girlfiend

Just to get it out of the way, I’m pregnant. I figure 80% of the people who read this are either facebook or real life friends and already know, so even though I’ve been trying to come up with some interesting way to reveal it on the blog what’s the point?  To answer any questions, no it wasn’t planned, no we aren’t finding out the sex even though I want to, I’m due in early May which makes me 14 or 15 weeks pregnant, and I’m back on the stupid message boards and my head hurts just thinking about it. My friend E suggested I refer to this baby as Fi3nd, or F3, or maybe just 3. I think he’s on to something.

For those of you not keeping count, I have already been pregnant and/or nursing for 52 straight months. It’s a fucking miracle I haven’t lost my mind completely. Another miracle is that for some reason I haven’t been gaining weight like I did the first two pregnancies. My OB, the woman who scheduled an extra ultrasound just because I’d gained so much weight and asked if I was *sure* I knew my pre-pregnancy weight, told me to start eating protein bars for weight gain. I guess that’s what running around after two small children will do.

I am exhausted.

Last March we cleaned out our junk/storage room on the third floor to make it a guest room and make the guest room the Fiendling’s room. I spent the following month up on a ladder painting while the Fiendling napped downstairs in the driveway, running up and down the stairs every ten minutes or so to check on him from the second floor. It wasn’t the greatest month.

In the clearing out process we photographed and listed a ton of stuff on Craigslist and various messageboards, some of which sold, most of which did not. In the mix were a ton of clothes that I decided that I’d never wear or never fit into again. Eventually we had to move the stuff that didn’t sell into the basement and closet, figuring we’d try again in a few months.

By December it was time for the stuff to go. I had some second thoughts about some of the more expensive items of clothing and put it aside, but in the end we donated about $600 (thrift store prices) worth of clothing in size 0 and XS, stuff I was confident would never fit me again. You know where this is going, right?

It turns out that just a few short months later I lost the rest of the weight. By February I’d lost all of the Fiendling weight too.  I now weigh less than I did at my wedding. Aside from a few stomach flus and the great breakup of 2003 I am the skinniest I’ve ever been. The shirts aren’t a huge loss. My ribcage is permanently a size larger and those teeny tiny XS shirts are either 6 inches too short or, if I can get them on, busting at the seams. But the pants? Fuck. I don’t have a single pair of pants or shorts that fit me right now. This is not a problem I plan on complaining about. It’s just that I know that this extra-skinny me won’t last. I’m sure that as soon as I stop nursing full time some of the weight will come back and the a few pounds will sneak up on me over the summer when the recreational drinking resumes full-force. At some point my pants will fit again and will probably even be too tight again. But until then I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to spend money on a summer wardrobe that I could very likely grow out of by July. I hate the idea of buying shorts, pants and skirts that I’ll be dpressed about not being able to wear next summer. I guess there’s always Old Navy.

After the Fiendling was born I could not lose the weight. I was puffy and bloated forever and despite my careful attention to diet and exercise I couldn’t fit into my pre-pregnancy pants for 9 months. Three weeks after the birth of number 2 I’m small again. I’m not pre-pregnancy size and I don’t plan on trying on my jeans for a few more months, but I’m not puffy or bloated. I’m surprised when I look in the mirror by how much I look like myself. I don’t know what happened and I’m not complaining. This is a gift.

Remember how I said I wasn’t going to diet*?

The next day I stepped on the scale and learned that the 5-6 pounds I gained was more like 8. It really snuck up on me. Considering I still work out 3 days a week and eat pretty well, I couldn’t figure out where it came from. Then I remembered. Like many mothers before me I’ve fallen into the trap of eating what the baby doesn’t. Sort of. I don’t finish what’s on his plate or anything, but I tend to eat what he eats for lunch and Cheddar Bunnies and various types of cheesy rice and pasta aren’t the lowest calorie foods.

I think the few bites of his meals in addition to the regularly scheduled meals have really caught up with me. My metabolism isn’t what it used to be and even though I’m still working out I’m not working out with the intensity I once did. I used to work out for two hours at a time. I was lifting 3 days, doing yoga 3 days and doing cardio 5 days a week. Now I’m lucky if I lift 3 days and fit in cardio 2 days. I went to yoga for the first time since early May yesterday.

But I’m still not going to diet. On Saturday I decided to document everything I ate. Because I was writing it down (and I wrote down the three bites of black cherry water ice) I was conscious of what went into my mouth. Instead of eating every bite the Fiendling tried to feed me, and he loves feeding other people, I said “no thanks” and kept my mouth shut. Instead of the usual bagel for breakfast I made a fruit smoothie. Instead of goat cheese and crackers for lunch I ate homemade hummus and beet greens with sauteed garlic scapes on whole wheat pita. I ate a bunch of fresh fruit and a few crackers with peanut butter for snacks. For dinner I ate most of a tofu, rice and cheese stuffed pepper with a side of swiss chard.

I stopped writing stuff down after lunch yesterday, but I’m still paying close attention to what I eat. Since I weighed myself on Friday morning I’ve lost 2 pounds. I’d like to lose a few more so my too-small shorts will button over my gut again. It will be interesting to see if I lose any more by next week when I weigh myself again.

*In that post I referenced maternity fashion. Today at Old Navy almost every fucking mannequin looked pregnant. This hoodie looks just like every maternity shirt I bought from Old Navy. And the trapeze shirt? It appears to nip in at the waist in the photo on the website, but the model in the picture in the store looked like she was wearing a tent. It’s wrong, I tell you. Though perhaps not as wrong as the maternity-like dress with a balloon sleeve.

I feel sort of pathetic for being so obsessed with this, but I’m at my mom’s shore house and shore means bathing suit so it’s on my mind.

After the great stomach flu incidents I’ve gained back some of the weight I lost. Not a lot. Just 5 or 6 pounds. But those pounds mean that two pairs of shorts don’t fit comfortably and I have a rule that I absolutely refuse to even attempt to wear something that doesn’t fit comfortably. So for shorts I’m down to two pairs I bought from Target on a whim (that fit okay, but not well by any stretch of the imagination) and last year’s way too big post-pregnancy shorts. I have one casual, flowy (yet totally see through) skirt, one long linen way-too wrinkly skirt, and a denim skirt that’s not flattering so I won’t wear it any more. I have one pair of denim capris that are way too hot, but I wear them almost every day and one pair of khaki stretch capris from Old Navy that still fit, but are super-low rise so I only wear them when a shirt of the appropriate length is clean. And almost none of my shirts are long enough. All of the pre-pregnancy stuff is still way too small on top and I’m beginning to think I just wore a lot of belly shirts because my belly was once toned and flat. Now? It’s not toned and flat enough for me to be okay with belly shirts. I have three new t-shirts of appropriate lengths, a couple of nicer t-shirts to wear out, and four long tank tops.

Now that I’ve listed it it’s not a terrible selection, but it’s tough to go to playgroup once a week and think, oh shit, I wore this exact outfit last week.

And the extra weight? I’ve decided not to lose. I thought about it and even stopped eating carbs after noon one day. But then I figured that I may try to get pregnant again at some point and what’s the point of suffering when I’m still nursing? So I’m not buying any new clothes. And I’m not dieting. And let’s hope I do decide to get pregnant soon because tell me internet, what’s up with the maternity clothes? Seriously. The fashion, yes, I said fashion, is maternity. I went to a college graduation party and I was very worried that EVERY WOMAN THERE was pregnant until I realized that they were all just wearing shirts or dresses with empire waists. Look at this. And this. And this. Because, really, they all look like they could be maternity clothes and that’s not right, because when I was pregnant I would have killed for cute, regular, non-maternity clothes that were forgiving enough to be warn as maternity. So if you’re pregnant, you’re really lucky. And if you’re not, wear something that doesn’t make people wonder if that’s a bump you’re hiding.

So you know how I gained close to 60 pounds when I was pregnant despite that fact that I worked out 3 times a week and didn’t over eat? Then I had the baby and couldn’t work out for a while and once I could it was summer and I was at the shore a lot. During that time I dropped off of my gym’s FAB Club board. Once we stopped going to the shore I was back at the gym regularly, and as you know I lost the weight, but because it’s an average of six months worth of visits that get you on the board I was off for a long, long time. But now I’m back. As of February I’m back on the board, motherfuckers. I think they owe me a new FAB Club t-shirt.

For the first time in more than a week the Fiendling is taking a nap someplace other than the car. Before he started napping in the car (I now keep books under the seat for when we’re parked with the car running in a lot somewhere) he would only nap on me. Yet he’s sleeping through the night again, at least for the time being. Feast or famine around here. Does this nap, on my bed, not in his crib of course, mean that he’ll be up all night? Only time will tell.

And in other news, I’m officially down to my pre-pregnancy weight. Perhaps it has something to do with that last bout of stomach flu, but the numbers are down, even when I’m wearing sweatpants and sneakers. So for all of you (all right, it was just one person, but I knew it was pointed at me) who made snide comments on your blogs about how stupid women who gain more than the recommended 25-30 pounds are and how they’re destined to never lose the weight, fuck off.

You’d think, based on my previous obsession with them, that as soon as the jeans fit, really fit, I’d have said something, but somehow that milestone passed without too much fanfare. The jeans are now slightly too big. In fact, all of my pre-pregnancy pants, at least those that are seasonably appropriate are a little on the loose side.

The scales say I’m not quite down to pre-pregnancy weight, which I believe since my tops are all still too small. I’m not certain (like the pants it could just take time) but I’m pretty sure the Fiendling officially stretched out my ribcage forever, and my extra-small and small button-down shirts will never button without weird gaps again. Even the t-shirts are way too small, hitting my belly button instead of my waist. But that’s okay. I can live with a stretched out, uneven ribcage if it means I can wear my way too expensive jeans.
It took about nine months, just like all the books said. I thought that despite the 60 pounds I’d somehow get around that and lose all the baby weight by six months, but I was wrong and three extra months weren’t so bad. Now that my stomach is flat and my ass is regular sized I can go back to obsessing about whether or not my arms look fat.

Brining a turkey makes all the difference.

Paula Deen’s country stuffing is good, but regular stuffing is better.

One should never try new vegetable recipes on Thanksgiving. Everyone’s too busy eating the other stuff to care.

Banana Republic is finally selling shirts that hit below the waist. Belly shirts be damned.

A stomach virus, though I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, is a great way to lose the rest of the baby weight.

The combination of a stomach virus and a new, longer-length shirt from Banana Republic ensures that people will say, “You don’t look like you just had a baby,” at your high school reunion.

Nothing pleases a woman more than hearing the phrase, “You don’t look like you just had a baby,” from a number of different people.

No one on my mother’s side of the family can be trusted. They are all crazy in different ways and no matter how I try to stay out of it, I’ll always be dragged in.

Headbands look awfully cute on a short haircut.

One.9 Merlot isn’t bad at all, even if you’re not watching your carbs.