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What started as a little experiment in blogging has evolved into my renewed love for writing the raw, gritty truth. Running has always had so many parallels to life's ups and downs. As a new cancer survivor/fighter, running and writing has continued to be there for me in my quest to always move forward, always try to be better than yesterday. Find me: http://www.curetoday.com/community/kate or on facebook: running, cancer, and everything in between or on twitter: runliftbreathe

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Gym Mom



In a nutshell, my Wednesday looked like this: alarm goes off at 5:15am so that I can get to the gym and get a workout in (contrary to the belief, that those of us who work in the fitness industry, no we do NOT get to workout all day at work), then, come home shower and get ready for work.

By 7:30am, after I’ve dragged the trash and recycling out, made lunches all while shoving a veggie omelet in my mouth, I’m hollering up the stairs to my three girls because they are still not out of bed, dressed, and ready for school.

At 8:20am, I am dropping  them off to school and heading back to the gym to start my work day. Mid-morning, I get the call from the school nurse to come pick up my youngest who has a 102 fever and was she feeling okay this morning (I think so, she didn’t say she felt sick, wait, was that an accusation) ? And then, comes the friendly reminder that she would not be expected at school tomorrow because of the 24 hour fever policy (s**t! working mom and working out mom’s nightmare).

I get sick child settled on the couch, I wrestle down my husband (who happens to be home at the moment) to stay put.  I go pick up child number 2 from school at 3:15 and drop her off at the house. I, then,  zip over to the Pic-n-Pay for the Motrin, crackers, Gatorade and apple juice….and fly back home.

Now, it’s time to get child number 2 ready for indoor soccer and get sick child to take her medicine.

I’m out the door to bring #2 to soccer for 4:00pm so that I can go back to the school and pick up child number 3 from girl scouts at 4:30pm. Thank god, I arranged for a ride home from soccer for child #2, otherwise I’d be back on the other side of town for 5:15 soccer pickup…with child 3, and sick child.

Crap…what’s for dinner?

Sounds ridiculous right? This is just an ordinary day in the life of a working mother with multiple busy children. I’m not looking for a medal or sympathy, and I’m definitely not tooting my own horn.  There are mothers everywhere doing exactly the same thing also. This was a choice I made: to have three children and then, to go back to work so that I could provide more to the family including the soccer, lacrosse, basketball, ski racing, girl scouts…what have you, to give them experiences.

What I am asking for is a little less judgment.  You will come into my house at any given moment where the laundry is not complete, dishes may be in the sink…(insert gasp) the cleaner hasn’t shown up (note: I am the house cleaner).  I actually had someone recently suggest to me that, well, I could always do my housework in the early morning instead of running and working out.  That comment still stings, and I still resent it.

I choose an ungodly hour to have one hour to myself and I have to feel guilty over that too because I could be mopping, cleaning the toilet, or catching up on laundry/ dishes or planning the meals for the week???

I don’t need a girls vacation, a weekend at the spa, or a nanny.  I do it all and some days I do it just fine, but I do need something for myself. For me, that something is always going to be physical and it's going to be in gym or out on the road. I need this for my sanity. It is a part of my personality, and it’s what makes me a better mother, wife, friend.

So the next time I don’t get to every single email about the field trip, I’m late to rsvp, or my latest, completely forgetting about a  playdate & a birthday party, spare me and my fellow sisters the judgment. We are doing the best that we can. And if you think this is frazzled, imagine what we’re like without our workout…


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