Confidence is something I'm lacking lately.

I hate to admit it, because it sounds completely shallow (and maybe it is), but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with how I'm looking since the birth of my daughter.

I feel heavy. I feel puffy. I feel unkempt. I feel like no matter what I do, I'm not going to look good. I don't want my picture taken (which is going to really stink in a few weeks when we have family pictures)...heck, I honestly don't even want to go out in public.

The way I move? I swear the only way to describe it is 'lumbering'. I am uncoordinated - more so than usual.

I see other moms who look so put together. Their hair is done in some other style than a thrown up ponytail and it isn't doing the nasty postpartum shedding thing. Their clothes are crisp and actually have waistbands that don't result in a muffin top.

They don't sweat profusely doing mundane things like grocery shopping.

They get time in the day to take care of themselves (I bet they even get to go to the BATHROOM by themselves...jerks!).

I know I have a lot to be thankful for, and believe me, I am.

I would give so much to feel good about myself again. I hate how much my physical appearance ties into how I perceive myself.

But it does. That's an unfortunate fact.

I don't remember feeling this poorly after my birth of my son. After he was born, I went back to work. Though I am thankful I have the opportunity to be a stay at home mama, there was something affirming about having a job outside of the home. I dressed up everyday. I got to speak with adults on a daily basis. My brain was used for something other than housework and playing Thomas the Tank Engine OVER AND OVER.

I guess I can't have it both ways. And if I had to choose, I guess I'd choose to be exactly where I am right now. At home with my children. I know raising them is the most important job I'll ever have.

What needs to happen is me finding a way to thrive in my current situation. And when I figure out how I'm going to do that, I'll let you know.

Right now? I'm going to figure out how to get in a LONG shower. You know, maybe I'll shave my legs AND wash my hair.

Extravagant. I know.


And I Have a Preschooler.

As I write this, I am hiding in the bathroom. This week...no scratch that...last few weeks have been rough. Nothing I can't handle, but I have shed a few tears, which is quite the feat through my Zoloft armor.

Last time I bitched...errr WROTE...it was all about the woes of potty training. Then lo and behold, one day G just runs into the bathroom, climbs on the big toilet and announces 'Mom, I'm pooping!'

And that was that. He is fully trained now. Even wakes up dry, though I'm still putting him in a Pull Up at night. You know, just in case.

Once he got the whole potty thing, I thought we were home free. We started preschool for three hours, two days per week. And those three hours? Glorious. I was able to run all my errands, even grocery shop and use coupons effectively (this seriously requires concentration, it's no joke).

My happy little bubble was abruptly burst when I received a call during a doctor appointment for the babe. G was having a very difficult time, and had been since he started. Screaming, crying, ignoring the teacher.

And not making eye contact. That right there freaked me out the most.

After meeting with the teacher, we decided that either me or the hubs would gotpreschool WITH G.

So that's what I've been doing the last few weeks, wearing the babe in the Moby wrap.

A few colds later, G's teacher said I could try leaving him there last Thursday. And THANK GOD, he did okay. Not great, but he made progress.


So thats what I've been up to. Fun, right?

Being a parent is hard sometimes. But when you see improvement? All the tears and work are totally worth it.

- Posted from my iPad! I know!