Next week will be better.
I will be better.
I am going to the gym a minimum of 3 times. I’m even going to try a soul cycle class… And I’m going to flippin like it.
Who cares if I haven’t worked out in 1 (3) months, or that going to the gym means baby won’t get her morning nap, which as the third is truly her only time with just me and/or sleeping with some peace. It’ll be better because I will be filled with post workout endorphins that will turn me into a somewhat less mean mommy, which makes life happier (and calmer) for everyone in my stratosphere (love you honey!)
Baby also won’t be teething next week. Which means I will get at least a few minutes a day without dear girl in my arms, and I won’t need 2 (4) glasses of wine to decompress that night(s) …and I won’t feel guilty.
(I feel guilty thinking it)
I will NOT stay up past 10 (12?) binge watching anything… I do have self control, I do have self control. In fact, I’m going to READ, every night. Because I am that kind of woman.
I will not wear anything with any kind of stretch in it. I will be that put together Mom, you know, that one.
I am also going to plan dinners for the week. AND I’m going to go to the grocery store once, not 3 (6) times like this week. I will not have bad carbs at evey (most) meals. And no sugar, that’s off the list. Oh yea, I’m going there. Side note- They’re also going to be Michelle Obama worthy meals that family will devour.
Mommy- “No kids we are not having pizza, cereal, and/or peanut butter sandwiches this week. ”
Children- “We knew you would get it together someday Mom!”
Babydaddy- “Dearest hot wife, you shaved your legs and put lipgloss on while making 35 breakfasts, 37 lunches, 35 dinners, 100 snacks, while helping our daughter jump a reading level, workout, and renovate our house for pennies?!”
BabyMama- “I’m just that good.”
shucks, I’m gunna crush it.