Confessions

This post was inspired by a recent post by one of my favorite bloggers, over at Belgian Waffle, and the comments she generated when she confessed and asked her readers to join in.

Six months post-partum and I am still wearing maternity shirts. I did, however, dump all remaining pregnancy pants, but the blousy tops remain. Why? Not just because they fit, but because I can't bear to shop for replacements and face the mirror. I just can't.

I like food too much for my own good.

Sometimes I am not nice, and I am not sorry.

I say the same inane things to my kids that my parents said to me - most notably "Whatever you're doing, stop it!"


I have some untreated OCD, but it doesn't manifest in useful ways, like keeping my house or clothes or babies clean. Oh no, I have patterns of how my breast pump bottles must line up on the counter between cleaning / using.

I correct other adults' grammar, despite it being rude.


I love the English Beat song "I Confess" as much as Elvis Costello's "I Stand Accused." Am I guilty? Oh, you bet.


I named my blog Gas Food Lodging because I feel like a a busy exit on the interstate of life - I have been chosen by two babies to give (and get) gas, food, and lodging. And they don't pay. As rest stops go, my bathroom is just as dirty, the chance to get out and stretch is just as welcome, and at chez moi, like many rest stops, maybe a squirrel will drop nuts on your head as you rearrange your crap.