I've got to get my butt back in the gym and eating right.  French fries are not a food group.  I stopped going to the grocery store and started utilizing convenience foods.  Not cool. 

Even if I only go for half an hour on the treadmill in the evenings, I still need to get in there and get something done.  I've officially put on 20 pounds.  I'm on the very high end of normal.  I'm not saying lose weight, but I'm saying stop this five pounds in two weeks nonsense.  I've got three months to go, and should only top out at another 6-10 pounds. 

I know what I have to do.  I just need to stop the excuses and get in there and do it.  Stop using this pregnancy as an excuse, put the skids on junk eating, and get back to being active.  These past two weeks, I've started 'feeling' bad and out of shape.  I know it's my body craving a salad and veggies.  I know it's because I'm drinking more ginger ale than water.  I know it's because I let it go, and I need to get back to doing what I do before I deliver and am left with 35+ pounds to lose and no will power or muscle strength left.  I've got sessions at the hit center.  I need to use them and stop cancelling on my trainer (twice now).  I need to stop utilizing "not enough time" as an excuse and swing by the gym at night on the way home.  Even a little is better than nothing.  I can certainly lift a bit and get some walking done, perhaps a jog if I'm feeling spiffy enough.

Can I just say that I miss pushing my body to its limits?  Being completely out of breath, wanting to puke, red faced, but accomplished.  I miss that.  I can't wait to work my way back to that.  But with this little one in there, I can't push that hard.  His heart beats twice as fast as mine does.  But once he is born, I can ease my way back into training again and losing weight.  I want to race again.  I want to have challenges to look forward to again.  And I want to get in shape in time for the second baby, if that is in our future.  The plan was always if we were going to have children, then we were going to have at least two, and we wanted them at least two years apart.  I can't completely wreck my body and not have enough time to get it back in shape to handle life with a toddler and a second pregnancy. 

I hopped on the scale today and it scared me.  I'm going to get this under control.  I've got to get into the grocery store and buy good-for-me foods and begin working out again.

No excuses.  Being pregnant does not equal a license to get fat.  Not good for me, not good for Gavin.

Phew.  There.  I said it.  It's out there.  Now I have to follow through.

Horrible wife.  That's me right now.  And it's a great way to describe it, depending on who you happen to talk to about it.  This was taken out of context from an email simply because I can't muster the heart to make it into a real blog post:

"...Night went okay.  I was really tired.  Matt was really upset/depressed about something.  He had a very brief and vague vent session with me, about being jealous how life just really worked out for Garrett (his best friend), and how some things about Matt are making him upset that he is who he is.  He was really vague about the whole thing.  Wanting to talk about it, not wanting to be so vulnerable, not wanting to talk about it.  I know what it’s boiling down to, Jess.  And it breaks my heart that it’s all my fault.  And yet stirs me to anger at the same time.

He’s not getting enough.

And I don’t want to do anything about it.  He’s been sweet for the most part (aside from STILL having no idea what’s going on with me or this pregnancy from having not read anything about it), but he’s been lovey dovey for the past few weeks, but he’s still not getting it but once every other weekend.  I just don’t have the want to.  I try to force it, and it happens from time to time, but I’m sitting there the whole time thinking about everything else under the sun.

He pointed out his lack of luckiness in front of my parents (read: AWKWARD for me!), and my mom was all “just because you’re pregnant doesn’t me you don’t put out” or something along those lines.  I’m flushing red just thinking about it.  I want to be there for him.  But I also want to be there for me, too.  I know from experience that being the only one interested makes for a very not-fun night.

I don’t know how to fix it."

Just what the doctor ordered:



Repeat as necessary.

Yet another "Here's Your Sign" from my world as an over glorified secretary:

"Good afternoon xyz company"

"Yes, I'd like to speak to John please."

"I'm sorry, he's out of the office."

"Oh, he must have left already..."

Gee.  Ya think?!?!

I read a wonderful blog entry, reminiscent of long term relationships and taking a break, but this time, the subject of affection is running.  One of the most beautiful parts of the entry is at the very end: