I know I missed last week. That tends to be my thing. I’ll be great at something for three weeks or so and then I’ll fall of the wagon. Same goes for twitter conversations. I’ll be all about someone for three conversations and then its the same conversation over and over and over again. Gets tiresome and I get bored. But that is a totally different post. But what I was doing at the gym was the same thing. It was tiresome and boring. Switch it up time!
The past two weeks have been interesting. There is an emotional shift happening in my house, boys are gearing up for summer break, Stella is gearing up for preschool three mornings a week. There were some glaring realizations personally for me that have swung me into a slump, not a depression, but a slump. I’m aware of my feelings, documenting them, talking to the people I need to talk to. One of my friends announced her pregnancy on Facebook. I’ve known for a while now because I am a trusted friend, but her announcement sort of stunned me. I suppose I am jealous that she gets to be pregnant and glowy and have another home birth and add to her beautiful amazing family. She has a supportive husband/father who is just a rockstar. Sure they have their issues like most people do, they aren’t perfect. But the joy of bringing a new small human into the world is a pretty special thing. I’ve always been one of the first to know when she has been pregnant in the past so I am thankful that she trusts me with that information first.
With Stella starting her new school and all the the small humans being gone this morning, it made me realize that this is it for me. I don’t get to have that joy again. I don’t get to ‘do it right’, be married, try on purpose to get pregnant and have a big announcement where everyone is excited for me. I don’t get to have those things. It doesn’t lessen what I have had with my current children, and of course I shouldn’t be jealous or want for something I don’t have. I just know the joy and wish I was able to feel that again. And its ok if I don’t, I am just going to need to mourn the loss of that prospect for a while.
I noticed myself staring at small humans today, not in a ‘get in the van I have candy’ way, but a longing to share that age with one. I watched a dad walking with is 14ish month old, and the little one was toddling along, looking at flowers, taking his time, taking in the world when all of a sudden he saw a motocycle. And the look on that sweet child’s face has now been etched in my mind. And he pointed his fat little finger at that motocycle and then look up at his dad. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I’m sure it was something insanely cute. And he tall dad just looked down at him and smiled and nodded. Yea….
The job hunt is stagnant to say the least. I also realized that with some upcoming events and people going out of town that there is no way I can get a job this month. The caretakers of the small humans, other than myself, are once again
messing, ruining, fucking up throwing a wrench up my plans. I shouldn’t complain, free child care is outstanding and they are well loved and cared for when they are not with me.
I’m once again frustrated with the scale. I know, I know, I am not supposed to get on it, but when I visit the women’s locker room because I have to pee every 15 minutes (TMI in your face) I walk past it. And its like…’come here…let me ruin your self esteem! or build it up! you don’t know! its like buying a lottery ticket!’ When I damn well know that its going to just piss me off. And why do I focus on the scale. Because its numbers, because there is a graph on fitday where I track my weight and I want to see that line doing down, not hanging steady horizontal. But I do have some numbers to report.
I am down 4 dress sizes. Like…..wut? Yea, 4. My clothes all fit better, I’m sleeping better, I FEEL better emotionally (most of the time). I’ve had some downer news here and there and I didn’t run to food to make it better. But 4 dress sizes? I mean that is unreal to me. Even El Jeffe when hugging me is like….you’re fucking smaller. BUT, I keep going back to that damn scale. Yes, I know muscle weighs more than fat, but Im not doing serious weight training at all. I look different. I carry myself differently, more confidence I suppose, but that number keeps jabbing me in the confidence when I step on that scale. Damn you numbers! I always hated math.
douchebag scale needs to be a new meme. Someone get on that.
I need to have my measurements taken again to see if there are any actual changes to my body. I feel like I am going to be disappointed if there isn’t. However if there is, its more motivation to keep going. I will keep going no matter what, but its more incentive.
I’ve also mapped out how I will be working out this summer with taking the kids to the gym. It seems doable, and it seems almost hardcore, but its is a great variety of activities that will keep my interest. Yoga, running, Latin Dance, weights, something different every day. So yea. Lets see how this works out for me.
I’m not going to post a dress today because I don’t have the motivation to look at one of them and remember the good about them.
so there you have it.