I know, I know, just how long is it going to take me to spring clean one house, right? In my defense, I am being really thorough. I'm basically going through every drawer, shelf, closet, etc. and purging like you wouldn't believe.
The other night I was going through a giant stash 'o paperwork. It was stuff that needed to be sorted and then put away in it's appropriate file. I'm not going to lie. It is a big job. I'm only about half way done with all these papers that have been hiding in a couple of bins in my room. It had gotten a little out of control. I'm not proud of the horrendous paper situation, but I am on the road to annihilating it, so that's got to count for something, right?
Anyway, in a serge of ultra-organized cleaning, I went through tons of papers Sunday night (while crying with Miss Elinor Dashwood over her broken heart on PBS) and found some interesting things, both good and bad.
The good would be two $10 bills, two $5 bills and a $10 gift card. That's quite a haul for just a little over an hour's work, don't you think? I'm sure some of that cash belongs to my kids as I found it in old birthday cards, but I'm not sure they'll be getting it back. At this point, I'm looking at it as payment for services rendered.
On to the bad. And sad. There was a little box of various mementos from Maia's birth (her little bracelet, her first knit cap, etc.) Among them was a book that my nurse at my OB/GYN would fill out at each visit while I was pregnant with Maia. It's a log of my blood pressure, belly measurement, and (here's the kicker) weight/weight gain. I, of course, turned to the last entry, when I was 39 weeks pregnant, and made the shocking and completely disheartening discovery that my current weight is exactly two pounds more than it was when I delivered my first child. Can there be a worse discovery in life?
I think there can and here it is: I never even appreciated my weight then. I never felt like a small or slight girl. I always thought I was a little large, in truth. And yet here I am, weighing much more and thinking Why didn't I think I looked good then? Why did I waste so much time worrying about being big when, obviously, things and thighs were only going to get bigger? I'm just a little perturbed at my twenty-four year-old self for not appreciating her body a little more, you know?
And so I am taking that knowledge and what I've learned with this new 20/20 hind sight, and I am going to appreciate my current body a little more. And I might make some cookie dough today to celebrate. After all, I haven't missed a day on my treadmill yet this week...