Things have turned a little 'pear' shaped around here of late. Specifically... my figure. It all came to a head last weekend when I put on my favourite jeans... and they barely did up. It was muffin top city and it was embarrassing. Those poor pants had been working overtime for a good couple of months... and I knew it. I blame Easter and it's temptations, for pushing me over the edge. Hot cross buns smothered in margarine were a lunchtime staple every day for a few weeks there. I blame my love of chocolate and lollies and ice-cream and chips and savoury biscuits and sweet biscuits and pastries and Coca-Cola. Because I do eat all of that rubbish and then some. I blame my lack of will power to not eat said foods. And my good intentions to run regularly, at the crack of dawn... they've fallen in a heap too. Because it's dark and cold and really early... and dark... and I get kinda scared running on my own. So now, I'm taking advantage of the time immediately after school drop off. Making sure I'm dressed in exercise gear when I leave the house and ready to hit the pavement, stroller out in front and one foot in front of the other. I'm going to shift this extra flab, one fat cell at a time.
These two can be quite the handful to take anywhere at the moment. Between incessant bickering with each other and volatile mood swings directed at me, it's a nerve-wracking business going out in public. But over the Easter weekend, we all went along to the Family Show. And it was quite honestly, three and a half hours of harmonious enjoyment. They looked out for one another, laughed together, waited in lines patiently alongside of each other... and loved unconditionally. They even made Scott and I forget the fact we were just there to traipse around behind them and stand in the hot sun waiting for hours on end. It's amazing the kind of power our colourful little characters hold over us.