I Suppose It’s Time to do Something About the Next 10

10 pounds, that is. Last fall, with my pregnancy weight hanging around as if I actually enjoyed its presence, I had an epiphany.

I need to eat less.

I know, earth-shattering, right? So I did, and I lost 10 pounds. And that 10 pounds has stayed the heck away. Now I sit at my heaviest pre-pregnancy weight, and – although I’m thrilled about getting the stupid pregnancy pounds off – it’s time to do something about the rest.

I bought skinny jeans this weekend, people. I’ve sworn up and down I’d sooner light my hair on fire than buy into that fashion trend. Now look at me… eating crow. I took some coaching from a couple of friends (thanks, girls – you know who you are) who told me that it’s all about the length of the top on top. For women my age, you’ve got to cover the trouble spots. Yikes. So, I think I’ve got this all figured out.

Trying on skinny jeans meant dressing room (or, as I like to call it, ‘the closet of shame’) lighting and mirrors, both less than flattering. Time to get my act in gear again. Yippee. I guess I should take advantage of the fact that I don’t really have a chance to sit down all day, save for that last hour before bed?

That’s all. Just a statement of intent. You guys can keep me honest. Wish me luck!

Meandering Thoughts

I had a rough Sunday morning because it was All Saints Sunday, where they call the names of people who have died in the last year. Andy called out my grandma’s name. I love him for that. It’s because he knew I couldn’t. And that makes me love him even more.

Graham hates the church nursery for some reason. Every time I pick him up after service, he has initiated DefCon 5 on the nursery attendants.

Graham has three teeth now and he grinds them together. I love the kid but, people! AUGH!

We bought our first tub of animal crackers on Sunday.

I think this Saturday I want to go to a movie. Time to text our babysitter.

You text babysitters now. Or you message them on Facebook. Calling is sooooo 1998.

All of the sudden the carseat totally cramps Graham’s style. Whenever I strap him in there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth. No, literally.

Pregnancy weight is starting to make its exodus again. Hallelujah, amen.

Andy and I have already been trading ideas for Graham for Christmas. It is so. much. fun.

I woke up at 4:30 this morning and never went back to sleep.

Andy is at his friend Patrick’s right now installing shocks on his own car. I hope he makes it home without his wheels falling off.

I need more friends with blogs.

I think if my Grandma had been around long enough to get into the celebrity chef thing, she would have loved Paula Deen.

I see Fisher Price commercials now, and I start to wonder exactly how much the brightly-colored plastic content of this house will increase after a first Christmas and a first birthday.

Oh my gosh, Graham’s first birthday is under three months away now.

Graham had a full-on meltdown after we got home from daycare today. Went straight to bed. I’m going to go see if he wants another bottle before I let him sleep another 12 hours. :)

The Firefly Run

You know, Graham’s been busy, busy, busy meeting all these milestones, I decided I needed to throw my hat in the ring, so, yesterday, I ran my very first 5K race. How we got to this point deserves its due explanation.

Ever since going back to work, I’ve been struggling to find my workout time. Before work was a no go. Andy leaves at 5:45 am, and I’m on Graham duty. If I stay after work, I really only get the 30 fussiest minutes of his day before Graham goes to bed for the night. Between sweating it out in the gym and cuddling a wiggly marshmallow puff, I’ll bet you know which decision I make 9.5 times out of 10. Also, once Graham graduated to a big boy carseat, I became the sole dropper-offer and picker-upper from daycare, which closes at 5:30 pm. And so, the final nail in the post-work workouts was driven.

Surely I could find a time to work out? My brain kept trying to suggest something I didn’t want to hear. “Get up and out before Andy leaves for work.” I caved. It was the only time. So I started a Couch to 5K training program to get myself in shape enough to run 3 miles in the morning, before Andy leaves for work.

In the office, I was relaying all of my aerobic trials and tribulations to my friend, Kendell, who has similar disdain for sweat and elevated heartrates. She suggested we sign up for a 5K so that I had all the more reason to wake up at o’dark thirty and hit the pavement. She, too, needed similar motivation.

I knew she was right. I’ve been told this before. You need a finish line (both real and proverbial) to keep you going. Not only that, but Kendell is similar size, shape and fitness level to me. And we’d both never run a 5K before. Too perfect. We decided to each look for races a couple of months out. Then we’d compare notes, pick one and sign up. This was mid-September.

The next morning, Kendell bounced into my office, threw up some jazz hands and said, “I FOUND OUR RACE!!” The Firefly Run. It takes place at night, in Plano, “AND we get to wear LED lights!!!!” It benefits Children’s Hospital, something I can definitely get behind. The only drawback: it was four weeks out. That’s a pretty aggressive timeline for two essentially-sedentary girls.

So, we each trained separately. She ran after work with her buddy, Sander. I ran in the wee hours with my idiot dog. And somehow, some way, we were ready to race last night, October 16th.

Andy and Graham came to cheer me on. A handful of work friends came to cheer Kendell on. And we were off.

You know what? It was pretty fun! Running in the dark with a bunch of other runners, watching LED lights bounce around as they ran. Awesome. I tried to take a picture while I ran, but it was pretty bouncy. Duh. I can’t really describe it, but the best I can do is tell you that I felt like I was in a movie with my iPod streaming the soundtrack.

The next race is TBD, but I know it’s out there, because Andy’s running it with me. Are you surprised? I’m not, really, just proud. First, though, we need to get our hands on a jogging stroller.

Andy brought the camera last night. Here’s a slideshow. Most of it’s prior to the race. We waited around for a long time before the race started, so most of these are of Graham. Oh wells. I figure you’ll enjoy those more anyway!

Oh, and my time? I finished in 33:41.90. Average of 10 minutes, 51 seconds per mile. In the 40th %ile for my age group. 56th %ile overall. For my first time? I’m pretty pleased with that!

Back in the Saddle Again

On Sunday afternoon, I left my two boys at home together and left for a place, although not too far down the road, I hadn’t been to for a couple of years.

Weight Watchers.

Some of you know, some don’t, but I’m a Lifetime member of good ol’ Weight Watchers. Yes, that’s right. I have a long and sordid history with food.

Okay, not really. Truth is, I started going to Weight Watchers with my Dad my freshman year in high school, before my weight every really got out of control. Starting in junior high, I started to gain weight. Very much in part, I decided in retrospect, due to the pizza and french fries I ate in seventh grade literally EVERY DAY. 100% true. Five days a week for an entire 9-month school year, I ate a slice of pepperoni pizza and french fries, because that’s what pre-teens choose when they have a choice between that and meatloaf and mushy green beans.

Not only that, but I’ve always been a good eater. I get that from my dad’s side. We love food, and we’re not terribly picky. In fact, I think the reason I stayed so thin through childhood was because I highly preferred talking to my ‘audience’ at the lunch or dinner table than, you know, actually¬†eating.

I digress. Early freshman year, my dad sat down with me and handled what I realize now is a very touchy subject with the greatest of ease. He said something along the lines of, “Just wanted to let you know that, if you want to come with me to Weight Watchers like your brothers did [around that age], you’re more than welcome. Weight Watchers will teach you to eat right and no matter what anybody says, that’s a good lesson to learn early on.”

You look at my junior high pictures, and it doesn’t look like I’m carrying around an extra 15 pounds, but I was. And Weight Watchers took it off. I quit before my sophomore year, because I joined the pom squad and that really kept the weight off. Athletics will do that, you know.

I’ve rejoined Weight Watchers two times since, both after major life changes. Once was in grad school, when I realized that I’d regained that dreaded 15 pounds gradually over the last four years of undergrad. I needed to learn to eat healthy while living on my own. The second time was after we moved to Texas. Getting married, cooking for a guy who had the palate of a five-year-old (sorry, honey) and the metabolism of a 15-year-old, and joining work for a snack food company really took a toll on the healthy eating habits. I had to relearn to grocery shop and eat in that situation too.

Now to present day: I gained 40 pounds over the course of my pregnancy. The recommended weight gain for a pregnant woman is either 20-30 or 25-35, depending on which book you read, but I’ve always been an overachiever. The first weeks postpartum, it was really fun to watch my body shrink. The pounds practially dripped off, and my shape shrunk back really quickly.

So how come my pants still didn’t fit?

By the time Graham was two weeks old, the numbers on my bathroom scale had stopped their steady descent – a little prematurely, if you ask me. I’d kept hearing that a nursing mom would lose the weight in record time. In fact, it was one of the big selling points for nursing in lieu of formula feeding. Not for me, because in the weeks following Graham’s birth, I had the appetite of a kodiak bear after a long hibernation.

Nope, believe it or not, I’ve got an extra 25 pounds that are stowing away somewhere on my body. I’ve got a clue where, because none of my pre-pregnancy pants fit, and I need blousier tops these days, but for some reason – according to people who’ve seen me recently – I apparently seem to be hiding it well. Regardless, I’ve got a closet FULL of clothes that don’t fit. Pre-pregnancy clothes are too small; maternity clothes are too big. This is unacceptable.

Thanks to Weight Watchers, though, I know that I’ve got a place I can go that will unequivocally take that weight off. Once I got my doctor’s OK, I spent the entire next week attempting to go to a meeting. Problem is, I have a baby now. And no matter how dedicated I was to get to a meeting, I found that, each and every day, Graham had a different idea.

So, we’ll finish where I started this post. Sunday afternoon, I left Big G with his papa, and I took off for a Weight Watchers meeting. It feels so good to be back in the swing of things again. And I realized that here it is, another life change, and I’m having to relearn how to eat again.

Thanks to being a Lifetime member, I get to go to Weight Watchers meetings for free until Graham is 3 months old. Plus, they have a program outlined specifically for nursing mothers, so that I don’t unwittingly affect the little mister’s food supply. So, note to other Weight Watchers members, I get 10 extra points for nursing. For people not in Weight Watchers, I only used to get 22 points for the day, so I’m eating 50% more food than I otherwise would’ve been able to. Frankly, it barely feels like I’m dieting.

I’m ridiculously excited to get that scale moving in the downward direction again and even more excited to fit into my clothes again. It means more work at mealtimes, and – yes – sometimes that’s hard when you’ve got a little guy to take care of, so we’ll see how this goes. But I refuse to decide that I’m just a bigger pant size now that I’m a mom. So wish me luck, people, I’m going to need it!


It is hard to trim the number of calories you consume when you have 10 to 12 bags of chips plopped in your cube on a semi-regular basis and you have to walk by boxes and boxes of cookies “free for the taking” every time you leave your desk. End. of. story.