If the Shirt Fits

I talked about post-pregnancy weight loss and how I’m both excited and anxious at the same time.  I’m excited, because it’s okay for me to lose weight at this point.  I’m anxious, because what if it’s more difficult than I anticipate.  What if I don’t want to exercise?  What if I become complacent and I’m okay being twenty pounds more than I was for most of my life prior to having children?  I don’t want that.  

But one thing that is fun is seeing what I can fit into again.  My chest is bigger from back to back pregnancies and the added volume from nursing.  So most shirts with buttons are right out.  But I can fit into more than I would have expected at this weight.  Some of the sizing issues is weight gain in my upper arms.  Chubby arms in tight sleeves—not so attractive.  Shorter shirts ride up too much in the front while I’m on the pound countdown.  

But for the most part, if the shirt fits, I get to wear it.  I’ve missed wearing some of my shirts.  It’s like getting a new wardrobe.  Only it’s an old wardrobe.  But it’s cheaper than a new wardrobe.  I hope I’m not out of fashion.

The Big Boy Update:  Kindermusik was today.  In the past, he’s spent a lot of time in class just looking at everyone—children, adults, his teacher, the room.  In comparison to how he behaves at home, he looks positively mentally challenged.  It seems that he's through his observation phase in class and is now running around like a toddler on cake icing.  Even one of the other mothers commented on it this week. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  She needs a sticky sucky device.  She can’t seem to hold on to her pacifier in between feedings when we’re bridging her or in the middle of the night when she wakes up and needs to soothe herself back to sleep, I would sure love a sticky, strapped version of a pacifier.  Hazard galore, I know.  But when you’ve reinserted it seven times at 4AM, these things run through your head.