A weighty post (in more ways than one)

*peeks head out and looks around*

Hello? Anyone still here? Yes, I'm alive. I know my blog looks like a ghost town these days. So much for having more time to post during the summer. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I have two little boys to chase, who rarely take a nap at the same time. L adores television, so I am trying to find daily activities that will keep him from begging for "jus' one more Curious George."

Hence the lack of posting.

To make matters worse, I have a bit of bloggy block. I could post an update on L, although I really don't have one. I could post about why I cancelled his GI appointment, but that'd surely jinx us. I could tell you about how G took seven!steps!in!a!row! three times last week, but that's pretty much all there is to say about that.

Then, I got a request from one of my favorite bloggers (Hey, Saf!) via Twitter last night about my workout routine.

It occurred to me that a lot has changed since my last postpartum body post. But if I tell you, you can't hate me, because I've gotten a lot of hateful comments from people when I explain what's up with my body.

The long and the short of it is that I've continued to lose weight. So much weight, in fact, that I've been concerned about a medical issue (I know, me, worry?) because I am now fifteen pounds under my prepregnancy weight. I'm also 1-2 pants size smaller and I've had to buy all new shorts (thank goodness for thrifting). In fact, I've been a bit self-conscious about my bony chest and chicken-esque legs.

While I think the workouts during and after my pregnancy helped, I also credit a lot of my weight loss to breastfeeding. I am still nursing G. Where my tatas went largely underused during L's first year, G has made up for and then some. Some days, he still nurses every 3-4 hours. He still gets up in the middle of the night to nurse.

(And before you start penning your "let him CIO" comment, I am perfectly okay with his efficient nighttime nursing. I am 95% sure that like L, G has a milk allergy, so I plan to extend breastfeeding if possible. I believe that the around-the-clock nursing is helping my supply to continue this long. On the allergy note, I also believe that cutting dairy from my diet has resulted in pounds dropped as well.)

With all that being said, my belly is not pooch-free nor completely toned.

So I've gone from once-a-week-personal-training session+twice-a-week-intense-cardio+one-more-gym-class to twice a week power yoga.

I've had several people ask me to talk more about yoga. I know many people picture a yoga class full of unshaven people twisted into unhuman positions and chanting "ommmm." While I've been in some yoga classes that aren't too far from that, not all yoga is created equal.

My power yoga classes are filled with people of all shapes and sizes and ability levels. A good yoga teacher can challenge the most progressive yogi and easily modify poses for beginners. I've been lucky enough to find those this summer. The classes I take are different each week, but always intense, vigorous, and get my mat slippery with sweat. My newest class has me in headstands, downward dog with my feet up on a wall, and getting closer and closer to mastering crow pose each time. I try to practice yoga at least twice a week. The hardest part of each class, though, is the savasana at the end. Quieting my mind enough to go into a quasi-meditation is next to impossible for me.

I know I need to do cardio for my heart; for my health. Dropping my favorite spin class has been like quitting an addiction, but I feel like right now, I can't afford to lose more weight. Trying to find a balance extends outside of my yoga class, and I haven't quite figured it out.

So that's where I am in my workout world for the moment. Feel free to comment with more specific questions. Depending on what I get, I'll either e-mail you or write another more specific, less rambly post.

You know I gotta say it.

Namaste.

Six.

Guess how old my baby is today.

Go ahead. Guess.

Okay, I'll tell you. He's SIX. MONTHS. OLD. It's a fabulous age. He's silly and happy and brimming with personality. I love the fact that he's six months.

But.

Whenever I complain about my poochy belly, everyone always says that it takes six months for your uterus to shrink back to it's normal size.

Um.

It's been six months. I have lost all of my baby weight, plus an additional nine pounds which I didn't want to lose. I'd actually like to put a few pounds back on, except for one little thing.

Sorry for the awful, awkward, in-pj's picture. I have the flu. Bleh.

Why does my belly still look like I'm 4 months pregnant??

Since I obviously have no shame, I am going to make you look at it, close-up. If you want to avert your eyes, I understand. Sigh.

Here goes nothin...

Now.

I know I am thin. I realize that the lack of stretch marks makes me really lucky.

But I have been going balls-out for six months. My trainer sessions have focused mainly on my core. We do planks. Full sit-ups. Crunches. The way I've worked, I should have a six-pack by now.

I'm afraid that my bikini days are over.

And? If that is the case, I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that the last time I'd ever worn a bikini, I looked like this....



The good news is that my big six-month-old is totally worth it...and that apparently thrills him to no end.

Another leg of the postpartum body journey

It's been a while since I posted a post-partum body update. The last time I did, I was 11 days postpartum, and looked like this: And now, 15 weeks postpartum, I look like this! Yep, still got the poochy belly. My trainer says it can take up to six months for your uterus to completely shrink. Anyone else heard that?

You may have heard me screaming last night at the gym, though, because I was weighed and measured. I found out that in the past eight weeks, I have lost 4 inches in my waist, 2 in my hips,and 1 in my thigh. If that wasn't exciting enough, I also lost nine pounds. Nine! That means I am three pounds lighter than when I got pregnant!

So the plan now is to step it up. I'm going to start a Body Pump class this weekend. That means I will be taking a 70-minute spin class on Saturdays, a Body Pump class on Sundays, a training session(which consists of a full-body workout) midweek, and also turbokick and/or yoga. If I miss any of these, I'll practice yoga either in a class or at home.

Confession: It makes me tired just typing that out, but I figure it will help me stick to my plan. I'm determined to get a smaller belly and bigger arms, and unfortunately, sitting on the couch, eating peppermint ice cream while watching The Biggest Loser is not going to get me there. Neither will these delicious kettle cooked potato chips, which I am honestly eating as I type this.

Now if you'll excuse me while I go wipe the grease off my hands and reluctantly get out my carrot sticks....

"Exercise is done against one's wishes and maintained only because the alternative is worse." -G. Sheehan

I survived my workout last night. It was actually really fun. My trainer, Audrey, led me through a killer leg workout, but we giggled a lot through it and may or may not have allegedly checked out some of the cute guys in the gym and their muscles.

It wasn't easy, though. However, I survived.

And when I say 'survived,' I mean by the time I left the gym, my legs felt like Jell-o.

And this morning, I was groaning about my butt pain.

Before I even got out of bed.

The pain just increased and increased throughout the day. This afternoon, I sent Audrey a text to complain. She warned me last night that I'd be texting her today to cuss her out. She predicted I'd be "M-Fing" her. I refrained from using foul language, but I did feel the need to tell her how much pain I was in.

She told me to drink water and go for a walk.

I may or may not have M-Fed her at that point. Walking was next to impossible, at least without groaning and looking like I just got off a horse.

But I did it. I told L we were going on a walk. I got out the stroller and the carseat and geared up to go. My boys and I did a mile, and I even jogged about half of it, thanks to my other trainer, who is two feet tall, three years old, and annoyingly enthusiastic.

"C'mon, Mommy! Run! You can run, Mommy! Keep up! You can't get me! Run!"

So I ran. Laboriously and in a very uncoordinated manner. But I did it.
'
And now I am still sore. I also feel like I am getting the flu. My throat hurts. My ears hurt. My nose is starting to run.There are other aches beyond that in my legs and butt.

So no before pictures tonight. I can't get up off the couch. You lucked out.

But if I end up with a six pack and a super toned butt, this pain will be worth it.

So why am I constantly rethinking my request to my parents for more training sessions for my birthday and Christmas? Right now, I'm thinking a year's supply of chocolate and elastic-waisted pants might be better gift choices.

Just sayin.

The post in which I try to rationalize my vanity

On Friday, I may or may not have made the mistake of allowing G to sleep away the day.

Okay, I totally did.

But how could I disturb this sweet face?




Plus, it meant that I got to sleep away the day too.

Needless to say, I paid for it Friday night. Boyfriend was up, on average, every hour and a half.

I was really hoping to go to spin class on Saturday morning but after the night I had, there was no way I could have made it through my class. In fact, I woke up Saturday morning and promptly burst into tears. I was absolutely exhausted. This isn't the first or the last time I'll say this...breastfeeding isn't easy. And a rough night can put a tired mommy over the edge.

So when my husband said, "G, you can stop anytime, you know," I'd be lying if I said that for a split second, I didn't consider it. However, immediately, I said that I wanted to continue. I reminded him of the money we are saving on formula, simply because I knew that that was the best way to keep my cheap frugal husband from ever asking me again if I wanted to quit nursing.

On Saturday afternoon, when I realized that G and I both had thrush, the frustration peaked again. Because if you have ever had an itchy, burning yeast infection, you might be able to imagine it on your nipples. That's what thrush is for a breastfeeding mama.

But I wasn't quite ready to quit.

And then, yesterday, when I was feeling down and out and exhausted, it occurred to me that my sweatpants were falling off of me. And I decided to try them on.

You know.

My prepregnancy jeans.

I found a pair that weren't too terribly small and said a little prayer.

I pulled them over my legs. So far, so good.

Up and over my hips. This was way easier than I thought.

I wiggled around a little, and buttoned them. And zipped them. And looked in the mirror to find that they fit...with plenty of room!

Then I did what any giddy mama would do...I plastered it all over Twitter and Facebook. I may or may not have sent a text to my friend and soon-to-be-trainer, proclaiming my good news. And there is a possibility that I made both B and L check me out as I sashayed around. Okay, I totally did.

I know I was a bit ridiculous, especially considering my belly still hangs over the waistband and I have back fat to boot.. But you guys...it took three times this long after L was born to be able to fit into my non-maternity jeans.

And if it motivates me to keep on keepin' on when G screams when I am not holding him, even when he is in his daddy's arms, and I'm forced to type blog posts with one hand while he eats for the sixth time in four hours...

then I'm going to celebrate fitting into my jeans.

Namaste.

And the postpartum body journey begins.

A couple of my mommy blogger friends did the bravest thing ever...posted photos of themselves in the first couple of weeks postpartum. I didn't think I'd be courageous enough to join in the fun, but seeing their progress inspired me. Plus, I always get the most supportive comments on my blog, like on yesterday's post (I'm feeling SO much better by the way...and my laptop had a miraculous recovery!), so I figured...here goes nothing.

Here's a shot of me...today...eleven days postpartum.



I've actually already lost 21 pounds of the 30 pounds I gained, and I'm absolutely fine with that number. The fact that my belly has shrunk every single day (thank you, breastfeeding!!) helps the situation too. I'd be lying if I said a little part of me is afraid I will be wearing maternity jeans for the rest of my life, but I know I can start spinning in two weeks (okay, whenever Gray can be away from my tatas for more than an hour and a half), and I plan on starting sessions with my friend/trainer/spin teacher/labor coach/badass inspiration Audrey as soon as humanly possible.

In the meantime, I've got this little hunk to distract me from worrying too much about when I'll get those prepregnancy jeans to zip again:


Namaste.