Boobin’

Hooray--I've made progress! I lost over a pound since I began exercising. I'm not sure if my meticulous blog tabulations are doing anything for me though, so who knows how long I'll keep posting them. I wish there was a way to exercise my brain, too. My mind is really turning to mush. I spend a lot of time in front of the boob tube boobing my baby. And, the only things I seem to be writing about these days are babies and exercise. It's sadly a true representation of what is on my bimbo mind these days. All my fears of becoming a boring person once I had a kid are materializing. I've also got a messy house and stains on my clothing to really complete the picture.

Mileage to date:
5 miles running, 0.5 miles swimming
(28 pounds to go)

[Image from: http://www.msu.edu/course/isb/202/ebertmay/]

Mileage 3

Mileage to date:
3 miles running, 0 miles swimming
330 calories total
101,170 calories to go
(29 pounds to go)

And...because the above is boring and most of you are really here for the pictures of Tillie:

Mileage 2

Mileage to date:
2 miles running, 0 miles swimming
220 calories total
101,280 calories to go
(29 pounds to go)

Snack and Story

When we were kids, every night our parents provided us with "snack and story." Just before bedtime, Mom or Dad would read a chapter from a book, such as A Wrinkle in Time, or The Prince and the Pauper, or Little Women. We would get a beverage of our choice and one serving of a food item of our choice. Beverages were usually orange juice, apple juice, or chocolate milk. Food items were usually a chunk of cheese, a slice of bologna, a pickle, or maybe cinnamon toast. I am so excited about continuing this tradition with Tillie, though I might vary it a bit by providing different victual options. But then, maybe Tillie will take after her momma and delight in the refined combination of pickle and chocolate milk.

Bottle Scars

Pregnancy ages you faster than real life. There’s the fat. There’s the scarring from the exit wound. There’s the psychological feeling like you’ll never be free to do whatever you want ever again. But the worse part for me has been the skin stretching. I know that skin is the most flexible and healable part of your body, but I can still tell that mine will never be the same again. It’s horrible. My stretch marks look like bright magenta tiger stripes along my waistline, down my thighs, and radiating out like melon markings on my breasts. They shimmer in the sunlight. Everyone says they will fade, but I know that the texture is permanent.

Getting back in shape is triply difficult because of this. Yes, vanity plays a role in the trauma. Go ahead and hate me for being a weak-minded narcissist. But, who wants to put on a swim suit and go out in public when she has 19 extra pounds around her middle with colorful stretch-mark racing stripes advertising the new real estate? As someone who has always been thin (and clueless), I have the added hurdle of suddenly having to figure out how to get over what everyone else has been complaining about for years. No one every told me that jiggling fat actually hurts.

And, then there’s the bra issue. Before pregnancy I was a tidy-and-lovely B cup. During pregnancy a voluptuous-yet-manageable C cup. Now that I’m nursing, I’m a gimongous-and-ridonculous D cup. I clearly need to get some professional help in the underwear department, because this morning I went for my first jog this year and had to actually support my boobs with my own hands the whole way. Ow.

Is it all worth it? You decide:

Mileage 1

Some weight loss math:

3500 calories = 1 pound weight loss
1 mile of running = 110 calories
1 mile of swimming (40 laps) = 495 calories
29 pounds = 101,500 calories total to burn

That's 923 miles of running OR 205 miles of swimming that I need to do to reach my goal.

Mileage to date:
1 mile running, 0 miles swimming
110 calories total
101,390 calories to go
(29 pounds to go)

Petite Mani-Pedi

One aspect of parenthood that has surprised me is the physical intimacy that I have with this new person. I know all her little parts. I clean them, I cuddle them, I spluhbert them, I monitory their growth, and I make sure they are all in good working order. And when no one is looking, I might even take a little bite of them—the feet especially are very tasty. All her body parts are still kind of mine in a way. I wonder when they will be liberated from my possession. When will her body become her own? I wonder about this. And then I realize that my own parents had this special secret knowledge of my baby body over thirty years ago. Did they feel the same sort of bossiness over my feet, my bum, my crusty little hands, my cheesy neck rolls? Was it hard to start giving Young Molly her own way with their care and maintenance? Someday I will have insight into that change. Until then, I will enjoy giving little pedicures to little feet to the sound of little snores.

Anticimpatience

At 5 weeks, Tillie is now filling out her onsies, beginning to bust out of her newborn diapers, and has finally started showing a little excitement about her surroundings. Dadnabbit, she is growing! Man it happens fast. But, then it’s also not happening fast enough. I find myself obsessing about what she will be like when she is 1, when she is 5, when she is 15, when she is 40. Will I always be this preoccupied with her future? Her eyes are changing color, but we still can’t tell what color they will be. Her eyebrows are red and her hair reddish brown, but that all could fall out and any shade of hair color could replace it. And then there are all the questions about her little unformed personality. What will be her passions? Her pursuits? Her preferences? A mother wants to know! If I am not careful, I will forget to enjoy the present while fixating on the future. I wonder what her future therapist will have to say about all this. And, how old is her future therapist right now—is he/she even out of the 3rd grade yet?

One Monthaversary

Two to the fifth power is 32, and today I turned 32 years old. However, contemplating that numerological factoid is about as much excitement as I can drum up for myself these days. Relative to Tillie’s one month anniversary of being born (yesterday, hooray!), my 32nd birthday is just plain boring.

Having a baby makes me feel a little older, but having a back injury makes me feel decrepit. Today, for some reason I’ve been unable to move more than 3 degrees in any direction because of a shooting pain in my back. Since I can’t hold Tillie, I had to spend the day just looking at her. Of course, this pastime amuses me greatly. What can I say? I am her mother. Behold, the many faces of Tillie: