Progress, progress

So things here in potty land are progressing. The number of times that Nathan goes in the potty is slowly, ever so slowly, starting to edge out the number of times he goes on the floor. Of course, it helped that I finally realized that the kid literally pees like every 10 minutes. I'm so not kidding. So by putting him on the potty every 10-15 minutes, the success rate has increased. I must admit, I am wondering how the heck we'll do this when we actually try to venture out into the world with him in undies. You can't even drive most places around here in less than 10 minutes. Will I need to put a potty in the car?

In other news, I have finally gotten my a*$& back into the gym after about three months off. It started simply enough - our membership at the gym near our old house expired and we thought it made more sense to just go sign up at a gym closer to the new house. And somehow, that task was just SO cumbersome that we kept not doing it. Naturally, time passed and it the excuses got easier and easier - oh, we're moving, and that's enough of a workout. Oh, it's Thanksgiving, who has the time? Oh, I'm pregnant, I really should take it easy anyway.

Well, ha ha on me, because now enough time has passed that I'm out of shape again and getting back into shape at around 5 months pregnant is not going to be an easy task. But hey, we did sign up at the new gym, and I did go 3 whole times this week. And it only sucked a little bit. Now I just need to keep going. And wait for my tummy to finally get big enough so that I'm unmistakably pregnant, instead of this in-between stage, where I get this look from strangers that is clearly scrutinizing in nature - is she or isn't she? Did she just REALLY enjoy her Christmas and is this her New Year's resolution, losing the weight? (In which case, she'll be like half the people in the gym, who will disappear again by February.) Or wait, is that tummy just round enough to mean there's a baby in there?

Don't get me wrong, I get these looks on a regular basis, but the gym is worse. Let's face it - other women at any given gym are checking out the other chicks and evaluating their bodies. Are they more fit? Less fit? More toned? Flabby? The women are checking out the other women far, far more than the men are, trust me. So I feel like wearing a sign around my neck that says "Yes, I'm pregnant!" so that I'll get that sweet look people give you when you are all babyliciousness, instead of the slyly patronizing look you get when people think you're just a little bit chubby.

(And yes, this is my New Year's resolution. But no, I won't be gone by February. You'll still find my chubby little babylicious tushy at the gym. So there.)