*I* Am The Mother - DELETED!

This is the type of post I will more than likely delete later....

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And as predicted, I deleted it. I have talked with Matt a lot about it, which simply talking helps, and it helps that he is on my side, of course. There are many things I love about her and many, many positives. This is nothing I can't handle, but still, it doesn't have to be ignored either. I think if I communicate properly next time, everything will work out. I'll let you know.

Thank you for your comments.

TG - I do understand that we will always be "the kids", and being a parent myself now, I understand that concept even more than before. I also respect the fact that she is a very strong woman...

Janel - Thank you. That's what it is - "annoying" - and it's not the end of the world. Although I don't act out in her presence, I do need to find better ways to handle it. It shouldn't eat at me like that.

As far as both of the people in my story, I have to realize that they both have their own set of issues and there are reasons they do this. They both feel insecure for different reasons, and I understand why. They shouldn't feel insecure, but sometimes, one can't help it when put in certain situations (one having to do with proximity and relation, and the other having to do with marital status and general loneliness and depression).

So...there you go. I am as understanding as freaking ever. :)

I don't care what anyone says...

...but is is tough finding time to exercise properly when you have a child.

I am not talking about using the fact that you have a child as an excuse not to exercise. It can be done. I'm just saying all things being equal, it is way tougher to find time to work out if you have a child than if not. I should add in particular that I'm talking about babies really. Mine is 19 months old. I can't say yet if it is more difficult if one has older children.

I speak from experience. I was without child for more than 10 years after I got married. Without a baby, really, I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. My husband was/is not an obstacle at all, as he is generally supportive of most of my endeavors. Besides, he was working 2nd shift (i.e. I was alone from 5 pm to 2 am nightly), so I had all kinds of time to myself - to exercise, sing karaoke, perform rock operas in my living room - whatever!

I am not complaining. I LOVE being a mom and having a son, and I don't miss my past life and don't want it any other way. I am only comparing my life pre-child versus post-child when it comes to working out....and as I said, all things being equal, it is way more difficult to find the time. That is, if you want to be a good mom.

I could ignore my kid and do what I want to do, but I don't want to do that. A big part of this problem is that I work 40 hours a week outside the home. So I really want to spend time with him...as much time as possible, when I am home. That, to me, is more important than getting a workout in.

I know it's important to keep my own health up, too, for the sake of my son, and I'm still doing that. But damn...if time is tight, and I have a choice of working out for an hour versus playing with my baby after not seeing him all day, you are damn right that I am playing with the baby.

In some ways, being a SAHM might be harder, but I know I'd get my workouts in if I was one, and I'd get a heck a lot more stuff down around the house, too. For one thing, my mom can watch the baby one day a week so that would buy me some time. Also, at this writing, baby sleeps for 2-4 hours in the afternoon, so I get stuff done then on weekends (if I don't crash), so I know I could do it on week days, too.

Right now, all I do is work all day then take care of my family on week days, with barely anything extra home-wise on weekends. My household management has gone to hell in a hand basket. I literally don't have the time! And I'm not even watching much TV or wasting my time in ways like that. We end up having the same Netflix movies for months due to the lack of time, in fact. I don't have much time for the computer either...I have to schedule it in if I want to indulge.

My wanting to spend time with baby has nothing to do with my husband helping or not helping either. He helps. I am just really attached to the little guy (baby, not husband. He's not little. So he likes to think), and I want to keep it that way.

This is one of those things that I was wrong about pre-motherhood. I thought moms were just making all kinds of excuses and were lame. But now I understand (and the list of things I "understand" now goes on and on...you really CANNOT judge ANYONE unless you've lived their lives...it's true. And since you will never live someone else's life directly, you can never judge.).

That said...I am still getting my workouts in (although it may not be absolute perfection like I aspired to pre-baby), and having children is still not a good excuse for not exercising at all. I'm just saying, it is a lot harder than it was when it was just me I had to think about.

And I just have one child. I can't imagine 5, or having 3 below the age of 5, or anything like that. I would think it would be damn near impossible if that were the case, whether you are a SAHM or not.

Now, as my son gets older and becomes not so dependent on me for his every need (and in fact wants me to get out of his face which will be duly noted by the "KEEP OUT" sign on his bedroom door) , I would imagine it'll get easier to get my time in. Unless of course I'm spending all my spare time running around to soccer games and practice.

In conclusion, I don't care what anyone says, it is way harder to find any kind of me time, let alone to work out, for an hour if you have a 19-month old son versus having no kids at all. It can be done, but it takes a lot more planning and energy and resources. Everyone should respect that fact.

Full Circle

I was starting to re-read my previous entry b/c I haven't been back here in a while. Geesh...I can't believe I had the nerve to write some of that crap. Oh well. Gotta accept who I am.

But it's funny, as I am writing something, I think it's the greatest thing ever (sometimes). I re-read it a month later, and I think, gawd, what a freaking dumb ass. It's like hearing your voice on a tape recorder; it makes you flinch a little. ( Do they still make tape recorders btw? Or cassette tapes for that matter?) Anyway, that's why I delete my blogs from time to time. Part of the reason.

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Back to the topic at hand. I had an interesting, "first". A first for a mother, something I'm thinking most moms experience. At least I hope so for the sake of my sanity (explained more at the end of this).

My dad likes to rehash old stories into the ground. What dad doesn't do that? Many of his stories involve me, being that I'm an only child. Some of them are downright humiliating, like the story of how when I was six, I lost control of my hippee flower-laden banana-seat bicycle (a hand-me-down) going down a steep hill and a curve, and totally wiped out. My dad was behind me on his bike. He laughs about it to this day. It's not funny! :)

Another story involves making me feel guilty for something I did to my dad when I was 3 or 4 years old. My grandma babysat me daily while Mom worked and Dad was in school. I was really close to this grandma, all the way until when she died when I was 16 years old. [She was only 56 (breast cancer).]

Dad came to pick me up one day, and I did not want to go with him. I started crying. I was basically a good kid, so I did not throw an all out hissy fit, I don't think. But I did cry, and I probably whined that I wanted to stay with Grandma.

Well, I hurt my dad's feelings. He clammed up, seemed mad, and went storming back to his car. Actually, I was in my grandma's room on the bed crying, so I didn't see him leave. My grandma, who by all accounts was genuinely a good person through and through, came to me and said, "I think you hurt your daddy's feelings, Karla. He just left. You better go and chase him down before he leaves." (btw, my dad at the time was all of 25 years old.)

I immediately felt bad and guilty (as a 3 year old!) , and didn't like the idea of my dad abandoning me there after all, and so I ran after my dad. I caught him in time, but he would not talk to me all the way home.

He eventually forgave me, probably that day, I don't really remember, but he brings it up all the damn time ever since then. I felt guilty and sad about it for years. It was only VERY recently after some self-discovery that I can forgive myself for this atrocity because I was ONLY THREE (OR MAYBE FOUR) YEARS OLD!!!! I KNEW NOT WHAT I DID! C'MON!

Besides, I think my dad only brings it up all the time b/c he still must need reassurance that I love him. Mind you, he doesn't bring it up in a hateful tone. It's just a "remember that one time..." story. In fact, I think *he* might feel bad for reacting to me the way he did when I was 3. HE was the adult.

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WHICH BRINGS ME FULL CIRCLE:

My 14 mo. old son is pretty attached to me, although I would not describe him as overly attached. He doesn't cling to me all the time. He is generally happy to see me. He is very lovable and likes to hug and cuddle and kiss, IF he feels like it. If he's busy playing or whatnot, he's not going to hug for very long. And that is perfectly okay.

Particularly, if he hasn't seen me for a while, he will run up to me, jump up and down intermittently on each foot (running in place sort of), and raise his arms for me to pick him up. If I were to try to leave without him in that situation, he'd be very upset. I don't want him to be too attached, and he rarely gets that crazy about me picking him up. Only the first time after not seeing me all day will he *sometimes* do that. And I must admit, it tugs at my heartstrings just a bit that he is so happy to see me.

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My husband usually picks him up from daycare. The other day, I picked him from daycare.

So I go inside to get him....and....

He doesn't want to leave with me. Not at all.

He just clings to the caregiver like I'm the devil or something. When I finally pulled him off of her, he was crying a lot in his "NO! I don't want that" way, and he was putting his arms out for her to take him back from me. He was not screaming bloody murder or anything, and once we were walking out to the car, he seemed fine. But I gotta tell ya, I was a little heartbroken.

I did not react like my dad when he was 25 (had I been 25, I may have done the same thing; as it is, I'm 37). I acted completely normal on the outside. I didn't force myself on him, other than having to carry him to my car. I mean, I didn't smother him in hugs or kisses. I simply talked to him in normal tones and pointed things out to him and sang to him as we drove. The usual as far as outside appearances. But inside, I was hurting.

It's not HIS fault. Of course not. And it's not personal. I know all this. It hurt me just the same. Or rather, I felt sad. I know it's not logical or right to feel this way, but I felt it nonetheless.

I know kids do this and their moods change daily, hourly, by the minute. I just did NOT expect it. It was so all of a sudden! He was so happy to see me just the day before!

I dwell on things...and I started to wonder later if I was a bad mom. I wondered if when I went to get him out of his crib the next morning, he would start screaming and not want me.

Of course, he didn't. And since then, things have been back to normal, although I have not had to pick him up lately. I pick him up today though, so we'll see how it goes.

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Now I know exactly how my dad felt. It's a little stab in the heart. A little betrayal. It's not the little guy's fault. But man, if your baby doesn't want you, at least the first time, it's a bit of a shock. I do feel a sort of closure with regards to that story with my dad though, and closer to my dad because of it. An "Ah! So *that's* what he meant" feeling, as happens so often to us as we grow up and re-live our parents' lives.

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You know, now a few days later, I learned something from this. And that is, I cannot place all my value on any one person, not even my darling son.

I've overcome most of my demons from the past, all my fucked up ways of thinking. One of my bad habits though was totally relying on someone to love me. If that person didn't love me, I was not a complete person. I couldn't function.

First it was my parents. And then my husband. Ah...my poor husband and the burden I put on him. No one can make someone else completely happy. That person really has to be happy with himself/herself first. It took me years to realize this. And I think I finally did/do get it with regards to my husband.

I think the demon resurfaced though with my son. Unknowingly, I think I was a little too in love with the little guy and I was putting ALL my love and self-worth into him. I knew, or thought, his love for now was unconditional. I knew I could always rely on him to love me and that I would always be a good mom. Not like a husband (sorry husband)...who argues with you and criticizes you and is emotional or emotionally unavailable from time to time (Read: they are HUMAN).

The pain I felt that day made me realize that I was wrong. I should NOT feel betrayed. I SHOULD be more logical about it. Just b/c baby is having an off day does not mean he doesn't love me. And so what...if he has days he doesn't love me...(or thinks he doesn't), it does not mean I am a bad person or a bad mom. And I am still loved. Why is it so hard for people to accept this, people that are like me? I want to say, "ME? No, I'm not really loved. Couldn't be.", but I totally am. :)

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This was every reaction to how I was feeling that day. I've written it all. I kept 95% of it inside me. It wasn't like I went berserk that day.

I did try to share with hubby. He does not understand, and was getting sort of mad at me. He kept saying pretty harshly: "That's just not LOGICAL! How do you think baby feels??? You cannot react this way!" (again, I was very calm when I told him this and not hysterical, although a bit hurt and sad). When I said all I wanted was empathy, he replied in a very, again harsh, and sarcastic tone: "Well, now you know how *I* feel all the time. How's THAT for your empathy?". [I love him, but sometimes he is not very nice. I cannot talk to him about how I am feeling sometimes, which makes me sad in a way.]

So...here I am. A new lesson in motherhood. Not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but definitely an interesting and very new feeling.

It Finally Has Hit The Fan

Well, yesterday when I got home after work, I encountered a series of catastrophes.

I planned on doing my cardio workout right after work since I could not do it in the morning. But the minute I walked in the house, I smelled shit. Hubby was outside when I got home, and he came in with me, and asked, "WHAT IS THAT SMELL??". Dog shit? Cat shit? Shit on the dog from her rolling in random duck or deer shit? And I mean, the ENTIRE house REEKED in epic proportions. It was like someone died and was buried under the house (I would imagine). If I had been pregnant, I would have immediately hurled. I was gagging pretty badly as it was. It was a horrible, indescribable smell.

A short inspection through the house led us to her dog cage, where she had explosive diarrhea all over the cage. Oh. My. God. Disgusting. So the next hour or so was spent cleaning her and the cage and the carpet up. Just what I wanted to do right after work. No, I didn't want to play with my son or get my workout out of the way. I wanted to clean dog shit up. And runny gross shit, too. I really want to get rid of the dog now b/c she is nothing but a pain in the ass. We just don't give her the attention she deserves, and I don't want to deal with her, frankly. Never thought I'd say that, but a baby changes everything.

Lesson of the day: Don't feed your dog the leftover bone from your t-bone steak. I think that's what made her sick. I found a huge chunk of the bone within the shit. I also gave her a little bit of my enchilada, and there were a bunch of olives in the shit, too. So one of the two, or a combo of the two, since she will eat as much people food as you give her, was the culprit.

We had been doing so good not giving her people food. But then after baby, we started feeling guilty for not giving her as much attention, so I think we started giving her scraps b/c subconsciously that made us feel better. Or maybe consciously. Whatever. No more though.

At least she went in her cage. Only a little bit of it, relatively speaking, got on the carpet. I'm actually surprised she picked her cage, since dogs don't usually do that - they don't choose to poop in their "haven" (and the cage was open so she had free reign of the house).

Oh, and then after all that, the baby had a massive out of diaper poop experience that I had to deal with by myself while Hubby was finishing off the dog doo mess. Not diarrhea, but all over the place poop.

And then the cat puked on the carpet, or rather, regurgitated her inhaled cat food. I went downstairs to get cleaning supplies, and by the time I got back upstairs, she had re-eaten half of it. Lovely.

Animal excrement - what I always wanted my life at home to be about after a hard day's work.


P.S. Oh, and I did get my cardio in in-between all the shit. Yay for me.

I could be buff if I wanted to...

My husband and I have a tendency to be negative at times, and we feed off each other with that. We can really dig a hole of negativity and bury ourselves in it when we feel like it. We also tend to lean towards thinking that people are out to intentionally fuck with us, and that God and Fate hate us. The worse one of us is, the worse the other is, and it really wears us down. We enjoy talking about it a little too much, with a lot of fuck that and fuck them and fuck that's...which is funny at first, but then you know, it gets to be self-defeating.

At the same time, we feed off each other's positivity as well. We will never be the do-gooder type of bubbly happy happy joy joy silly folk. However, we could be happier. And many times, we are. It's a challenge when one of us is feeling negative for the other to be positive.

Matt and I are lucky in so many ways. God and Fate don't really hate us. The biggest blessing is Baby Jude. The chances of us having a child were zero to none, so we were told. We tried in-vitro on a whim, not really sure if it would work, and the odds were against us. We prayed and prayed and prayed, and asked family and friends to pray for us, too. Praying is very unlike Matt & I, but we really wanted the power of positive thinking in this case to work for us. We truly believed in the cause.

And it worked. We have our Baby Jude. I STILL cannot believe it. How could we ever question our fate again? Or God? Seriously. We are as born-again as we are going to get. I thank God every day. I'm not sure if we even deserved this blessing. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it did. We are forever changed.

On a way, way less serious note: Another blessing for Matt & I is our body types. We are both thin. We can eat crap, and remain relatively thin.

I am into fitness, and I see people struggle with their weight and body type and eating habits every day. I'd like to say I'm a great person, but I'm really not. Matt & I are blessed with good genetics when it comes to fat ratios. We're just not fat! We do happen to be very active, but it's not really a choice we make. We just are. Well, I guess it is a choice. Or is it? It's a debate really. It's not like we say "we really should get up off our asses". We both are the type who don't mind parking far away in a parking lot. Walking doesn't kill us. And I see others circle and circle until they get that close spot, and they are usually overweight. And you can't use having kids as an excuse. We bring Jude all the time. He doesn't care if we park far away.

Here's the downside to our body type genetics: We both have so much more potential. We could both be really buff and cut individuals. But we think so much alike. We are minimalists. We're thin, people tell us we look good, so why bother with the extra mile crap? Matt's doctor just told him the other day that he is healthy and needs to do exactly what he is doing, and Matt hasn't worked out in 3 weeks and eats his fair share of crap!

I am doing the minimum in workouts and eating about 85% clean, but I wear a size 4, people are pissed b/c I'm not fat post-baby...knowing all that and knowing I'm not giving 100% as it is...what is my incentive? I'm getting by on the minimum.

Matt & I both have this roadblock. We are underachievers in our jobs and in this. It's like we get really close to achieving and overachieving, and then we stop ourselves and stay below that line. Why is this? It's like it's just too easy.

Now, after having baby, I have cut myself some slack with my first BFL challenge. I think it's okay for me to just go along while I figure out my schedule, and while I'm still nursing. I could really look and feel so much better. I am longing to go that extra mile my next challenge, and really push myself. I think I could be killer if I really pushed myself. I think I could achieve what many people only dream of. It's all right there in front of me, on a silver platter. So...what is stopping me? Something is. I'm not sure what it is, but something is stopping me. It's like I cannot just let myself be successful. It's hard to explain what goes on in my brain.

A Mother Ponders...

1) I wonder what age Jude will be before I stop checking in the middle of the night to see if he's still breathing? 1 year, 2 years, 5, 10, 21?

Which reminds me of a book my mother in law bought for my husband well before we had children. It's about a mother loving her son forever, which is fine, but the mother is still sneaking in his room when he is a grown man and picking him up in her arms and cuddling with him and stuff. That sorta freaked me out. I was like, um, okay lady, he's MINE now.
(and yes, I get the point of the book - that it's metaphorical and that the love of your child goes on forever. I especially get it now that I have a child. I'm just trying to be funny. Besides, it's good ammo for arguments: "well, your mom wants to climb through the window so she can cradle you like a baby! She needs to learn to LET GO! Freaks!" :)


2) The duality of motherhood: I want my baby to grow! I can't wait for each milestone to occur. I can't wait to see what he's going to be like when he's older. I can't wait until he can talk to me and fully express himself.

At the same time....

Stop growing so fast, Jude!

Welcome to the Club!

FIRST:
I am so out of touch with the online world. I feel like I never know what is going on anymore. For instance, when I do get a chance to read a beloved Blend's blog, and then I actually get a chance to post to it, after I write my most eloquent and wonderful response, I get a huge lecture from blogland - something about the change to beta and a gmail account. Now, I have several gmail accounts and I'm glad to use one of them if needed, but I don't get a chance to use it before my entire message is erased. Then when I sign into my own blog, I get another lecture about beta and the change to gmail. What-eva.

SECOND:
This has been the absolute week from hell. I'm going to cuss now, because it's been a fucking bad week. It's all about my job, too. I used to really like my job. Heck, I almost loved it. Now my love has quickly turned to hate. But you know what? I don't really feel like being negative right now, so I'm going to jump to the third topic:

DA CLUB

This whole motherhood thing blows my mind. It is the most awesome and breathtaking experience I could have ever imagined. I am beside myself with happiness, and still can't believe this has happened to me, and that I'm a Mommy!

One thing that fascinates me is that I feel like I am now a member of some exclusive club.

In some ways, I've always been somewhat of a recluse. I never really fit in to most groups, I actually have not been in any clubs, heh. But this is some kind of automatic membership.

So many people reach out to me now, it's amazing. Before, I was just sort of ignored. But now, the people who know I am a new mother will stop me and ask me how Jude is doing, and I am more than glad to share, to the point where their eyes glaze over and I know I better shut up before I lose them completely. It's like asking the elderly how they are feeling, ha ha.

Take my father-in-law's side of the family: I don't know them that well b/c my husband's parents are divorced, and we don't get a chance to see his dad's side that often. He has a HUGE family, by the way. Not even Matt remembers the names of all his cousin's kids. So when we go, not everyone knows me. I get those weird looks from the little kids. You know how little kids glare at you when they don't know you at family gatherings. The adults were nice enough, but no one really talked to me much.

Last time with Jude though, I think everyone talked to me, especially the wives/other moms. And I mean they were super friendly, really sincerely interested, and we had a lot to talk about. Well, mostly all about children, but still, once you get started on that topic, you can go on about it for a long time, I find. The little kids, too, are way more interested in "Jude's Mommy" than they were in that strange lady who shows up every now and again.

On a side but related note, one of the kids asked me who I was, and given the attention span of kids, I couldn't explain the family tree fast enough before he ran away and to play with a truck or something. I started by saying, "well, you know who Tom is, right"? Tom is my father in law, and I was going to explain that I was Tom's son's wife. But the kid didn't know who Tom was, so that thwarted my plan. So I was going through my head trying to figure who he knew and how I was related, before he got bored and ran off. Heh - I think all I had to say was "Karla", ya think?

Back to the topic:

When I take Jude out in public, I get tons and tons of people talking to me, or to him, and mostly in a positive light. Even if they don't talk, I get knowing looks, or understanding looks, or friendly nods.

Another aside: lots of people comment, "Good job!". I find that odd. I mean, thanks and all, but what does it mean? That he is cute & I somehow manipulated our genes to make him that way? Or do they mean he is well behaved? When they say good job, I feel like I scultped him out of clay or something. I don't feel I did a good job unless getting pregnant and giving birth in and of itself is a good job. I'll take the compliment for sure, it just never crossed my mind to say that to anyone.

ANYWAY...

I never realized how much I was ignored before. Further, I never realized how much I didn't like being ignored (I thought I liked it) or how much I like being involved with my community now. I feel like I have common ground with my fellow humans finally

At the same time, I wonder why that is. I mean, just because I didn't have children before, I still mattered. I was still a human being. I'm working hard to see the good in people and not be so negative, so I'm thinking it wasn't just the people who ignored me. Maybe I was closed off. Maybe I didn't look at people or reach out to people. But now that I have Jude, I do sorta look at people to see if they notice him. Maybe *I* am the one giving those knowing glances first.

In any case, I love being a member of the Mommy Club. I love talking to people about baby poop and spit-up, something I never thought I'd do, and I always rolled my eyes when I heard moms talking about it. I love it when people ask me how I do this or I do that or ask me for advice, because I am such a damn good mom and have a genius baby, ha ha. I like being social and having friends - should be a given, right? But I always denied that I wanted that in the past, that I needed to be social. I like being a "normal" person. Well, more or less normal.

But most of all, like the Grinch, my heart has grown 3 times it's size. I never knew I was capable of such love. I never knew such love existed. People tried to tell me I didn't know anything because I didn't have children. They were right. I knew nothing of this kind of love. Being a mom is by far the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. For once, I am going to appreciate and enjoy this happiness instead of worrying about whether or not I deserve it, or worrying about the happiness going away and so closing myself off, etc. (did I ever mention I used to have some serious ISSUES??). I'm just going to be happy, in spite of myself. I think I deserve it!

Now...if I could only fix that job of mine. Given some recent revelations in my life, it's pretty ironic that I've had such a bad week. I am truly being tested. And I'll save that for another post.

Santa Claus Freaks Me Out

A post holiday note: Santa Claus freaks me out.

Actually, I need to rephrase this: The people who play Santa Claus freak me out.

I mean, c'mon...I am very joyous around the holidays. I love Yuletide cheer, the Three Spirits of Christmas, Frosty, Rudolph, and Santy Claus.

Being childless for years, I haven't paid much attention to all of this kid stuff for a while, but this year after having a baby, I did pay attention.

I have something over on the kids (SPOILER TO FOLLOW: ALL CHILDREN YOUNG AND OLD, PLEASE STOP READING THIS AND GO TO BED):




I know that these are just men dressed up like Santa Claus. I'm not saying there isn't a Santa Claus, but these men are not it.

And they freak me out b/c I can see the man behind the mask, or the beard, as it were. I just see this guy who wants to put my little boy on his lap. What if he's a sex offender? Isn't this a sex offender's dream job?

Now, if it's one of those old guys with a real beard who is actually fat and really looks like Santa Claus, then that's cool, especially if he speaks Dutch and the USPS sends all the Dear Santa Claus letters to him.

But when I hand my little boy to Santa Claus, and Santa proceeds to stare down my tits and then maybe even flirt with me b/c obviously my 4 mo. old can't say what he wants yet, then my shit do be freaked. From Santa, I don't want any flirty conversation or any indication of your sexuality. I want HO HO HO and good cheer and jolliness and maybe even some real elves running about. I'd even take Will Ferrell's version of an Elf. At least have Mrs. Claus around to keep Santa in check. Don't we all need to keep our husbands in check from time to time? Santa is no different. I don't want to be reminded that Santa has a penis. EWWW. I want him to be more like a Ken doll - penis-less.

On a side note, I'm starting to watch children's shows now, and I much prefer cartoons, computer animation, or at least kids playing characters. Adults acting like children or imaginary child-like characters don't do it for me. Like the Doodlebops - they also freak my shit out...And all those grown men who sing funny songs in between shows on Nickelodeon. Go away, you freakity freak freak. I don't want to clap my hands or stomp my feet while you play your guitar, dreaming of rock n roll stardom - a day come and gone for you. Begone, and bring me a cartoon. :)

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, ha ha!

The subtitle of this post is: BFL rocks.

Actually, I'm not even sure if it's BFL, so much as the general common sense of eating right and working out regularly.

I just had a baby in August, and (here's where you call me an "SB", you know who you are, but I'm lovin' it), I've lost all my pregnancy weight. All of it. Every last pound. Here's how much I've worked out since having the baby: zero. Oh, I've walked here and there, I take the stairs at work, but that's about it. But I'm a size 4 again.

I am almost certain that my miraculous weight loss has everything to do with doing 2 back to back BFL 12 week sessions right before I got pregnant. A) I think my body was able to handle the extra body weight from being pregnant, or rather, it was able to more easily get rid of it afterwards, and B) I picked up healthy eating habits from doing BFL; even though I'm not doing BFL right now, I still eat 6 times a day, and did throughout my pregnancy, still try to find whole wheat foods, non processed foods, etc, eat fruits and veggies and lots of water. Just not as strict as I would be when doing BFL.

The other thing that may have helped with weight loss might be b/c I'm still breastfeeding. BFing burns more calories.

Before it sounds like I'm a cocky bitch, let me put myself down before it's too late: The weight is down, I do look pretty good with clothes on, but I've got a long way to go before bikini time. My body fat to muscle ratio is all off. As in, I'm all fat and no muscle. It's not looking pretty. My belly has changed shaped and kinda just hangs there off my body. I'm not upset about it - I mean, it's the price you pay and I was so willing to pay it (I love my little boy!!!). I'm just saying that all is not perfect.

The first day of spring, I am going to start BFL again full force. I'm waiting that long b/c it feels good to procrastinate, and you know the time will go fast. Plus, I've always had a hard time working out in winter, with all the darkness and all the coldness. I never want to put on workout clothes b/c I'm so freaking cold all the time. And when it's dark, I sleep. So with the first day of spring, I'll have plenty of time to get in shape before bikini weather.

I'm scared to commit to it though. The biggest obstacle will be my son, God bless him. It's not his fault at all. I just don't know how I'll manage to work out, and take care of him at the same time.
1) He's pretty high maintenance. Putting him in the closet and ignoring him doesn't work.
2) I work full time, so the time I am home, I feel guilty if every last waking second isn't with him. When he falls asleep for the night, I'm too tired to work out.
3) My husband and I work different shifts, which means I'm all by myself most of the time, being a parent by myself. I never would have understood this statement before I had kids. Let me tell you, I have a whole new respect for parents, especially stay at home moms. It's really work. You weren't kidding. More rewarding work, but sitll work.

I know people who have serious workout programs going on who have much bigger obstacles than I do. I know it can be done. It's kind of strange getting used to be held accountable to someone, or rather, being responsible for someone else's well being. It used to be me, me, me, and I could work out whenever I wanted. Now, I've really got to plan things.

I don't think many people read this anymore, so I don't think too many people are going to mind all my bragging. I'm trying to get back into the blog world. I'm having trouble finding some people's blogs, and when I do and try to post, I can't for some reason.

Myblends: I'm going to try to get involved there, too. I don't know a lot of people on there now, and I have a bad habit of sticking to what I know, ha ha. I scared. :(

Tracker: I don't think I know ANYONE there anymore.

It'll all fall into place once I start BFL again, I think.

It's going to be fun being a "fit mom". I've always admired the fit moms, and always wanted to be one.

Funny, everyone thought I'd get fat (couldn't wait for it, in fact), and EVERYONE told me I'd go up a couple of sizes permanently (not talking about my online friends). Let me be the first to say:

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...what were you saying?

I'm going straight to hell, I know. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't usually give myself credit, so it's all good.

:)