Four weeks ago, I unexpectedly weaned Genevieve. Since then, I have magically lost five pounds. (This happened the last time I weaned a baby too. It's crazy. I have nothing to do with it. It just happens.)
Normally I wouldn't complain, but...I did just buy, in mid-winter, new dressy trousers and new Title Nine workout pants, both of which were moderately expensive, at least for my habits, and both of which are now bordering on too loose. Because I wasn't thinking, then, about weaning. Nor was I thinking that, more than 4-1/2 years after conceiving my first baby, I would still be in the throes of various baby-related body-size-and-shape changes. I mean, really? Is there ever a safe time to assume one might be back to one's NORMAL, STABLE clothing size, after gestating and birthing and nursing and weaning? Is it now, five weeks after weaning the last baby? Is it a month from now? Six months? A year?
Have you ever thought about how men get off incredibly easy in this whole process? Sure, of course--the labor and breastfeeding, such a brutally unequal division of labor, we all know about that. But also--they don't have to suffer through round after round of body-size changes in a matter of a few years, now do they? You don't see them having to go and re-create their wardrobes every six months. IT'S JUST A LITTLE BIT IRRITATING.
Despite that, don't go and think I'm still all sick and crabby and ready to run away to the circus in order to escape Genevieve's surly attitude. I'm not. Spring is here, sort of; I'm running again after that ill and sedentary month of March; I heard a rumor that the "park" near our house (really an empty expanse of grass with a path around it) may be finally getting some playground equipment, a development that would change my stay-at-home-mom life, for the better, to a degree you can't imagine. Winter was long and hard, but things are looking up. Weaning or no weaning.