I’ve had
that flu for the past few weeks, and while I could easily go off on a diatribe of how much it sucks to be sick when you’re a mom (i.e. you can’t actually be sick because there’s no one to take care of you but instead are constantly being dragged from your death bed to find a lost Lego piece or cook another grilled cheese) I won’t. Instead I’ll tell you what I did this weekend. I went to Bermuda and ran a 10k. Now I realize that sounds ridiculous and wonderful and what has she got to complain about, I will say that dragging yourself out of bed for that was maybe not the wisest idea.
Because first of all, despite its incredible beauty, Bermuda is actually freezing in January. Any thoughts of lolling by the beach to recoup were dashed. Instead we had island tour and trips to the rummery and a lot of delicious food. (I know, I know, still not helping my case…) But here’s the thing: when your girlfriends are whooping it up and possibly having midnight races in the corridors and you’re perceived as the party pooper because you’re in bed early, it’s a bit too much like when I first had kids. At that time, my girlfriends didn’t and they didn’t quite get why I couldn’t come out clubbing at the drop of a hat. But that’s also another story. So the race.
I hadn’t really trained, I’d been in bed for 3 weeks prior, I’d maybe had a bit too much cheap sparkling wine the night before and by the 3
rd kilometer, I was done. But I had to keep going –I had come this far and there was no way I was going to stop. The course was beautiful and often you’d come around a bend in the road to
find yourself in front of the most breathtaking view. But to get there, the course was also incredibly bumpy and hilly and steep. And there were times I thought I wasn’t going to make it, times I had to stop and walk. Sounds a lot like parenting, doesn’t it. Each time I was discouraged, I picked myself up and I kept going. Because that’s what moms do. And when I got to the finish line sure, I cheered, but I was already defeated. I knew I had done my worst 10k time ever, and had already started beating myself up about it. Instead of looking at what I’d accomplished, I was focusing on what I’d done wrong and what I could have done better. Sound familiar? Parenting is not a competition. We are all on this course, going at our own pace and doing the best we can. In the end, our goals are the same: raising healthy, happy, independent adults. That’s why I’m so grateful I have a network of women who support, comfort, encourage, sometimes yell at, goad, hug and humour each other, and who will always refill my glass of champagne, be it Veuve or cheap sparkling knock-off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get the kids off to school and crawl back into bed…
I’ve had
that flu for the past few weeks, and while I could easily go off on a diatribe of how much it sucks to be sick when you’re a mom (i.e. you can’t actually be sick because there’s no one to take care of you but instead are constantly being dragged from your death bed to find a lost Lego piece or cook another grilled cheese) I won’t. Instead I’ll tell you what I did this weekend. I went to Bermuda and ran a 10k. Now I realize that sounds ridiculous and wonderful and what has she got to complain about, I will say that dragging yourself out of bed for that was maybe not the wisest idea.
I hadn’t really trained, I’d been in bed for 3 weeks prior, I’d maybe had a bit too much cheap sparkling wine the night before and by the 3
rd kilometer, I was done. But I had to keep going –I had come this far and there was no way I was going to stop. The course was beautiful and often you’d come around a bend in the road to
find yourself in front of the most breathtaking view. But to get there, the course was also incredibly bumpy and hilly and steep. And there were times I thought I wasn’t going to make it, times I had to stop and walk. Sounds a lot like parenting, doesn’t it. Each time I was discouraged, I picked myself up and I kept going. Because that’s what moms do. And when I got to the finish line sure, I cheered, but I was already defeated. I knew I had done my worst 10k time ever, and had already started beating myself up about it. Instead of looking at what I’d accomplished, I was focusing on what I’d done wrong and what I could have done better. Sound familiar? Parenting is not a competition. We are all on this course, going at our own pace and doing the best we can. In the end, our goals are the same: raising healthy, happy, independent adults. That’s why I’m so grateful I have a network of women who support, comfort, encourage, sometimes yell at, goad, hug and humour each other, and who will always refill my glass of champagne, be it Veuve or cheap sparkling knock-off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get the kids off to school and crawl back into bed…
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