It’s no secret that I’m a bit of a worrier, mixed with a serious dash of perfectionism, a side effect of which is insomnia inducing mommy-guilt.
I’ve been caught up in a massive change-up of my routine (again) due to Nora’s new mobility (crawling, cruising, and crashing, oh my!) and those precious 20 minutes I had for two whole weeks to get in a workout have once again vanished.
I’m just not a dieting kind of girl. I’d rather eat foods I enjoy and then kick my own ass for a couple hours at the gym. It makes me feel strong. Being hungry makes me feel weak.
And like a bad mother.
I know I’m just in a rough headspace the past few days, still playing catch up from my time in Greenfield helping my sister’s family and now having some new concerns about Nora’s hips that will go unanswered for a couple more weeks until we get down to see her doctor again… I’m just a little stressed.
Unfortunately, 3 a.m. isn’t the best time to get resolution so I should probably try getting some sleep instead.