I am a planner.  I always have been.  My love of frequent list making is a tribute to that.  My husband never understands why I take time to make lists instead of just accomplishing the tasks.  “So….you’re writing down the thing you have to do and then doing it?” I have heard that countless times.  Lists soothe me.  They also are the best way for me to set goals and keep them. There is something more concrete about putting those goals on paper.  Almost a binding contract with yourself.

I know many of you moms reading this can relate to that excitement post baby of getting the go ahead to work out again.  It is not that we would ever regret carrying that sweet bundle of love for all those months.  I happen to love pregnancy.  What I am talking about is that catch 22.  The last month, we are lucky to hobble our giant selves to the bathroom in time.  We have the baby (a miraculous effort in itself), then we proceed to the period of our lives in which we mentally and physically need the most energy we ever will.  I can say this is even more true with very active 20 month old and a particularly large infant.  Copious amount of coffee can only get you so far.

Today was the big day.  I was so thrilled to begin my workout plan.  I had it written and then typed, down to the amount of water I wanted to strive to drink each day.  The most exciting part was that Gracie could do my workouts with me!  Cardio, pilates, yoga…she would love it, right???




See first sentence….I am a planner, but as a mom, you can rarely plan for anything!

So Gracie did love it, at first.  I did too!  That awesome feeling of being out of breath and sweaty only amped me up more to continue.  Then, in the middle of my deep lunges into high kicks, she decided she needed to be picked up.  I obliged her, for as long as I could.  Let’s be real, I am out of shape.  These movements were hard enough as it was without a 24 pound squirmy weight attached.

She finally let me put her down, and I was off again.  Then, in the middle of my down ups, Huck, my infant son, started crying.  Huck NEVER cries.  Poor thing was crying so hard, he was turning purple.  Gracie then holds up her little finger and remarks, “uh oh.” She had poked him in the eye.  I fully believe this was not on purpose.  Grace loves showing people where their eyes (and other facial features) are.

While I tried to soothe poor Huck, Grace started wailing too.  She felt awful that she’d hurt him.  At this point, there were two crying babies on my lap.  Sobbing would be a better word.

Now, my sweeties are both napping.  I sat down to my computer and just laughed and said a phrase that has become very common in our house.  Hashtag mom life.  Because it is, and it is wonderful.

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