The Baby Weight on Turkey Day

So yeah, what else is new, I'm REALLY irritated that I haven't lost The Baby Weight yet.

Yesterday, my lovely Little Pumpkin #2 turned 6 months old. Yeah, that's all. Six months. I know it took me a whole year to lose The Baby Weight with #1, but, well, this one is different, you see. Because he's the second child, he's doing everything sooner than his big brother did. He's growing faster. Stopped nursing earlier. Longer. Quicker to have head control, roll over, all that good stuff.

I've taken that to mean that I need to lose The Baby Weight just as quickly, apparently.

In the words of Barney Stinson, Challenge accepted.

Only...

Nothing's working.

I quit coffee, almost unintentionally. That's got to be, like, at least 100 calories right there, right, with all the milk and fixins I add in each cup normally? It was making me feel sick in the morning, so I'm down to just one cup some time during the day rather than the 2-3 I had worked up to with all the late nights — oh yeah, getting up because the baby already has about 1,200 teeth in there — so I guess I didn't really quit it, but that's something. I did that.

And yesterday I think I lifted weights for like a whole half hour. I did squats; I did bicep curls; I even did scissors on the floor. Those are GREAT for the abs AND the legs.

So why won't my muffin top go away? Yeah, that one, the one I never had before?

I fit into my jeans. That's not the problem. It's that the fat has nowhere to go once I zip them up, so it kind of spills up and out, everywhere, all over the place. It's started to bother me so much that last night I actually had a dream that my father told me I was fat — that it looked like I'd stuffed a bunch of Lincoln Logs under my shirt, to be exact. (I think there's more to the story psychologically than that, plus that big Lincoln bio movie is out right now, but still. It's clear that something's bothering me, and it's called Cellulite.)

I know, it should come as no surprise that my meager attempts at vanity haven't quite given me the body of Jennifer Anniston. I'm open to suggestions here, people. Let me tell you, it is VERY hard for a mommy of 2 who works 40 hours — starting at 5 am nearly every morning — to find time to exercise. I don't have a conventional schedule. I haven't quite started to have the room in my budget to join the gym again. We eat healthy dinners, but I think those nightly glasses of wine are adding up.

I feel like if I cut out an entire food group — say, meat — wouldn't that automatically mean that I'm going to lose weight? So maybe I'll realize my life-long dream of finally becoming a vegetarian. Only I've tried that before, and midway through my experiment actually someone DID tell me I could stand to lose a few pounds. Scratch that. That's totally the universe telling me No.

For some reason, I just feel like this is a very insecure time in my life. Will I have a third child? Will money ever not be so tight? Will I ever figure out how to effectively discipline my 2-year-old, get him to start sleeping in his own bed again, be able to all eat the same dinner as opposed to 1. Crackers 2. Baby Food 3. Whatever I can get in my mouth in between feeding my kids crackers and baby food 4. Daddy's Enormous Plate that he always thinks is not enough anyways? You'd think with how busy I am I'd have no time to eat. Maybe that's it...I just need to think about or do something completely different every time I think about food so as to avoid actually putting fork to mouth. I could...have a cup of tea. (Is that too close to the whole eating thing?) I could...write. If my child will let me sit at the computer. I could...clean something. Yeah, that's it. My house is always just one vomit shy of disgusting.

I don't know. I don't know why I'm writing about this on Thanksgiving, either, when I should be (and AM, to clarify) thankful for all that I do have:

  • 2 beautiful, healthy, boisterous bouncing boys
  • A hard-working, never-giving-up, against-the-odds husband
  • Wonderful, great, amazing friends and family
  • A job, a hobby, a hope and a dream
  • Plenty of food to eat (CLEARLY) and a roof over my head
  • Clean drinking water, a hot shower or a cold one if my toddler gets really out of line (we haven't had to do this yet I swear)
  • An education, a church, beautiful parks and my community
  • The big "little" things, like the way the baby kicks his legs while I'm changing his diaper, and how his big brother asks me to snuggle every night

I think we all just have our thing, and this is mine. But...

My husband is always trying to help out around the house, as his way of contributing. He knows it gets on my nerves that I wear the pants otherwise, in terms of paying the bills, running the household, taking care of the kids AND working full time. So whenever he can, he looks for ways to make things better for us. And I appreciate that. And I don't tell him that often enough.

Thus, this whole obsession I have with food, or writing about it, or the hobby aspect of it or WHATEVER you want to call it, feels very selfish sometimes. Even though I really get a release out of the creative aspect of it all, something still feels upside down. Like I, too, should be engaging in some act of service any time I'm tempted to, instead, indulge, splurge or overeat.

Most of us consider the New Year to be a time of renewal and resolutions, but I often feel the same way — perhaps just gearing up for the insane amount of resolutions I do make every January — around Thanksgiving. Like all year long I say that I'm grateful, and I say I practice gratitude and being present and all that stuff I know I should do...but do I really? If I am so thankful for the food and clothes and family and money and memories and opportunities and days I do have, why do I spend so much time thinking about all my "problems"? The size of my waist, the 2-year-old in my bed, the endless tantrums and the forthcoming potty training...

I'm really not sure they even count as problems.

So this is me, letting go of The Baby Weight. Stay, go, leave, stick around; I have better things to do than to think about YOU all the time, you and all my other silly worries, your brother and sister Anxiety and Control.

Maybe finally letting go will be just the push I need? I think if I look at it that way, of course, though, no. It won't be. ...

But it can't hurt to let it go just the same.

Happy Turkey Day, all. Be thankful for what you have, and let go of everything else.

Filed under: Weight loss

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    I love the phrase "one vomit shy of disgusting!" Definitely applies to my house too!

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