Running pants: why are all running pants pretty much tights? I don’t feel super confident in tights just lounging around in my own house; I most definitely don’t want to be seen running through the streets of town with every ounce of my flabby bum and upper thighs flopping around in overpriced, half-see-through, skin-hugging tights. I mean, I do sort of get it–compression-y, chafe-resistant…I might get there one day. But this year is not that day.
C-section recovery: I am never doing this again so help me with God as my witness. My scar stings and y’all know what else? It leaks. THAT’S REAL. Men of the world, if you got a wife who has birthed your babies in any way, treat her right; but if she had a c-section? Best be licking her toes while she dines on the gourmet chocolate croissants you baked fresh for her breakfast.
I am finally feeling a little more like myself but I am told I must still be careful not to overdo it. I feel like I’ve been cooped up for ages, minus that short two-month period between weaning Lucy and getting pregnant again. I’m done carrying babies and I’m ready to run and hike and bike and lift.
Dairy-free and soy-free food-eating has been going ok. It’s easier than I anticipated–perhaps that’s because I’m still eating all the gluten (I love gluten!) in the world. Something I dig now? So Delicious coconut milk yogurt. I cannot go without yogurt and this is not only an acceptable substitute, it’s practically preferable because it is–wait for it–so delicious.
I do sort of miss bread but that’s mostly due to laziness on my part because I do have a spectacular homemade bread recipe to fall back on that I just haven’t been motivated to cook yet. Mainly cause, well, I got babies to cuddle.
The babies? Well they’re just perfect. Easy, even. Mia and Merrick are a huge help. Lucy’s adjusting well and has even started to pick up on the concept of gentleness. And Arbor?
Lord Have Mercy I’m gonna lose it before the middle of January at this rate with this one, people.
Caleb went back to work for real this week, and I found out that I can feed two babies at once! Aside from that pre-dinner hour known as hell:30 p.m., life with four under four (plus two bigs) has been manageable, just so long as we don’t have to get dressed or go anywhere.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around taking anyone (including myself) out in public.