an article, a rough week, and other tid-bits.


i have so many things that i need to write and get out of my head but i haven't been able to sort my thoughts out enough so that they make sense to you. soon.

it's rainy and wet (but kind of warm!) here in the city and marlo and i are both going a little stir crazy. the walls are caving in on me and i am craving sunshine like no other. it probably wasn't the smartest thing for us to move to a new city where you have to walk everywhere in the depth of winter. rookies.

i want to share this article for anyone who is pregnant, has been pregnant, is the partner to a pregnant person, or who thinks they might come into contact with a pregnant person- so, basically everyone. i struggle every day with my post-baby body image. i have to stop and consciously remind myself that losing the last five or ten pounds truly does not matter. the fact that i birthed and am taking care of and nourishing my baby with my body is something to be proud of and to give my body credit for. we have to stop buying stock in all of the nonsense that the media sells to us about our bodies. it's just gross. that's my soap box. i'm stepping down now.

i have been having a lot of dreams about tom selleck lately. weird. i figure it's the power of his mustache. any who, in most of the dreams he's wearing a cowboy hat and boots with spurs (with the spurs!) and drinking a glass of red wine. then he sings that song to me that he sings in three men and a baby- you know, the one they sing when they're trying to get the baby girl to sleep. it's so strange but if i stop having these dreams, i think i'll be sad.

marlo is officially a daddy's girl. i knew this was going to happen, just not so soon. traitor.

we are going to attempt child care at the ymca again today. just as i'm beginning to break a sweat, they always call me and they need not elaborate. i can hear mo's piercing screams through the receiver. i say a few choice words (typically starting with mother, always ending with fucker) under my breath, hop off the treadmill and race downstairs to rescue my over-dramatic babe. i have been ordered by my doctor to make sure i get at least 30 minutes of exercise a day for the endorphins (one of those things i'll explain later), so marlo needs to get her shit together. baby steps. literally.

happy tuesday, y'all.


Anonymous said...

Thanks for that article! You and Marlo are in my thoughts!


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