Friday, October 10, 2008

I'd like to apologize to the Academy...

I'd like to take a moment to apologize to every woman who has had a child before me.

My mother. My sister. My friends. My neighbors. And the tired and frumpy stranger on the street, trying to keep her kids in tow as she struggled to make it from the grocery store to the car without losing a child or a grocery bag.

I'd like to apologize to all of you.

See, before I had kids I was a snob. An idiot. And totally not aware of the realities of parenting and what childbirth can do to a woman's body (and the resulting child and how that pretty much sucks up every spare moment of your existence from that point on.)

I've never been a size 2, except for maybe in my ankles. I have too many curves for that. But I use to, once, long in great, kick-ass, smokin' shape. I was H-O-T and didn't realize it until I had a kid and then magically transformed into "Buttercup's Mommy" overnight.

Gone was my motivation to work out every spare minute of my day. It was instead replaced with the desire to sleep and try to remember my first name during my sleep-deprived-mommy-to-a-newborn days. Now, the desire is back, but so is the harsh reality of only having 24 hours in a flippin' day. Since I work from home, my time is split between playing defense between an inquisitive toddler and well, my house.

Add the duties of a housewife in there, combined with the responsibilities associated with trying to maintain a freelance writing career, and I'm already 0-3 when it comes to managing my time appropriately in any given 24 hour period.

So that means that 16 months after Buttercup entered the world, I am still 30 pounds overweight and 10 pounds over pre-baby weight, and decidely frumpy.

I sometimes wonder if when seen in public with the hot baby-daddy I snagged if people ever feel pity for said hot baby-daddy, kind of the way I used to feel when I saw a hottie with a woman who had "let herself go."

"Lazy," I'd think. "Get off the damned couch and find an effing treadmill because I doubt you looked like that when he knocked you up!"

Yep, I know. I'm oh-so-sweet and not judgemental at all. Someone give me a cookie. But to put this into some context, my hotter than hot husband was standing right there next to me agreeing with my not-so-nice sentiments.

And unbeknownst to my dumb ass, there is such a thing as karma. And boy, is she a b.i.t.c.h!

So when my turn came around at baking my own lil' bun in the oven, I idiotically went into the pregnancy with high hopes of working out the whole pregnancy, gaining minimal weight, and bouncing right back into my pre-pregnancy jeans by the time Buttercup was learning to pick her head up on her own during tummy time.


The reality of it all actually came down like this: I worked out like a fiend until hyperemisis (think morning sickness times 1,546) kicked my ass and knocking me out of my routine, pre-eclampsia, gaining 45 pounds, and getting induced. And if that wasn't enough fun, boys and girls, I got smacked with three (that's right...THREE) visits to the hospital in the first six weeks after Buttercup was born from multiple bouts with mastitis.

Needless to say, my ass wasn't getting any smaller. And every time I found myself thinking "when she learns to crawl," "when she's napping," "when I win a million dollars and hire a nanny," I'd find myself realizing that sweating to the oldies wasn't at the top of the priority list anymore. Getting the dishes done during my only five minute break was, and balancing working with quality time with Buttercup always seemed to come before breaking out the post-partum bootcamp DVD's.

As for hottie baby-daddy? Yeah, he changed his tune, too. Every time I moaned about my new rolls, he would hug and kiss me, telling me with all sincerity that I made a baby and needed to lighten up on myself. Bless him.

Now, I have been known to make time for a nice long walk, with Buttercup either in the jogger or the baby carrier, but let's face it: just walking never was enough to get me in shape BEFORE a baby and it sure as hell ain't gonna do it now.

And I have gone to the gym only to realize that a gym routine only left me working until 4 in the morning to make up for the time lost in getting Buttercup to my mom's for baby-sitting, working out, picking her up, and getting her home for dinner, bath, and bed. So that leaves me with my Wii Fit and the previously mentioned DVD's and my skinny jeans still in storage.

One day, I will see them again.

Until then, I'd like to take this moment to issue an official apology on behalf of first-time moms everywhere. A good friend once told me (just after having her first) that becoming a mother made her more forgiving of herself and less judgemental of other women with kids.

Hello sister. I am, like, so totally there with ya now.