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So this is how I feel these days. This morning Joel had Gabriel and told me he would hold him until I hurry and got dressed. I literally stood in front of my clothes for probably a good 7-8 minute staring. Just staring. Trying to remember the days when I could just throw on any number of cute jeans. This is no longer my opportunity. Now, I spend way too much time trying to convince myself that I *might* be able to fit my cow size booty into some of my old jeans. Then I spend the rest of the morning in a self wallowing depression. I'm kinda tired of the small number of articles of clothing that fit my lower half. I've told Joel I would like to join the local YMCA. Through them I lost all of my baby weight from Ben (and some). But Joel, sorry honey, does not want me to join a gym. I assume because for Joel, money trumps all. Despite health or self esteem boost, I think he would prefer to save the money. I explained to him this morning we either spend money on a whole new wardrobe for me or at the gym. Personally, I would rather be healthy and keep my current wardrobe. He was not happy with me after that statement.
The problem with the gym is that I'm tired. And busy. Those two things don't mix well with getting up at the ghastly hour of 6am to go work out. I usually feed Gabriel around 5:30 and I'll I want to do is get back to sleep after that feeding. If for some reason, he thinks it's an appropriate time to get up, I either make Joel get up with him or I'm not a nice Mom until about 11 o'clock. Right now is a particularly bad time because all the kids are sick. And sick babies like to feed a lot. Too much. So I've been getting horrible sleep for sometime now. Gabe has been waking up 3 times a night to feed. And though this goes against the code of motherhood, I actually got sick as well. Which pretty much is the biggest slap in the face when you're a Mom. Why? Because it doesn't matter when a Mom is sick. I still have to get up in the night and feed a baby. I still have to make lunches and dinners. I'm still taking care of the other sick people in the house. It takes so long to get better because there's no rest for this sick person.
I'll stop my ranting here. I'll finish another day. On another topic. But just so you understand here's the recap:
So there's a horrible cycle here. I have baby weight still on me. I want to go to the gym to work it off. But I have a baby. So I'm tired. Too tired. Then I get emotional because I'm tired. Then it feels like all those pants that don't fit are laughing at me in my closet. Telling me to just go ahead and donate them. Then I want to cry. But I know it's partially because I'm really tired. So I think all about how I would feel better if I went to a gym and fit into those clothes. Then I would laugh at them. But then I hear my baby cry out, and my two year old yelling my name through the house, and my 4 year old asking me what we're doing today, and my 5 year old asking me to make her lunch for school and I think~ MY PANTS ARE GOING TO WIN!! I'LL HAVE TO DONATE THEM AFTER ALL! Stupid pants. Stupid shirts. At least my shoes still fit.