Before you curse me for my incredible better-than-anyone job at parenting, first note that I said "a Part" of my routine. No, this is not a letter to you stating, "Wow, I'm an amazing parent. Look, I work out, look great, and my kid is perfect. You suck." Because that's exactly what we as women always think isn't it? Hey, look at her! She was able to get in and out of the grocery store without pulling out her hair! What does she want, a medal?!
I think that women are amazing. They are always so encouraging and steadfast. Especially mothers! Mothers are flippin' awesome. They push babies out of their vagina's! What?! Mothers clean up people who have pooped on themselves...that's pretty much the nicest thing you can do for anyone. I really don't even have to say anything else. Anyone who volunteers for poop clean-up has got to be either insane, or really in love.
Anyway, I was talking about my exercise routine. I have a little seventeen month old boy. He is so full of energy. He climbs up a full flight of stairs where the steps are half his height, and then turns around and does it again! The kid is insane. His energy is my excuse for having taken some "time off" my work-out routine. Time off really means, "never get back to". I decided today that I want some of that energy that he's got. I want to utilize it. He's a toddler, he's not going to follow any sort of regimen for my exercise. I started working out and he instantly got into all these wooden beads and started stuffing them in his mouth; I'm surprised he didn't go for the knives just for theatrics. I didn't even know those wooden beads existed! Anyway, as a desperate grab for order I included him in the exercise routine. We rolled around on the floor, we walked around the house on all fours, I picked him up and down while doing squats, and we took turns on the pull up bar. The kid was having a blast! And better yet, I was working out. I was moving, my heart rate was going, and I felt good.
Zoom forward five years and my boy is playing soccer. Why can't I run with him? Having a kid could be the healthiest thing for me, if I let it!
When I became a new mother people always used to tell me that I had to "Sleep when you're baby sleeps." It was such good advice! I felt better when I had slept, and I was a better mother if I slept whenever the opportunity arrived. I was tired, so I slept according to my son's schedule. Why can't we, as mother's, apply that principal in other things? Run around when your kid is running around.
I complain about my body a lot these days. I complain about what has happened to it now that I'm a mother. I complain that I'm not able to "get out" like I need to, to exercise. But I think that I need to adjust my mindset. I need to work out in a way that is consistent with my lifestyle. It's good to get out, have a run, and get some "me" time. But, honestly, most of my time is absorbed in my son. If I etch out time in the day to work out, there is no way I'm going to be as fit as I want to be. So, I have to run around with my son. When I go out on a long walk, I will just be all the more fit because I'm carrying a twenty pound kid on my back. I will be all the more healthier because I will eat the carrots I insist my child eats. I will practice better hydration because I will hydrate myself as I hydrate my child. I will be a better person because I'm a mom.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
The Color of My Life is Yellow
If I were to give my life a color it would be yellow. Not that ugly dark yellow, or that offensive bright yellow, but that soft yellow of sunshine as it comes through the windows and bounces off the walls. I curl up in it and fall asleep.
You don't know me, so you don't know what the past few years have been like. I would say that they've been sad. They have been heavy and they have been hard. But I'm free of them now, God has made me free of them. I have no desire to look back on them. I only want to feel the wind on my face.
I have a son, he's a toddler. I remember people telling me that when he began to walk that I would want to push him right back down again, but I don't feel that way at all. He walks, he toddles, and there is nothing I enjoy more. He gets in trouble for getting himself into something he shouldn't, he falls and cries, and sometimes I get too tired, but I love it. I love his little voice in the morning as he wakes singing to himself. I love his little hands all sticky from a sucker. I love his eyes, wide with curiosity, and I love his pudgy little legs as they waddle their way around the house.
I have a husband. We are polar opposites. If we haven't bickered at some point during the day then we aren't in love. But I oddly can't imagine this life without him. I love his messy blonde hair, I love his tattoos, I love his quiet presence, and I love how his lips pucker out when he sleeps. I love that he plays violin and that he is often elbow deep in car grease.
I live in Washington, where the Earth is black, the trees are high, and the cities are eclectic. I enjoy delicious food and hot beverages everyday. I can go to a park and get lost in the pines, or I can go downtown and get lost watching the boats come into the harbor.
I just bought a house. It's tiny and old, and it creaks everytime we move. We have hung the violins on the walls, bought an extra small washer and dryer, and are going to paint the door red.
Life, this simple life, is all I want. I want to breathe, and live, every bit of it. I want to travel, I want to dream, and I want to dance. Restless nights have taught me the importance of sleep, and sorrow has taught me the importance of life. I want to suck up the rain and the coffee like my life depends on it. I want to run when I feel like it, and I want to walk where I want to go. I want to explore until the whole world seems quiet, and then I want to make some noise.
If my life were a color - it would be yellow.
You don't know me, so you don't know what the past few years have been like. I would say that they've been sad. They have been heavy and they have been hard. But I'm free of them now, God has made me free of them. I have no desire to look back on them. I only want to feel the wind on my face.
I have a son, he's a toddler. I remember people telling me that when he began to walk that I would want to push him right back down again, but I don't feel that way at all. He walks, he toddles, and there is nothing I enjoy more. He gets in trouble for getting himself into something he shouldn't, he falls and cries, and sometimes I get too tired, but I love it. I love his little voice in the morning as he wakes singing to himself. I love his little hands all sticky from a sucker. I love his eyes, wide with curiosity, and I love his pudgy little legs as they waddle their way around the house.
I have a husband. We are polar opposites. If we haven't bickered at some point during the day then we aren't in love. But I oddly can't imagine this life without him. I love his messy blonde hair, I love his tattoos, I love his quiet presence, and I love how his lips pucker out when he sleeps. I love that he plays violin and that he is often elbow deep in car grease.
I live in Washington, where the Earth is black, the trees are high, and the cities are eclectic. I enjoy delicious food and hot beverages everyday. I can go to a park and get lost in the pines, or I can go downtown and get lost watching the boats come into the harbor.
I just bought a house. It's tiny and old, and it creaks everytime we move. We have hung the violins on the walls, bought an extra small washer and dryer, and are going to paint the door red.
Life, this simple life, is all I want. I want to breathe, and live, every bit of it. I want to travel, I want to dream, and I want to dance. Restless nights have taught me the importance of sleep, and sorrow has taught me the importance of life. I want to suck up the rain and the coffee like my life depends on it. I want to run when I feel like it, and I want to walk where I want to go. I want to explore until the whole world seems quiet, and then I want to make some noise.
If my life were a color - it would be yellow.
Relationships...
We are made for relationship. I think that statement is a pretty obvious one. We are not all made for the same kinds of relationships, or the same amount, but we all must have them in some respect or go nuts. When people aren't around we hang out with dogs; man's best friend. When dogs aren't around and people aren't around we get on the internet or a video game. If all else fails we start talking to beach balls and go running with wolves.
There are a lot of different kinds of relationships. There are one way relationships where you give all and receive nothing in return, or where you receive all and give nothing in return. There are symbiotic relationships, casual relationships, deep relationships, committed relationships, and short relationships. There are the kinds of relationships that spawn from love or duty, and there are the kinds you wish you didn't have at all. We seem to have relationships with our ideals; we find it hard to separate from them. We even seem to have relationships with stuff, as what we surround ourselves with may become a piece of what defines our reality. We shape our lives around something, and we have a relationship with that thing. Our world may be defined by a boyfriend or a spouse, and when we lose them we lose ourselves. We may define ourselves by a religion, and we lose ourselves in that religion. We may even define ourselves by our job, and without it we go spinning for lack of purpose.
What we define as our center, as our reason for being, defines how we have relationships with the world around us. We may even not know who it is that we are, and so in every new circumstance we change like chameleons. Our life center can kill us, or it can enrich us. It can build relationships or it can destroy them. Perhaps our religion demands we eat only chocolate ice cream 364 days out of the year; we may die of happiness. Perhaps we believe there is a God, then we have a relationship with that God, and it defines how we see the world. Does the world deserve mercy or death? Am I righteous or deserving of judgement? Am I loved or hated? Are others loved or hated?
Or perhaps we believe that we were born out of spontaneous combustion, perhaps we were born from nothing; then we have a relationship with nothing. I have nothing else to say...
Whatever we are, whoever we will be, we live according to relationship. I live according to relationship. I want my relationships to be real and full. I want them to be strong and to last. I believe in a relational, personal, God and so I believe my relationships to be personal. I believe in a God who is love; and so I must be love. I want to wake up next to my man with the knowledge that we are completely committed to eachother, holding back nothing. Only with that sort of commitment and dedication can we learn to live fully with and apart of eachother. I can always grow with a relationship that always hopes, and never gives up. From our commitment came my son, and with him I will always be tied. He is, and was, apart of my body. I wake up with him loving the same heart that I felt beating inside of me, and marveling at the changes I daily see. These are the kinds of relationships I pray for, and the one's I never want to lose.
There are a lot of different kinds of relationships. There are one way relationships where you give all and receive nothing in return, or where you receive all and give nothing in return. There are symbiotic relationships, casual relationships, deep relationships, committed relationships, and short relationships. There are the kinds of relationships that spawn from love or duty, and there are the kinds you wish you didn't have at all. We seem to have relationships with our ideals; we find it hard to separate from them. We even seem to have relationships with stuff, as what we surround ourselves with may become a piece of what defines our reality. We shape our lives around something, and we have a relationship with that thing. Our world may be defined by a boyfriend or a spouse, and when we lose them we lose ourselves. We may define ourselves by a religion, and we lose ourselves in that religion. We may even define ourselves by our job, and without it we go spinning for lack of purpose.
What we define as our center, as our reason for being, defines how we have relationships with the world around us. We may even not know who it is that we are, and so in every new circumstance we change like chameleons. Our life center can kill us, or it can enrich us. It can build relationships or it can destroy them. Perhaps our religion demands we eat only chocolate ice cream 364 days out of the year; we may die of happiness. Perhaps we believe there is a God, then we have a relationship with that God, and it defines how we see the world. Does the world deserve mercy or death? Am I righteous or deserving of judgement? Am I loved or hated? Are others loved or hated?
Or perhaps we believe that we were born out of spontaneous combustion, perhaps we were born from nothing; then we have a relationship with nothing. I have nothing else to say...
Whatever we are, whoever we will be, we live according to relationship. I live according to relationship. I want my relationships to be real and full. I want them to be strong and to last. I believe in a relational, personal, God and so I believe my relationships to be personal. I believe in a God who is love; and so I must be love. I want to wake up next to my man with the knowledge that we are completely committed to eachother, holding back nothing. Only with that sort of commitment and dedication can we learn to live fully with and apart of eachother. I can always grow with a relationship that always hopes, and never gives up. From our commitment came my son, and with him I will always be tied. He is, and was, apart of my body. I wake up with him loving the same heart that I felt beating inside of me, and marveling at the changes I daily see. These are the kinds of relationships I pray for, and the one's I never want to lose.
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