Robot Baby

So I got some exercise 3 days last week....I got to take Brooklyn out on walks since the weather was nice. But tonight, it was raining, so no walks for us. I got all motivated and decided that I would try our mommy and baby workout DVD. Brooklyn was fed, changed, and bathed, so I figured it was a good time to give it a shot.

Okay. So first of all, I really don't think that I like the host lady. Is that really your six-month-old baby? Workout Lady, you are completely spandex-clad and tight and toned. It's probably to give us flabby mommies something to work toward, or to make us think that the video workout is going to morph us into cute little fit and taut mamas. Honestly, it just makes me feel even fatter and grosser than I already did. Workout Lady's baby is younger than mine. And she looks awesome. I look disgusting. Damnit, Workout Lady! How are you so much better than me?

I told myself to get over my inadequacies and just do the damn workout. Workout Lady sat there telling me about the DVD with her baby sitting happily in her lap, munching on his paci and occasionally grinning and cooing sweetly for the camera. Brooklyn did not follow the baby's lead. She screamed when I tried to sit her in my lap like Workout Lady was doing with her baby. Then she started crawling around, pulling on cords, splashing in the dog's water, throwing Daddy's X-box games, eating the remotes, and headbutting her reflection in the entertainment center.

In between chasing my super-active daughter around, I heard Workout Lady say that I needed to watch this little segment that would teach me some of the basic moves that are used throughout the video. I decided to put Brooklyn in her exersaucer for a few minutes so that I could learn the moves before we did our workout together. This did not go over well. Brooklyn did NOT want to be in the exersaucer. She much prefers tearing the house to pieces. At first she was throwing a big fit. Then she decided that she would just make as much noise as she could so that I could not hear Workout Lady guiding me through the moves. I could see Workout Lady's mouth moving, but all I could hear was Brooklyn yelling as long as she could, over and over. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" No tears. Just very loud, non-stop yelling.

Okay, fine, Brooklyn, you win, I thought. Let's just try the workout together and I will try to wing it on these pilates and yoga moves.

The workout begins. Workout Lady starts with some breathing exercises. She tells me to breathe in and out and feel my body relax. Feel the stress leave my body. I actually laughed out loud because at that point, Brooklyn was screaming and thrashing in my arms. I felt anything but relaxed as she pulled my hair and wailed. I did NOT feel the stress leaving my body.

Then I learned that Workout Lady is not the mommy of any ordinary baby. No, she is the proud mother of Robot Baby! Robot Baby loves to work out with his mommy. He is so happy to have her lift him up and down and back and forth and use him as a human weight. Robot Baby has so much fun when his mommy sits him on her thigh while she does "Flamingo Kicks." Robot Baby coos with delight when his mommy lays him on the floor and plays with him while she does yoga stretches over him. I suppose it is only fitting that perfect Workout Lady would have given birth to such a perfect little well-behaved and adaptable Robot Baby.

I do not have a Robot Baby. Brooklyn was very angry at the idea that I would use her as a human weight. She screamed at me even though I kissed her every time I brought her face to face with me. She was very upset when I laid her on the floor and tried to play with her while doing the yoga stretches. She cried and rolled over and cried some more. The only part she liked was when I was holding her against my body. But unfortunately, you can't do much of the workout that way. And that made Brooklyn very, very mad at me. I don't get it. Robot Baby loved it.

So I gave up, 5 minutes into the DVD. I turned the TV off and collapsed on the couch with my ticked off daughter. I am stressed out and frustrated and have not done anything to help get rid of the nasty fat that covers my body. I am angry at myself and annoyed with Brooklyn. And I feel guilty for being so annoyed at Brooklyn. Whatever. Fine. Great. I'll just be a fat disgusting slob for the rest of my life. Why can't I be like Workout Lady? She was so happy and skinny and a great mommy. She didn't get mad at her baby. How did she make him so happy? I suck. I'm fat and I suck.

I don't know if I will torture myself by trying this again tomorrow.

Maybe Robot Baby could have a talk with Brooklyn?



(Oh - on a totally unrelated note...my next post will be post #100! Any ideas?)

Fatty McFatpants

Yesterday at work, I started having the nosebleed from hell. It was horrible...I have never had anything like it before. I had been having nosebleeds for the past couple of days, but had attributed it to the fact that several buildings right by my workplace had burned down this week and our building was smoky. Anyways, my hubby had already been on my case trying to get me to go to the doctor before the nosebleed from hell, so he really freaked out when that happened. He made me promise to go to the doctor right then. I still didn't really want to, but then I started coughing up blood. Okay, fine. I decided that Dave was right and that it was worth a call to my doctor.

The nurse said that if I would leave work right then, she would make sure I was worked in. So I did.

My doctor's verdict? Sinus infection. She said it is the most common cause of nosebleeds. Now, I have no medical training of any sort, but if I have a sinus infection, shouldn't my sinuses hurt? Shouldn't I be congested? I have nothing of the sort. I really don't think I have one and don't want to take the antibiotics she prescribed. Is that stupid? I don't know. I had another horrible nosebleed when I got up this morning, so my hubby is picking up the medicine.

So. To the point of my "Fatty McFatpants" post. The nosebleeds were not the most upsetting part of my day yesterday. At the doctor's office, I weighed 19 pounds more than I did the last time I came to see her...which was 5 weeks postpartum!!! I weight what I did the week that I gave birth! I weigh more than I ever have in my life! What the hell???!!! Why am I such a disgusting fatass???? How could I have possibly gained all of that in nine and a half months???? And I should weigh less than that now - for heaven's sake, I had just had a baby last time I was there! I am so angry and frustrated with myself. So disgusted. And I just don't get it.

Beating up on myself was not enough though....my doctor wanted to talk about my weight too. She kept saying that is was "very bad" for me to weigh what I do. That I have to get this off because "that's just not Amanda." She asked me about my diet and didn't see any problems there since I eat healthy almost all of the time. I'm sure all the Cokes I drink don't help....but damnit, I'm operating on about 4 hours of sleep most days. She said that she thinks my main problem is physical inactivity. I told her about my frustrations with trying to exercise. That it was too hot to get Brooklyn out for walks in the summer and it made her breathing worse. Then we had about two nice weeks and then it was too cold to get her out and we cannot afford for her to get sick. How I can't do an exercise video because if I set Brooklyn down and move a foot away from her, she screams like her world is ending. My doctor's response? "Well, you're just going to have to do it."

Gee, thanks. You're so helpful.

Then she guilted me further by saying that I have to lose weight because she doesn't want Brooklyn to grow up in a house where everyone is overweight. And discussed how bad that is for children.

I KNOW!!!! I am TRYING! I absolutely hate myself for the way I look right now! I am sickened every time I look in the mirror or look down at my gigantic stomach and thighs. I am such a gross, nasty, fat pig. I hate, hate, hate, hate myself for it. But I don't know what to do. Somebody help me.

Fingers crossed....

I called Brooklyn's pediatrician on Wednesday and talked to the nurse. At first she told me to bring Brooklyn in, but then changed her mind and said that she didn't think that Brooklyn needed to be seen yet. She told me to watch for fever and wheezing, and if either of those things started, then Brooklyn would need to be seen. As far as the fever goes, it hasn't gone above 99.5. She is coughing, sneezing, has a runny nose and watery eyes. She is pretty cranky. Would someone please tell me how I am supposed to know if my baby is wheezing since she is already a noisy breather due to her laryngomalacia? Sigh.

She doesn't seem to be getting any sicker, so hopefully she will get over it this weekend. I am scared that it will worsen over the weekend. I probably should have just insisted that the pediatrician see her, just for peace of mind about the RSV situation if nothing else.

Anyway. My fingers and toes are crossed that it just goes away.

Baby Bear is 10 months old now. How incredible is that? Double digits, baby girl!

Oh, and on another note, I get to go have my hair done tomorrow. My mom is coming so that she can hold Baby Bear while I am getting my haircut. It's been 6 months since I even got it trimmed. I miss having time to do things like that to take care of myself. I'm not a high maintenance girl by any means, but I appreciate the little things that just make me feel a little bit better about myself, like painting my nails, or trying out a new hairstyle, or putting on more makeup than just powder and lipstick (the bare minimum....so that I don't scare people.) Those things that I can never find time for anymore. You know? I'm not sure what kind of cut I am going to get, but I need a change. Maybe something that won't make my face look so fat? Something that will minimize my 18 chins? I can hope for it.

Moo.

There's nothing better to start your morning than going to the jail to interview an inmate and having the officer at the front desk ask whether the baby you are currently pregnant with is a boy or a girl. She's not confused with your previous pregnancy, because she just asked to see a picture of your eight-month-old. She laughs when you tell her you aren't expecting, and says again, "Well, you sure looked like you was in a motherly way!"

I knew I was fat, but I really didn't think I looked 5 or 6 months pregnant (at least). I guess I was wrong.

She crushed what little self-confidence I had.

I feel too gross to even be seen in public. I have GOT to lose some weight.

And you know what else? That rude bitch didn't even apologize.