New possible band name: The Saggy Boobs!

I kind of knew my boobs were different after having kids, but this is terrible.  I don’t think they were this bad after Bear, so can I blame Cubbie?  Maybe it’s from me not breastfeeding Cubbie?  Who knows!  (And yes, I know I said I would write a post about all that.  I just need the energy to do it, because it will be a long one).

Anyhow.  As part of my resolution to take better care of myself, I busted out an exercise DVD the other day for the first time in years.  I also put on an old sports bra (I have other, newer ones, but this was the first I grabbed out of the drawer).  The elastic around the bottom is pretty worn, and it feels like the bra smooshes my girls more than supports them, but (at least until that day) it does the job.

So there I was,  doing my (kind of cheesy) Weight Watchers workout DVD.  In case you’re curious, it’s this one.  Even though I also own the 30-Day Shred and think it’s pretty awesome, I started with the Weight Watchers one because I like the more moderate intensity level, particularly until I lose some weight and presumably have stronger knees than I currently do.  (My theory is that my knees have trouble holding up my gargantuan arse).  Part-way through, the guys who were scheduled to come assemble our piano showed up (an hour early) (Aside: my parents shipped up the baby grand piano I played all through high school!).  I stood there talking to them for a while, then went to finish my video.  And that’s when I realized  my boob had fallen out of my sports bra.

I was wearing a t-shirt over the bra, of course, but still!  My boob sagged out of my bra and I didn’t realize it, while I stood there talking to two dudes.  Awesome.  I am so very classy.

In other news, the hunt for a new babysitter is ON.  I thought I’d found one, but the more I think about her, I get the feeling she isn’t right for us.  For one thing, I found out she snooped through my house while I was away.  I asked Bear what he and Miss Snooperpants did while I was getting my pedicure and he said, “I showed her my room!  And then I showed her Mommy’s room!  And then I showed her the guest room!  And then I showed her Robert’s room!”  I asked whose idea it was, and it was Miss Snooperpants’s.  At first I rationalized it, thinking I probably poked around in houses while I babysat as a kid, but then I realized *I didn’t.*  I dont’ have a clue what the master bedrooms looked like in any of the homes where I babysat – and I was a teenager!   I still almost looked past it, but then I had a chat with Miss Snooperpants around Christmastime, when I was sick with the flu and felt like I was dying and needed some help.  Turns out that she was sick, too, but as we chatted, she asked if Bear had gotten better about sharing with Cubbie.  When I said, no, not really, it’s still one of our challenges, she said, “Oh.  Well, I hope you are able to figure something out, because I’ve got to be honest: it was a little irritating.”  She then went on to ask if she could sit for Bear sometime while Cubbie is napping, or vice versa.  Um, no.  You think my kid is irritating (and yes, his inability to share most toys with his brothers is VERY irritating), and I’m not going to ONLY hire you when one kid is napping!

Hrmph.  Am I being too sensitive?  Still, I have to get over my babysitter anxiety.  I worry less about Bear these days with a sitter and more about Cubbie.  Cubbie doesn’t want anyone but me these days, and what if he screams the whole time?  Don’t answer that: I know.  He will survive.  The sitter will survive.  I still just hate it.

And now I’ve rambled enough.  I fell asleep while typing half of this post last night, and now I’ve gotten Cubbie down for his nap (I think), and have promised Bear I would build him some tracks, and I need to do my workout DVD, and let’s face it: I’m desperate for a shower.  Oh, and did I mention my dishwasher is broken, so there are dishes to be washed?  Ho hum.  Countdown to new dishwasher’s arrival on Friday is ON!


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One Response to New possible band name: The Saggy Boobs!

  1. I’m skipping to the end for a second: I don’t think you should ever have to justify not hiring someone if you can’t trust them. Also, she seems very immature.

    I hate sports bras as a rule. I finally have one that I like, and it was a MILLION DOLLARS. Not really, but close enough.

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