I’m playing hooky.
I’m sitting in my gym’s cafe, blogging and drinking a Mountain Dew.
Ahh… the sweet elixir of life. It is my version of a double chocolate mocha latte with extra foam…. or whatever you coffee drinkers consume. I can’t stand the taste of the stuff no matter how much cream or sugar or chocolate you add.
This a very rare occurrence (the playing of hooky, not the Mountain Dew drinking). I am an admitted gym junkie. I love my workouts. I love the way they make me feel. I love how they typically give me more energy. I love that they helped me lose baby weight. I’m in better shape now than I was 10 years ago. I live for the group fitness classes. Sadly, today my Zumba teacher is off to a Zumba convention and her sub (who’s class I’ve also taken) is one of the weaker instructors.
My plan was to do hot yoga instead and get a nice stretch in.
It was not to be. My children had other plans and I arrived here 15 minutes too late for the class.
With no interesting class options, I was left with a dilemma. Work out on my own? Or take a Me Day.
I chose me.
I’m still recovering from Monday’s night of 4.5 hours of sleep. Last night, Chase woke up multiple times. I woke up at 5:30 AM with a meat cleaver splitting my head in half.
My body has that “if you don’t get some rest soon, you WILL get sick” feeling.
So I hit the steam room, the showers, and the cafe.
I’m savoring my Dew.
It is my hope that this small break with somehow help me be a better mother. Monday was fine, but I’ve been quick to anger the last few days as my body yells at me for not replenishing sleep lost. My children haven’t done a dual nap since then, so I haven’t had 5 minutes at home to think.
I’ve discovered if I can get at least 30 minutes to do whatever I want without interruption, I’m significantly happier. I’m ready to take on the Poopapalooza with a sense of humor, instead of dismay. I’m ready to laugh at Chase as he runs bottomless from the bathroom instead of punish him. I’m ready to tickle Kyra out of a whiny funk instead of dream of running to a dark room, putting ear plugs in my ears, and falling into a deep oblivious sleep.
I love my children. I do. Even when I want to strangle them and wonder why on earth did I want these two little monsters so badly, I still love them.
But sometimes…. sometimes I don’t have the patience I should, particularly when I have a splitting headache or extremely sleep deprived.
So I blog. Because if the sleep option is denied me, at least my brain can be jump started from the mommy brain stale stagnation and I can escape the rut of just being a Mom. I can be me.
I can write.
I might even miss those little monsters as I ponder all of the Blogs To Be Written.
Because they are a great source of material. 🙂 And the horror stories are more entertaining when you aren’t in the middle of them.
At least for the moment.