Let's be clear that I am writing this post at 9:30 on a Sunday morning and I am totally blowing off church. Yes I am a sinner. A sinner raised by an atheist mother and a father who believes life after death is one long dirt nap.

Interestingly enough it was my non-believer father who inspired toady's post. Last night we had some family over (including folks from out-of-town) to celebrate my youngest son's birthday which was, as you moms all know, a circus.

There's a saying about when things are good, they're good and when they're bad they're horrid...let's just say that pretty much sums me up these days!

When I am organized I'm good. When I'm not...watch out! It's a scary sight, and chances are you will get sucked into my vortex as I pass you by!

Can we just work this out, please?

Does your body talk to you in this way?  Most of us have an entire community of internal physical advocates urging us to strengthen, tone, elongate, stretch and lift.

Every so often the Cheerleader will flip her ponytail around and chirp; “Hey there cutie, wouldn’t it be awesome to do a push up or two?  Look at me do the splits!  Remember when you used to be able to do that?”

It’s hard enough to drink limited caffeine and still remain active and alert all day. Then you add in the high likelihood that you will have to leave work mid-presentation due to nausea especially if the meeting is between 9 am and any time of day. Next, add in the annoyance that no clothes fit “right” even if you are lucky enough to not gain weight during the first trimester. Being at the office is hard when you are trying to hide an early pregnancy.

I really look forward to my Friday nights. It’s when I can curl up on the sofa with a nice glass of wine and my hubby snuggled close, watching a movie we rented. Sometimes we even make it into a family night, where the kids join us with a fun snack. It’s the one night out of the week that I actually can relax. It’s the one night where my mind can be taken away from all the stresses of the week.

Holidays send me over the edge. And not because I am known to be shopping for presents on Christmas Eve (truly I work best under pressure) but because as a mother to two young children every holiday requires that I make a sad clown attempt at being crafty. The cute and kitschy are not my forte. Creating an adorable Halloween vignette at the front of my house with handmade bats, ghosts and the perfect carved pumpkin is literally beyond my capabilities - by a lot.

And it's not just holidays. Children's birthdays are the worst.

I don’t always enjoy admitting that I’m wrong. Ask my husband, family, colleagues. Oh, they’ll tell you that I admit to being wrong, but that I do it reluctantly. Yes, I recognize that this isn’t the greatest sign of maturity, especially in relationships. But yesterday was a day in which I was proven to be wrong multiple times, and I cannot express how good it feels to have been wrong.

I’m feeling good this week. I had some time off and while I really wasn’t great when it came to following the new eating plan fully, I did keep many of the new strategies in mind:

I’m making sure to plan ahead for my meals (especially lunch and the mid-afternoon snack).

We've all had bad break ups.  The crying, the eating of ice cream, the refusal to eat because you're sick to your stomach, the guilt, the "What's wrong with me?" stage, the grief, and finally the slow crawl towards healing which can be derailed at any moment by a chance encounter with your ex and their new girlfriend. And ladies, I am not talking about some break up with a love interest.

Before I was pregnant, I drank two cups of coffee in the am and two or three diet cokes before leaving work for the day. Once pregnant, I saved my soda for one diet caffeine free coke per day, and attempted to drink 64 ounces of water if I could conceivably think of a way to fit in the necessary bathroom breaks between every meeting.