I Give Up

I've been working on a post -- a real post that involves thought and editing and reflection and humor -- for five days now.

Five. Days.

What I've learned is this -- I'm not going to have the time to write those types of posts for the next six months to 16 years, give or take. Not without staying up really late, anyway, and that annoys my husband, who would apparently like to see me every once in a while. Go figure.

So here begins a new beginning. And it's so fitting -- whoa, am I rhyming genius today or what? -- because it was one year ago yesterday that I ventured into this here blogging world. (Original post here.)

I am now going to enter the world of the short post. The "I just thought of this" post. The "what a great picture I have to share this" post. The "I'm typing this off the top of my head" post. The "I could really use a professional editor right now because I'm way off topic" post.

See? I'm doing it right now. Can you feel the love?

So here's a quick update on my world:

Teyla -- she's growing up much too fast. Much. Too. Fast.

I've got pictures to prove it, too. (More on Teyla to come; I have a feeling this new, breezy style of blogging will lend itself to baby updates.)
















My family -- we're in South Carolina right now, visiting my in-laws who flee here every winter. I can see why.
















Me (and here's the pressing issue for today) -- I'm almost six weeks postpartum. I saw my doctor last week before we left Minnesota, and lo, she pronounced me good. My weight is at the same poundage as it was when I was 24 weeks pregnant. (When I looked like pretty much like this.)

















So why is it that I wouldn't be able to get into that outfit today even if I was assisted by bacon grease and a shoehorn?!? It's like my body has declared a civil war on itself, and the weight has taken sides -- to the north and to the south -- and it's left a no-man's land of flappy skin in the middle.

And seriously -- has anyone seen Jennifer Lopez lately? Because I'm pretty sure I have something of hers.

Baby got back.

Connor is four-point-five years old already, which means I'm way out of the statue of limitations for having to remember what happened after the last pregnancy. So I turn to you, my loyal and wise blogging friends, to fill me in.

Is this normal? Does one's postpartum body always redistribute fat cells like a crazy host on HGTV's "Freestyle"? And if so, does one give in and buy a new "first year post baby" wardrobe to get through the transition? Because I miss wearing shirts that don't make me look like a Hollywood starlet and pants that have a real waistband with snaps and zippers and everything..

Now see? Aren't you glad that I'm going to be posting more riveting stuff like this? And more often, too? Hang on to your pants, ladies and gentlemen. Especially if you're wearing jeans with elastic waists. It's about to get funky.