Holy Muffin Top :(

I need to go on a diet.  Or start working out.

That’s the first time in my life I’ve ever had to say those two sentences.  Ever.

I was always considered blessed that I could eat whatever the hell I wanted, whenever I wanted.  Well, all I have to say is karma is a bitch.  I know someone out there cursed me to get me here.  Someone had to have said, “Man I just hope that skinny bitch eating all that food gets fat one day.”  Or, “Look at that skinny bitch shoving all that food in her mouth – just wait, it’ll catch up to her.”  Or even, “Please make her fat.  Now.”  So to whoever the hell you were – all I have for you is one finger.  And a big ol’ F bomb to drop.

I canNOT get rid of this baby weight.  With the first two kids, immediately afterwards, I was back to normal, wearing size 0 jeans, eating whatever I wanted.  Not exercising to stay skinny, just naturally blessed as a thin girl.  Not anymore.  It’s my turn to bitch and complain about my weight.  I’ve always had to hear about it, but never had to do it myself.  Now, I am.

So the answer is simple, right?  Work out.  Exercise.  Eat better.

Someone tell me how the f to do that, and I’ll do it.  Give me a schedule.  No, better yet.  Hire me a maid.  And a nanny.  And a personal trainer.  And while you’re at it, have someone follow me around with a fan if I’m hot, or a blanket if I’m cold, but of course, only one that has been kept warm for when I need it to be, like at the hospital.  And make sure everything around me is coated in gold.  Or better yet platinum.  Platinum and diamonds.  Yes, that’s what I want.  Platinum, diamonds, nannies (one for morning and night, per kid), maids (one per person while we’re at it and one for the dog), waiters, servers, ooohhh bartenders…yummmmm….personal bartenders.  And a personal doctor.  Not for the help, just for the medications they can prescribe.  A personal bartender and prescriptions whenever I want?!?!  Hell yeah.  That sounds much better…a little margarita here, shot of tequila there, anti-crazy pill washed down with a beer.   Now THAT sounds like fun.

Wait, am I getting off track?   What the hell was I ranting about?  Oh yeah, my muffin top.  My fat ass and huge thighs.  It’s definitely not ok.  It’s gotta go.  But let me ask: when am I supposed to do all this working out?  When I’m running around with a spoiled ass 6-month-old, who can’t be put down, who takes 20 minute naps?  While I’m trying to get my schoolwork done?  During homework time after school while I’m feeding the baby or trying to keep her from screaming at the top of her lungs while Boy says, “I can’t do my homework when she’s screaming like that!  I can’t concentrate!”  While I’m pushing a vacuum around, holding a baby, trying to shoo the dog away from the vacuum…Or when I’m making dinner for 3 kids and trying to be a referee as well?  It’s like I work in an f’ing circus.  I’m a ring leader.  It’s an open animal barn.  Everyone strap on a helmet and hope for the best.  Make sure you don’t step in dog pee or dog piss along the way.  And who knows what you’re eating.  Just close your eyes and shut up.

I’m thinking the best thing for me is diet pills.  Or prayer.  Or just plain dumb luck.  Or maybe the weight Gods will focus on someone else for awhile…




Baby Girl is teething…so that makes me want to pull my hair out!!!  Don’t get me wrong…I feel sooooo bad for her!  I know it must suck to be in so much pain!  But the effects it’s having on me…that’s another downside!  Not only is it making me crazy a whacky nut job, is the fact that I’m getting absolutely NO sleep 😦  Last night, she literally woke up every 30 min-1 hour.  Fun times, right?

Last night, after Big Girl and Boy went to sleep, I had plans on coming downstairs and cleaning up.  Apparently, Baby Girl had other plans.  I put her to bed at 9:45pm.  10:05pm: crying.  Yay me!  I had only so much as gotten down the stairs and ready to do something, and I had to turn around and head right back up!  And this went on all. night. long.

Then I come downstairs this morning to this:

I need a maid.  Pronto.  This doesn’t even count the rest of the house.  Every room I have looks like a bomb went off.  😦  So now, when all I want to do is lay my fat ass down in my huge comfortable bed and watching Friends, I can’t.  The baby has like two clean bottles left.  So I have to clean the kitchen whether I want to or not, because I have to unload the dishwasher and reload it so I can have clean bottles.  I feel like that’s the right thing to do.  Lol.  Sometimes I wish I was a lazy bum…oh the life…

Thankfully, the big kids had a 2-hour delay this morning.  I was able to get them breakfast, pack lunch and snacks, and even shower myself before heading to the bus stop with the kiddos.  And because we weren’t rushing around like maniacs, there was no fighting between the kids.  How lovely!

So after I get the big kids off to the bus, I get Baby Girl back down for a nap, leaving her down to just ONE clean bottle.  Should I lay down and nap and act like I have not a care in the world?! ?!  Man I really, really, really want to!  But duty calls…the job of a mother never rests.

So if my next post is a bunch of random babbling and crazy ass words strung together, I’m not doped up, high or drunk.  Well, probably not.  Chances are pretty good I’m just running off of no sleep.