I’m happy to report that the Northern Liberties shindig was quite fun. I had brief chats with a few other playground mothers who were friendly and not standoffish, Noah got over his shy inclination to hide behind tables and then began flirting with the bartenders, and we all enjoyed the food and drink. But honestly I don’t think I can adequately convey the feeling of chaos in the room. There were SO many small children flitting hither and thither, between the legs of people who were drinking – and it almost felt like the little ones had taken over and we were approaching a Lord of the Flies scenario. There were moments that were downright primal. But luckily we call came out relatively unscathed.
Yesterday the boy and I went to visit my mom at work. It’s been quite awhile since I had a proper visit to cubicle land, and I’ve never worked in an environment as conservatively corporate as my Mom’s place of business – so I was feeling a bit out of sorts while we were there. I spent the afternoon mostly trailing behind Mom and Noah as they made their rounds to the oohing and ahhing spectators. Needless to say EVERYONE knew of Noah, had seen a million pictures and had been anticipating his arrival. We tried to eat outside at a picnic table since it was such a warm day, but Noah was more interested in chartering the outer territories of the office park. I felt more than a bit embarrassed when Noah catapaulted himself down the hill toward a muddy water gully between the buildings and I had to throw myself down there to get him. Did I mention it was between the buildings? And that they have windows? I’m sure it was a treat to behold. Anyway – Mom was thrilled to see Noah and show him off and Noah was thrilled to run around some place new and be seen. And I was tired.
I need to diet. I have to wear a bathing suit in about 5 weeks and I’m disgusted with my lumpy body. But I’m also finding it impossible to diet. I feel like I happily sacrifice so much for Noah – sleep, career, fashion, socializing, personal time - that I feel unable to sacrifice one more thing – like the occasional cookie. I've lost over 60 pounds since I gave birth to Noah - but I've been stuck at the same weight for the last few months. (At least I'm not gaining.) It will obviously take something more extreme to drop the next ten, and I'm just not willing to give it. I am, however, willing to hate myself whenever I dress like I might be seen.