Good Morning to Me

This morning, just for sadistic funsies, I tried on a pair of pants one size smaller than what I wore before I got pregnant.

a) they fit
b) there was a $10 bill in the pocket

Double Score.

For more sadistic funsies, I stepped on the scale.

I've lost 20 pounds since delivery. That's 20 pounds in 7 days.

Things are going so well I'm going to get crazy and stupid. To give Matt a break (mostly from Ben, who's been his constant playmate/shadow for several days while I have a semi-permanent fixture attached to me), I'm going to attempt a brief outing to the park with both kids, all on my own.

Tomorrow Emma will be one week old. Which means we will be entering week two, which is the beginning of what I like to call The Danger Zone of Death--the window wherein postpartum depression and colic may or may not make their appearance.

Staying indoors and "letting it go" when it comes to the state of the house are both triggers for my depression. So while many may balk at my level of activity in keeping the house picked up (I promise I'm not doing heavy cleaning) and going on outings on my own with two children, I have a hunch that living my life in this way may curb the beast. Yes, I realize that both postpartum depression and colic are largely unpreventable...but damn it if I'm not going to try anyway. So to both I say,

Suck it. You're not invited to this party.

Now if you'll excuse me I've got ten bucks to spend on skinny jeans (okay, let's not take this too far).

This picture has nothing to do with this post. But according to my blogger stats, I get a lot more traffic when I post cute pictures of my children. So I'm shamelessly including this one so that you'll read all about my good day, in case all my recent posts have been too dark and twisty for you and you get worried about me. Also because she is so freaking cute.