I've been here before.

That number.  It looks so oddly familiar.  It is.  Odd.  And Familiar.  Since I have no idea who's reading my blog these days, I'm a little hesitant to put such a number out there.  Here goes.  Maybe I can use a small font?   177.  That's right.  I said it.  That's how much I weigh.  It's how much I weighted before I got pregnant with Marek.  So I could call it pre-pregnancy weight.  However, it's not my goal weight.  I was about 17 pounds from goal weight when I got pregnant with Marek, so now I've returned to this spot, this plateau and this time I'm determined to blow right through it. 

I'm technically overweight by the BMI charts.  And before you give me the "you have a two month old" speech, let me assure you that I was at this weight after baby two within the first six weeks.  I just never pushed past it. 

There were so many factors that contributed to me keeping 17 extra pounds after Chester.  The most glaring is that I was overconfident.  The weight peeled off after Pete.  In fact, I was the thinnest I've been since high school after Pete was born.   I didn't even have to try to get the weight off, it just melted.  I laughed in the face of women who said "nine months to put it on, nine months to take it off".  I'm 5'10" with a nice solid frame, so 145 and a size four was actually not an attractive weight for me and I happily gained back to a healthy 160 before getting pregnant again.  After Chester, I didn't bother making any sort of effort again, and lost 20 of the 40+ pounds I'd put on.  But that was it.  The scale hovered between 170 and 180 for the next year. 

Our vacation to D and K's wedding in Turks and Caicos really pushed me to make an effort.  Oh, not before the vacation, but after.  After I saw myself in pictures, and saw myself in a swimsuit I truly started my weight loss journey.  There were a few bumps in the road, but I manage to get down to 168 before starting to gain with Marek. 

This time I told myself I will not allow that to happen again.  So I'm being more careful with the alcohol.  And brownies.  It's best if I don't even let baked goods or candy in the house, as I have zero self control when I'm stressed.  After cleaning the toilet and your toddler's pants for the fifth time today, a handful of M&Ms really satisfies with the crunchy shells and the sweet chocolate melting in your mouth... but I digress. 

I'm a mere three weeks from being able to use the YMCA playcare for Marek.  Though now that I've been cleared by the midwife to return to the gym, I am going to sneak him in earlier, like this week so that I can return to my yoga, zumba and treadmills.  Exercise is both good for the body and the soul, but it's difficult to accomplish at home with three children screaming for your attention, and trying to fit it into our evenings when Ryan's home to watch Marek is nearly impossible if I want to have dinner and bedtime on time to keep my older boys in a routine.  I also do better with a stable schedule, and I'm excited to be starting a sustainable routine again, even if it means fibbing a little to the YMCA playcare.   

Mini goal #1 Sneak the baby into playcare twice a week while Pete's in pre-school.
Mini goal #2 167 pounds, which is the cut off between overweight and healthy for my height.
Mini goal #3 Run a 5K.  I returned to running after Pete and completed a half marathon, but failed miserably 8 miles into my half marathon after Chester. 
Mini goal #4 Run that half marathon!
Final goal- 160lbs, living a happy and healthy life with the ability to keep up with my three crazy boys. 

Where have you been?

Despite being mostly stuck on a couch for the last 8 weeks, I haven't blogged because I didn't want to whine incessantly about being sick and miserable.  It actually was nowhere NEAR as bad as my first pregnancy, so I was quite pleased with the improvement, but I still threw myself an entire first-trimester pity-party. 

We visited family, went river tubing, I did my parents' taxes.  The boys rode four-wheelers, went to Vacation Bible School and the story times at the library.  We survived a heat wave, a fall down the stairs, a toddler who won't listen and runs in the street.  The dogs only escaped a few times, and thoroughly enjoyed the lake and the island at Great-Grandma's house.  We skyped with Daddy while he spent time in Baltimore, Tampa, Boston and NYC.

I visited a few friends, so nice to see JM (now Shamp) and her three kids and with amazingly good luck on the timing, we got to see CF (now Cook) and her new baby B!  We didn't make it around to everyone, but considering I spent most of my time on the couch, wishing this baby would be nicer to me, I was pleased to get out a little.

Chester learned a few new words, like Grandma and Grandpa, More and Up.  He expressed his undying love of dinosaurs, and we checked out every dino board book from the library.  By the end of the 6 weeks, the shirts we brought at the beginning of the trip didn't fit an he had to wear Pete's shirts.

Pete learned to answer a phone (yes, like a real phone on a wall, not a cell phone- he was amazed and befuddled at the same time) and he gave us such dinnertime conversational gems as: I'll eat these five green beans and then my penis will get really big and I'll pee them out in the potty.  Clearly a few lessons in bodily functions are in our future, but I was impressed with his grasp of the general concept.

A true hero, Ryan flew to Ohio late on a Tuesday and woke up wicked early on a Wednesday to drive us back to Boston.  That 10-12 hour drive is only made tolerable by DVDs in the minivan.  And by the very end, even the DVDs weren't helping.  Thank God we don't have to make that drive again until next year for the combo trip including my 10 year college reunion/family vacation/Baby Threepete's baptism.

Not quite fully recovered, but ready to get back in the game, I took the kids to the YMCA the night after we arrived home.  I was ready for a workout and to see my friend K.  Pete was desperate to see his friends Tyler and Maddox too.  He talked about them the entire time we were in Ohio.  I would tell him we were going to a friend's house, or Grandma's friends were coming over, and he would hop right up asking if his friends Tyler and Maddox were coming too.  So sad.  (It was the same way when his first BFF Christian moved to Hawaii last year.)  But back to the YMCA- Let me explain that I've gained 13 pounds so far in this pregnancy.  Although I'm over 16 weeks and that would seem acceptable, let me just explain that it's ALL FAT.  None of this is baby yet, it was "eat whatever makes me not want to die".  So when I put on workout clothes last night and headed for the gym, I was pretty horrified at what I look like right now.  Not only am I pudgy, but I've been away from the zumba class for about 2 months so I don't know any of the new dances, my coordination is shot to hell and I'm falling all over myself.  Two months away will also cause me to lose enough of my normal fitness level so that I'm out of shape and panting heavily.  During one song, we bounced and jumped and all I could think was that I needed to get out of there and go pee!  Damn having three kids in under four years!  As a final insult, after I got the kids home and into bed, I tried to carry the remaining suitcases upstairs to the closet and realized I couldn't walk up the steps.  I just left them there in defeat, took some Tylenol and headed to bed. 

So we're back, and after one more weekend of crazy busy wedding and family visits and two more weeks of Ryan commuting to Baltimore, we'll be ready to settle down into our normal (if it's EVER normal???) life in Boston for another three years. 

Get ready for some more amusement, courtesy of the pre-schooler, toddler and soon-to-be lump of baby.

Oh YMCA, the amusement never ends!

I am so glad KJ invited me to Muscle Class last night at the YMCA!  I needed a reason to leave the house again after our 2 hour excursion to get the oil changed in the morning.  (The boys actually behaved unbelievably well for 1 hour and 52 minutes.  The last 8 minutes were excruciating and embarrassing, but I can't blame the boys!)

Months ago, before I started blogging, I compiled a list of some of my favorite fun ladies at the YMCA.  The over-40 gem dancing up on the gay male Zumba instructor, the Eastern European mail-order bride with huge breasts that never moved, the woman wearing a strapless bra and lace tank top more suitable for a walk of shame than a step class.  But it's been a few months and we must not be going to the same classes anymore since I changed my schedule to night instead of morning classes.

The class at the YMCA was taught by a substitute last night, and offered all sorts of amusement.

First note to the instructor: your music is horribly out of date.  As the instructor, you are allowed to bring any music you wish for the class, but may I gently suggest that bringing a mix-tape might mean your musical selections are well behind the times.  It is your right to bring music from the early 90's if you want, but please at least follow the beat of the music you have selected!  I could barely keep a straight face as she randomly bounced all over, and the class was split between following her rhythm or following the music.  We stretched to Night at the Roxbury (1993) and did push-ups to I'm a Barbie Girl (1997).


Second note to the instructor: your attire is slightly inappropriate.  We've all made some poor choices in gym attire at one point or another (i.e. the entire leotard/tights era of the 1980's) but there are a few wardrobe malfunctions you probably want to avoid while leading a class.  If you sweat enough to show panty lines, may I suggest more modest briefs or boyshorts instead of a thong?  When planning the workout, if you're including the fire-hydrant lift for outer thighs and glutes, I suggest shorts long enough to cover your fake-tanning lines.  I understand jewelry is a matter of personal taste, so I'll leave the decision on huge gold hoop earrings up to you, though clearly you've made that decision already.

Last note to the instructor.  We can't understand you while you're chomping on your gum.  Gum is not allowed in the YMCA, and I'm assuming this applies to instructors as well as participants. 

A note to the lovely woman next to me in class: Don't do plow in shorts either.  Not only were we not doing plow in class, we were all treated to a lovely view up your shorts as well.

Thank you for the hour of entertainment, I'm not sure I could have made it through class without your shenanigans to keep my mind off my burning thighs.