I choose joy.

I’ve been writing a lot lately about applying my revelations to my everyday life and most days there’s a 50/50 chance I’ve succeeded. I’m still making my way up that hill, but sometimes there’s a glorious bench off the path calling to me. If I didn’t take a seat, it’d be rude. Plus, I’m not a big fan of the exercise. Who is? Personal growth is hard.

I’ve been talking about working out and getting in shape, blah, blah, blah. It’s the doing that’s a little more challenging. I set a schedule for my alarm to go off at 8 AM every morning. If there’s an annoying buzzing in my ear I’m bound to get up. Then I remembered I’m a mother and we have a superpower that tells us the difference between a real or fake cry. I’m awake long enough to ensure safety then I’m out, at least until a child stomps on my face.

Last night I 1-upped the alarm: I told my 5 YO we were going to work out in the morning. It seemed like a good idea at the time. At 7 AM I was woken with, “Remember you said we were going to work out today, Mom?” I’m sure a mumbled something at her, before going back to sleep. An hour later as I stumbled to the little one’s crib I was met with the same question. How do you explain to someone who needs no sleep to survive that it takes time for adult brain function to kick in?

It was 11 before we started the workout, and boy was she excited. I can only assume it’s because she hasn’t reached the level of maturity (weight gain) or responsibility (too-tireditis) that us adults have. I haven’t exercised regularly since PE in Jr. High, so I have no idea how to create a workout or exercise routine. I found one on the Roku; it seemed innocent enough and it was only a half hour. At first I was disappointed it wasn’t an hour (momentary mental illness), but that rapidly dissipated.

Working out is no joke. It’s painful. It’s hard. It made me want my Mommy. I had to cheat on a few things (if I had to guess, I’d say I’m a level -25), but that was okay. My tiny children did to. My kids with the endless energy couldn’t complete the workout, but I did. I’m a Mom hero. They tried, though, and it was one of the better parts of my day. My 2 YO in her pull up and my 5 YO in her fancy dress (I couldn’t get her to change) doing stretches and lunges and running; at one point we were all giggling uncontrollably.

Was I sore after? Yes. Was I tired? Yes. Did I feel the burn? I think I still feel it, but I did it. I got through day one and we made a decision to try doing it every day.

Even if we don’t what we did was a step – a big one. I fully blame today’s workout for fighting the urge to eat that bag of potato chips I know is in the pantry. I walked to it and opened the door at least 8 different times, but I resisted. Instead I had a spicy chicken spinach salad with homemade dressing. Real living food – who knew it made you feel good and happy?


In the midst of this accomplishment high I’m feeling pretty full of myself. I’m rocking the mom thing, actually cooking a lunch instead of heating frozen stuff. Because there’s always an attempt at balance in my life, that’s when I got the call. The call that informed me I missed my 5 YO’s first 8 AM swim class.

This is a class I genuinely have no recollection of, like zero. She politely reminded me that she would see me for tomorrow’s 8 o’clock class. Excuse me? Like 8 in the morning? You do this multiple times a week? I hung up and had to call right back to ensure the time and place; she probably thinks I’m a lunatic. In my defense, who in their right mind schedules swimming lessons for 8 AM in the middle of summer? Do they not understand I have nothing left by this point? Do they know that I have two kids that must have and do whatever the other does? Aren’t they aware how hard it is to get a 2 and 5 YO fed, dressed and out the door by 7:55 (boy, is that hopeful)? Forget the kids, how am I going to get myself fed, dressed and out the door by that time?

Still on an endorphin high, I chose to not dwell (long) on my mom fail with this or that my 5 YO is terrified. I want to choose to focus on the knowledge I actually completed a workout without eating garbage or sitting in my chair all day. I did something, and I’m going to keep doing something. I choose to focus on my kid’s faces as we ended our night with a silly popsicle walk. I choose to end this night with a smile on my face because I can. Parenthood is all about choices and redirection and focus anyway, so I’m going to choose to try doing that from here.

What can be wrong with expressions like these?

What will you choose to do? Make it good.

2 thoughts on “I choose joy.

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