It's exercise AND diet. Celery with dates, almonds, and Parmesan

Before I became pregnant, I never really thought about my size. I guess that's a privilege of being small. I knew I felt good when I exercised and I didn't really have to really pay attention to what I ate as far as calories go. I craved fresh fruits and veggies. I could eat a spoonful of ice cream and be satisfied. I enjoyed drinking water.

Enter pregnancy:

I didn't want fruits or vegetables. I didn't want to eat at all. Then I realized I was starving and I ate whatever I could get my paws on. I ate bowls of ice cream every day. I didn't workout.

I justified my lifestyle by thinking that it didn't matter how big I got, I could work it off after my baby was born. 

Clearly, that's not working out so well for me. Three months in, and I'm still feeling very blimp-like. I don't feel like buying ANOTHER wardrobe. (Blazer, yes. Wardrobe, no.) So I started going to this class, which stirred something strange in me: A desire for salad. For fresh fruits. For water.

Here's something ABSOLUTELY delicious that isn't 900 calories:

Celery salad with dates, almonds, and Parmesan.

Thank you, Bon Appetite!

Evidently there are dishes out these involving celery that I actually want to eat!

Here's the deal:

1/2 cup raw almonds

8 celery stalks, thinly sliced on a diagonal, leaves separated (yeah, it uses the leaves! I feel so grown up.)

6 dates, pitted, coarsely chopped

3 Tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper

2oz. Parmesan, shaved (which I did not have. I used Parrano because I am obsessed with it and it's what I had. It never disappoints)

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Crushed red pepper flakes

Toast almonds in oven at 350 degrees on a rimmed baking pan for 8-10 minutes. (Toasted nuts are my new favorite thing because of their deeper flavor.) Once cool, coarsely chop.

Toss almonds, dates, celery, celery leaves with salt and pepper. Add Parmesan and oil. Mix. Season with red pepper flakes. Enjoy!

I put leftovers in the refrigerator and a happy to report that, 24 hours later, it still tastes just as good as it did the first time and is still crunchy (no soggy nuts!).

The journey back to my old pants, part 1.

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I became pregnant and gained 70 pounds. SEVENTY POUNDS!

It may be the craziest thing I've ever done: My knees hate me, my clothes don't fit, I'm wearing stretchy pants forever, and I've decided to start weighing myself in stone. 70 pounds is 5 stone, which sounds less bad. We should start a thing.

Confession: I went from a size 4 to a 14 plus. I say plus because I refused to try on larger pants in the month after my son was born; I felt like a walking potato. And, never having been big-ish, I had (still have) NO idea how to dress myself! I don't know how to hide my hips and belly. The Georgia weather does nothing to help me because I turn into a sweat monster within ten seconds of walking out the door, so layers are out.

Three months into this motherhood gig, and the weight is coming off. 

Verrrrrry slowwwwwwwly.

So I decided to give it a little shove.

Enter Takeela. 

An energetic sprite (who is probably a bodybuilder),  Takeela teaches "Butts N' Guts" at the hole in the wall gym near my parents' house. And Oh. Myyyyyy.

I took her Monday night class a week ago. I think I recovered by about 5pm Thursday. My everything hurt. Like I've just started boot camp hurt. Only now instead of laying in bed or floating in the pool, I'm carting a kid. Up and down stairs. I die.

I'm totally going back.

National Running Day

It's dawning on me that today is National Running Day. And I am not running. I can't run. Like, doctor's orders. Not for another month. And it kills me. I miss running. Le sigh. 

I hope someone will hit up some juicy trails, run with a friend, and have a cold beer at the finish line for me!

Even though I can't run, I still win! I have this nugget in exchange for not running right now...

And I love him!

What NOT to say

I've said it before: if you wouldn't say it to a non- pregnany person, why do you think it's ok to say to a (hormonally charged) pregnant one?

A little background:

For the record, I am large. I mean, in the middle. 49" to be exact. Which is almost double my waist pre-pregnancy, but I digress...

I went out in public today, so maybe I was asking for it... 

"It" being the commentary from the peanut gallery. 

Between the stares, there are comments like these:

Woman on Patio, eating lunch: Are you having twins? No? Oh, Lawd, chille! Dat baby's gonna be too big to come out!

Me: eye daggers. 

Woman working at Ikea: You're pregnant?! But you're so big!

Me: What? I can't be big AND pregnant? Or, I dunno... Pregnancy is The Reason for my gigantosaurus belly!? Ugh.

Woman in grocery parking lot: Oh. My. Gawd. You have a litter in there?

Me: Yes. I want to put Octomom to shame. So I opted for 11. 

Woman at Target: Oh, I know you have got to be ready to pop! I can't imagine ever being that big! In fact, I was much smaller when I had mine... Blah, blah, blah....

Me: Eff you.

No, I did not actually make these replies, but I secretly really wanted to. And, yes, these are actual comments that I heard today.

What the crap is wrong with people?!

Let's take a look at some Things Acceptable to Say to a Pregnant Woman:

You look fantastic! (Lying is acceptable/ preferred here. Particularly if she looks like a land manatee.)

I wish you a happy birthing.

I hope your baby is healthy.

I hope you're not too uncomfortable. (Warning: This only works when in established conversation. If you say it at start of conversation, there will be no convo as you've just suggested preggers lady looks uncomfortable. Fail.)

I bought you a massage/ pedicure/ glass of wine. (You may be adored forever for this one. At the very least, you will not be forgotten. Which is major, considering pregnant ladies have no memory.)

You're going to be the best mom!

That is one lucky kid.

That's not so hard, right? There are other things one could say that do not involve making a future mama want to throat punch the speaker. But seriously, if you can't think of one, don't speak.

Proof women are capable of saving money

We have been planning on painting a mural in our son's room. Like a "Hey! You have an aquarium in your room and it takes up the whole wall!" kind of mural.

I found a muralist whose work I adore, and she was going to paint this fantastic design on canvas and mail it to us...
I finally got pricing back today.

Me: "Honey, I just saved us almost $10,000."
Mike: "WHAAAT?!?!"
Me: "Yeah. I just heard back from the mural people. I called and asked about pricing for several different canvases. One was 8 x 12, the other was 6 x 10. The bigger one was 9000 something in the smaller one was 6000 something. They had another option: 5' by 8' for $2500."
Stunned silence.
Me: "I think I'm going to paint our mural."
Mike: "Uhhhh.... Yeah.... I was thinking we would pay somebody 500 bucks to paint directly on the wall..."
Me: "Great! You can pay me!"
He fails to see the humor. Or he is still trying to collect his jaw from the floor.

I think I'm getting to the point of being full o' baby. Like, the up to my chin with baby kind of full o' baby.
I have no idea what size I am anymore.
Shoes definitely do not fit. I tried on a pair of running shoes the other day and wanted to cry because they were far bigger than my non-pregnant feet would wear, yet they weren't big enough. And who knows how big my feet will be when they're done doubling as marshmallows?
In clothing, I'm somewhere between small and large. Like, I wear all three sizes- from the same company! Riddle me that. Most days, I think about going to a thrift shop, buying a few flat sheets, cutting a hole in the middle big enough to put my head through, and belting the sucker.I could get some lovely floral patterns, I'm sure.
So yeah, aside from feeling a little like the Stay-Puff, things are good.
I've been a nurse for almost two weeks (officially), My Sweet Husband and I are on a wild home hunt (please pray, cross your fingers, excise demons, do a rain dance, or whatever you do for good ju-ju in hopes we find one soon!!), and I am holding open auditions for foot gnomes. Or fairies. Or anyone else willing to rub my potatoes feet on command.
One thing I was a little unprepared for in my third trimester is the sensation that I am the Very Hungry Caterpillar. Like, All. The. Time.

Did you know you can rent maternity clothes?
My sister turned me on to Rent the Runway a while back. It's a site where you can rent couture clothing. Only I've had no use or it 'cause I don't go anywhere fancy. I'd be renting Oscar de la Renta and Calvin Klein dresses to vacuum the house in. And those dresses deserve better than that.
But I started thinking about renting maternity clothes back when I had my husband's Christmas party to go to. I had a bump that was not going to be concealed, no matter how hard I tried. I went shopping for dresses, but had  a really hard time justifying the price for a dress I was going to wear once. Hence my desire for renting maternity clothes.
It turns out that you can rent everything from jeans to designer dresses for far cheaper than buying most maternity clothing.
I was reminded of this in this morning's email blast that let me know I had a coupon waiting.
But what the maternity rental clothing place fails to realize is that I am to the point in pregnancy where I would like new skin. A whole new body, really.
I am not so fond of this third trimester morning sickness business. And who came up with that name anyway? They should be shot.
There are about four hours out of the day where I don't feel nauseous for hours before puking, and I am sleeping the majority of that time. Not even zofran helps.
Have I mentioned that it is awesome to be me?
I have friends running half marathons and talking about it like they do it in their sleep. I have friends running ultra marathons. I think they do it with one eye open. Me? My mega accomplishment? Making it around the block or up the stairs without huffing and puffing. And I mean waling, not running.
I caught a glimpse of myself as I ran passed some store windows while trying on running shoes (I can't seem to wedge my puffy tootsies into any of my current shoes, which makes walking challenging.