My Mother's Day

[katemn]

Forget the question "What's the ideal way to spend Mother's Day?"

There's ideal, and then there's reality, in a house with a teenager, a 2yo, and a teething baby.  

The way I spent Mother's Day today was a combination of being with my family and doing something for myself. 

I woke up this morning, checked on the baby, and as soon as Chloe saw me, she wanted to nurse.  Happy to oblige.  This is my special cuddle time with her, all warm from sleeping.  She's old enough to smile and interact and kick her feet excitedly when the boob comes out. 

As soon as I got back to bed I heard Andrew's door open and he came in, hair tousled and cheeks pink.  He likes to get on the bed and cuddle with us.  Usually he's smiling and happy, wanting to just hang with us.  This morning he was hungry, and wanted oatmeal and would not tolerate a delay.  We gave him some cereal and set him on a chair.  After he was done my husband went to get him and they came back with my gift:

A Ladies' Purple Ironman Triathlon watch.  How. Wicked. Cool. Is. That.   I put it on and set the time and realized there was only about 2 1/2 hours before I was going to do a mini-practice-tri at the pool this morning.

Daniel made breakfast, nice and protein-y.  Morgan's room was clean, a condition of his going with me this morning.  Andrew was still being a little hard to please, shall we say, so I happily left the breakfast dishes and the screaming 2yo with Daniel and headed out the door. 

The tri was spectacular.  Mind you, I only went 2/3 of the distances, as a workout,  not as the actual race. That is next Sunday, when I get a number, a time, a place, and breakfast afterwards.  I met with my friend and her family, and a couple of others who were practicing.  The pool is fed by a deep water well flowing at 120 degrees...cooled by a shallow well but not too cool, the perfect thing for a Sunday morning. 

I could have gone farther but the bike awaited.  I finally, at long last, have my powder-blue street bike ready to go--I used to commute in a big city on it, have all the gear, yellow jacket, gloves, rack, the works.   The eight miles flew by.  When I wasn't feeling my heart pump with excitement and the adrenaline flowing again, the old competitiveness rushing back, I was trying to appreciate the sheer beauty of the morning, the light wind, the sun, the endless fields with snowcapped peaks beyond.   The out-and-back route was fun, waving as we passed each other. 

I took a quick pee (essential to empty the poor childbirth-abused bladder before attempting to run or jump rope) and headed out on the run.  I only had to jog two miles and for this I set my watch to see how long it would take me.  Other than passing one other woman on her way back, it was solitary.  Just me, my shoes, and the crunchy dirt road, and the wide-open landscape.  I felt like I was at one with the world. 

The first mile went fine--but when I turned around after saying a quick prayer of thanks for the morning, my body wanted to stop.  Once it did without me even thinking about it, and I had to use mind-over-body power to say, no, keep going.  I kept thinking, this is all there is.  The wind, the sun, my legs going and going.  Like labor--hurts like hell and you don't know when it's going to be over. 

I made it back to the gate by the pool just as my friend Becky was returning on her bike (she is a Certified Fitness Goddess who went slow to help her niece) and I burst into tears.

Already I feel like a winner.  Today's workout was more than I ever thought I could do.  More than I ever imagined.  I was ecstatic.  I felt like a million bucks, a real jockette, especially with the watch on my wrist.  Becky hugged me.   I wanted to shout.  I know it's not much to some of you who run marathons and things like that, but to me it's pretty amazing.  

Morgan did the bike and run just fine, and if he can make it back and forth across the pool some way, somehow, he'll do fine in the actual event.  He was very pleasant to have along and obeyed all the rules of the road and practiced his social skills with adults. 

When I got home Daniel was about to make burgers, so we had a lovely lunch together and afterward was quiet time.  I set Chloe up in her swing with the tray and gave her some Cheerios and amused myself by working on a sock and watching affectionately as Chloe chased Cheerios all over the tray.  She's not quite there yet with her finger and thumb and not quite there yet on appreciating the glorious cuisine that is Cheerios.  Every time she got one to her mouth (about one in ten attempts) she looked like she couldn't decide whether to scarf it or spit it out. 

I read books to Andrew, and cleaned up in Chloe's room a bit.  For the first time in a long time the Sunday night blues haven't hit, I'm actually looking forward to tackling the list of work items to be completed before the end of the year. 

I didn't do a single dish or scrap of laundry, even though the piles would dwarf nearby Blanca.  I happily looked at my watch to tell time on many occasions.  I got to work on my sock, talk to Daniel, spend time with all the kids, and do something for myself.  I talked to my mom and my sister in law on the phone. 

No champagne picnic and bouquet of flowers and perfectly clean, dressed and well-behaved children--isn't that the ideal??? But joyful, contented reality.

 

[MommaK2007]

May. 12, 2008 at 12:38 AM

Sounds awesome!!!