The Party Never Stops and the Jet Lag Never Ends

Well.  Not much to report here except HOLY RAIN, BATMAN.

G had a midday doctors appointment and it took me a sweet forever to get there due to the torrential rains.  I’m considering building an ark.

Bright spot of the day was passing my husband in the first floor of our office building after texting him “Order me tacos!” and he said “Ordered and paid for! I got you three. I know you like to eat!”

Wuv. Twue wuv.

Mawwiage

Also: I’m not disciplined enough to overcome jet lag. I’m weak. I sleep when I’m tired. I don’t have it in me to power through in order to establish regular sleeping patterns.  I fell asleep at 1:30 last night and then was up at 6 with G.  Which means I napped tonight from 7-10 pm and am now wide awake.

It’s a lost cause, really.

And this is where I say you are welcome because I do believe if you find yourself afflicted with the jet lag you are surely asleep now because this post is a snoozer.

A few things before you drift off to dream land:

1. This post from Brooke at Bye, Comparison about spam comments had me rolling.  It’s all so true.  Dear spammers, I know if you are reading this that you find this the most good informational that you have been has searching for but please to exit the web site asking as the web site admin. (Just trying to speak the language).

2. Mommas of daughters – you need to read this. How We Tell Our Children They Aren’t Beautiful. It’s basically what I’m trying to achieve for myself with embracing my post baby bod, but said so much better.

She says, “You’re beautiful, mommy!” and I say no and start pointing out my faults. I will be the one to tell her that her definition of beauty is wrong. I’ll start her second-guessing. I’ll be the one to bring the magazine definition of attractive into the house and tell her every single way I don’t measure up.

3. I know this post isn’t a great selling point but I’m taking over the OKC Moms Blog Instagram page on Tuesday (tomorrow, or possibly today, depending on your blog reading schedule).  Would love for you to follow along for my (mis)adventures as I attempt to show you a real day in the life.

TuesdayTakeover - Kelly

 

It will be very glamorous except for the part where it’s not at all.

 

 

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Back to Life, Back to Re-al-i-ty

Exactly one week ago – this was my view:

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You know, just a smidge different than this:

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The post vacation laundry struggle is real, folks.

J and I had the most wonderful parents only vacation to Hawaii last week and I’ll share more about it when I can bear to look at the pictures.  It’s just torturous at this moment.

We had the best time.  But, but.

I MISSED MY BABY SO MUCH.

She split her time with both sets of grandparents and basically had the best time of all time ever and is spoiled perfectly rotten.

She also grew at least three feet and seems ever closer to breaking out into a dead sprint. The waddler is close to being a runner.

We flew home Friday night on a red eye flight which was every bit as delightful as you would imagine a red eye flight being (flying with 2 month old G was actually a better experience).  J and I are both window seat lovers, and since we figured we’d sleep the whole flight, we opted to sit separately so we could each have our very own, much coveted, window.

All was well and good until the ultimate surfer dude bro slid in to the middle seat next to me. It’s like he appeared out of thin air. The girl on the aisle seat didn’t even stand up. It really was something.

Surfer Dude Bro plopped down in his seat with just a small paperback in his hands. Incredible.  I looked at myself and had to laugh: it’s like I was prepared for a trip around the world and he had signed up for a three hour tour (a three hour tour).

Seriously, there I was with my “don’t talk to me” headphones, my “I’m basically 85” neck pillow, and my “I don’t know what to do with my hands so I’m going to hold this” Kindle.

And there he was. Board shorts. Flip flops. Paperback.

Rookie.

Or so I thought.

Surfer Dude Bro dozed off almost immediately.  I got caught up with the in-flight movie (stupid headphones!) and figured I’d fall asleep after that.

But then, then I realized that Surfer Dude Bro had fallen asleep – facing me.

It was unnerving.  I felt like I was being watched – even though, you know – his eyes were closed.

And there went my hope for sleep on the red eye.  I now understand the term, “red eye”.

But now. Now I’m home. And it’s glorious. Minus the jet lag.  I fell asleep at 3 am on Saturday night and G woke up ready to PARTY at 4 am.

Like, so much energy that even ambient radio didn’t do it’s trick. Normally it’s like coma music.  But to 4 am G it was practically disco.

So I laid in bed and she jammed out and intermittently whacked me in the face with my phone or her sippy cup for a few hours.

There’s no place like home.

 

 

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Embracing My Post Baby Bod


post baby bod

I got off work early unexpectedly one Friday afternoon a few weeks ago.  And I chose to spend that surprise free time swimsuit shopping.

Because I was in the mood to torture myself, apparently.

Let’s face it: I’m nearly 15 months postpartum (is that a phrase I can use? I should probably say “I had a baby over a year ago”) and, um, I don’t totally recognize that girl in the mirror sometimes.

Don’t even get me started on pictures.

We live in a world of impossible standards.  For example, this is Rosamund Pike of Gone Girl fame (the book is on my ever growing reading list) at the Golden Globes this year. At 5 weeks postpartum.

rosamund pike

FIVE. WEEKS. POSTPARTUM.

I saw her on the red carpet and thought, “But how do you wear mesh underwear with an evening gown?”

What, did you not wear the mesh underwear for a sweet forever? Or granny panties? Just me? Fine.

For comparison’s sake, here I am at 8 weeks postpartum:

 

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I’ve lost weight since then (shout out to my BFF Fitbit for holding my competitive self accountable), but not all of it.

Every weight loss “due date” I set for myself has come and gone.  6 months, then 9 months, then a year….gone.  I’m still carrying around 7-10 lbs (depending on the day and the number of tacos consumed) of weight I gained during pregnancy.  But this is a weight I’ve been before, but my body, my body has not been this before.

Things have just, shifted.  I’m sure most mommas can relate to this. Everything went south for the winter and no one seems to have plans to return to their original spots for the summer. Le sigh.

Oh and stretch marks? Check and check.  Those appeared late in my pregnancy just as I was thinking I would escape stretch-mark free.  Should have known better.  This was me just before I went to the hospital.

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Large. Not so much in charge.And poor cell-phone quality pic.  This was taken with haste because, as it turns out, contractions don’t tickle.

But, here’s the thing, and this is the important part so pay attention:

My body grew and created an entire new human. 

And if I let that sink in, it really becomes overwhelming.  Because this little girl, ya’ll.  She is funny. And sweet. And curious. And precocious. And, just, more than I could have dreamed.

So –

Those stretch marks? Reminders that I made room for her as she grew.

The “shifts”? They’re signs that I fed her well from my body for over a year.

Those extra pounds? Maybe they’ll go away once G has weaned.  Maybe they’ll stick around.  But I’m going to do my best not to worry about them.

Postpartum bodies really are pretty beautiful.  I’d even venture to say the “flaws” are some of the best parts.

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