This morning I was given one of the greatest gifts a mother of a not-yet-in-school preschooler can receive—a morning alone. Truthfully, it was closer to an hour and a half but I’ll take what I can get.
Frances’s birthday party is fast approaching and I still had some last minute errands including ordering the cake, buying candles, and figuring out the dreaded party favors (which Will and I decided to bag once we realized you could spend a ton of money on absolute junk that will likely be thrown away and/or broken within 24 hours after the party. So balloons it is!). As much as I love taking George around town with me, he is not the most predictable shopper and has about a two-store limit before the whining, restlessness, and boneless body all take effect in roughly the same thirty seconds—in other words, the major meltdown. So, Gram-E rescued poor George from what was sure to be pure agony in my quest to visit at least 4 different stores and took him to his favorite playground. And I hit the ground running.
The good news? I think I am done with birthday shopping (and even picked up some potential Christmas gifts). The bad news? I am completely worn out and it’s only naptime (or at least it is now as I’m writing this sentence; of course I am also hearing the sound of my pint-sized King Kong bang his fists on his crib, so I imagine this entry won’t get posted until much later).
There is a term in running called “going out too fast.” It is a warning to us amateurs that in longer races (anywhere from a 10k to a marathon or more), it is wiser to start slow—slower than your legs want to carry you—for fear of hitting the much-loathed “wall” and at best hobbling to the finish line (at worst, dropping out of the race altogether). It took me many failed attempts before I learned that the experts really do know what they are talking about and I have since perfected the art of going out slow (probably too slow) so that I can finish strong.
Or at least, so I thought.
There is no doubt this morning that I went “out too fast.” In my new found freedom, I found myself energized, singing to every song on the radio and telling myself “I can squeeze in just one more store” before 11 am. But what I failed to remember was that shopping completely exhausts me and next time I need to better pace myself. And for my next morning off, I am definitely stopping to get one of these:
|Starbucks gingerbread latte|
I promised myself I would do that and never got around to it. Undoubtedly I need to readjust my priorities. If nothing else, the extra caffeine may start to kick in just when I need it most--right after naptime.
Happy Tuesday everyone!