Friday morning. 5:45 am. I’m sitting on a couch by the fireplace, a cup of cold coffee in hand, writing instead of running. This isn’t what I’ve planned but I’ve come to realize that planning is a futile effort these days. You see, my plan was to wake at 5:00 am, gulp down a cup of coffee and hop on the treadmill for my first intense workout in three weeks. But Emmett had other plans.
For the past week, my 23 month old son has refused dinner. No matter what I make for him, he won’t eat it. Last night was no different, so off to bed he went with an empty stomach at 7pm. At 8pm “Mama Heeeeelllllppppp!” and crying. So much crying. We explained that with since he didn’t eat dinner, he was hungry and that since mom isn’t a short order cook, he’d have to wait until the morning to eat. Hard? Yes, it broke my heart. But giving in means making this the new normal and I refuse to make this normal. Emmett went to sleep with a little love and cuddling from Robert and I made plans to wake at 5 to run.
I didn’t even need an alarm. Ever since the kiddo started 4:30 am wake ups a year ago, my body clock is set to wake at 4:30 am. So I hopped out of bed this morning, headed to the kitchen to make coffee and just as I was heading down to the basement to run… “Mamaaaaaa oh noooooo! Mamaaaaa heeellllp!!!” Bam, the kiddo is awake. I hoped it was just a missing pacifier situation and quietly entered his room, picked up the 3 pacifiers thrown out of his crib, gave them back and whispered “Still night night time Emmett. Please lay down.” But the kiddo smacked his lips, his sign that he’s hungry, and I knew that the only way to get him back to sleep was to grab a bottle of milk. Otherwise we’re facing a difficult overtired day filled with tantrums and a too short nap.
So here I am, sitting on the couch, drinking the coffee I made at 5am but too scared to warm it in the microwave for fear that it might wake him back up. And I can’t help but smile. Motherhood has changed me. I’ve learned to surrender, that I can’t control it all. I’m learning to look at the positive. It sounds cliche but I got to snuggle with my little boy this morning. One day he’ll sleep until noon and we won’t have those 5am snuggle to get back to sleep sessions. One day, he won’t scream “Mama Heeellllpppp!” When I lifted him out of his crib this morning, the thing that struck me most was his warmth. The warmth of Emmett’s little body next to mine, how perfect he felt in my arms, how soft his skin and hair felt as I stroked it while he drank. It made me feel better about having to miss my run. No Excuses? Nah… getting my child the rest and comfort he needed this morning was the perfect excuse to miss a workout.
And he’s up! It’s go time! Writing break….
Friday. 1:33 pm. That run I missed this morning? I just got it done during Emmett’s nap time. Warm up, 1 minute speed, 1 minute recovery x 10, cool down. Then some arms & abs. Not as long as I would’ve liked to work out but I heard Emmett stirring and wanted to shower before the afternoon began.
So there you have it folks. This is how I don’t get it all done. How I believe in excuses. How I’m learning to be a mother bit by bit, every day.
What are your tricks to fitting in workouts? How do you cope with missed workouts or shortened ones? And any ideas how to get this kid to eat dinner?!?