E is for Exercise

Before I met my husband, my body was like this:

Notice it's normality and non-sexiness.


Then, I started dating J and within a few months I started gaining some weight.  I highlighted my problem areas for clarification:

Minus the arm and hand area.


And now, I find these problems with my new post-pregnancy body:

*I tried to leave my boobs out of it but now that I think of it, maybe they should have been circled, too.

I'll be honest. I lost all the weight I gained, but I do currently have the problem that my weight just accumulated in odd places. Which has led me to the horrible realization that I probably had to get off my cushy ass and move around a little bit.

I told myself once my six-week doctor visit, I would start working out because I didn't like how I felt when I looked in the mirror. But, of course, that time came and went with a whimper.

A few weeks ago, I saw an awesome 5k and actually wanted to do it. So, I round up a couple of friends and formed a team. In September, I'll be in D.C. (hopefully capable of doing a 5k.)

I'm in week 4 of  Couch to 5K and I actually... I can't believe I'm saying this... I like it.  I can't tell if it's because I have an awesome running mix or because I'm running outside but I'm digging it. Maybe because I feel better afterwards. Whatever it is, it's working. And I hope I keep on keepin' on. Because I really don't want to be winded when playing with my son. Or die young. Or worse, have him learn to sit around and be unhealthy.  I need to be the example.

 ::ugh::

D is for Daddy

I totally have to give it up to my husband. He is such a great father. A year before we were pregnant, he held his first baby. Held! I can't imagine the fear he must have felt when I told him I was pregnant. I was lucky, my sister had two babies when I was a teenager and I was able to grow up changing diapers and babysitting. But, J, he had no idea.  Poor guy.

He has quickly shaped up, though. Just a few months ago, it took him about 20 minutes to change a diaper and now, he doesn't even need me for anything. And neither does H when J is around. Two weekends ago, I was terribly sick and J had to step up for both days. I didn't want to touch anything H related so I just provided some advice when it was needed. By Sunday night, H would just stare at J. It made me jealous! It was like the first time H realized who J was to him. His very own Daddy. And what a Daddy at that.

C is for Choice (of Words)

At some point, the whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all" thing when out the window when it came to pregnant women. I don't know what it is about seeing a pregnant woman that gives others mouth vomit, but, boy, does it. Some of the choice things I heard was:

• Are you sure it's not twins? (Even after I had an ultrasound showing one baby)
• Turn around... yup, it's a girl, your ass got huge (It was a boy and my ass was always huge)
•  If you're this big now, wait until the end of your pregnancy (I was incredibly lucky and only gained 18 lbs.)
•  Are you tired? You look tired. (You might as well tell me "you look like shit!") 
•  You can't eat! You can't drink that! I hope you are exercising! (Thanks, Coach!)

You get the idea. And I'm sure there is other horrible stuff people said to me.  Now, every girl knows she will gain weight when she gets pregnant. But, when it's your first time, you have no idea how your body is going to respond to the pregnancy. Add that plus the additional hormones raging through ones body and you have the reason why women are crazy during pregnancy.

So, please, do everyone a favor. When you see a visibly pregnant woman (don't try guessing - make sure you are positive!) tell her "Congratulations!" or "You are certainly glowing!" or ---- nothing.

Believe me, silence is golden.

B is for Boners

Prepare yourself - boys get boners. Even baby boys.  My sweet, precious baby, who is 16 weeks old today (sigh) get boners. When it comes to H, I prefer to call them "diaper tents," I don't feel as creepy talking about it then.

I'll never forget the first time I dealt with it. He was two months old, I take his diaper off, and there it is. All proud and smug. Of course, I didn't believe it. But there I go, try pushing it down to clean him and it just pops back up, no problem. Now, if you come across this - duck and cover because diaper tents are not just any boners, they are pee boners. I have learned this the hard way. His pee shot straight up into the air down. Down all over him. Down the changing pad. Down the walls. Down me.

It's quite the shock when it first happens but you quickly get used to it. And thank your son, he has given you the gift of easy jokes.

A is for Acceptance

Acceptance. It's really bizarre how different my life has become since having the baby. When I look back before H, I seem like a different person. I was a great housewife and a drinker. (Not like alcoholic drinker, just a "I can party" drinker.)  And sometimes it's easy to get upset about how it used to be. Cleaning, cooking, taking care of myself; all of that stuff is secondary to taking care of H, obviously. It wasn't until recently where I accepted my life is different now. And it's not a bad thing.

He does nap (eventually) so the dishes can remain unwashed until then. The laundry can stay in the basket. And I can also ask the husband for help which is something I never really like to do. Too proud. Although, I'm getting the hang of it, I'm not a super woman.

Being a parent means being able to go with the flow. Mostly because parenthood is a ride. It has it's downs (nights out drinking are a thing of the past) but it has so many ups that you forget about the other stuff (H rolled over for the first time yesterday!) 

And that's what I have come to accept: let things go and just be.