It's Monday afternoon, and I'm sitting on the couch watching Chopped on Netflix, and I'm in a bad mood.
Why a bad mood?
Don't ask. Because I don't know. The dishes need to be washed? I have to wait for James to get home at 9:30 to watch our shows? I'm really, really tired? I'm hangry and the more I eat the hangrier I get? Gracie and I have had to change our outfits multiple times today? Pick one.
I was going to take Gracie to see James at work today, but after I showered, dried my hair, and got dressed, I laid down and realized I didn't have the energy to wake up the baby, put some pants on her, and get us out the door. So I'm on the couch with an iced coffee and Netflix. Such a hard life, right?
(But really, will you bring me a snack? And by snack I mean a meal. Two meals.)
Maybe I shouldn't watch Food Network shows while hungry? Whatever.
I may not have gotten Gracie out the door today, but I did take her out to coffee with some friends on Saturday. I put her in a onesie with bikes on it and matching polka dot pants. I love that she has a onesie with bikes on it. They look exactly like my beach cruiser, and the bike that used to be on my blog design. I dressed her and smiled. Bikes, blog, baby. Life is wonderful! And then James asked if I wanted a pizza for lunch, and life was really wonderful.
And then she destroyed her outfit. You know what I mean.
Then it was my turn to get dressed, but I quickly realized NOTHING FITS after you have a baby. Nothing. After the baby comes out, your fat goes back to all the wrong places. My muffin top has been supersized. My thighs could crush the Hulk. All the billowy shirts I had been planning to wear post-baby clung to me like they had separation anxiety, so I swallowed my pride and put my maternity clothes on. I know that my body is still going back to normal, but I looked at myself in the mirror, and even though I know I had a baby only a month ago, my reflection made me wonder if I was somehow four months pregnant. You never know!
(Seriously though, will you make me some waffles? I could go for waffles.)
Anyway, it should be no surprise that I'm currently wearing maternity leggings. I pledged my life to them while I was pregnant, and I'm not about to go back on my word.
So speaking of partying. Oh, we weren't? Oops. Maybe if you had brought me a snack by now I'd be coherent enough to know what I'm talking about. I digress! Anyway, I partied hard on Friday night. There was a major warehouse fire in town, and the local news covered it for three hours, and yours truly watched every minute of it. Gracie was into it too! She managed to stay awake while overly dramatic reporters interviewed people and asked the hard-hitting questions like "I heard you took a picture of the fire! What did you see when you looked at the fire?" and "Can you smell the smoke?" I was riveted.
(For real, can you make me some tacos?)
James and I have been all about some Food Network shows lately. On Netflix, of course. We're all out of Iron Chef episodes and I'm not ready to talk about that yet. We've been watching Food Network Star, and we're hooked. Being on a show like that is my worst nightmare, but I can watch it all day long. Except I can't watch it all day long because James is at work. The nerve! So I'm watching Chopped. I couldn't be on this show. I have no cooking creativity. I would panic, throw all the ingredients in a blender, and then run away.
Speaking of food, I'm reading Food: A Love Story by Jim Gaffigan. Once again, not helping my hanger problems. But it is SO FUNNY. It's making me crave all kinds of bad food. Like hot dogs. I'm not a hot dog person, but after reading his chapter on them I was literally salivating. Maybe I should find a new book to read.
Speaking of food, again, I'm going to go scrounge around in the kitchen before The Boss wakes up. But you're more than welcome to show up on my doorstep with food.