Balancing Act

C and I have established a very comfortable Sunday morning routine.  Well, it's comfortable for him, less so for me.  Basically, while everyone else is in Sunday school or church I spend 2 and a half hours chasing him around the chapel.  Our usual path takes us all over the chapel, including the kitchen (always have to stop in there for some muffins), the stained glass windows (where I name each and every color he points out to me), and eventually we end up outside (I have to wonder what the MP's that see me wandering around each week think).  I do this because at almost 22 months, he's not ready to sit down and be quiet during mass.  We often end up in the very back of the chapel and participate in the last 20 minutes or so, and that's okay with me.  I'd rather spend quality time with him like this, then forcing him to be quiet when he's really not ready to be.  We talk, interact, and enjoy each other.  Having attended the same church since I was five years old, we know most of the church goers, and most are familiar with our routine.  Today while walking down the hall, I overheard a comment that was made about me and in a nutshell is was that "you'd think with all the running around she does chasing after him she wouldn't be so big."  Ouch!

After hearing that comment I had an hour to walk around, "alone" in my thoughts (C isn't exactly one to to hash out concerns with).  Anyone that knows me, knows that I'm not the smallest size I could be.  That's obvious. I don't defend that either.  There is no excuse.  I've been called lazy when I say it's hard for me to get the gym.  Straight to my face even.  Yes, I only make it to the gym when John is home.  Why?  Because I personally can't justify bringing my children to the gym daycare so I can go when he's gone.  I just spent an entire day away from them while I was at work (another thorn in the rose that is my mama guilt).  The time I get to spend with them is so important to me and to bring them there feels to me like I am saying "Hey, I missed you for those 9 hours we were apart.  Quick. let's head to the gym so I can be away from you some more while I do something for me!"  Right or wrong, those are my feelings.  When John is gone for those 5 days each week, I find ways to include the kids in my workouts.  We go for runs and bikes rides and bust a move to Just Dance and wii fit.  My favorites are the impromptu dance parties in the kitchen.  Running on a treadmill doesn't hold a candle to giggles with my girls in the kitchen while we watch their brother shake his booty.  I wouldn't trade running alongside R the first time she learned to ride without training wheels or the talks my big nine year old and I have as we watch the other two run around the park.  Sure it takes longer for me to break out into a sweat, and no it's not the most efficient workout, but it is what it is.  I like that I'm showing my children that fitness and being healthy isn't just about going to a gym, that time together is precious, and that we can meet both needs if we work at it.

I also struggle with the balance of finding time for me, and what I need personally to thrive, and meeting the needs of those around me.  I need to workout.  I feel so much better when I do.  Thanks to watching the successes of some dear friends I have found that running gives me a high that I never knew possible.  Do I look like Phoebe from Friends when I'm out running?  Hell yeah!  But I rock that run and I feel amazing!  I enjoy having an hour to be with my thoughts, to process them and organize them, because it helps me be a better friend, wife, teacher, and mother.  Those feelings are so powerful to me that I often wonder why I don't seek them out more often.  I've learned that it's because I don't feel like it's okay to put myself first.  I watch my darling hubby head off to the gym each and every day he is home with little concern for anything else but his need for a workout.  He needs it, so he does it.  Simple as that.  He never asks for "permission" to go, which is something I feel like I need.  I need someone to give me permission to go.  To say, "Gina, go to the gym/for a run/to Starbucks and I'll take the kids/make dinner/take care of things here."  I'm no martyr.  I know that things will function just fine if I leave for an hour.  I sincerely know that.  But it's so hard to say that I am important and worth it.  That taking care of me doesn't mean the loves of my life are pushed to the side, it just means it's my turn to be first.  Taking turns is important.  But man is it hard for me to put myself into first place.   

I don't feel that the judgement that was placed on me today was fair, and I also don't want you to think that I am standing in judgment of anyone else for their choices.  I've come to realize that as a parent, you have to make the best decisions for your family.  If you do that, then they are the right ones.  End of story.  But for me that's a hard thing to do.  I need to fully embrace the thought that if it's important, I'll make time for it, if it's not, I'll make excuses.  I just hope I can accept that my needs are important and that every so often, being in first place is the right place for me to be.   

     

       

      

As a teacher, I can honestly say that each and every day is different.  The plans are set, materials are prepped, but things don't always go the way you want them too.  This year I have 26 amazing, endearing, occasionally frustrating, gorgeous miracles that I get to come in contact with five days a week.  There are days that I feel so motivated, inspired, and moved by the things that happen in my classroom.  Then there are days where I wish there was a wine bar in the teacher's lounge.  But every so often there is a day that moves me to tears, makes me swell with pride, and on these days I can feel my heart grow 100 times bigger.  Yesterday was one of those days.

"A" came to my class four years ago.  He was able to speak a total of five words.  It would be remiss of me to go into any further detail, but the stories I could tell you about him would break your heart.  He had a long way to go academically, but had the sweetest and biggest heart on the planet.  He spent two years in my kindergarten classroom.  Two years of growth, of heartache, of success, of determination, and most of all, of hard work.  Two years of worming his way into my heart forever too.  I reluctantly gave him away to first grade but knowing he was moving on to someone that would love him, teach him, and inspire him made that easier.  Now he's a big second grader.  He's with an amazing teacher who also happens to have a huge heart.  Yesterday she sent A down to my classroom to read to me.  It sounds so simple, but if you knew the path this kiddo had taken to get to this point you would understand the magnitude of this event.  My teaching assistant and I both stopped what we were doing and listened to him read.  My kindergartners stopped their activities and listened in too.  And read he did.  He read with voice, he read with purpose, and he read like any other second grader would read.  It was one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard.  And I cried.  My assistant and I both gave him the biggest hugs and told him that we were so proud of him.  And I cried.

I am crying now as I think about that moment.  The kids in my classes smile and nod each year when I tell them that they are forever my babies.  They don't understand that it's the truth.  They are forever in my hearts and I live for each milestone I get to see them reach.  It's moments like yesterday that help me remember why I do what I do.  And remind me why I absolutely love it.

There is nothing sweeter than a snuggle after bath time.  It's so easy to get caught up in the busy nighttime routine and forget to stop and be present.  A mother's work is never done, but those are the things that can wait.  My baby won't be a baby for much longer. 

My goal this year is to enjoy the little things more.  This picture is a start of that.  It is a simple memory of a fun afternoon spent with a great friend, the first time C got to decorate Christmas cookies, and a reminder that sometimes it's okay to relax and enjoy being a mom.