Gym Time With a Baby on Board

I like to work out.  I really honestly don’t mind it. There’s always just the hurdle of making it into a part of the everyday routine of life.
Cue the “Circle of Life”, Lion King style.

It’s hard enough to make it to the gym sometimes when pregnancy isn’t a factor, so add a growing baby bump to the equation and I’m fairly certain I should get an award for just getting in the car and heading that direction.  (Another award should be given IF I’ve remembered everything I need on my way out the door and don’t have to do the mid-driveway stop and reverse tactic to run back in and grab either headphones or a bottle of water or run for an emergency pee.)

With that said – I’m not some crazy gym rat that despite being pregnant hasn’t missed a workout and wants a metophorical pat on the back.  I’ve missed a slew of them. Too many to count. More than I’d like to admit.

I do however, make it to the gym. So there.

Whilst at the gym yesterday, some things occurred to me.  A giant lightbulb went off!

I picked this lightbulb because it somehow exuded a little bit of a punk attitude.  Can a lightbulb exude attitude? Absolutely.

I picked this lightbulb because it somehow exuded a little bit of a punk attitude. Can a lightbulb exude attitude? Absolutely.

My 1st Ah-Ha Moment:
I can only effectively and safely do about half of what I would normally do at the gym.  Lately, I can (at times) only do a third of what I used to do.  Why do I still have to pay full price?  

AHHHH! Do you hear me LA Fitness?? Could you help me out a bit?? 

Now, I know that my argument of “pregnant women can only do a fraction of what their former selves could” would not settle well with feminists, unrealistic women who have not yet hit 30+ weeks pregnant, and men.

It is however just some food for thought. Munch on it.

My 2nd Mind Boggler was this:
Why am I the only pregnant person in the gym, ever? 

Okay, maybe not ever, but I’ve only seen one other lady with a visible baby bump ONCE.  Once. That’s it!  (&& It was small enough that she could just be one of the unfortunate few who carry their extra weight in a most confusing way.)
Where are all the pregnant ladies that want to stay in some kind of decent physical condition?  I can’t imagine how awful I’d feel right now if I had just stopped moving altogether once pregnancy was a part of my reality.

I feel like everyone talks about how badly they’d like to get their pre-preggo body back… but isn’t maintaining a bit of your physical endurance and conditioning while pregnant a large part of that puzzle?  Interesting… yet another case of “we want all the results with no handwork”.  This momma-to-be don’t play that. K?

That’s my soapbox…

I clearly spent too much time thinking while on the treadmill yesterday so that I could avoid reading the Closed Captioned episode of Dr. Phil that was on the monitor in front of me. YUCK. No. Thank. You.

(This post is in no way intended to make anyone feel bad about not working out while pregnant.  There are a multitude of extenuating circumstances for many women during pregnancy and I’m just lucky enough to not have to go through them.  Love to all… T)
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There’s a Pineapple In WHERE??

According to some person with a sick sense of humor… Baby at 31 weeks is the size of a Pineapple.  It’s not that I’m opposed to pineapple, it’s an awesome, yummy, juicy tropical fruit.

But

A pineapple in my uterus.  Not a comforting or appealing thought, really.

This is apparently the best they could come up with in the terrifying fruit comparison department.

This is apparently the best they could come up with in the terrifying fruit comparison department.

All I can think of are those tiny little spiky scales on the side of the fruit (Fun Fact: The more scales the juicier the fruit!) and the giant, imposing spiked leaves on top. Does that sound like anything you’d like anywhere near your insides?  Let alone how you’d like to picture you’re future child? … I think NOT! 

Please, dear writers of theBump.com, think before you Fruitify my child.

Frumpy and Grumpy

These two words pretty much sum up today’s attitude.

Here are the Facts:

I’m wearing UGGs, leggings, and quite possible the ugliest/most shapeless thick grey maternity sweater.  Imagine that – a shapeless maternity sweater.  How dare they?  

I’m essentially the walking definition of FRUMP! haha

This is the sweater in violation of every fashion rule my Non-Preggo self would typically adhere to:

Don't be fooled as I was! This is really just an expensive potato sack, sans the burlap.

Don’t be fooled as I was! This is really just an expensive potato sack, sans the burlap.

As for the GRUMPY….

Did you read any of the words above?  I’m walking around in a grey knit POTATO SACK!

This should be just cause and reason enough for deflating one’s normally bright and cheery disposition.

Huge props to my awesome Hubby, who despite my apparent penchant for early 20th century farm attire, insists that I’m a very cute and sexy (both at once? That’s a tall order…) preggo lady.

He must be crazy!

Hot and Bothered

I have been so hot lately.

Molten hot.  The surface of Mars hot, even.

Unfortunately for hubby it’s not in the “come hither” sense. It’s more like a “get all these covers off me and turn the fan on high – I don’t care if it’s only 61 degrees in here!” kind of way.

Last night was a HOT night of epic proportions.

Being hot and not getting any sleep make for a very unhappy pregnant woman.

6:30 a.m. saw me clamoring out of bed, grabbing the blanket from the floor (that I’d previously tossed of the bed at 3 a.m.), and trekking into the living room, pillow in tow, to try sleeping on my sweet glider/recliner/rockingchair (courtesy of my awesome mom-in-law).

I hadn’t had a wink of sleep since 3 a.m. and apparently I wasn’t meant to get any useful sleep in my recliner either.

Lucky me.

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The Countdown Begins…

Ahhh! Is it really that close?

Ahhh! Is it really that close?

I can’t believe it, but that’s all that’s really left.  Actually, slightly less than a full 10 weeks because I’m late on starting the Theä-cracy blog! haha 

In the coming days and weeks I’ll be chronicaling our journey to Theä’s due date and beyond.

I’m definitely entering the stressful/uncomfortable/my-hormones-will-kill-you-if-you-annoy-me phase.

This should get really interesting really soon.