For my friend Kristi

What stormtroopers do on their day off.

And this is why we don't go for walks in our neighborhood.

*found on the store around the corner from our house










Prostitutes, drug dealers, and loiterers beware!!

I'll take the vegetarian cookie, please!

Ummm, GROSS!
This is at the Subway down the street.
Who says punctuation and sentence structure aren't important?

Changing my ways before it's death by chocolate.

Cardboard flavored popcorn. Yum, yum. I wanted, of course, to buy the kind that was drenched in butter- that I would want to shovel in by the handfuls, but that would defeat my purpose in eating popcorn in the first place. I normally don’t eat popcorn. When I’m living without any sense of awareness for my health and well-being, I eat sugar. And if that were the case now, I’d be sitting here snacking on a king-sized Reese’s peanut butter cup. It’s a lot more fun to not care how few of my pants I can still wear. But since it’s slightly embarrassing to still be wearing maternity jeans when my baby is three months old, I’ve decided to make some changes in my eating habits.

For the record, I have lost 31 pounds since Drew was delivered. Also for the record, I had gained twice that in nine months. Let’s top that off with the 10 pounds I had gained on our honeymoon and that equals something similar to cottage cheese and marshmallows. I know what you’re thinking. How long was your honeymoon? Yeah, that would be a week. Yes, I said 10 pounds. That’s what happens when you go to an all-inclusive resort where there is an unlimited amount of food and drink at your disposal. Three of the resort restaurants offered nightly buffets. We didn’t always go to ALL three EVERY night. For the record.

So, Jon and I both decided we were going to work toward being healthier… after we got back from the Minnesota State Fair over Labor Day weekend. ‘Cause let’s be honest, I’m not going anywhere near the fruit stand at the Fair. Not unless it’s next to the funnel cake stand. In which case I may see the fruit stand more than once.

Now that we’ve eaten our way through the MN State Fair, we have committed ourselves to a healthier lifestyle. I’m not sure how cardboard popcorn fits into that category, other than it provides me with a snack that won’t directly attach itself to my hips… and it keeps me from gnawing my arm off while I think about soaking in a tub of chocolate and peanut butter. And just so I don’t cave into that glorious reality, I’m sharing my endeavor with you. Accountability is a b@#*^. I’ll be updating my progress on the side bar, along with periodic “Diet Diary” entries- although it’s changing my diet, not a diet.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to close my eyes and think of M&Ms while I chew on some more cardboard.

"My milkshake brings..." umm, a big headache.

Here’s a shocker: I’m going to talk about food. If you’ve been around me in the past… oh eleven months, you know it’s been a bit of an obsession- as evidenced by the pregnancy pounds I packed on. You’ll start seeing more entries about food because after this weekend I’m embarking on a serious weight loss campaign. Why put off till Tuesday what I could do today? It’s called the Minnesota State Fair. Corn Dogs. Funnel Cakes. Roasted Corn. Need I say more? I mean, what’s five more pounds in the grand scheme of things really? But, more about that later.

This entry is about one food item in particular: milkshakes. Did I miss something about milkshakes? I remember when you could use a pay phone for a dime (I should just say I remember pay phones at this point), when a bottled coke was 25 cents, and when you could drink milkshakes through a straw. Try that now and you’ll end up sucking your teeth down your throat. Sonic recently had a $2.99 burger and shake special that I took advantage of more than once. Cellulite be damned. That’s a bargain- I don’t care who you are. The last milkshake I got there was so thick that I turned my cup upside down and shook it. Not a drop fell. I’m not even sure there was milk in that thing. Or liquid of any kind. And they gave me a straw with it. A STRAW. Were they taunting me? Was that some kind of a cruel joke? I had to use the straw as a spoon. It took me two days to eat that thing.

Today, I got a milkshake from Jack in the Box. Shut up. I already know I’m fat. The girls at the window handed me a straw and asked if I needed a spoon. I declined.
“Have you ever had one before?” she asked. As if she couldn’t tell I’d been eating a lot of milkshakes! I said I had and she gave me this pitiful look as I drove away. Probably because she knew I was about to suck my brain into my stomach.

I don’t understand why milkshakes have become so menacing. I swear, I think you burn all the calories you’re eating by the time you work that hard to get it down. It’s a good thing I’m about to get skinny. Exercising is one thing, but drinking a milkshake is just too much work.

Making an Outhouse Even MORE Gross

Nothing I could write would do this justice.

A coma would be a welcome relief.

I know. In my last post I said I was going to start blogging regularly again. That was five weeks ago. The truth is- life with a new baby is harder than I thought it would be. I was full of aspirations of all the things I would accomplish once I was a stay-at-home mom. How much time could a newborn consume really? Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Finally, I was going to have time to do all of the things I couldn’t when I was working full-time. Wait. Let’s stop there. When I was working full-time. Like that was going to change once Drew was born. My job before now seems like an eight-year vacation.

There have been times when I thought I was tired. I thought I was tired during pregnancy. I’d fall asleep at my desk during the day and crash on the couch once I got home. THAT wasn’t tired. That was Tired giving me a little bear hug. Then Drew arrived and Tired bitch-slapped me in the face. Normally I would fight back, but I’ve spent the last two and half months crying in the corner from the red welt on my cheek.

Up until last week, Drew was waking every two hours during the night to be fed. It would take approximately 30 minutes to feed, burp, and change him before putting him back to sleep. I have never claimed to be a math genius, but let me do that equation for you. That leaves an hour and a half of sleep between feedings. Tired stood beside my bed like an abusive pimp. Now, the boy is sleeping in four-hour segments. That may not seem like much- especially when I keep reading on message boards about other babies his age who are sleeping 10 hours at a time- but when you’re so tired you wake up in bed looking for the baby you think you have in your arms and you can’t remember what you did with him, sleeping four hours feels like a mild coma.

All that to say- I am starting to adjust to doing life with a baby. He’s going to bed earlier and I’m finding myself with at least 2-3 hours of non-baby time each night. Granted, I spend most of it doing laundry, dishes, ironing, or scrubbing the bathroom floor, but I’m trying to discipline and balance my time so I can share all of my random babble and much a do about nothing with you, internet.

My goal this week is to post at least two entries in addition to this little update. We’re heading out to MN on Thursday, so that will be an accomplishment in a short week- unless I postdate some entries. But let’s not get crazy. One day at a time. Now, I have to run and jump in bed and savor the hour I have left before the boy should wake.