It's always fun at the YMCA

We recently made the decision to join the YMCA as a family, because although I vowed that THIS time I wouldn't put weight back on after the baby was born, that THIS time would be different because I worked so hard to lose weight before I got pregnant with Brooklyn, then proceeded to barf my way through another 30 pounds. Well, this time turned out not to be so different after all. Despite my good intentions, I'm finding it just as difficult this time as I did the last two times to go from being unable to eat enough food to sustain most normal people for the course of a grueling pregnancy to dieting immediately following the birth. It seems some sort of cruel irony that for 9 months, the time that a woman is meant to be able to gorge herself on cakes, candy, and potato chips and become gloriously fat, I am forced to live on a meager diet of crackers and the occasional frostie. I joked right before Brooklyn was born that I should get a grace period of 30 days after her birth to enjoy all the junk food I could get my hands on and not gain an ounce. All joking aside, that grace period has extended waaaaay past 30 days, and it's time to stop. My dear husband, who has been supportive of me doing whatever it will take to start feeling better about myself, suggested last night that we start a new schedule of meeting at the YMCA every Monday afternoon when he gets off work and spending an hour exercising as a family. Actually, perhaps 'exercising as a family' isn't the correct term. What I mean is that the children will be dumped unceremoniously into the Child Watch program for an hour while Ammon and I sweat it out together in the gym. Then, we'll quickly shower, pick up our offspring, and grab a quick bite to eat on the way home. I'm looking forward to exercising with my husband by my side, and hopefully beginning to reverse the trend that I've set up for myself for the past six months. Wish me luck, everybody!