Big Mama

I didn’t gain a lot of weight in the first trimester…or the beginning of the second. And since I don’t weigh myself at home, I just assumed I hadn’t gained a lot of weight since my last doctor’s visit.

But I didn’t take Christmas into account.

Wait. Let’s not blame Christmas. It’s not Baby Jesus’ fault. Or even Santa’s. (Well, a little bit Santa. I mean, he doesn’t set the best example.)

Instead, let’s blame:

The long road trip with hours of sitting
The frequent stops at McDonald’s (Mmmm…Egg McMuffins)
The frequent stops at Wendy’s (Mmmm…Dollar Menu)
The Peppermint Bark (which we’re still eating)
The mini candy bars my mom puts in our stockings (“They’re so little! I can eat twelve! And isn’t dark chocolate as good for you as broccoli?”)
Nana’s cookies
Grandma’s friendship cake
Laura’s scotcharoos
Mexican food
Kolaches
More sitting in the car

So I had a doctor’s appointment today—a mere week after the gluttonous and sedentary holiday to celebrate the birth of Christ—where I got weighed. It’s been four weeks since my last visit and I had this little fantasy that the doctor would say, “Well, you know, everything looks good but you could probably stand to gain a little more weight. You might want to try eating more. Maybe more sweets. Maybe more Mexican food. And have you tried sitting around on your butt for most of the day?” And I would say, “Well, if that’s what you think I need to do, doc. I guess I could try.”

That didn’t happen. I won’t go into specific numbers here but I’ll just say that after the nurse weighed me she said, “Well, you seem to be going in the right direction.”

That’s right. The same direction as Santa.