After I had my boy, I stepped on our scale and almost screamed.  I may have cursed.  I had lost only about THREE (maybe even TWO?) pounds after expelling one human, one placenta,  and gush upon gush of water and blood.  My uterus had contracted very dramatically within a few days, too.  I felt so light like I could tap dance if I had ever known how.  My husband said it was nice to be able to fully hug me again, with both his arms fully around me.

I had gained a very textbook, healthy amount of weight during my pregnancy.  Still, I had looked forward to stepping on the scale post-delivery and seeing a substantial loss immediately.  Then, almost magically, the next morning, lots more weight had dropped off, like the body needed a bit of time to process the transaction, like credit card refunds.  I am not weight-obsessed as I haven’t been a thin girl since my senior year in high school, and that was only because I was going through something.  I like food more than I crave being thinner.  I just want to fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes and feel lighter on my feet.

Micah has started to pinch.  He gave his daddy a classic tittie-twister while being bathed this past week.  He also likes to pat or grab the fatty fats on my back (where the bra strap would be) as he feeds.  Micah, I know Mama is mad soft right now but please don’t play with my fatty fats.  They are not toys and I feel very shy when you can pinch them, strum them and soon, knead them.

When I went to the gym (obviously without Micah in tow), I missed him not for motherly love reasons but because I needed him as a living, breathing explanation to those around me that I was extra soft and just EXTRA me as I had just given birth.  Yeah, I shouldn’t care what other people think especially when these strangers at my ghetto gym couldn’t care less about me but it’s my overexplaining nature.  I really want to explain to anyone who will listen, “Hey, I used to swim all the time and enjoyed me some yoga.  This is not my true self.  Did I tell you that I gave birth ten weeks ago?”  Well, maybe to grown-up Micah, I will say, “You know, mama used to be a supermodel despite being 5’2 and 1/4 but I retired when I had you.  The hours were too crazy, and all that traveling…”

I hopped on the scale at the gym after one workout and one pee.  It was one of those digital scales that scrambles its numbers before it settles on the final weight.  What?  That’s my PRE-pregnancy weight!  BOO-ya!  It’s a miracle!  It’s only been ten weeks and 2.5 trips to the gym (.5 for the time I started to walk on the treadmill when my husband called me to tell me to come back home).  Halleluyer!  Oh wait, it’s still scrambling.  It had only paused at that pre-pregnancy weight, just visiting that number for old times’ sake I guess, before it scrambled some more and spit out my current number.  Well, I deserved that.  How can I possibly lose the weight that took 39 weeks to gain, in just ten weeks?  C’mon now, I am not Heidi Klum.  And those celebs have resources galore.

Micah, you lucky that you are deemed even CUTER for YOUR double chins, sweaty arm (and wrist!) rolls, thigh rolls, and neck that needs to be flossed.  Mama wants to get fit real soon, for you and for me.  OK, probably more for me.

New stuff in the world-at-large:  chaos in Cairo, Egypt and continued gloomy weather in nyc

New developments in the MLK world:

1)  You do Thighmaster type leg pulses while straddled on Mama’s thigh, as if you were riding a pony.  I can feel you rocking yo body in small rhythmic bops now.  Sometimes you bop yo head too.  Very cute.  Li’l thug.  “it’s the thuggish ruggish bone…”

2)  Just last month, I worried that I am holding you too much, that you may become a mama’s boy, craving my bosom and hugs throughout our day.  But you done flipped the script on me this week, MICAH.  Now, you cry for me to LET YOU GO?  I was holding you, trying to soothe your cries, tryna mush your exquisite cheek into mine, but how’d I get you to calm down?   Only by setting you free into the Pack N Play where you wanted to play on your own, staring and kicking quietly, cooing here and there, for more than an hour.  You like to play alone a LOT now (sniff, sniff).  Y-y-you still have my #, righhh?

Mama was the one hiding around the corner, tryna play it cool but ready to pounce in case you’d wanna cuddle again.  Dah-yum, it’s like that already, huh?  “They SURE do grow up too fast!”

10 week old or 5th grader gettin' ready to play peewee league?

you look smashing in electric blue and no, i don't say that about every color on you since i am in love with you.

my cheeky monkey. now that i have my own baby, i can squeeze cheeks as much as i want w/o noonchee-bah'ing the parents.

see? mint green - does nothing for you. kinda washes you out. but i ain't mad atcha for squeezing your own cheek. i mean, really, how can you resist?

3)  You wake up so radiant and extra squeezable, with your face splitting open into a HUGE grin, ready to discuss sports and pop culture with your pops, making it harder for him to leave you to go commute to work!

"Mets ownership in trouble with the Ponzi scheme mess, son..."

4)  Mama got encouraged by her best friend from elementary school (currently residing in Peoria, AZ with her own first baby) who told her not to let the cold weather and Korean warnings keep her stuck in the house.  So Mama got you bundled up (though we still lack the plastic cover/wind protector that is KEY), and we braved the sidewalks two days in a row.  It was messy and we got honked at when Mama couldn’t find the lip of the sidewalk to wheel onto…AND some parts had so much snow or dirty slush that we had to find detours just to be able to wheel forward…BUT we made it safe and sound.  You were rewarded with some Aquaphor on your cheeky cheeks.

And you got to see your friend, Naomi, again.  Take that, stank weather!

naomi likes to pat my peach fuzzy head. and i'm cool with it.

yeah, girl, it's like Hair Club for Men up there. so much new growth!

back from getting our stroll on. can't imagine mama's hometown of LA where there is this thing called SUN. it would shock me to experience it. is it like fire? should i be skurred? this is all i know.

(Wow, this blogging sure takes a lotta effort and time.  But it will serve as a scrapbook for my boy.  Man, I wonder how long video clips will take, cuz at this rate, I’mma have to do TEXT ONLY entries from hereon out and that’s no fun!)

I’ve been kicking myself for not having started a blog during my glorious pregnancy.  I say “glorious” because it truly was just that.  The most joyful time of my life thus far.  I was uncharacteristically laid-back (other than the worries amidst the fragile, guarded celebration of the first trimester).  Living and even sleeping in amazement and wonder, marveling at the life I was carrying.  On the subway, I would feel an urge to lift my hands in praise, thanking God for my gift.  I was also blessed with a smooth pregnancy, with only some mild nausea here and there.  I never once took it for granted or as a “natural” stage in life as I am VERY aware that many couples cannot conceive easily and my heart keeps going out to them, during pregnancy and now, during this new mama stage.

During those 39 weeks I carried my son, I kept a private notebook recording every symptom and feeling and also took pictures regularly.  But now I want to share via blog so that I can connect with others, especially women, and maybe give future new mamas a glimpse into the inner life of a mama, a mama who is all heart though she still detests cooking and cleaning.  I won’t be able to share recipes witchoo or teach you home remedies as er, that is not my forte, but I want to share my heart.

I kept postponing because of legit excuses like being a sleep-deprived new mama but today is a new month, February 1st, my boy is nearly 10 weeks old, taking a late morning nap, and I don’t want to put this off any longer.

Mamahood makes all cliches ring true.  People, especially parents, would tell me, “They grow up too fast.”  They repeat this in person, on Facebook, strangers, acquaintances, friends alike.  They keep saying this BECAUSE IT IS ALL TOO TRUE.  My boy weighed 6 lbs flat when he arrived on Thanksgiving Day after being in my womb for 39 weeks (full-term).  At his 2-month check-up, he was 12 lbs, 12 ounces.  I even asked my husband if our little MLK, unlike his untall parents, could be suffering from gigantism because I thought babies didn’t double their birth weight until about 4-5 months.

He is sprouting eyelashes and eyebrows oh-so-swiftly, like my very own Chia Pet.  He laughs and squeals, smiling so charmingly that my husband has to say, “Don’t play with the baby during feeding.  He won’t sleep then!”

He went from being a gaunt newborn with sunken cheeks to having the cheeks and jowls of Paul Giamatti.  His eyes were always closed but now roaming around during his waketime, wide and long, like Randy Jackson’s.  I am so in love with this kid.  I think God made human babies the cutest babies in the animal kingdom so that we wouldn’t mind their 1000% dependence on us.

Alright, my boss is waking from his morning slumber.  I miss him even when he naps.  It’s GTL time for us – Gym, Tummytime, Laughter.  Peace out until the next post.