Hot Mom-ness

"There is no try. There is only do, and not do." --Yoda

I am not really a Star Wars fan. Well, there was the time after The Empire Strikes Back when I told my mother I wasn't getting out of bed until Han Solo was un-carbon-froze. "But that won't be for three years!" she said. "Whatever it takes," I said fiercely. That was a pretty heightened moment for me, popular entertainment-wise. But I digress.

I actually heard this quote at a Mary Kay party I attended last Wednesday. It wasn't really advertised as a Mary Kay party; it was called a "Pamper Party." Now that I am a mom, I experience a slight frisson of horror when I hear the words "Pamper Party." But it turned out to be about feet, not tushes. And I did have a good time, though (as obviously intended) I do get whipped into a frenzy of believing that maybe I should sell Mary Kay at these things. "I can make my own hours, and the stuff sells itself!" I told David. David is suspicious because he thinks it's a pyramid scheme. I do not have a problem with the idea of gossiping about makeup all day. It's more that I'm not sure I want to do it with people I know.

I attended the Mary Kay party in a blaze of triumph (lost over two pounds!) directly after my second Weight Watchers meeting in six months, and the first after discovering that I was correct in my suspicion that I'd gained close to 20 pounds since becoming a mom. How about that, folks? I put on the baby weight AFTER meeting the child. I was looking just fine in China, and feeling pretty good if I do say so myself. But six months of a) eating many of my meals in the car while driving a sleeping baby around and b) cramming into my mouth whatever happens to be lying near my hand and c) feeling too exhausted to shop, cook or even assemble and d) ["d" is the big one here] suffering from acute gastric distress whenever food is present because a small person is shouting "Ma-MA!" at me repeatedly while I shovel my portion faster and faster has (whew!) yielded the not-so-surprising result of being unable to squeeze into any of my clothes.

Recent perusals of family photo shoots have made me wince. Who the hell is that?, I ask myself. That's you, only bigger, myself answers. I have packed on the pounds as efficiently as someone who is prepping for a movie role or training to swim the English Channel. And the outcome, in addition to not being pretty, is totally enervating. I drag myself around town, panting, lugging my solid daughter (who herself has gained not even one ounce, but three inches, since arriving in our fair country) and marvel that I used to be so lively and fun-loving. And while we're mulling this over, could you pass the Red Vines, please?

A few weeks ago, I was driving Jarrah to My Kid's Clubhouse, feeling awful, and contemplating my future, in which I would most decidely not be a hot mom. And I want to be a hot mom! Aren't I entitled to at least a few years of hot mom-ness after all I've been through? And then a little voice said, "Well, I know someone who can help. You."

That did it, Readers. Like a shaft of light through the clouds I was pierced with the realization that yes, it's hard eating well as a mom, yes, it's hard taking care of myself when I'm taking care of someone else, and no, it's not going to get any easier anytime soon. But the little voice said, "Do it anyway. Do it even though it's hard. Do it BECAUSE it's hard." And, just like that, I felt so much better.

I made it to my first meeting last Thursday, but with growing pains. David hit traffic and I was so late I only heard the last 10 minutes of the discussion. It was hard to look at the scale. But when all the paperwork was complete, and I was sitting amongst my people in the cold, white metal chairs, I knew it was right. The leader ended the meeting with a quote: "There is no such thing as will power. There are simply people who are ready to change, and people who are not."

It brought tears to my eyes. May The Force be with me.