I hope you don't take that as a threat...
I've been wanting to write this post on and off for a year - ever since I bowed out last January. So, why now? I could say that, like my one-week-old gym membership, I finally had enough saying "I should do this" and, instead, I am following through on what I should be doing. What I want to be doing but am scared to start because I'm nervous I won't be able to follow through. Here's the good news. You have me, guaranteed, for at least the next 18 months. Is that enough of a commitment for you?
Why 18 months?
Those of you who haven't become friends of mine on Facebook, didn't see this message:
If you are suffering from severe MOmMy bRaIn and are sitting in front of your screen thinking "she wants to know whether I think she should buy pink or blue booties?!?!?" here's the simplified version: I am about to get really fat for a really good reason. Again...
I. Am. Preggers.
Due July 26th, 2012, in case that is also not obvious. So, you've got six months of whining about being a fat-ass who has no control of her bodily functions and then GLORIOUS maternity leave. And, oh, as much as I truly love my job, I have to admit, I am looking forward to maternity leave. Thank GOD for Canadian maternity leave. And now I'm screwed because I've just convinced myself that by suggesting maternity leave is an enjoyable, relaxing, vacation, I've just set myself up for the child from hell. Fantabulous.
Regardless, why does all this mean I am starting the blog back up? Answer: I need you guys. I need the support, understanding - the empathy. Because here's a statement that will rock your world. Men. Don't. Get. It. I love my husband but when it comes to pregnancy, he also suffers from daddy-no-brain.
Scene: Sunday morning. I'm 11 weeks pregnant. Foraging through the pantry for my second breakfast.
Dan: "I saw a girl last night who's 18 weeks pregnant and you look WAY more pregnant than she does"
Me: Imagine a rabid wolf put into a cardboard box with a bunch of fluffy white bunnies fattened up on carrots... carnage.
Even my MALE doctor thought that was hilariously insane... Like entering a mine-field. Dancing. Wearing snow shoes. Even another male realized the stupidity of his statement. Maybe I've been blessed with a sweetheart who's less pregnancy-intelligent than the average joe. Regardless, you can give Dan partial thanks for my return. The other thanks goes to pure desire to be around y'all again. I miss the "me toos" and "wtfs" and, less, the "you're screwed dude" comments.
I am also hoping, praying and begging that having my blog back as a "project" will keep me from becoming the beached whale that my appetite is dictating I become. I made the mistake the other day of looking back at my weekly belly-bump pics from my first pregnancy. FAIL. At least at the beginning of your first pregnancy, you're delusional, completely unaware of the catastrophe that your body is about to become. I actually, truly envisioned a Giselle-esque barely-there-bump that would be barely noticeable. HA! Now I'm aware of the reality and it sucks. It's not being pregnant part that's the hardest... I mean, I'm not gonna lie, the last 6-8 weeks suck. There is nothing sexy about a 38 week pregnant woman, don't care what kind of "oh, it's natural and it's beautiful" crap you try to tell me... it ain't true. We waddle, our hips have expanded to twice their normal width, our boobs have given up trying to hold themselves up and decided to just become one with our bellies, oh, and if that's not enough, we leak gas from every part of our bodies without control and we pee a little bit when we laugh or sneeze. That, unbelievably, is 100% excusable and when you realize that your husband must unconditionally love your bitchy-gigantic-ass.
What sucks about the second pregnancy is knowing how much the after sucks. How much it sucks to have all this weight to lose and have no energy to try... in fact, the exhaustion is like the devil sitting on your shoulder telling you "eat another Oreo... what's the worst that could happen?" Here's the bright light: what I'm told from mothers of two or more is that you're so effin' busy with two kids that the weight falls off because you're constantly running your arse off and forgetting to eat. I can attest to this even with one Jane that there's been days I've gotten to 11am and thought "have I eaten yet today? And known, instantly, that if I have to ask, the answer is "no"?"... of course, then I eat a monster lunch to compensate! :p With that all said, people told me with my first pregnancy that breastfeeding would burn all my calories... apparently they didn't mean the 600 calories in a row of Oreos. Yes. I know how many calories are in a full row of Oreos... bite me. :p
Ok. I'm done. Have to save some complaining, whining and nonsense for the next 18 months. Hopefully you're glad to have me back.
If so, pass me along to some of your mommy friends. The more the merrier and a better chance of finding someone who's got the key to survival when we all reach that point of having no idea what to do... which, if I remember correctly from bambino numero uno, is how I felt daily.
Updated pictures of the family to come, in case that floats your boat. We've got plenty of time to catch up, trust me! xoxo.