DadaMama: Some Things I've Been Meaning to Tell You

So, I did some yoga today. Nothing makes me feel more like a schlepp than a serene, karmically-aware, namaste-wielding Gumby coaxing me into the Bent Angle pose. I especially like it when she models her torture pose for me and then gently implores me to relax. "Soften your eyeballs and your forehead," she chides. What she doesn't know is that my eyeballs and my forehead are the only things keeping me from collapsing into a defeated, trembling heap.

Yoga is not for wussies. I celebrated my workout with a double chocolate milkshake from Steak n' Shake.

Gumby mentioned something about "honoring" my body where it's at--but where's it at is sad and pathetic. Right now I am 20 lbs heavier than I've ever been, and I have to tuck my stomach into my pants. Soon, my boobs are going to have to be rolled up at night like twin sleeping bags. Thanks, kids. Also, my husband is a lucky, lucky man.

I'm trying to be nice to myself. I mean, this broke-down hunka DID give birth to three fine boys, and is still working hard to nourish the newest. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm ready to have my body back.

I will now change the subject. I can do that because this is my blog. I don't even need a segue.

This morning we were late getting out the door, so I had to drop Gus off in the car line at school. As I watched him get out of the car and walk into the school, I was struck by what a little man he's turning into. When he hooks his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and heads off to his classroom--my God, he could be going to a university class. He insists on wearing a polo shirt every day as well, which only adds to his mini-adult appearance.

Five is a big year. Gus has basically learned to read, but still stumbles over sounding things out. Today he learned to ride his bicycle without training wheels. I gave him a push and he was off. It was one of the coolest parenting moments I've ever had.