He thinks my stretch marks are sexy
Losing weight after having a baby sucks. There’s really no other way to explain it. What’s worse is that my gorgeous sister-in-law had a baby two weeks after me and already looks perfect again. Sure she ran and worked out and such prior to having said child, but still. It’s the principle of the matter. Now, I’m not saying I’m huge or anything. I look fine fully clothed and am back in pre-pregnancy clothing. It’s the stretch marks. I hate those damn stretch marks. Being the Norwegian I am predisposes me to sensitive, pasty pale skin, which practically begs stretch marks to form on me.
I should have known better. For example, if I even think about my ear, it instantly becomes red. What in me thought, “I’m going to escape stretch marks because I’m going to use Palmers Cocoa Butter every day, twice a day! I’m so smart!” Yah. That was great until I broke out in a rash and thought I was killing my child.
I started with two stretch marks after Claire. That was fine. I thought of them as best friends. They were my mama badge of courage. I had proved to the world that I CAN procreate! Now Luca had to go and be the typical second child and was already trying to compete with Claire. I don’t even know how many I have now. All I know is getting dressed in the dark was a challenge I was willing to accept.
In an effort to make my stretch marks look more desirable, I made the mistake of buying this super pimped out jogging stroller that can go on all kinds of terrain. This thing is sweet! It comes equipped with a hand brake and tires you actually have to inflate. Now, of course, my stellar logic says, if I use this all the time, it’ll practically pay for itself! First of all, what inanimate object can really pay for itself? Secondly, I’ll have to use this thing in order for that to remotely happen. Unfortunately for me, where I live, one must drive to get anywhere worth walking around at. Enter annoying car rides on windy roads with two kids under 2.
It usually begins with Claire wanting to be outside and not understanding me when I say, “If you get in the car, I will take you to another outside,” and her pitching a fit when I say, “No sandbox, Mama’s feeling fat and needs to run.” Then Luca hates being confined to his car seat and is screaming at the top of his lungs. I translate this to, “I love you Mama!“ and “Hold me!”
Once Luca is calmed down, which is usually over halfway to our destination, I then must put on some God-awful Mickey Mouse sing along CD to keep Claire content. Her favorite song is, “I’ve Been Working On The Railroad,” to which she sings along, “Choo choo!” It’s actually really adorable.
On to our destination. Once I finally get in good with my workout, Claire wants out. My loving sister taught her how to “pop” her seat straps to click in. Lucky for me, she can’t “unpop” the clips. However, she will sadly scream “Pop-eee…poooop-eeee!!!” I hold her off for as long as I possibly can with her fake cell phone, but she inevitably becomes bored with it when Daddy doesn’t answer her. I can hear her getting more and more frustrated when she says, “Dada! Woaw?” (translation: “Daddy, hello?”) and there is no response. So she looks at the phone and says, “Buah,” (translation: “bye.”) and waves at it. Next, I attempt to hold her off with her Muno figurine from her favorite TV show ,Yo Gabba Gabba. That lasts all of three seconds when she tries to give him back to me. So nice of her. Lastly, I resort to singing my rendition of Old McDonald. “’Ol Miss Claire Bear had a farm…” and Claire sings along, “O-E-O-E-O.” (Yes I know it’s wrong, but it’s cute, damnit.)
All this just so my stretch marks can be sexy.
Looking back, I realized my first mistake was not having Claire run amok prior to my work out. Instead, I enjoyed a beautiful walk in the woods on a nice paved path with my daughter whining and ruining the sounds of nature. I especially appreciate when people running or walking past offer their suggestions. “You should let her get out and run around!” Thanks Captain Obvious. What these idiots don’t realize is the level of stubbornness Claire possess is nearly infinite. No, she surpasses it. Once her butt is out of the stroller, she wants to help push it or “pop” the seatbelt. This then leads to her toe getting run over and then me trying not to fall over as I bend down to kiss her foot . Once her foot is magically healed, I keep on moving. Being the half pint she is, she takes 4 steps in the time I take one. One can only imagine how angry she gets with me when I start walking away at a normal to fast pace. She then turns to me and says, “Uppie, peese.” I then must attempt to explain to her that she has two options: walk along side me or get her little tush back in her stroller. Yeah, right. This then leads to the segment of the day I call, “Scream-walking.” I think that pretty much explains itself. Oh, I do love 1-year-olds.
Where did my days of carefree work outs go? The days I could wake up when I wanted, where I wanted and only have to entertain myself are long gone?
So is a typical day in my life.