaving badonk. I swear, I wake up each morning and my butt is bigger than the day before. YIPPEE.

I’ll be back next week with some baby shower photos, a chipper attitude and some maternity spanx, cuz I be classy like that.

xo