The first two times I was pregnant, I kinda liked it. Kinda. Now I'm a little older and maybe a little more selfish or perhaps a little wiser. I hate being pregnant. I want a drink. A glass of wine. A vodka and cranberry. I want to stand outside and have a smoke (I'm not a regular smoker by any means, but damn it's nice to have a smoke or two whilst gulping down a pbr). I want to stay up late without getting tired. I want to be able to MOVE without running out of breath. I want to take the kids places and run around all day without wanting to collapse. I'm utterly amazed at the amount of energy I had before I got pregnant. This is all for a good cause, I know. I have a baby boy inside of me, depending on me. And I already love him deeply.
But I just want to be skinny again.
I want to be skinny while having a drink. I want to be skinny while having a drink while running after my kids. I want to be skinny again while having a drink while running after my kids while hanging out with my husband without being snarky. I. Just. Want. To. Feel. Normal. Again.
But I really want Beckett. I want to hold him and love him and kiss him. So I guess I'll be tired, snarky and fat for the next four months. At least I have a good excuse.
Here. Look at some old pics of my fabulously adorable kids. Definitely worth nine months of discomfort.
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ReplyDeleteThey are so cute!! Kiera is so adorable with those cheeks!! I thought Aiden had big cheeks when he was born!!! WOWEE!!
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