hitting the hard stuff

i didn't use to be an emotional eater, that or caleb has removed any room for denial, but there is no avoiding the fact that my SOP when he's having a rough day, and cries his way through a nap time, or i ran him through one to many errands and am deep in the throes of mommy-guilt, is to seek out emotional anesthesia in the form of comfort food.

and i spell comfort food c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e.

this could mean a variety things: mocha frappuccinos, cookie dough, chocolate milk, skinny cow bars (when i don't want to feel too guilty later), a spoonful or three of nutella, mint chocolate chip ice cream and occasionally, when hard pressed and no other sources are available, i'll just crack open a bag of chocolate chips.

but i think i have found my ultimate answer to the truly awful day:
i blame the commissary. it's the only place i've found them. (i don't even see them in starbucks.)

it may seem like i am ok with my chocolate-based self-medication, but while i am still 10 lbs under my pre-pregnancy weight, that is still about 40 lbs more than i was at my healthiest (start of my sophomore year, after a summer job that was essentially walking 8 hours a day) and 20 lbs more than i think i could realistically achieve if i buckle down and find a healthier way to address my baby-stresses. after all, if i'm so in love with my baby that his having a rough day can make me this stressed, shouldn't i be in love with him enough to make sure i'm around to enjoy him as long, and as actively, as possible?