Look at mE

Eighty pounds.  That was my pregnancy weight gain. During the last few weeks of  being an incubator I  looked like Jabba the Hut from the Star Wars movies. Yes, indeed.   Multiple chins, my body spread wide with swelling.  My glasses barely fit on my face. The only thing missing was a slug like tale.

Within one a week of my blueberry making his way into the world forty lbs of water weight drained from my body.

And since then, every extra prego pound has stayed put.  Made a home.

Last night after our bath time my little wonder was still ready to play play play. Even though he was yawning and rubbing his eyes, his mama was home and he so desperately wanted her full playtime attention.

I was drained.  Another long day. Another long work week
I am always tired.
I never eat a regular meal.  At work and at home I graze.
I never exercise.  After a week at work it takes all my energy to try to help with the house work and play with E.
And the most depressing----my pre-pregnancy clothes still do not fit. All my pretty blouse, the favorite jeans, the cozy sweaters.
I am in a constant state of feeling frumpy dumpy.

I have never been a thin woman.  That is not the goal. It is more simple and more complicated at the same time. I want to feel good, look good, and play well for my son...for my little family.

So last night, after that sweet boy shined his tired eyes at me I decided enough was enough. Even if I just took baby steps something had to give. I made a pact with my blueberry.  After the grazing supplies of quick eats was gone from our kitchen,  mama would only bring home water and things for easy-baby-on-your-hip real meals. I still have to eat the grazing food---in moderation--cause the wallet is to slim to waste any food that enters the kitchen. But the goal is to slowly replace it with the right things.

I worry about the diet of my blueberry.  Three meals a day.  Fruits. Vegetables. Healthy babe appropriate snacks.  The good doctor has stressed to me how important it is for a baby's growth, metabolism, and digestive tract development to carefully monitor their diet.  He said that we have a whole lifetime to experiment with food and taste, but that as  babies it is more about health and wellness first.

And our E's weight and growth is perfect and on track. I need to model my son's example.

This morning when I woke to his morning "come get me lets go mama" calls, I was energized to start planning my new venture back to wellness.

And
then....

There they were. Chocolate covered mini-donuts on the kitchen counter. A fresh gallon of milk in the fridge. Morning gifts from my dear D.

Darn it. It is that time of the month when the site and smell of anything chocolate or salty triggers my cravings.

E had banana oatmeal and apples for breakfast.
Mama had a donut, toast, tea, and a pear.

I did say baby steps, right?

(Please note: the wonderful new floor in the background that Daddy installed all by himself last weekend.  I was around for moral support.  I love it.)

My E and Mrs. G

My little blueberry is so blessed.  He has an assortment of grandmothers and grandfathers to dote on him. To tell him how cute, how smart, how wonderful his precious baby soul lights up their life.

My grandmothers once did the same for me.

I miss them. 

I would have loved for them to have held my E...hear his giggle...to have felt the warmth of his genuine loving nature.  My grandmothers were a motley crew. They had a variety of different natures----one had a colorful vocabulary and enjoyed a cold beer---while another was faithful to her church and smelled of Coty powder.  And my dear great grandmother was almost as round as she was short. These ladies loved me.  Each made me feel special every moment I was with them. Watching MASH reruns and  singing hymns fill many memories of my childhood.

And then there is Mrs. G.

She is my mother's neighbor of 30 odd years. A woman who is a wonderful attentive grandmother to her own family. My brother and sister and I are lucky that she also spread her attention to us during our youth. For years she watched us play from her kitchen window as she washed her dishes. She was the first report to our mother.  She watched over us while my mother worked and attended college.  There was no sneaking or fighting---because Mrs. G would witness it from that kitchen window. When we locked our selves out from our house, she and her husband were always waiting with cookies in their warm kitchen (the house key was always missing and we siblings  blamed each other for where it had gone). And like my grandmothers she would dote.  Tell us how handsome we were, how smart. Tell my mother how good we were. How lucky my mother was to have us.

Above is a photograph of my E and dear Mrs. G. He is brand new in the picture. And true to her kind heart she told me how handsome, how smart he was. Like his mother, she would say.

When Mrs. G. held my E it opened my heart to the memories of my grandmothers. Her tender embrace of my son was an open channel to the love of my grandmothers who had passed. The grandmothers that I miss. She served as the connection to the women who would have  adored this special little boy.

Today Mrs. G is not well.  Now it is my mother who is the neighbor that does the checking and reporting on our Mrs G.  My thoughts and prayers are with my neighbor and her family...that she may soon again be watching over my family from her kitchen window. 

Gnome Baby

Ah, my little gnome. Most adorable Halloween costume in the world made by Baba.  Complete with super red hat, snazzy belt, and a little pouch for special treasures.

Note: he wore the hat without complaint for both trick-or-treat days.

As I post this my little blueberry is fast asleep after two days....yes, two days of trick-or-treating.  I do believe he loved every minute of cold autumn night air and strange looking people running amuck.

Note 2: Of course my head is already full of costume ideas for the years to come before he hits the age when he will think he knows best.....

For now I need to focus.  I need to plan. Make lists. Set a budget. The holidays are around the bend.  And somehow I volunteered to have Turkey day at our little house. What was I thinking....