Savoring Sam

I was feverishly working on some grading for my class, when my husband came in and placed this video in my lap.

Tears swelled in my eyes.  I remember it like it was yesterday.

Sam was 2.5 years old and Kate was a few months old.  I had just started staying at home and was knee-deep into finding my sea legs.  That was 10 years ago.

In many respects, not much has changed.  We still use the hell out of that white Kitchen Aid mixer.  Sam really likes butter.  We frequent the bookstore or the library at least once a week.  Sam still asks if he can have just a little bit more and usually, I acquiesce...and then, he pushes for a little bit more and I acquiesce and then, he takes a ginormous bite, because well, if a little is good, more must be better.

The thing that has changed is that in 6 months, he will be a teenager.  And in traditional adolescent development form, he pushes lots of boundaries.  It's his job.  He's supposed to see how much he can get away with.  And, being his mother, I'm suppose to pick my battles.  And, then when I do, we fight.

He's tenacious.  He doesn't like to back down.  He knows what he wants and when he wants it...usually, now.  He learned to yell from me.  And, I really, really like to raise my voice.  I can enjoy a good condescending rant and I know what it means not to take the high road, even when it's my job to model what it looks like.

Not long ago, I ran into a mom with a baby at the check out line at Target.  The baby was wailing and the mom was doing the 'hold her with one hand while you painstakingly try to put every last tube of tooth paste, greeting card, pair of socks, macaroni and cheese box on the conveyor belt' thing. 

I wanted to hold the baby (well, I didn't, she was full of snot and I don't miss that) or put the items on the belt for her.  But I know what that feels like and you just want to get in and get out without incident.  So, I just waited quietly behind her and didn't say anything, because she certainly didn't need my two cents.

But in my mind, I was silently saying...even though she's screaming, she wants to be held by you more than anyone...more than her friends, more than her siblings, more than her daddy.  Savor that.

Even though you're exhausted and it's been two days since you showered and you don't even know why you ventured out of the house, you're better for it and you're going to be amazed at all of the incredible, super human things you can do as a mother.  

That little girl in your arms will unhinge in you in ways that you cannot even imagine.  You will want to throttle her.  You will scream and yell and flail and ask her how she could be so ungrateful.  You will think about running far, far away from your abode.  But then, other times, you'll see her...the beautiful, amazing, extraordinary, unpredictable, make you more proud than you could ever imagine young lady and you'll think, it was worth it.

Why We Do It

Yep, that's a picture of my foot and my blackened toe.

I'm gonna lose another one.

This will be my fourth casualty in the love of running.

When I inadvertently showed my friend the other day, she said, "Why in the Hell do you do that shit? Haven't you suffered from like every running injury known to man?  Maybe, we're just too old."

And, well, she's kinda right.  I've had shin splints, IT band issues, hamstring, knee and heel pain, lost toe nails and now, some unknown throbbing pain on the top of my right foot. 

So, I started thinking about it.  Why do I do it? Maybe running is just too hard on the body, particularly the older you get and if you were never really an athlete in the first place.

Then, because being a mama is my primary role in life, I started likening motherhood to running. 

Being a mother is not easy, by any stretch.  There are days when I come out of the trenches looking far worse for the wear with very little reward to show for it minus the fact that my children are alive and I am too...but just barely.  I've suffered infinite scrapes and bruises to my heart and my ego, continuous amounts of sleep deprivation, hair pulling, back talking, eye rolling, screaming, crying, gnashing of the teeth...and that's just getting started.

But after nine years of doing this gig with three kiddos, I've also experienced a love that is unparalleled by anything else.  And I would walk through fire for any one of them every day and twice on Tuesday.

And well, it's worth it.

Just like running.  When it starts to hurt or gets to be a bit overwhelming, you back off, try a new route, ice down the worn parts, ibuprofen the inflammation, and then, well you get back on the horse.

Because the high that comes from the endorphins, the adrenaline, the release of toxins and unnecessary stress is really, well for me, unparalleled by anything really, other than, wait for it, wait for it...sex.  You knew that I had to say it.

For now, I'm stuck with the ugly parts of me like blackened toe nails, chaffing and sore quads.

As well as the sassy comments from the littles when they're overstimulated, undernourished, irritated at the world, or just in a funk...but sooner, rather than later, I'm reminded of why we do what we do...it's so worth it.