Pants

I find myself in an epic battle.

I do not wage against flesh and blood.

Nay.

I fight against something far more evil... something of a cotton-blend variety.

That something is ... my pants.

There is no love between us. I hate all of them: My maternity jeans that are so ragged out and ripped, my supposedly "fat jeans" that I still can't get buttoned over my hips... and the most heinous of them all... my "normal" jeans that mock me from their hangers.

I hate all of them.

I broke down and bought a super large pair in hopes that at least I might be "comfortable" and perhaps avoid the muffin top effect, but even they have their fatal flaws - namely they fall down after they are are stretched out by my "dunlop."

What? You don't know what a "dunlop" is? You know... as in, my stomach "dunlopped" over my pants.

Anyway, please understand that I do appreciate the task that my body went through to produce these 4 precious children, I honestly can accept some flab, stretch marks, widened hips... I get it, and I am grateful that my body was healthy enough to carry a baby - especially when my heart breaks for those who cannot or struggle to.

It's not that I cannot appreciate my body in it's current state, it's just that I really, really want some pants to fit me.

6 weeks post delivery, I am slowly coming to terms with the reality that I've reached the plateau. Delivery of the tiny tenant and nursing has done all it can do for me, and now I am going to have to get a bit engaged in this process.

Oh, how I stink at discipling myself in the area of food. And it is conceivable that I am even worse about exercise than I am about eating right.

Alas, I hear rummors that when people do these things consistently that they don't fight with their pants... at least not quite so much.

Maranda

This will be quick...

I am tired.

I have 4 kids.

I guess this is reasonable.

Here are my four kids with my husband on the couch.

I think we need a bigger couch.

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We had a very kid-centric day today. We went to one of those indoor play facilities for no joke, about 4 hours.

It was epic.

Since we'd basically blown nap/rest time and praying if we kept everyone moving for a few more hours we could score an early bed time, we decided to press on with the fun and took the kids for Fro-yo.

Chilli bean and Jenkins could not be bothered to pose for a picture... there were jelly beans and fro-yo present.

Here is Jenkins' opinion of a licorice jelly bean.

Chilli bean wanted to make sure Daddy wasn't holding out on her. She was fond of any jelly beans... regardless of their flavor.

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The baby boy shall now be referred to as "Banjo" thanks to the social security administration who sent me his card with his name misspelled.

Really?

Really.

And the worst thing is, I get to spend several hours at the social security office with confirmation of birth forms, hospital bills, etc... because of their error.

Good thing I have tons of time on my hands.

Anyway... Banjo is dang cute... and is already 1 month old!

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I braved a walk with all 4 this week around our neighborhood.

At some point along the way, I decided to make it a "nature walk" and encouraged Sassy to pick collect some specimens.

She made the following upon our return home.

I should probably rotate that for you... but it would take too much time. So you'll just have to turn your head sideways to read her sweet handwriting labeling each of her items.

Jenkins also collected some "nature" items.

He was not interested in the labeling, and preferred to just fill my coat pockets with his treasures.

Love him.


Maranda