Four Weeks and Four Inches

Mostly by luck, though I'd love to believe it was my "mom-dar", I took pictures of Emily precisely at 10:33 this morning, four weeks TO THE MINUTE that she was born. She was sleeping in my arms ~ thank goodness for a great viewer on the digital camera!
Oh that face!







Today is my first "real" day back into "real" life ~ Kurt's at work and the girls are at school. Things are going alright overall, though we did have a small-ish hiccup this morning when Kathryn and Melissa missed the bus. I was ready to let them learn the lesson of not getting to school, but Kathryn is giving a speech today and that was too much for me to let her miss. She's running for Student Body Treasurer. Results to come later in the week.

We are doing ok so far. I've managed to get a load of laundry all the way to the dryer and have plans for one more. I carried Emily down the stairs while holding Nathan's hand. That feels like my big physical accomplishment for the day ~ not leaning on the railing for dear life, as has been the norm for the last several months.

Nathan has been both a big help and a big 20-month old (read: NOT a help) this morning. He's found his own pants and has put his jammies in the hamper. He's also dumped his snack cup of kix on the piano keys and the floor of the living room. So, we're about even. He's just gone down for his nap, which means we've made it through the morning and lived to tell about it. Let me just say that soon the bulk of what is written here will not revolve around my health and elation over doing very simple things. Promise. We will move forward into bigger and better.

Which brings me to one of my plans for the next months: recovering my body from the ravages of pregnancy. I've really been thinking a lot about this ~ it's amazing the plans that can be made while lying around too pregnant and then too sick to really do anything about them. There is such a difference between not WANTING to get up and move, and not being ABLE to. I've been reminded of that lesson.
So, this morning along with the four week anniversary of Emily's birth, I decided to see how many inches I've lost in my waist since she came. While under normal circumstances four inches in four weeks would really be something, I was suprised that the number was only four. After all, she was 23! Probably a indicator that this was baby #5 and my muscles have pretty much given up on trying to hold themselves together. So, SO true.
Being down those four means that I have fifteen to go to reach my ultimate goal. Yes, that's one-five. Which is a lot, but it's time. And I'm excited to work toward that. Granted I'm saying that while I still can only dream of my step aerobics classes and running around the neighborhood. But a goal is a goal. Wish me luck!