Sunday, January 5, 2014

1 PM Church Is The Worst

Sunday dinner. Is there anything better? I submit, no.

Paul's parents gifted us some Omaha Steaks and other sundry goods for Christmas. We made quick work of them tonight, like the starving carnivores we are. Today was Fast Sunday, except I haven't fasted properly in years. Pregnant, nursing, hungry, I'm full of good reasons why not! Also, our church time went from 11 am to 1 pm, a completely a-hole move if you ask me. 1 pm church is 3 hours of torture for the families with small children of unusual size, like us. It's nap time, they're hungry, we should all be at home watching football. Paul says the church isn't true after 1 o'clock. I'm starting to agree. Oh well, I guess I love Jesus enough to stuff myself into a skirt (or pants if I feel like it) and go anyway. Connie would be so proud.

I have approximately one skirt I can tug up over my supple hips. Despite the fact that I've been working 'dat booty in the gym pretty regularly, most of my wardrobe still doesn't fit. Not even a little bit. Oh I'm strong, like bull, I just have a layer of winter insulation on top of it all. And sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night to feed Baby Ruth, I realize that I've been sweating up under my neck and hairline. My body temp is all out of whack. I blame the hormonees.

I realize I've made this same complaint with all three of my postpartum bodies now. I get it, I just had a baby. He's 4 months old (and about to move up to size 4 diapers, naturally). I've been here before, I know it ends eventually. The thing I can't remember is how long this lasted before I could zip my pants up comfortably again. All my leggings are getting friction holes from where my thighs rub together. And I know there are people out there who are all "leggings aren't pants" and I'm all, "they are if you squeezed out a giant baby and can't fit into anything else, so bite me." I text my friends who probably all wish I'd shut the hell up about it, and then I bake a batch of cookies.


Tomorrow it's back to the routine. Nub goes to preschool, Paul back to work, me and the two littles to the gym. I'm glad for routine, I thrive on routine. It makes me feel contained and in control. These winter days are too long, and too indoors. Is it spring yet? You let me know.

1 comment:

Kelsey K. Hartley said...

Join the party. I'm pretty sure I remember you saying how you squished into your pre-pregnancy jeans, the first time, at 6 weeks and it made me so mad when I put that kind of pressure on myself. Now you're at least normal. Give yaself another 6 months.