the right size

This weekend, we made a trip out to the mall - mostly because we just wanted to wander and join the Christmas throngs, but also because I'm in dire need of skirts that fit. I found a sale going on at one of the department stores so I grabbed some to try on. I was met with extreme disappointment. Nothing fit. The size I had to go up to in order to fit into one was a size that I'd never worn before. I almost cried. And I think that is mostly because I've been working so hard - I thought surely something would fit. Suddenly, I felt like all my efforts were pointless. I suddenly regretted all of the chocolate I hadn't eaten.

The next morning, as I dressed my sweet baby girl, I realized the ironies of our lives: she's four and a half months old and the majority of her clothes are sized for 12 months (and up). And I realized that if she actually possessed the ability to realize that she's bigger than the other girls her age, this is not something I would point out. I would pray that she didn't understand or see the difference. I would never encourage her to slim down to a six month onesie. She's beautiful, big or not. She will always be perfect and beautiful to me, no matter her size.

Like many of you, I struggle with my body image; I always have. Cue the completely insane running I used to do (until my knees started buckling and my Achilles tendon just stopped allowing it). But I want to have Belle's mindset, oblivious and clueless as to what the world - or the percentiles - say she should be. I want to be happy with my size like she is - guzzling bottles, gnawing on apples slices - happy with these hips that are never going to be the same. I want to embrace the idea that the number on the tag doesn't matter - it's more about inner beauty, about loving myself regardless of the baby weight. I want to be encouraged by my daily efforts, by my relentless rolling out of bed in the morning to complete a work out that my body barely has energy to do.

And so today, thanks to my sweet baby girl who is big and beautiful, I resolve to be better. I resolve to stop sulking and start smiling. And I'm going to try to accept this post baby body, grateful that it had the capacity to be a pregnant body in the first place. After all, if I didn't have a post baby body, I wouldn't have my Belle.

And of course, as always, she is worth it. Worth it all.

Miss Annabelle, 4 1/2 months old, 12 month old clothes.

even though...

...Even though it makes me sad to see the leaves fall, I'm secretly giddy that winter is on its way.

...Even though I swore off Glee, every week I find myself resisting the urge to turn off the TV after SYTYCD ends. I suppose the immoral factor is a little lower, but still. Let's be honest, I'm just totally obsessed with the songs.

...Even though I actually enjoy Christmas crowds from time to time, I have to say that Christmas shopping online is the smartest thing I've ever done. Next to eating chocolate before and after every meal. And sometimes as a snack in between. (Why can't I lose this baby weight?!)

...Even though Thanksgiving is still a week away, our stockings our hanging already. This is mostly because there's no room to store anything in this tiny apartment, so instead of stashing them, I thought we'd start celebrating.

...Even though I'm not pregnant, I will not be eating ham for any holiday meal. Pregnancy killed the small tolerance I had for ham in the first place.

...Even though I promise myself I'll clean my closet every day (there's got to be something in there that fits!), a little girl with brown/blue eyes usually ends up persuading me that playing with her would be more fun.

...Even though my fridge is full of leftovers, I keep cooking. I'm totally obsessed with new meals. (Have I mentioned I'M NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE?)

...Even though I wanted to post yet another photo of my Belle, I refrained and instead you are enjoying the smoky clouds that give the Great Smokies their name.

there's nothing like....

The innocence of

pretty baby eyes.
The deep sleep
that exhaustion produces.
A kiss on the forehead

from the man you love.
A baby's smile,

first thing in the morning.
Cherry flavored chocolate

to signal the holiday season.
Diet Dr Pepper

in the morning.
(Or afternoon. Or night.)
Crawling back into a warm bed

for just one more hour of sleep.
A new tube of mascara
to open up sleepy eyes.
A happy,

naked

baby.

things they don't tell you

The baby weight does not "just fall off."
Not for all of us. In fact, in my case I'm pretty sure it fell on. Now I only nursed (if you can call the meager supply I had "nursing") for about a month, so I'm sure that didn't help much, but really? I know some of you walked out of the hospital in your size zero jeans. For one thing, I've never worn size zero jeans. For another? I don't know if I'll ever fit in my jeans ever again. But with dedicated morning workouts and cutting back on the chocolate (just cutting back, elimination is like suicide), it seems to be slowly coming off. Slow. Lee. Like a turtle slow. Like watching grass grow slow.

Small accomplishments become huge victories.
This goes for baby and mom. Watching your baby figure out how to finally hit that hanging toy she's been waving her hand at for a week is literally thrilling. When she discovered that she herself could remove the blanket from her face (that she had put there in the first place), I broke out the pom poms. The world is new in her eyes, and I love watching her discover the things and abilities that I take for granted. But small things are huge for me too. Like when I finally got to the point that I could manage to put on makeup and do my hair (not just one or the other), I felt absolutely victorious. The week I managed to make it to the fitness center six days in a row was like one of my life's greatest achievements. I'm being totally serious. I felt like I should be bronzed. A nice statue of me would suffice.

The love is overwhelming, and it hits you when you least expect it.
You feel it the moment the baby is born, yes, but the moments, while they aren't constant, are also most definitely recurring. A few weeks ago, I was walking through the grocery store, chatting with Belle. And there was this moment. She looked up at me and grinned. And I was blown away, right there in aisle three, next to thirty different varieties of Mac & Cheese. Those moments of parental love, a different love than spousal love or sibling love or the love I have for my parents, are incredible. They convince you that you can be a parent, that even if you don't manage to put on the makeup and do your hair and work out and discover the cure for cancer, you will always love that baby more than yourself. And that feeling is reassuring.

And of all the things they don't tell you, and there are many, this love is the one that makes it all totally worth it.

greater than

So Annabelle had her four month check up today. If you recall, at two months, she was in the 94th percentile for her weight. And while she appears to have lengthened some, the kid is just big. She could eat kids her age for breakfast. She puts some six month old babies to shame when it comes to her girth. She currently wears 9-12 month old clothes.

Have I mentioned she's really happy?

So we go to the four month, pretty excited to hear the damage on the world's first potential female sumo wrestler. Our cute doctor (female, I'm not crushing on the pediatrician) comes in and starts looking at the chart.

"Looks like she's in the 50th percentile for weight...."

Me: "Whaaaa?"

Jess: "Nooooo...."

"Yeah..." Looks up at Annabelle, looks back down at the chart, looks at Annabelle.

Me: "Are you sure? She's...."

"Oh!" She starts cracking up. "I was looking at six months...oh I lied [laughing]...eight months. She's in the 50th percentile for eight month old babies."

As it turns out, Annabelle is in the "greater than 97th" percentile. Apparently they just throw really big babies into the "greater than" category, a catch all for those kids who break the scales.

Have I mentioned she's a really happy baby? :)

NOTE: Jess would like to add that she was also in the 97th percentile for height and 95th for head circumference. So it's all proportional.

 Sort of. ;) )

dressing for the season

So I get the whole dressing for the season idea. I really do. I actually kind of like the concept - it's like we're trying to mimic nature. Warm browns, red, greens in the fall. Bright yellow and oranges in the spring. There's something very organic about it really, and something so appropriate about blending in with the earth, with God's beautiful creations. After all, aren't we as well?

But today we discovered that when you're four months old, you can wear

whatever

you

want.

Seasonal or not. :)

the top three reasons i will NEVER lose the baby weight

one

two

and three

of the white chocolate variety

Seriously. Never losing it.

Not as long as there are Reese's trees around.

Or Reese's eggs.

Or Reese's pumpkins.

So as you can see, never losing it.

in the kitchen again

So when I was pregnant, my nose developed the ability to decipher the molecular makeup of all matter with a mere whiff. I'm not kidding. I could smell the flour in cookies, the trees in paper. Food smells of almost all kinds made me completely ill and/or annoyed, so I pretty much gave up cooking. I just couldn't handle the multitude of smells that clogged the air during meal preparation. And while I maintain that my sense of smell is still heightened, it isn't so bad that I feel like I can taste through my nose. (Try tasting dirty laundry.)

But with the parasite on the outside and my sense of smell somewhat normalized, I've found myself in the kitchen like crazy. Like. Crazy. I'm all about trying new recipes. In particular, I've developed a particular OBSESSION with this cornbread and honey butter. I make it at least once a week. It's the perfect texture, the perfect moistness, and it doesn't crumble all over the place, which drives me crazy about cornbread.

Now don't get too excited - I don't actually create recipes. I just troll recipe blogs. One of my hobbies is blog stalking (oh come on, it's one of yours too), recipe blogs included, and I've found a few that are here to stay. If you're looking for a yummy, easy (I only do easy) dinner, give one of these a try.

Chicken Enchilada Pasta

Italian Sausage Soup

Creamy Pesto Crockpot Chicken (If you love pesto, you may find yourself in a committed relationship with this dish.)

And the photo? Why she's the most delicious thing around. Of course. :)

she's like wine. or cheese.

fist sucking | item grabbing | kisses loving | whining whining whining | slobber expert | 6-9 month old clothes wearing | toy bug lover | eye color a mystery | tummy time hater | exersaucer attempter | shopping list eater | road trip warrior | tree hugger | left foot grabber | ever curious | bottom lip sucker | toothless smiles and random giggles | hair growing [finally!] | mommy's best friend | daddy's best girl | simply gets better with age

happy four months baby girl

halloweener

So I've never been a huge fan of Halloween. Dark shadows, scary costumes, blood and gore, deception and disguise. Things I prefer to avoid, not celebrate. (I do, however, love big pumpkins, changing leaves, eating lots of candy, my mom's chili [which I am attempting this year], and her sweet rolls [which I am not attempting this year].)

But I'm pretty sure I could learn to love this holiday given the fact that I get to dress this little monkey up every year.

As long as she knows she will not ever get to wear anything gross, evil, or scary.

And it's possible she'll be wearing this monkey costume every year.

Because it's ridiculously cute.

Thanks Grandma Cheney. :)