Never mind that my baby is 3 1/2…I’m keeping the “baby” in those 10lbs! Photo by deadbeat mom copyright 2015.
Okay, I’ll admit it, I was one of those people that bounced back pretty fast after childbirth (sorry). But then I went back to work and something happened, I somehow managed to gain 10 lbs of “flashback” baby weight. Call it a sad rationalization for slowly becoming part of the obesity movement (I mean epidemic), but I’m going to embrace those 10lbs dammit and here’s why…
- “I rather be fat than bitchy,” notes my sage friend Crystal. Yup, me too. Both of us recognize that the soothing, emotion-numbing impact of a glass of wine (or two or three) when all you want to do is scream, “would you stop singing that f*%$#@$ song over and over again.” Wine and accompanying snacks might be bad for the waistline but, in the long run good for your own (and kids’) emotional well-being. True yoga may have the same effect, but you can’t really do yoga while chatting with your friend over the phone. And my downward dog always seems to turn into a paddywhack machine for a rambunctious toddler.
- I’ll stay warmer in the winter. Living in Canada, the extra padding comes in handy.
- If 40 is the new 30, so it goes that a size 8 is the new 6!
- It beats Botox injections. Gaining 10 lbs means less need for fillers and cosmetic procedures. If I have to choose between looking thinner or looking younger, I’ll go with that youthful glow only a muffin top can bring.
- Great excuse for a new wardrobe! I’ve started to realize that my “skinny clothes” might have to go to Syrian refugees–all for a good cause of course!
So it’s Remembrance Day in Canada (and my husband’s birthday). But since the closest I’ve been to combat is a relative that dropped out of Royal Military College, I’m turning this into a memorial about “the time before.” As in “the time before I had kids.” Don’t get me wrong, I love
my kids and would never, ever wish to “undo” this. But there are certain elements of my life I do look back on fondly…sigh. I spent 6 days this summer entirely kid-free (the first time in 8 years), and it was truly a revelation…Here’s my top 5 list: Continue reading
Ignoring the grunts as I scrambled to cook dinner I discovered THIS in my Eco-shopping bucket under the kitchen table. I’m concerned he may have found the beer judging from his blasé look…
I spy with my sunglassed eye…
So while taking baby K to his first year appointment last week, I noticed a new parenting phenom–pushing iPhones to kids as a way to offload actual parenting duties.
Now, before you think I’m getting all high and mighty, let me preface this entry by saying I’m not against technology. Nor am I against kids using it from time to time. In fact when juggling three kids alone at the local fish and chip restaurant (what the f$%k was I thinking?) I did cave and put Thomas on for the older kids so that I could finish my meal in relative peace. And for a last resort, I readily admit the iPhone has been a pure and utter Godsend.
What freaked me out about last week though was hearing this: “Honey do you want me to read a book? Or play a game on the iPad?” She might as well have been asking “Do you want to go to Grandma’s in Hamilton or jet off to Disneyworld and meet Belle and Snow White?” Continue reading
I’ve always considered myself a pretty relaxed mom in that I’ve let my boys explore the world fairly uninhibited (only leashed them for about 2 weeks during the height of the “bolting for the street phase.”). But as my third boy approaches the “into everything in sight” stage, I’ve noticed I’m starting to really let my standards slide–how else is he going to learn??? You’re probably on your third boy if:
- Cords are a valid distraction so long as they’re unplugged from the wall (they can still be plugged into the computer though–a small shock could possibly have a Pavlovian effect).
- You’re fine with your 6-year-old spinning the baby around provided said baby is still giggling (even though you’re well aware that it could all end in tears and a visit to the hospital).
- You’ve “lost” your baby in the backyard only to discover him stuck, lying on his back in a bush like an overturned turtle (true story).
- You’ve started telling people that the semi-permanent bruise on your baby’s forehead is, in fact, a birthmark, despite the fact that it seems to move from one side of his head to another.
- Day four of his life was spent in the emergency room because you literally dropped him on his head (to be fair, it hurt me way more than him).
- Crumbs on the floor are a legitimate form of nutrition.
- Dirt and rocks also count as food.
- 2 days in the same sleeper is the norm…(I’m an environmentalist trying to conserve water!)
- You’re grateful that the baby inherited his dad’s dark skin because you frequently forget to apply sunscreen.
- You’re relieved you forget to apply sunscreen because, although you bought the stuff, the Vitamin D remains unopened.
5) You’re relieved to discover that Retin A is okay while breastfeeding.
4) You talk about your baby’s puke, the insanity that is your life and how you want to strangle your husband via a phone conversation vs. texting.
3) You hope other people chalk up your fatigued look to the baby and not to age!
2) Regardless of how many times you throw the baby over your head your triceps are still saggy.
1) The baby pinches your neck “waddle” while feeding (and you actually know what a waddle is because you were a huge fan of Ally McBeal in the 90s!).
It’s been a while since I’ve posted. And for good reason: we went from not even having cable to getting satellite. Which means hours previously spent surfing the web and writing once Noa’s asleep, have now been replaced with every home improvement show imaginable.
While You Were Out, Trading Spaces, Flip That House, Moving Up…the list goes on. What I’ve realized is that these shows kind of make me feel the way most women do after flipping through Glamour or People magazine: fat, unkempt and just, well, not put together.
Is my house fat?? I wish. But the stuff crammed in our little 1300 square foot semi makes sometimes leaves me feeling like someone who’s 200 pounds trying to squeeze into a size 2. We started out as minimalists, but then we went and had a baby. It was like suddenly POOF out of nowhere an eighteen wheeler packed with JUNK fell out of the sky and randomly landed in our house.
I know these shows are supposed to offer inspiration–I mean with a $1000, a can of paint, some cardboard tubing and a glue gun it seems like just about anyone can convert their den into an urban oasis. But when I watch them, I just feel kind of depressed. ‘Cause the reality is, no matter how much clutter I clear or how funky an idea I have the only way it would get done in the first place (and stay looking perfect) is to ship Noa (now 16 months old) off to toddler boot camp or a nursery school that takes baby boarders.
The only light, within this pit of home improvement self-hatred I find myself trapped in, is How Clean is Your House? For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s about human sloth. More specifically, people who typically live in a fantastical blend of bacteria and shit. So much so, in fact, that the hosts are always marvelling at how the home owners have managed not to succumb to some deadly bacterial infection.
Now those people make me feel good!