Hmmm. I think my over-confidence did me in. I was so excited to run farther and farther, faster and faster that I neglected all those things that the physical therapist side of me should have been paying attention to. That nagging twinge in my right big toe. The ridiculous notion that I knew exactly what I wanted and needed when I walked into the running store to buy new shoes. The stupidity of running long and longer in new shoes and inserts which my feet had yet to grow accustomed to.
Long story short: I bought new shoes, ran too much in them too soon, and now I can't run at all. AT ALL. In fact, I can barely walk unless I am barefoot. Aaaaaaargh. Cue Charlie Brown. I'm a Blockhead.
So today I decided to just relax. This was not an easy thing to do. Everyone says - oh, when your kids get older, it gets so much easier because they don't need you so much. Not true. If anything - your kids need you MORE as they get older.
Every single second that I tried to relax, this is what I heard.
"Mom, can you play with me?" (this was before I even got out of bed)
"Mom, can you make me a sandwich?"
"Mom, can I make pancakes for everyone?" (From my enterprising 11 year old son - who is quite adept at making pancakes but still scares me when he attempts to turn on the gas stove.)
"Mom, can we go bike riding?"
"Mom, watch this!"
"Mom, look at me!"
Mom is always the one they call to first. Never mind that Dad is in the house. Never mind that these children have two parents. They always say "Mom!" first.
At first I was annoyed. Holy crap, can I ever get a break? Can I ever get a single, solitary moment to myself? Or maybe a few moments all in a row? Like five to ten minutes? At the very least????
But then I took a deep breath and made myself relax. I opened my eyes to see what these two demanders wanted from me. What I found was that they didn't want much at all. Instead, they were giving me something really great. Gifts, really. Little moments of wonder that if I hadn't paused and opened my eyes to see them, I would have missed them. Here is what I got:
A lovely plate of mangled banana pancakes, mixed, poured and flipped by a handsome boy named Jack.
A peaceful hour at the school blacktop - watching my little girl master the task of pushing off and riding a two-wheeled bike all by herself while I relaxed in a chair in the shade.
An interrupted attempt at reading a book in the backyard, only to witness a hilarious game of "who can make the highest basket" between my two kids on our patio, as Ella repeatedly raised and lowered the basketball hoop and Jack made spectacular attempts at besting his little sister without making her feel bad.
Hearing Ella call up to me "Mom, we're making banana smoothies!" from the kitchen, only to realize minutes later that they'd never used the blender unattended before and had no idea what actually goes into a smoothie.
A lovely mud cake made by Ella - complete with sticks for candles and flower decorations plucked from our barely blooming azaleas in the backyard. Of course, this was after I'd told her that when I was her age I made mud pies and kept worms and caterpillars as pets - to which she'd replied "So Mom, did you have any friends? Like, human ones?"
Then the kids were picked up for their evening swim practice and I was suddenly left in a quiet backyard, with only the crickets chirping and an annoying car alarm repeatedly blaring to keep me company. For a split second I thought, "Ah, now I can relax."
But somehow that took on a different meaning. I think I'd been relaxed the whole time. As I lay there on my lounge chair, self medicating with a Captain Morgan's and Coke (better than Advil for those painful joints) - I took a look around. I saw dead leaves piled against the house, hockey sticks piled in the corner, chalk drawings on the patio, an old dead tree stump covered with rocks and grass for some type of experiment, a wooden playset gnawed over the years by squirrels but lovingly covered in chalk graffitti by Ella and her friends, grass that won't grow, piles of dog poop yet to be picked up (note to self to put this on the kids' chore list), dandelions, ivy that will take over our entire yard if we're not careful, birds chirping, our maniacal dog chasing a bird she will never catch.
I looked at all of this and decided that yes, indeed, I was completely relaxed. But I missed the sound of my kids saying "Mom, look at me!" "Mom, watch this!" "Mom, Mom, Mom!"
I could say I had an epiphany and learned that I should appreciate every little moment and bask in the glow of the chaos of motherhood. But who am I kidding? About an hour after I wrote all the stuff above, Ella spilled an entire glass on milk all over the couch while we were watching tv and I completely overreacted, throwing couch cushions, dramatically turning off the tv, stomping around to find cleaning supplies, blah, blah, blah. Basically made a total ass out of myself. After a few minutes I realized what an ass I was making out of myself but by then it was too late. The kids were staring at me, unsure of what to say as my husband came to the rescue and gently reminded me that it was an accident. I apologized and admitted my wrongdoing to my children as I acknowledged the accidental nature of the event and my ridiculous overreaction. I still feel like crap though.
I've realized that in the past few months running has been a huge stress reliever for me. Suddenly it's been taken away and I find myself flying off the handle. I constantly have to remind myself that there are worse things than not being able to run, like not being able to walk, breathe, love.
Relax. Just relax. Make a cake out of mud and decorate it with flowers.
No comments:
Post a Comment