This is what I looked like before I had kids.

Yes that was me. Miss slim and sexy.

Ok maybe not quite,  but at least that’s how I felt. Nostalgia does that to you.

However, after having three kids it is practically impossible to ever feel or look the same. This truth really hit home shortly after my second son was born, when my well used maternity pants split while shopping. Yes you read that correctly, split.  Not an inconspicuous split, but rather a giant gaping hole leaving my entire wobbly rear end exposed to the elements. It would have been a redeemable situation if I had a baby blanket handy to cover the offensive sight, but that would have made it too easy. I had to make the walk of shame from Pick ‘n Pay all the way to my car which, naturally, was parked at the faaaaaar end of the parking lot.

If I had had a Facebook account at the time this would have been an appropriate profile pic …..

 Motherhood is for Heffalumps and Woozles

So anyway, I’ve been thinking. For years I have been blaming pregnancy for absolutely all my weight gain and then I had a realization. Pregnancy had nothing much to do with it. It was just the start. I know that sounds crazy, but if I am really honest with myself there are plenty of other things to consider.  If you are just beginning your parenting journey, consider this fair warning. Here is my little list of the other things that are to blame for weight gain. The so called “silent killers.”

1. Granny’s treats: Our kids are very blessed to have two sets of awesome grandparents who live nearby. The only problem is that this means we have double the amount of granny treats. To spare my children from the evils of junk food, I have to impose a mom’s tax their haul. In other words, I have a generous bite first and then you can have it. I have my sister in law to thank for this mean, but brilliant concept. Actually it’s only because I’m such a good mom that I am willing to sacrifice my figure for the sake of their health.

2. Parties: Think about these stats. I do.  If you have three kids in school, each child in a class of 25, there is a possibility that you will receive 75 party invites for the year. There are only 52 weeks in the year.  About 13 of these are taken up with holidays leaving 49 weeks available for invites. This gives you an average of 1.53 invites per week meaning it is quite possible you could spend every Saturday at a party where your only consolation for the trauma of being surrounded by loads of hyped up, sugar crazed kids, is to eat treats and drink coffee.

3. Party packs: This phenomenon is related to the above point and is truly evil. Who was the genius who thought it necessary to send more sweets home with already sugar frenzied kids? The solution? Mom’s tax.

4. Easter: Our Easter bunny just doesn’t know when to stop. In fact he is so generous that our chocolate could last until Christmas. My philosophy is help the kids get rid of it quickly by eating it.

5: Homemade birthday cakes: One of my best childhood memories was getting to choose what birthday cake I would have every year.  We could choose absolutely anything our imagination could conjure up. So I decided to carry on the tradition and herein lies the problem.  Because you have to plan the cake, you have to buy the sweets to decorate ahead of time. I am generous when buying the sweets because I would hate to run out the night before the birthday when the decorating takes place.  At least that’s what I tell myself. The problem is once those sweets enter my consciousness they never leave. Just a Smartie here and a jelly bean there and before you know it you’ve got to go shopping again.

6: A Mother’s Generous Heart:  Sometimes when I am shopping I buy a treat I think the kids would enjoy. The problem comes when you are running lifts between three schools and you haven’t had time to eat all day. At that point I feel like survivor man in the wild and will eat anything necessary to survive. Besides what they don’t know doesn’t hurt.

So there you have it. That’s my real link between childbearing and weight gain.

I think after writing this I am going to have to change my profile pic because right now I feel like motherhood is for heffalumps and woozles.