Musings... #2

My @ss has got to get on the road. I mean that literally. I am in my pre-pregnancy pants but let's face it; my pre-pregnancy body could have used some work (not too much, mind you, I'm not really much of a sadist...) The PCOS makes my metabolism a science experiment so even when I work out hardcore, I dont drop much weight. And, in some ways, I'm okay with that, as long as I feel better and jiggle less. Let's just say that my belly- it could make jiggling an Olympic sport right now. Yes, I know it went from 43+ down to (muffles noise), but still... I'd like to not have a double tummy (which, as I'm sure you all are pleased to now know, I have whenever I sit down... My waist makes a perfect belt!). I told myself that once the most noticeable pain from the cesarean went away that I would drag myself out for a walk in the park near our house. After all, I am awake! What better time to get out of bed than when you are already up and pumped (literally, of course... mentally, going to the gym has never been my strong suit...) But... I go back into the bedroom to change into my workout clothes (I pump in our office, next door to the bedroom) and Peter looks so cute, cuddled under the blankets. So, I slip back into the warmth of the bed. And stay there. Even though I tell myself it is just one quick hug. (And, dont get me wrong; I think the hug is well worth the lack of a walk.) So, then I tell myself "Take your workout clothes and leave them in the office! Avoid the temptation!" But it is dark in the mornings now, so I convince myself to just go lay down until it is daylight. And so, I do... No walk. I could do it in the afternoons, after I get home and pump, but lately, that is when I do laundry, dishes, etc, and those kind of *have* to be done...

The mister is no help... He was on board with getting up with me in the beginning of my tough talk, but I know he is wiped out. I dont want to wake him up from what is obviously a very happy slumber, when he just has to get up in an hour to get ready for work, work all day, go to the hospital, and collapse near midnight. (See the returning to bed to cuddle for how this all ends up...)

So. Like I said. I need to get my butt in gear and go take the freaking walk! I know it will help with the final squirms of pain in my belly and it will probably give me some much needed fresh air.

But I digress...

I fell asleep in the pumping room yesterday. I can only imagine the picture it would have made. Imagine a rocking chair (with no neck support- this is important to the rest of the story). A woman in jeans, no shirt, with a pumping bra on, attached to a moochine (and I mean that it the most "cow" sort of way- it looks like a cow milker, just a mini version). It's thumping along. I made the mistake of keeping the lights dim, thinking I could "relax". My neck was hyperextended over the chair. Mouth open (yep, even a telltale drool mark down my chin... lovely, I know!). I woke up to myself trying to take in a deep breath (desat anyone???). Thank goodness there was no one else in the lactation room; I may have died from embarrassment. The worst part- only 15 minutes had passed! But I needed it. I swear, I was falling asleep while holding Bobby. He was so relaxed (and sleeping). I guess the whole "sleep when your baby sleeps" kicked in.

Another funny (I'm just full of them this morning...): I used to sing but during and after pregnancy, my vocal cords swell and I go from being a soprano to somewhere in a mid-tenor range. Not so happy for our music director (although she is extremely understanding!). I actually had to back out of a wedding I was due to cantor in December because, if previous experience holds true, I wont be up to par by then. So... back to my funny story. I still (try to) sing to the babies. I mean, there is no key signature when you are humming and singing lullabies, not to mention, babies actually prefer the vibrations of deeper notes (I do tell myself this to make me feel better, but it is actually true). Well... what do I sing, you might ask? While they get a fair number of religious songs, especially Ave Maria (because I used to sing that to them in the belly at night), I sing Irish pub songs. Yes. That's right, folks. Songs that are possibly approved for the 20+ age group (and even then, you might wonder...) Peter just shakes his head. So, yesterday, as I am rocking a baby and singing "Carrickfergus", I hear the nurse chuckle. And what, you might ask, was she chuckling at? "Well, I'm drunk today but then I'm seldom sober..." Yes, folks. I sing songs about alcoholics pining over lost loves to the babies. On top of the Guinness drinking to increase milk production (I've only had one- never fear! I'm too darn tired to get to the beer store and buy a case), these kids should just have a shamrock tattooed on them and start eating mashed potatoes... Did I mention Peter just shakes his head??? ;)

Well, I think the moochine is telling me it is time to finish getting dressed so I can go to the hospital. (What, your pump doesnt talk to you?) I've already packed up my maternity clothes in a rubbermaid and made the bed, so my work upstairs in done, I think. Time to pack the diaper bag and get ready to move! (If only I could get this motivated for that walk...)