I had finally gotten myself into shape that I was really happy with, my running was at an all time best and I had started training for a half marathon. Then I got pregnant. Through this I am trying to maintain my fitness level, running when I can, an exercise video here or there, walking more... etc. Ok, the truth, I'm really just trying to not turn into a fat tick during this pregnancy... by #3 the delusional "eat whatever I want, don't exercise and just assume it will fall off once I have the baby"assumption has proven to be completely false. I was pretty shocked after baby #1, imagine my surprise when it didn't happen again with baby #2!! This time I'm not in denial and am trying to keep things in check. After months of being too tired or having morning sickness that lasted all day long, I finally have enough energy and feel up to getting back to exercising on a regular basis.
Lately, I have been running a few times a week. Up until now I've been going solo- not often enough to have to suck it up and go with the kids... until yesterday.
Yesterday I had this great plan. I was going to drop Mason off at school so I would only have Cooper to run with. In my head this was going to go well, he was going to sit happily for a few minutes and then fall asleep as it was almost nap time waking up as I pulled up next to the truck and look up at me all happy and bright eyed with a "wait, we are done already?" look. That is NOT what happen. Side note: After over a year of pushing a double jogger with a 39 and 28 pounders in it, going back to a single with only 28lbs was like pushing a dream!! Cooper actually did pretty good for a while... for a while and then was OVER it. Throughout the run I pumped him full of junk (that I had with me, courtesy of Miss Annette, who hooked my unprepared butt up), if I had more lollipops I totally would have given him more!), tried to bribe him with my phone, headphones, and water, and then as he kept channeling his inner sky diver trying to jump/climb out of the jogger- regardless of speed I gave up and held him. Then he wanted to help push the now empty stroller making us nearly crash several times. Finally, he ended up on my shoulders... for about a mile.
I know I have to stick with it to force him to get used to, and happy about, being in the stroller, but dang! I finished the run/walk feeling frustrated, frazzled, and aggravated at him because seriously- he is siting in a pretty comfortable seat, gets to ride around the neighborhood enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery, all while I PUSH him- no effort needed on his part. Come on- that sounds awesome!! Can we say... selfish? ha ha
Alright, Alright, so he is 17 months old and I pushed the limits on his attention span and nap so that I could get in a good run. Somehow, somewhere, I know this is my fault and I really shouldn't blame him. Dang it, "Mom Guilt" strikes again... Screw that, he is 17 months old and sole purpose in life is to torture me and make me nuts all while looking ridiculously cute doing it.
Maybe next time he will be better... hey, a girl can dream... right??
