Do you want to see what I look like at 24 weeks pregnant? Do you? I look pretty round:
Big hips, big boobs, big belly (you can’t see my upper arms, but they are big, too).
This photo was taken in Seaside, where I spent the weekend scrapbooking with Sarah and Loris. And it was awesome (except for the lack of snacks and the sitting for 14 hours straight). The weather was beautiful, and I forced myself out on a couple of walks to enjoy the Seaside ambiance (dogs, kids, waves crashing… heaven). It was great to spend time with Sarah, who will be moving far, far away with her family this month. I also finished lots of work in my scrapbooks, and feeling accomplishment, even in the most small-scheme tasks, can help a pregnant lady’s damaged psyche.
I’m hoping that this refreshed feeling will stick with me for awhile. I’m trying to believe in Lady Gaga’s Madonna ripoff and understand that I was, indeed, Born This Way; that is, I was born to get really fat and round and unattractive during pregnancy. And really, what can I do about it? Nothing, that’s what. I have to come to terms with it. I’m not sure if that’s going to happen, but I am trying.
Which is not to say that I feel much better than I did last week, just that I give myself a lot of mental slaps now. And I hope and pray that this weight will come off when this baby is born. At the very least, that my workout schedule can be made a priority in our house.
I am worried about that last one, because there are so many other priorities: kids, dinner on the table, laundry, Buster, Tony’s workout schedule, Tony’s triathlon training, Tony’s job, my job… the list goes on. I will very likely relegate my exercise to the end of the line because, what choice do I have?
Sigh. See? Now I am all sad about this again.
While I was in Seaside, Charles hung out with my parents, and then I went back to their place on Sunday and we all spent another whole day together. The weather continued to be fabulous. Observe:
Weather like that makes me wish we could visit more often.
According to my parents, Charles was “good as gold” while I was gone, but he sure threw some mega tantrums for me when I got back (either he missed me or I am stricter than my parents and don’t continually bribe him with Sesame Street and popsicles). He has also decided that potty training is not for him and demands to wear a diaper. Back to square one, I guess.