I know I said I'd be back to blogging more since we were getting Riley enrolled in hourly care, but then LOL guess who lost all of the paperwork before we could turn it in? Actually I don't really know the answer, it was either Greg or myself but that doesn't matter NOW DOES IT.

My money's on Greg. Just saying.

Anyway, let's hope we get all that turned in this week and then next week I'll have some more time on my hands. Here's what we've been up to in August.

Greg's family was in town for a family wedding, so Riley got lots and lots of attention from her various relatives. Grandma and Grandpa were first to arrive, so we showed them all around our little town. I'm pretty sure they have now been to every single park in Manhattan. Pretty much anyone's dream, essentially. 

Greg's brother, Chuck, has a really great camera and actually knows how to use it, unlike some of us who invested in nice cameras but still use their iPhone 10 out of 10 times. Not naming names. He was able to capture lots of sweet and tender moments, like this one of Riley screaming her head off and me laughing at her misery.

Don't worry friends. She was only screaming because we took her Teddy Grahams away. I didn't think she could swing and eat. She, of course, proved me wrong.

We definitely share DNA. 

The absolute best part of having everyone together was seeing Riley with her cousins. My heart basically exploded into a million pieces. Since she has never gone to daycare, she doesn't often get to play with other kids, so it was really fun to see her play with Olivia and Scarlett. After warming up to them for maybe five minutes, she wouldn't let them out of her sight. 

​Luckily, they seemed to enjoy playing with her just as much. I also sweetened the deal by promising them Amazon gift cards for being such good helpers. I know they would have done it regardless, but I'm pretty sure the Amazon obsession runs in the family so they were ALL about it. Too bad they don't live closer, I'd be happy to shell out $20 gift cards for professional babysitting whenever I need it! Plus, I kinda love them so...

On Saturday we all got dressed up and headed to Kelly and Andrew's wedding! Chuck took some awesome pictures of everyone and Riley did her best not to look anywhere near the camera.

Shocking discovery: Going to a wedding with a toddler is a lot of work. She was actually cool as a clam during the ceremony (thank GOD) mostly because we waited until then to force-feed her goldfish. The actual reception was pretty chaotic because endless space to run around + lots of people to smile at beats any food we could offer her by a long shot. Pair that with her usual 7pm bedtime and 8'o clock quickly approaching, we were starting to approach Meltdown Territory. We ended up having to leave by 9pm, but the entire event was absolutely BEAUTIFUL. The groom gets points for tearing up when Kelly walked down the aisle, and Kelly gets points for being an absolute smokeshow! So happy for these two!

We ended the family time with a trip to the Discovery Center, where Olivia encouraged everyone to dress up in traditional prairie folk clothing. It was actually hilarious and I will cherish this photograph for the rest of my being.

Life settled down for a bit after our family left town, but not for long! 

When Greg was in Korea, he and some of his friends would have Sunday dinner together. They'd all pitch in and make something and I always thought it was super cute. We decided to continue the tradition in Kansas, and we finally held our first one.

Our place here is a bit small for a large group but it actually made for an even more fun time. We sat close and prepared the meal like a real family would. Riley ate more than 75% of the adults in attendance - we actually had to take her shirt off because she was such a mess. That didn't stop her from plopping herself firmly on our friend, Danielle, and proceeding to eat all of her ice cream with her fingers. We allow on the finest manners in this household.

We put Riley to bed and ended the evening hanging out on our patio. Greg is a famous story teller and I have to laugh at the picture below because he's in his story-telling mode, while everyone is at least pretending to be amused. 

We had a blast and definitely want to make this happen again sometime. We decided we will take turns being "hosts" and alternating who makes what. I grew up with Sunday dinners every week, and I really hope it's something we can do for Riley. This kid might look Irish/German/English/pale European but culturally she is definitely Italian! We didn't name her Riley Maria for nothing. Just kidding, that's not her name. I tend to exaggerate. 

We signed Riley up for gymnastics! I believe the look on her face in this picture is essentially how I feel every class. The place is awesome and the instructors are great, but there's only so much a toddler will do for a few minutes before losing interest. We try our best to stick with the curriculum, and then the rest is me chasing Riley/trying to keep her from getting kicked in the head by the older kids/trying to retrieve her from the foam pit. I really think the class should come with a waiver form that documents the parent's acknowledgement that this class will actually serve as a 45-minute total body workout for themselves. No joke, I wake up sore the next day from lifting this 24 pound nugget up and down about three thousand times.

Up next, we tried out story time! Our local library is seriously amazing. Greg and I were so impressed the first time we checked it out, that we've been back a bunch since. BUT, between this and gymnastics class, I really must have a death wish. Let me please say that this is absolutely my favorite age. I know there are fun things about every age, but to be honest I just have so much fun with her right now! However, however, MAJOR however, for the times she is 95% fun there is also that lovely 5% where I use all of my energy just trying to keep her still. Story time is no exception. Luckily it lasted only 30 minutes and I was able to contain her just enough that I only perspired 60% of my body weight vs. literally all of it. I'm using way too many percentages in this post, but I have a great inner need to express parental exhaustion in understandable measures. We did survive and it was really fun, so we will definitely be making this a regular thing. I'll wear more deodorant next time.

We celebrated 100 years of the Big Red One! The town has been aflutter with celebrations of the 100th anniversary of the 1st Infantry Division. The Flint Hills Discovery Center opened a new exhibit and we've been pretty pumped to check it out. We're not huge art-museum people (much to my mother's horror) but we love military museums and seriously geek out over them. And then my excitement dies by hour three of the tour Greg decides to give everyone. Without their asking. 

This town never fails to amaze me with all they have to offer for young families. They put up this awesome obstacle course for kids to do, so they could try out some "army" activities. Riley cheated the entire course and my heart swelled with pride because I've done one "intense" obstacle course race in my life, and I literally did the same thing the entire way. Climb under a bunch of wires and leaves? Yeah, no, I'm gonna go ahead and walk around that on this nice floor here. 

I'm sure as she gets older she and her father will sign up for races and leave me in their dust, but I'm going to appreciate her current apprehension. 

They had a wall in the exhibit where they encouraged guests to leave a sticker where they or their family member had served. We put some for our dads, grandfathers, and uncles, and I got a bit emotional seeing Greg put stickers on Afghanistan and Iraq because that was such a different and very difficult part of his life. I sometimes wish we had been together during it, so I could have supported him, and then I am almost grateful because I can't imagine how hard it would have been having him gone, and in harm's way, so often. Regardless, I'm so grateful he made it through all of those years safely and that he was with us to put those stickers on the map.

We have some busy weeks ahead of us with a military ball next week, a bunch of sporting events, and one of my best friends getting married very soon. So stay posted and I'll do my best to pop back in here more often :)

I've long debated writing this post, but I finally felt comfortable doing so. That's funny I'm sure, since I'm basically an open book, and most of the time you're probably wondering why in the HELL I share so many details of my life that nobody truly wants to hear. 

Anyway, here I am. And I'm talking about post-baby bodies. Why? Well, it's a pretty sensitive subject for me. And I've been unsure if I wanted to open up a can of worms on subject that's pretty sensitive for a lot of people. My number one hesitation was not wanting to come off as smug or "preachy". I also did not want to come off as snarky, as many people have asked me questions about losing weight after pregnancy, and I truly don't mind those questions one bit.

So, I will go ahead and tread carefully and do my best to explain my story.

Ever since puberty, I've been self-conscious of my body. Sadly, I think most females have this in common with me. Let's face it: there's pressure everywhere, at almost all walks of life, to look a certain way. With social media being as prevalent as it is, I truly think vanity has reached an all-time high. 

I was always a very active child and this continued into high school. I was a late bloomer (lol bloomer...who thought of that term?) and once puberty FINALLY hit I subsequently gained some weight. I still remember the doctors appointment, after a summer of lots of pizza and ice cream with friends, when I was shocked at the number on the scale. 130, the highest I had ever been. The cherry on top was the doctor telling me height and weight percentiles and that I was in the 75th percentile for weight. What I heard was, "You are 75% fatter than other girls your age".  Now, NONE of that was truly bad. The truth was I was nowhere near fat - I was a perfectly healthy and normal weight. But not to teenage me. It was then that I began learning about diets and eating "healthy". Which back in 2005 meant eating fat free everything. Present day me is wincing as I even type that. Thank god things have changed because #avocados amiright?!

An interest in healthier eating quickly turned into a bit of an obsession. I spent the majority of high school eating "healthy snacks" while friends enjoyed french fries, as teenagers (or everyone) should. I dreaded putting on a tight pair of jeans for fear that they might be too tight. I planned my meals in advance and was anxious if there was an event where I couldn't have access to a healthy alternative. Basically, food and my weight, consumed my life. Spoiler alert folks: this is not a fun way to live.

When I went to college, and started birth control to help regulate my periods, I gained some weight. Nothing terrible, and I doubt anyone could tell, but it bothered me immensely. Despite working out religiously and counting calories, I couldn't get the scale to budge.

*cue emo photograph to properly demonstrate somber tone*

This continued until I left to study abroad in Italy in 2010. Without going too much into detail, Italy was the best thing possible for my soul. I finally let go of everything. I made great friends, I became more independent, more care-free, and I simply enjoyed life. I will admit that "enjoying life" also involved heavy servings of carbohydrates and a bit too much alcohol. Thus, in addition to my newfound happiness, I gained a bit of weight. I can't remember noticing or caring too much at the time, but looking back at pictures, it's obvious it was there. 

I was at my personal heaviest when I met Greg. Which always brings a smile to my face because he has always thought I was beautiful, and it is obvious the number on the scale means nothing when you meet the right person. The love of your life will love you for who you are, not what size jeans you wear. For that, I will always be grateful that our paths crossed when they did. As it was, he still fed me platefuls of pasta and and scolded me when I refrained from eating something that was "fattening". Ugh, he's really the best. Sometimes. Except for when he shaves his face and leaves a million tiny hairs all over the guest bathroom sink. He's the best every time except that time.

​And still, I know I was not obese or maybe even textbook overweight, but I definitely wasn't living the healthiest lifestyle. When we moved back to the states in 2012, I knew it was time to change. Except, I dove back into the same ways - obsessing, restricting, making "rules" about food. I got in better shape but I never got to a weight I felt comfortable with.

This continued right up until I got pregnant in July 2015. I was so nauseous for most of the pregnancy, I could barely eat most foods. Forget eating healthy, I could hardly look at brussel sprouts without dry-heaving.

But here, friends, is where everything changed. For the first time in my life, I wasn't thinking about calories or carbs or sugar. I wasn't thinking about how my clothes were going to fit. All I was thinking about was nourishing this beautiful soul that was growing inside of me. I finally began listening to my body, and giving it what it wanted. Some days, that was broccoli or salad. Other days, it was a chocolate milkshake and a peanut butter sandwich. Most days, it was all of those. In one meal. 

It's as though letting go of all of those rules and restrictions brought me back to square one: listening to your intuition. Naturally, I began eating the things I wanted when I wanted them. I ate what sounded good and - more importantly - what I could keep down at the moment. As a result, I stopped snacking out of boredom or habit. I rarely snacked at all. My sugar cravings shot down drastically.

I ate to nourish my body and my baby. I did not eat to fit a materialistic image.

Although pregnancy wasn't super easy on my body, I can't even begin to express what good it did for my mentality and self-image. After Riley was born, I weighed around 165. Greg can vouch that each boob probably accounted for 10 pounds - rightfully so, they had jobs to do! When Riley was about two months old, we were in the process of moving to Kansas. I was sorted through all of my old clothes, trying them on and seeing if any fit. Most, did not. Some, just barely. In that moment, I had a realization - I did not care if I ever fit into those smaller clothes again. I truly and completely didn't. My body had done something amazing and I would not, for a second, take that for granted. Sure, I wanted to look "good", but whenever I looked in the mirror, I was content with what I saw. Without thinking, I threw away almost all of the old clothing. I completely made peace with my old habits and mentality surrounding food and how I saw myself. And guys, it felt really fucking good.

I continued eating as I had throughout pregnancy. I listened to my body and never said "no" if I wanted something I used to consider "off limits". If I wanted a chocolate chip cookie bigger than my face, I bought a chocolate chip cookie bigger than my face. Sometimes I ate a fourth of it before feeling satisfied. Sometimes I ate the entire thing and could have eaten another. I fueled my body to breastfeed, to exercise, and to survive sleep-deprivation. Most of all, I just didn't THINK much about it at all.

I knew I was losing weight, but one I hit my pre-baby weight, I figured I would plateau. Greg deployed in October 2016, and I became caught up in being parenting without him. Greg being away meant far less groceries to buy. Without really realizing, I became an almost-vegetarian. I rarely craved meat thanks to having a major aversion to most of it while pregnant. That aversion never really left me and I'm still somewhat stumped by it. I still enjoyed it occasionally, but since Greg the Super Carnivore wasn't around, I hardly bought it or prepared it myself.

I knew my clothes were getting looser and I felt great, but I didn't step on the scale until sometime in October. The number that showed up shocked me, mostly because I hadn't seen it since high school or maybe even before high school. At first, I panicked a bit. Was something wrong with me? I was still eating regularly and exercising very moderately, but nothing I was doing seemed "extreme" enough to warrant such a low weight (for me personally).

I scheduled a doctor's appointment just to be sure everything was alright. If you know me, you know I equate harmless doctor's appointments to a ticket to the grave, so this wasn't exactly a fun appointment for me. I'm sure nurses and doctors feel similar about seeing me, seeing as I almost always faint during the blood draw, ask a million questions, and then proceed to call them several times afterwards to re-ask the same questions that I was too nervous to remember the answers to. 

Happily, the tests came back just fine. The doctor told me to eat more often. Greg told me to eat more meat, because of course.  My grandma told me to eat donuts, play bingo, and listen to Johnny Cash, which doesn't seem very relevant but still sounds like great life advice to me.

Now, here is the reason I wrote this post and why this is a sensitive topic for me. Over the past year or so, since I started losing weight beyond my pre-baby weight, I've gotten LOTS of comments. I truly don't say that as a way to brag or make you think I had people calling me every five minutes to tell me how fabulous I looked (though feel free if you'd like to do that because I'm a stay-at-home mom in Kansas and I'mlonelyhelpme).  I'm saying it because it almost always made me uncomfortable. I know people mean well, and I know they weren't trying to upset me, but it often felt strange to me that people, even those I hadn't seen or spoken to in years, so easily commented on my body.  Most of those comments were harmless, but some like "are you eating enough" or "are you losing weight on purpose" seemed downright offensive. 

I think my biggest issue, was that here I was, a twenty-seven year old woman who had just let go of all of society's pressure to look a certain way, who finally felt free of restrictive diets, and happy with the skin I was in - and I was being brought right back where I started. Weight was being made very important and defining who I was. When I saw people I hadn't seen in a while, I was greeted with "You've lost a lot of weight" as opposed to "Cool, you're a mom now!". 

I really, truly don't want what I'm saying to be misconstrued. I appreciated people telling me I looked good, I appreciated people noticing that after a rough pregnancy, my body recovered and was mine again. I just did not want to associate skinny with being "good". I did not want to think that my pre-baby weight wasn't acceptable or that how I looked now was such a vast improvement to how I looked then. 

While I may have looked skinnier, behind the scenes I was a tired, emotionally-drained new mother, pushing myself through day after day with an infant, missing my husband terribly. I was wearing a smaller size in jeans, but I was also worrying about being the best parent I could be for my baby. I may have been carrying a few less pounds, but I was riddled with anxiety, afraid to read the latest news about a missile test in Korea, where Greg was. I don't mean to make it seem like I was walking around in misery and depression - because truly I was mostly happy - but my new weight had nothing to do with me as a person. I was still me. I AM still me.

Luckily, life has gotten a whole lot brighter now that Greg is home and our family is complete again. That same handsome guy I met at a bar when I was a slightly heavier, single, young woman, held me just as tight as he came off the plane and enveloped his slightly-smaller wife in his arms. He didn't even blink an eye at the difference in my body, and still just as eagerly offered me second helpings of pasta. My weight didn't matter to him. It never did.

Looking to the future, I plan on continuing eating the same way. As healthy as possible, but without restrictions. I refuse to obsess over food or rules around them any longer. I refuse to let myself be a slave to the number on the scale (no matter how high or how low). I will do my absolute best to raise my daughter thinking any of that is important. I will teach her that healthy is important. Happy is important. That's about it.

My body isn't textbook perfect. My boobs sag from breastfeeding. My butt is almost non-existent now. I have stretch marks on my thighs, on my breasts, and on my stomach. I'm starting to see the hint of wrinkles on my face, near my eyes and mouth. I will never have a six pack.

And I have never, ever loved my body more.