It’s not very often I feel accomplished as a mother.
There is always something to be done: laundry, cleaning, errands and appointments. There is always someone who needs a nose wiped, help with homework, a snack, a clean uniform, matching socks (which is a huge challenge because I’m certain our dryer eats socks).
I don’t have a lot of time for myself and when I do, the Mom-Guilt seeps into my thoughts, “I should really not be reading. There is a pile of dishes in the sink and the kids will be hungry in an hour…and…and…”
But, last fall my girlfriends and I decided we would do something for ourselves and all complete a 5K race.
I. Hate. Exercise.
We started “training” with a running app and were ready to go and then … we didn’t.
So, this summer we tried again. We picked an evening race, complete with glow gear and neon shirts and … we did it!
Our 5K-mission was accomplished. Since becoming a mother I finally accomplished something for myself.
The significance of that short run didn’t truly sink in until a few hours later. After an icy cold celebratory beverage with the girls and a hot, soothing shower, I snuggled in for the night when The Princess came into our room crying.
She’d hurt her leg earlier and the pain woke her up in the middle of the night.
I sighed, exhausted and tried to soothe her to no avail. I finally hoisted her up with the little strength and energy I had left and went into her room.
I sat with her in the rocking chair while she cried and wailed and said to myself, “I can do this.”
I began humming her favorite bedtime songs and she stopped sobbing, curled up into my lap with her head on my shoulder and went to sleep.
“I did it!” I thought as I stared at her sweet face, her long lashes and curly-cue hair.
I completed a 5K race and managed to calmly get The Princess back to sleep in her own room.
Hmm … what else have I been overlooking? Our 7-year-old can microwave his own Kraft Easy Mac cups; I taught him that!
And fingernails! I am down to cutting just 20 — sometimes 10 — of my kids’ total 60 finger and toenails. It’s a dirty job, but someone had to teach them.
Packing lunch for school was a big accomplishment for our oldest son this year. He grew tall enough to reach everything he needed and didn’t even fill his lunch box with all cookies and fruit roll-ups. Gold star for Mom!
So maybe I haven’t run a marathon — yet — but small victories are noteworthy, too.
Surely there is a medal for a three-time Potty Training Champion …
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