Ruthlessly Me – Mothers Day Pt 2

Today was my greatest mothers day yet. I was ruthless. I took every opportunity to get and do what I wanted. Waking up to the perfect seasonal gift of new pyjamas, love and cuddles from my children and of course the traditional bacon and egg breakfast cooked by my ever loving husband…can’t really ask for more than that…and so I didn’t ask….I took.

I put on my running shoes and headed for the door, this time not bothering to ask my husband if he minded being with the kids while I go for a run. Not that it’s essential that I ask or really that he would ever say no, but generally I ask out of courtesy and kindness. Today I bypassed the pleasantries and strolled my pampered ass to the street and ran.

I really didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay in the warmth of the shower and then crawl back into my pyjamas. Although the goal had been set to run ten Kilometers a week and there have always been more excuses not to achieve a goal, then there has been to follow through. It hurt. Still tired from a restless nap after the 3am feed and knees that wanted to give out, I ran. I turned the music up loud, breathed in the salt sea air and I ran. I thought about what it meant to be running. How every step meant I was doing something for myself, taking time for me and using that time to achieve something that for whatever reason seems important. I thought about how much better my day would be after knowing I had reached my goal. I thought about the extra calories I was going to happily consume in my afternoon wines.

Before I knew it I was back on my doorstep, walking in to my little boy who somehow managed to fall on his balls and get a blister that is no doubt going to sting when he pees. As I iced my knees to the sound of my whimpering toddler begging to play on my phone, I submitted. I submitted my phone, laid my head back in the chair and thanked myself for not giving into procrastination this morning, for taking that well needed 30 minutes to myself, refuelling me for the inevitable whinging, whining and complaining that come with a sick toddler that has just blistered his balls.

I took respite in the fact that my baby girl was having a massive sleep that meant my husband and I could take turns trying to distract our toddler and make faces at each other that screamed, ‘lets invest in a nanny’, ‘whose idea was it to have kids?’ and so on.

There’s still time in the day for more demands, all of which can be delegated from the comfort of the couch in my warm pyjamas with wine in hand, plenty of time in the day to be surrounded by toddler tantrums and baby poo. This Mothers day however, has taught me to be ruthless with my time both in giving and receiving.


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