From Bejiggly to Bellefit (GIVEAWAY ALERT!!!)

During pregnancy, you spend 9 months (or an eternity if you are April the giraffe) watching your body expand in ways you didn’t think possible.

With both of my pregnancies I pretty much peed on a stick and as soon as the tests were positive, I had offensively huge boobs, my waist was gone, and the “birthing hips” emerged.

girls

Approximately 7 months

I’m also petite, ringing in at a whopping 5 foot 1, so there’s only so much real estate on my body. I tend to show later – like after 18/20 weeks, but once that happens I basically can’t breathe because my stomach is up to my throat.

With my first pregnancy, eight plus years ago, I gained a total of 25 pounds and hung on to the last 8-10 pounds for about a year. I blame it on living in Boston at the time and needing insulation from the cold. I knew nothing of post-partum girdles and corsets back then. Nothing.

My most recent pregnancy was MUCH different. First of all, I was 39 and I honestly feared how my “advanced maternal age” would affect weight gain and weight loss. Plus, at 32 weeks I got thrown for a loop when I was put on bedrest for the remainder of my pregnancy because of some spotting. Up until that point, I clocked an hour on the treadmill (just walking) every. damn. day…trying to maintain an active lifestyle.

Still, with life as a mom, running a very energetic 8-yr-old from school, to dance, to playdates, etc., coupled with a two hospital visits, a first trimester of dry heaving and puking, and a dash of someone looking down on me saying, “she’s been through the ringer…let’s throw her a bone”, I only managed to gain a total of 18 pounds and still birthed a healthy, 8-pound, baby girl.

9 months

I had the balls to allow a film crew in my house to film something for our alma mater (Go Gators) at nine months preggo, even though it’s a known thing that the camera adds 10 pounds.

All of that being said, I turned 40 just two weeks after delivering, and that was looming in the back of my head. EVERYTHING is harder when you’re older, including losing baby weight. Thankfully, you lose a significant amount on the table, which provides a nice running start. But then this thing happens to your body. In minutes you go from having a hard round belly filled with a baby, to an empty one that is so bejiggly (don’t fake the funk, mamas), that you don’t even know what to do with it. And it happens no matter how much weight you’ve gained. It can be a confidence killer.

This is where I discovered the magic of Bellefit. And it is magic, IF you use it as directed.

I received a bundle, which contained a dual-closure girdle and a corset. The website is great and walks you through exactly what size to order, but I did speak with a real person because I was cocky and thought I for sure would need a small. Pffft. Spoiler alert – I was wrong.

bellefitJPG

With this bundle, you get two sizes so that you basically ease into wearing it and tighten it as you go along. So I started with a large girdle and worked my down to the medium corset. I had no idea how long it would take to see results, nor when I should tighten things up, so I just went with what felt right. I began wearing it the day I was discharged from the hospital (two days postpartum), from the moment I woke up to the second I went to bed. I did not sleep in it (although some people do). There’s also an accompanying free app that helps track progress. (Sidenote: My phone used to be filled with nothing but an iTunes account brimming with 90s hip-hop and multiple photo filter apps to give the appearance of Botox. Now it’s filled with apps to track baby weight loss, the last time I fed my child, and live baby monitor feeds.)

Then….when I had a photographer in my home to do a newborn shoot/family photos seven days after delivery, something happened that rocked my world. I took my favorite AG skinny jeans out of my closet and had a stare down with them. In my head, this voice was saying, “Back away from the skinny jeans…you are only setting yourself up for disappointment.” But I flicked that voice off and started one leg at a time…fast like pulling off a band aid. And…They. Effing. Fit. No shimmying, no lying on the bed, nada. They slid right on like I hadn’t skipped a beat and I wanted to cry.

skinny jeans

That’s when I started to do measurements. I’ve never been one to weigh myself or attach a number to anything physically, because it messes with my sanity. I much prefer to judge how I’m doing based on how I feel, look and how my clothes fit. So busting out the measuring tape and scale was out of character for me, but I felt like I needed cold, hard, quantifiable evidence that this was really happening. It went something like this…

11 days pp

one month pp

2 months pp

Here are some other deets and a timeline for my experience.

2/8/17: (two days postpartum) I started wearing the dual-closure girdle on the looser hooks. You will have to lie down to get it closed at first, and it is tight. But not debilitating tight. It actually feels really good and supportive keeping you all sucked in. It feels good from a posture perspective too.

My experience was definitely faster than I anticipated. On day 4, I no longer had to lie down to get it closed. That was so motivating, I did the jig in front of my mirror.

2/18/17: Graduated to tighter hooks on dual-closure girdle without lying down!

3/6/17: (one month postpartum) This is when I measured my hips. At 39 weeks pregnant, my hips were 41 inches. At one month postpartum, wearing Bellefit, I was at 38 inches and graduated to the medium corset on the looser hooks. And hips don’t lie…ask Shakira.

3/25/17: Graduated to tighter hooks on corset and continue to wear it presently and track my progress.

Guys, even my newborn can’t believe it!

sienna

A few more things to know.

This is NOT one of those Kardashian-esque waist trainers. It’s a legit post-partum support system made of medical grade materials.

I wear Bellefit like its my religion. It’s the first thing I put on when I wake up, after I pee holding one child with the other one yelling at me to pour her milk. I am better at sticking to my Bellefit regimen than I am at remembering if I brushed my teeth or put on deodorant before I head to the carpool line (#newmomprobs).

Speaking of peeing…In the interest of full disclosure, I am telling you now to allot time to get the hooks undone before you have to pee. Even if you are the queen of kegels, sometimes you are ready to pee before you realize it. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, mamas.

*****GIVEAWAY TIME!!!*****

Bellefit is, without question, one of my favorite things on the planet and their customer service is just as good as their products. They’re supportive and knowledgable and, such an awesome company. So awesome, as a matter of fact, that they are allowing me to give away a Bellefit bundle (1 Bellefit Corset & 1 Bellefit Dual-Closure Girdle, retail price $254!) to one lucky reader!

bundle

To enter, head over to my Instagram (@whineandcheezits) and follow the directions on the post there. It will be the one with the picture from this post of me wearing my skinny jeans and shocked look, because I live for that picture and that moment.

You can also receive $20 off your Bellefit order, using the promo code RACHEL20. So really, everyone is a winner!! Use this link to order >> https://www.bellefit.com/a/6/

The Bellefit Bundle giveaway is open through Friday, April 14th and the winner will be announced on Instagram shortly after.

Good luck!!

Bellefit Postpartum Girdles and Corsets

Shittiest Day Ever…Literally

You ever have one of those days? You know…the kind where it doesn’t even seem like real life and if someone were to tell you what was going to go down you would never believe them?

That was today.

It started like any normal day…as they do at 9-months pregnant, with an internal at my OBGYN (which is SUPER fun) to check for any progress. From there, I had grand plans to go home, get some work done, do laundry and continue nesting.

However, I walked in to see our chihuahua in position to poop right there on my floor. I rushed him outside, with the grace of a hippo, and we made it just in time. Then when I put the little fucker down, he proceeded to puke all over the floor. Guess he traded one bodily function for another.

I texted Jason and he asked me to drop him at the vet. BTdubs, you should also know, that our other dog just came back from the vet yesterday after having ANOTHER surgery from tearing a second ACL in a month. We singlehandedly keep the vet in business and he’ll probably be able to retire 10 years earlier because of us. You’re welcome, doc.

So here I am, already deviating from my plan, and en route to the vet, when it happens. Spike (the chihuahua) pukes all over my seat…right between my legs, which are in a semi-permanent ajar position on account of my protruding belly.

I moved him over to the passenger seat and that’s when he began to shit his brains out…all over my seat…as I’m driving and simultaneously screaming. Because he wasn’t just expelling waste from his body, he was stepping in it, getting it in between every crevis of his tiny paws.

But wait, there’s more.

I put him in the backseat just praying for traffic to let up so I could get to the fucking vet and he then performs shitshow part deux ALL over the back seat, and then jumps on the center console and drops more between my seats. I’ve never seen so much poop come out of an 8lb dog.

At this point I am crying and dry-heaving. I pull over into a random office parking lot, call my husband and start speaking in tongues. I was 100% hysterical. Jason is no moron, heard my voice and left work immediately (probably because he was a little scared of my exorcist-level emotion…as he should have been at that moment).

As I waited for him, I tried to clean up with the travel-size packet of baby wipes I had in my car, gagging the whole time, and having cars pull up asking if I was ok. I’m guessing the scene of a very pregnant woman, outside her car, all doors open, with a dog on a leash and handfuls of shit-covered baby wipes, is cause for concern.

When Jason arrived, I passed that dog like a dirty fucking baton and peaced-out to the car wash. Obviously I had to drive with the windows open because of the smell, and as I was on the phone crying to my mother, what happens?? A bird, on a wire above the red light I was waiting at, took my cracked window as an open invitation to ALSO take a shit right on my headrest. I wish I was kidding. When I told my mom what was happening through my ugly crying, she was laughing so hard she could not form a coherent sentence and most definitely peed her pants.

At the carwash, I pulled up and they greeted me with the obligatory, “How’s your day?” They did not get the obligatory, “Great! How about you?” in return. What they did get was a rant about how my car was covered in dog puke and shit (did I mention my seats are perforated?) and I needed them to make it like brand new. They just stared at me…then at my belly…then at me again.

I had texted a couple friends about my current situation and one of them basically saved the day (at least for the 2+ hours my car was being detailed). Shirley came to get me so I wouldn’t have to wait.

text-1text-2

 

Friends pick you up in times of need. Good friends snap a picture of your misery.

me

My spirits were IMMEDIATELY lifted just being in her presence, because she does shit like put our karaoke song on without missing a beat.

I accompanied her to the mall where she had some business to take care of, and also hoping that the walking would put me into labor. Almost from the moment we got there, I got looks from mall goers ranging from horrified to lascivious. I don’t know why there is a fear of very pregnant women in public, but there is.

In addition to the crowd ogling me like my baby was crowning, we also saw the usual onslaught of Boca’s finest carting their dogs in strollers. But today was different, because there was a woman pushing around a cat. A CAT, you guys. So naturally we had to follow her into the AT&T store for Shirley to covertly get a picture of her, because how do you not?!?

cat

When my husband called to check-in (read: make sure I wasn’t humming and rocking myself in a dark corner), I told him I might not come home and may either check myself into a mental ward or spa… game-time decision.

But instead, after Shirley sniff-inspected my newly washed car like McGruff the Crime Dog, I gave myself a small pat on the back  for supporting a local business…

wash

And said “Boy Bye” to shitmageddon.

Spike is currently on car probation until I emotionally heal.

Here’s to a brand new, shit-free day, tomorrow!

The TRUTH about Pregnancy

truth

So, a while back I penned a brief blog post about some of the perils of pregnancy. But as I approach the finish line of my second pregnancy, I’m reminded about all of the things (really gross things), that most women don’t discuss. And I still don’t get why.

I mean, women are worse than men in terms of the things we talk about (at least my girlfriends are), so why are people so coy to talk about what happens to a woman’s body during pregnancy and labor.

Eff that!

Remember when I posted on Facebook asking for your gross stories? Well, I took them and wrapped them into a disgusting little package with a cute little bow for my latest Huffington Post story.

Read it, share it, own it.

You can click any of the links in this post or use this link>> http://huff.to/2jhI6rW

Just remember to always keep it real mamas!

 

Bedrest and Birthmarks

Pregnancy is no easy feat. Even despite that, I will never take it for granted. My first pregnancy was a walk in the park and as uneventful as they come. This one – 8 years later – is an entirely different ball of wax. There are a ton of details and stories around it that provide enough for a series of blog posts and will likely come later when I have a chance to breathe (in 18 years).

In addition to the raging obligatory nausea that can often accompany the first trimester, I have the unbearable heartburn that makes me feel like my esophagus might just fall out or burst and that at any moment I may even breathe fire like a fucking dragon. I’ve also experienced more “major” stuff this time around.

dragon

First, was my stay in the hospital with kidney stones almost two months ago. Just FYI this was the WORST pain I have ever experienced in my life (and I say that having pushed a baby out of my vagina). And guess what they can do for kidney stones in a preggo…NADA!

Because the options are basically blasting with radiation and surgery, all they could really do for me was offer pain meds to keep me comfortable, IV fluids, and wait for them to pass. Annnnddddd, that’s the first time my baby in utero and I did drugs together – specifically dilaudid and demerol. It was a real rager.

cheech

On the heels of that shitshow, I ended up back in the hospital this past weekend with another issue that now has me on bedrest for the remainder of my pregnancy. At this point I feel like SLS and I should have a wing named after us, or at least be giving tours to expectant parents. On the bright side, my mom was there and that ALWAYS provides the levity I need to help me momentarily forget that I am hooked up to an IV, a fetal monitor and being pricked more times than a porn star on a busy day.

First, when my OBGYN came in the room, my mom thought she was just one of my friends she’d never met because she was sans lab coat and didn’t look all doctory. Instead she came in on call, dressed normally, wearing makeup, with her LV messenger on her hip. They were instant besties and hugging 60 seconds later. Then my high risk doctor happened to be there and my mom could NOT get over his shoes – which were those horrible shoes that look like gloves for your feet that nobody should ever wear, especially if you want to have sex ever again.

shoes

She was like the cat who swallowed the canary, or that SNL Kristen Wiig character who can’t handle surprises, waiting for him to leave so she could discuss.

wiig

But really, the best part of the whole day came when the conversation turned to sex. My husband, best friend/sister-wife and I were talking about sex during pregnancy, to which my mom chimes in…

“Please, NOBODY should be having sex during pregnancy. It’s not good for the baby. The baby doesn’t need to be poked around.”

“Mom, you know that’s not really humanly possible, right?”

“Rachel, it’s not good for the baby. Plus, all that poking?!? How do you think babies get birthmarks?”

Drops mic. Exits stage.

It was at that point that my husband was laughing so hard in the corner he literally couldn’t breath. I was laugh/crying real tears. And my mom was dead serious and not understanding why we found it so funny.

She continued with, “Well, it hasn’t been disproven!”

Sidebar – I feel it’s important for context to also point out that my mother has a master’s degree in education and taught (wait for it…wait for it) health and sex education. Boom!

My husband then pointed to a birthmark I have had on the top of my chest my whole life and said to her, “Sooooo….is that where this came from?” She just looked at it, squinted a little and pretended she’s never seen it, shrugged and changed the subject.

No matter what, this woman can ALWAYS take the tension out of a situation and make you pee from laughing. I almost think there’s a viable business idea somewhere in here where we can rent her out to people in grim or serious situations who need a distraction in the form of a stand-up comedienne who doesn’t even know she’s performing.

Here we come Shark Tank…

Not My First Rodeo

Last time I was pregnant was almost eight years ago. Here I am again, growing a human inside me but things are a little different. Most obviously, the fact that this is my second marriage which means I have two baby daddys. Guys, I’m basically like a rapper now.

gangta

Now, with another little girl cooking, it’s hard not to notice the differences from the first time around.

While I was not even a little bit neurotic during my first pregnancy, I was much more on the ball with a lot of “stuff” that accompanies pregnancy.

1. YOU BASICALLY CAN’T EAT OR DRINK ANYTHING

sad

There are so effing many rules. No deli meats, no soft cheeses, no wine (FML), no sushi, no advil, and the list keeps growing. As a mother, wine and advil are usually staples, so that hurts. During my first pregnancy I adhered to EVERY rule without deviation. I just felt like even though I knew they were super conservative and I probably wouldn’t harm my fetus with a Boars Head Honey Maple Chicken Sub from Publix (great…now I want one), I didn’t think anything was worth messing with the rules, archaic or not. God forbid something DID happen, it would be a mindfuck of epic proportions and I would carry guilt forever. I have enough since I’m Jewish, so I didn’t need to roll the dice. I’m a strong motherhustler, so there’s nothing I can’t do without for 9 months.

Except coffee. So this time around I do have one cup a day and I’m not ashamed. Mommy’s sanity is crucial to a functioning household and coffee helps achieve that. Also, I pretty much needed ginger ale intravenously during the first trimester of this pregnancy and I opted for diet (OH THE HORROR!! I KNOW!). But I’m sorry, I think it’s like splitting hairs to determine what’s worse – the amount of sugar I would have ingested in regular versions compared to the “diet” version demons.

2. MY BABY IS THE SIZE OF A WHAT?

kumquat

Yes, the first time I was  dutifully subscribed to those emails I would get each week informing me that my child was the size of a kumquat or some other exotic fruit. I read each one diligently about what body part was forming and what was happening in my womb. This time, however, I have literally lost count of how many times I have called my OBGYN to ask how far along I am. Not kidding.

3. EAU DE BUG SPRAY

water

This whole Zika thing is a maje buzzkill for a pregnant chick, especially one living in a Zika hotbed known as South florida. This one scares me, because even doctors are skittish about it since there are so many unknowns. So…that means I have spent tons of money to douse myself in CDC approved bug spray every time I leave the house so I can have peace of mind. But wait, there’s more. Because this gem of an epidemic can be sexually transmitted, my husband is also forced to get in on this trend. No spray, no lay. There was nothing even close to this during my first pregnancy.

Those are some of the major differences but there are also some striking similarities.

  1. THE HORMONES

hormones

I cry at the drop of a pin. Yes, I am emotional non-pregnant and admittedly a crier, but this is next level shit. It happens out of nowhere sometimes and once the floodgates open there’s no stopping it. It also happens when I get upset or frustrated (just like during non-preggo life), but again, it’s MUCH more severe. Like when the people my husband hired to put plywood up for the last “storm” (Hurricane Matthew) that threatened us, failed to deliver at almost the 11th hour and I had a full-on exorcist level melt down. I sufficiently scared the shit out of SLS, which is why he looked at me in the eyes and told me there would be wood on the windows if he had to “drive to fucking Naples to get it”. And he delivered (thankfully without having to make that drive).

2. I’M PREGNANT, NOT BLIND

mat

I still hate maternity clothes and basically stick to t-shirts and jeans because I think the people who design them are fucking high. In what universe does ANY pregnant woman look good in horizontal stripes and strategically placed bows and things that awkwardly blouse around your growing bump like a potato sack? It’s ridiculous.

3. I DRAW THE LINE AT CHARACTER ONESIES

mickey-mouse-2

One of the biggest similarities from pregnancy number 1 to 2, revolves around baby clothing. There is so much cute stuff to outfit your baby. But for everything I love, there are ones that I seriously cannot stand. I’m probably the minority in this and I recognize that, but I HATE HATE HATE anything emblazoned with a cartoon character like mickey, minnie, pooh, etc. I also have a similar dislike for items that say things like, “Daddy’s Little Girl” or “If you think I’m cute you should see my mom” or “What happens at Grandma’s stays at grandma’s”. And I love a good graphic tee! But unless it’s truly clever and witty, it will never touch my child’s body. I didn’t dress my kid in that stuff the first time and it ain’t happening this time either. While maternity clothes may still suck, baby clothing designers at least have continued to step up their game for sure.

Above all, pregnancy brings a lot of opinions and perspectives (which is precisely why we aren’t sharing names before she’s here so stop asking) and a shit load of unsolicited and even passive aggressive advice – “You’re doing THAT during pregnancy.” That will never change…you just have to be good at ignoring it and doing your thing. Do what YOU feel is right and listen to your doctors, not the internet. Eat what you want, wear what you want, dress your kid how you want.

It’s your uterus, mamas. Am I right?

The Good, Bad and Ugly of Childbirth

Before I delivered my daughter, my mom would tell me having her wisdom teeth out was more painful than childbirth.

Liar.

She admitted AFTER I had my daughter, that she lied because she didn’t want me to be scared. Well, you know what’s worse than being scared? Being completely mentally unprepared about what happens when you have a child.

omg

Is it amazing to bring a child into this world? 100% ! But there are so many things that happen to your body before, during and after labor, that are just effing gross and weird. I mean c’mon – the National Geographic nipples, the black line down the middle of your stomach, should I keep going?

However, for some reason, many women like to pretend it’s ALL like a magical scene out of a Disney movie where birds are chirping on the windowsill and some perfect blonde lass is baking perfect cherry pies while she sings and folds laundry (sidenote: if you sing while folding laundry you might need your head checked.)

Cinderella-623

When friends became pregnant after me and asked questions…I did NOT lie. But, first I would ask if they really wanted the truth or if they wanted to play the bullshit game a lot of other women like to play. If they opted for the truth, I gave it to them. Hard. It’s that same motivation that had me jump on possible little inclusion in a recent story for The Berry about real childbirth experiences (definitely click that link to see the full story – there are some GREAT quotes from other moms just like me giving honest and hilarious accounts of their experiences). My quote sums up a portion of my childbirth story…but not nearly all of it.

My child was 6 days late and while overall I had a great pregnancy, in those final weeks, I literally wanted to punch everyone who said things like, “Hmmmm. No baby, yet?”. I would go to my OBGYN appts begging and pleading and crying for him to put me out of my misery and induce me (that’s what I get for delivering in Boston. In South Florida they don’t give a shit and actually schedule C-sections based on hair appointments. I suppose I should be thankful, even though I was completely over it). And on the night before I was to be induced, she finally decided to make her own entrance.

I knew I wanted an epidural the second I peed on a pregnancy test and it was positive. There was no question in my mind.

epi

 

Kudos to you ladies who do it sans drugs but that is not my thing. And while the drugs curtailed the excruciating contractions that literally took my breath away and made me feel like I was about to involuntarily reenact “that” scene from Alien, the same cannot be said for the delivery part. It effing hurts, you guys. Yes it’s worth it. But it hurts.

Plus, since I was in a teaching hospital, the medical students and residents have to learn using someone’s vagina, and mine was apparently one of them. Every so often the door would open and an attending physician would say, “Is it ok for (insert one of who knows how many med student’s names) to check you?”

Sure! Welcome to the party. I was like the pregnant Oprah but instead of giving out cars, it was more like, “YOU get to see how dilated I am!” “”YOU get to see how dilated I am!”Annnnnnnd “YOU get to see how dilated I am!” “Someone’s having a baaaaaaaaabyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

After 12ish hours of labor (which actually is not a lot, for you novices), while I was pushing and nothing was really happening, they started whispering about a C-section. I was like…no effing way. I didn’t just go through 12 hours of labor to get gutted like a fish. Something inside of me took over and I literally became superhuman. That kid was out in 20/30 mins.

All I remember, other than looking into her amazing eyes, is that I was FREEZING and shivering like I was standing in a blizzard, naked. I also remember that all I wanted was an ice-cold fountain diet coke, since I did not have one for 9 months. That was my first post-baby drink and it was glorious.

All of the pain, anxiety and weirdness was worth it a gazillion times over. All I’m asking is why don’t we talk openly about it? I love a good surprise, but when it involves X-files level shit and my body, a little heads-up would have been nice.

 

Yo! Momma: When is sex after pregnancy OK? You ask. We answer.

If you haven’t heard about my work husbands yet (yes I have two), you are really missing the boat. I’m in a polygamist work marriage with two daddy bloggers that just get me…and I them. We have some really exciting stuff in the works but in the meantime, to keep you entertained, we’re dropping a new regular feature called, “Yo Momma”.

Yo Momma Logo

The guys will pose questions and then answer them to the best of their daddy knowledge, and then momma (that’s me) is going to swoop in and do her thing.

Please check out the first installment below and also check out their blog, DaddyMindTricks. They are the Rob to my Base and I promise you’ll love it!!

________________________________________________________________

We know a lot here at DaddyMindTricks, from health to gaming to drinking, we’ve pretty much got the whole How to the an Awesome Dad thing on lock. But even well­ schooled totally­ cultured and distinguished gentlemen cannot pretend to have all of the answers to all of the questions that this crazy world has to offer.

That’s why we’ve brought in some help from our favorite wine­ guzzling, curse ­word ­spewing, Biggie/Tupac­ listening Mommy Blogger to help sort out some of the most fucked up shit that our readers write in to ask. If you are afraid to chat to your own wife, girlfriend, partner, paramour about it, have no fear because Rachel from Whine & Cheez(Its) is here to drop some knowledge bombs on your ass.

When Rachel and DaddyMindTricks first formed a team like Raekwon and Ghostface Killah on a dope Wu­Tang joint, we pulled no punches on this whole truthiness about parenting in the 21st Century. Read all about that here: Great Expectations (in Fatherhood).

In a feature that has been long overdue, we’ve joined forces yet again. In what could be a colossal mistake, we’ve decided to open up the vault into the minds of our most passionate fans in the potential beginning of the end … or at least the beginning a regular feature that promises to be Dear Abby with much more inappropriateness and straight up real talk.

You ask. We attempt to answer. And then Rachel provides the feminine point of view that we all truly need in our lives. Welcome to … Yo! Momma.

After a few weeks of the post­ pregnancy moratorium on our sex lives, we finally have the green­light to get it on again, but my wife isn’t back on birth control yet. What kind of condoms do you recommend for “her pleasure?”

– Daniel, Missouri

Pete: Dude. Are you really even ready to go back to the scene of the crime? Hopefully you weren’t dumb enough to peek at the business end of the delivery, because we’ve warned you before about how much of a straight up murder scene it is down there. But hey, I get it, too. Men definitely have that primal urge to get back on the saddle sooner rather than later. So, if you are ready to revisit the extracurriculars in the bed and enjoy some of that sex after pregnancy fun, open up the line of communication, chat with the baby mama about her fears and concerns and take it slow. As for the condoms, let’s just go ahead and bust your bubble that no one needs the extra-large Magnum XL variety, so just stop with that pipe dream, Ron Jeremy. Instead, make sure you find one that has some extra bells and whistles for her … and even more importantly, lube. The hormones involved with pushing watermelons out of spaces the size of grapes takes a toll on that region and some additional assistance in the lubrication may be preferred. At the end of the day, though, kudos to you for thinking that you actually have the time and energy to get it on again in between the newborn diaper changes and feedings.

Rachel: First of all, slow your roll. Your wife just created a human and then either squeezed it out of an insanely small space or was gutted like a fish to take it out by force, protected only by a barely opaque surgical “curtain” all while wearing an ugly shower cap, no makeup and having a million hands up in her business. And then you brought the screaming bundle of joy home and she became a human cow or master bottle barista, to feed a kid who never seems to get full. She hardly has time to shower, she put hemorrhoid cream on her toothbrush instead of Crest and didn’t even notice the taste because she’s so sleep deprived and she basically can’t tell if it’s night or day. She now judges time by how many bottles are left in the fridge and how many diapers the baby has been through. So yeah, condoms and your sexual needs are the last thing on her mind. Her body is still kind of reeling from the trauma of carrying and birthing a child and that shit takes time to snap back (screw you if you were back in a bikini 5 minutes later btdubs). I mean she just evicted a baby from her womb and she’s entitled to keep that door shut no matter what timeline the doctor gives. So be compassionate, and tell her what a badass she is and how you are in awe of her as a mother and offer to let her sleep in … because that’s the shit that will eventually get you laid.

My wife is still carrying a little holiday weight, and it’s almost summertime. How do softly and gently nudge her to workout a little more often?

– Craig, Vancouver

Pete: Yeah, so first thing’s first is to stand up right now. Stand up straight and tall and proud. And then go ahead and tilt your neck down and look towards the floor. If you’ve got a gut protruding out from the midsection area that is blocking the ability to see your junk or even your toes … shut the fuck up and hit the weights yourself, homie (you know, that whole stones and glass houses thing). Now, if you’ve got that body like The Rock and you need to get the wife looking more like J­Lo, then try putting some of the onus on yourself, as well. Nothing works better than working as a team. Suggest some ways for both of you to get active. Find some ways to encourage more healthy meal prep as a couple – make it a cute little date night. If you can work together on this, you’ll be more likely to stick to your routine and to eventually reach your goal.

Rachel: Can I get an amen for the FIRST part of Pete’s answer? If you want to keep your manhood in tact, back off. She knows she’s carrying extra weight … trust me. And while I am all for honest communication, this is a slippery slope. If she brings it up, that’s one thing … and your first response should be, “you are perfect” followed by …”what can I do to support you?” If she suggests date night at the gym, or hiring a personal trainer to get her ass in gear, or wants to take a spin class while you’re on dad duty a couple nights a week, do it. I’m wired differently, so if my husband suggested we meal prep “for fun” I’d be irrationally mad and tell him, you know what else you can do “for fun”? Sleep on the couch. I know it may seem unfair because we want you to read our minds, but the reality is, we want you to want to have sex with us no matter how big our love handles are. So make her feel sexy and desired and loved … unconditionally and she’ll get there.

Now it’s YOUR turn. Do you have some more questions for our crackpot team of experts?

Drop us a line in the comments section, or hit us up on email at DaddyMindTricks [at]gmail.com and maybe we’ll feature your question in the next edition of Yo! Momma.

Boom goes the dynamite.

boom