It seems to be an ongoing struggle to stay fit… I won’t say active because I count being active as going up and down the stairs 20 million times a day between laundry, cleaning, making sure my child is brushing his teeth, grabbing stuffed animals for bedtime and 12,000 goodnight kisses because the first 11,999 didn’t take. Being active is running around the house looking for socks, Pokemon cards, or gloves at the very last minute before you walk out the door (when you should already be in the car.) It’s running after your child as they’re running towards the playground at school as you’re lugging not only their backpack but their library books which weigh 20lbs on top of the 30lb backpack (pretty sure there’s invisible boulders in that thing.) So I’m plenty active.
Fit… well… at the moment I fit into my jeans which are a size up from my regular size. I try to be “fit.” I’m pretty sure that “fit” means “getting thinner, healthier, being able to run more at a faster pace, and lifting heavier things and putting them down.” So why does lifting 30lb weights seem so much harder than carrying around a 45lb kid for 20 minutes in a grocery store because he suddenly decided his legs no longer work?
I considering myself a lucky mom because I have some “me” time between dropping my child off at school and going to work. “Me” time usually turns into “workout” time and a mad dash to shower, tidy the house, and make myself look presentable. Unfortunately my go to workout machine Mr. Treadmill is in my child’s playroom since it doesn’t fit into the home gym. Running some days in a messy room gives my brain more of a workout than the body as I scan the room for dust, crumbs, and a catastrophe of toys littering the floor (I swear it’s clean when my child leaves for school…or so I think…)
Working out on the weekend or when my child is home it just time consuming madness in where a very half assed workout happens. I’ll stand in front of him with full workout attire on and ask “if there anything you need, I’m going to workout for the next 40 minutes and mommy doesn’t want to stop part way through.” I’ll load him up with chocolate milk, snacks, and extra reassurance that he can survive the next 40 minutes without my assistance. Of course two minutes into my warm up on the treadmill he realizes that I have my headphones on and decides that’s the most opportune time to tell me about his favorite Pokemon or what he’s building in Minecraft. 15 minute in there’s something wrong with the tv, 10 minutes after that I’m being asked to take Lego pieces apart, 5 minutes after that he’s in tears because he dumped his Lego all over and stepped on it. At this point I’m sweating and off the treadmill giving kisses and putting a bandaid on an imaginary cut.
So mom’s out there who can do the mommy and me yoga, mom’s who run with their jogging strollers, mom’s who make time to go to the gym. I raise my glass. Mom’s who want to get there but sometimes have a damn hard time doing it, I’m with ya! And mom’s who’ve decided to say “screw it” I totally understand, you’re active anyways.