As I sit here on my lunch "break" (I eat at my desk and usually work through lunch), I realize I have a problem.
I'm looking back at my posts and come to realize that they are all about food.
Now I know where these hips come from (HA!).
My weight has been on my mind a bit for the past few months. Before I got pregnant, I lost 10 pounds. It was wonderful. I only gained 23 pounds while pregnant and, thanks to breast feeding, it all melted off within 6 months. And then I lost another 15 pounds.
As we talk about a time line for baby #2, I worry (and how can we not talk about a time line?Everyone is constantly saying "It's time for another" or asking "When can we expect another baby?). Will I gain 60 pounds next time? Will I be able to take it off next time? I'm nearing my 30th birthday. It's harder to lose weight after you hit 30, or so I'm told. Am I just going to put it all back on (plus some)?
It's a stupid thing to worry about, I know. For the first time in my adult life I'm at a place where I'm comfortable with myself and how I look. So it makes me worry. And then, obviously, I feel stupid and selfish because there are bigger things to worry about.
Will the next baby be healthy too? Can I handle 2 kids on my own with minimal help with our families 4 hours away? Can we afford another mouth to feed and bottom to diaper? Am I really ready for more sleepless nights (Monkey still doesn't sleep through the night!)? How will Monkey feel sharing the spotlight? Can I possibly love another child as much as I love her - and love them equally?
My mind tends to run away from me sometimes. And runs a vicious circle. And I wonder why I've been having trouble sleeping lately (that plus the myriad of medical issues our families are dealing with at the moment, I'm sure).
For the time being, I really should just stick to worrying about getting all of our garden harvested.
And for those of you that are wondering and asking about baby #2 - for the record: No, I'm not pregnant.