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.
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