Life's a beach
This week, hubby and I booked our accommodations for a week in Gulf Shores (Alabama) this May. We decided to make Clay's first vacation a trip to the beach for several reasons:
1.) We could easily find a condo, which would allow us a bit more room as well as a kitchen. This would allow us to prepare our own meals if little man didn't seem up for restaurants on some days/nights.
2.) For us, beach vacations are laid-back and more kid-friendly than trips to big cities, where I'd have a list of sights to see and alot of activities would be indoors. At the beach, there really is no schedule. And he can play in the sand all he wants (thought he will probably end up eating it in the end).
3.) The drive to Gulf Shores is manageable for a little guy. We can break the 4-hour trip into two 2-hour chunks, stopping in the middle for a few hours to eat and play outside a bit (if the weather's nice).
So, we found a great condo with amazing views, and we booked it. (If you're looking to do the same, I can recommend homeaway.com and vrbo.com. Both of those sites list properties that are being rented out by their owners, and you can find something in nearly every vacation-worthy destination you can think of.)
While I am super-excited about the trip, I'm also gripped with dread. You see, there are still about 7 pregnancy pounds on my body. And even if they WERE gone, I wouldn't be the same shape I was pre-baby. To be fair, I haven't really done much to lose the extra weight. I haven't been good about going to the gym. I haven't created a diet and stuck to it. I haven't done alot of sit-ups. I've basically just done whatever I wanted to and assumed that the weight would make its way back to wherever it came from before it made all of my pants a little too tight in the waistband.
Sooooo, it's time to quit hoping that those pounds will miraculously melt off on their own and actually do something about it. Like exercise. And stop eating so many cookies. Parking farther from the door, taking the stairs, drinking more water, whatever. Because the thought of cramming this body into a swimsuit is chilling. Chilling, I tell you. And I don't want to look back and pics of baby's first vacation and think, "Geez, I look like a WHALE." I'd much rather look back and say, "I look pretty darn hot for squeezing another human being out of my body only a few months prior."
Wish me luck. LOTS of luck.
1.) We could easily find a condo, which would allow us a bit more room as well as a kitchen. This would allow us to prepare our own meals if little man didn't seem up for restaurants on some days/nights.
2.) For us, beach vacations are laid-back and more kid-friendly than trips to big cities, where I'd have a list of sights to see and alot of activities would be indoors. At the beach, there really is no schedule. And he can play in the sand all he wants (thought he will probably end up eating it in the end).
3.) The drive to Gulf Shores is manageable for a little guy. We can break the 4-hour trip into two 2-hour chunks, stopping in the middle for a few hours to eat and play outside a bit (if the weather's nice).
So, we found a great condo with amazing views, and we booked it. (If you're looking to do the same, I can recommend homeaway.com and vrbo.com. Both of those sites list properties that are being rented out by their owners, and you can find something in nearly every vacation-worthy destination you can think of.)
While I am super-excited about the trip, I'm also gripped with dread. You see, there are still about 7 pregnancy pounds on my body. And even if they WERE gone, I wouldn't be the same shape I was pre-baby. To be fair, I haven't really done much to lose the extra weight. I haven't been good about going to the gym. I haven't created a diet and stuck to it. I haven't done alot of sit-ups. I've basically just done whatever I wanted to and assumed that the weight would make its way back to wherever it came from before it made all of my pants a little too tight in the waistband.
Sooooo, it's time to quit hoping that those pounds will miraculously melt off on their own and actually do something about it. Like exercise. And stop eating so many cookies. Parking farther from the door, taking the stairs, drinking more water, whatever. Because the thought of cramming this body into a swimsuit is chilling. Chilling, I tell you. And I don't want to look back and pics of baby's first vacation and think, "Geez, I look like a WHALE." I'd much rather look back and say, "I look pretty darn hot for squeezing another human being out of my body only a few months prior."
Wish me luck. LOTS of luck.
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