The Reality of Reality

My daughter's first birthday is this week. It's gotten me all nostalgic.

Last summer, as I hobbled around as a huge pregnant whale, I did my best to stay active. I knew what I could and couldn't do, and was determined to be as "in shape" as I could be.

I even hung out with Beachbody CEO, Carl Daikeler...

There were things I knew I couldn't do pregnant, but could do *later*- running (I had to stop at about 5 months because it was just too uncomfortable), dieting (!!!), and a few other things. I got used to seeing my weight go UP rather than down.

I gained about 40 pounds.

This is me the day I gave birth.

I promised myself that, by the time my daughter was 1 year old, I would be in the best shape ever again.

I was so silly.

I had forgotten what it's like to be the parent of a newborn. I had no idea what it would be like to be the parent of TWO children, and working full time.

I didn't know that my emotional eating issues would flare up even more, now that I had almost NO alone time (except for workouts). Standing in the kitchen, shoveling peanut butter in your mouth is a lot easier than cutting up salad when your baby won't let you put her down.

So, even though I'm *pretty close* to my pre-pregnancy weight (I have about 3 pounds to go), I'm looking back on this past year with HUGE pride. I'm not where I want to be physically, but I have accomplished a lot.

I completed the Country Music Half Marathon.
I worked at my outside job (the one that isn't parenting).
I kept the kids from hurting each other.. most of the time.
I survived.

And even though I'm not where I want to be, I am on my way. And that's really the point.