I worked out so hard my skin tingles...

I just got off the treadmill.  I was only on it for 38 minutes.  I burned (according to the treadmill) 455 calories.  And I'm not done yet...

I discovered there's something I like to do on the treadmill - - - - - - -

R-U-N.

I worked out today while my kids were awake.  Usually I do it while they're still in bed in the morning.  But today, I slept in till 7 so I didn't want the morning to be rushed.  I figured I'd take a shot at working out while they're playing so nicely together this afternoon.

Let me preface this by saying my "workout room" is in the basement.  The main room in the basement is split into two halves - one half has my treadmill and Bowflex, while the other half (or 3/4, whatever) is the kids' tv/movie/book/toy area. 

Well, they were playing nicely - until they saw me on the treadmill. 

Hannah, my oldest daughter, wanted to take a turn on the treadmill.  I said, through my panting, that she could have a turn when I was finished.

Then the baby fired up.  Ava, my youngest daughter, just shy of 2 years old, wanted a turn too... NOW.  I stopped the treadmill and tried to explain that it was Mommy's turn and when I was finished she and Sissy could take turns.  This seemed to work.

As I resumed my workout, I watched as Ava went over to the couch, crossed her legs and tensed up.  I knew what was happening.  I just watched her stand there and moan, red-faced, until it seemed the job was done.  Then she came over to me and demanded, "POOPY!  POOPY!  OUCH!  ICKY!!"  And she didn't stop until, once again, I stopped the treadmill and took her upstairs to change her.

She seemed happy again for about 2 minutes until she came over to me, back again in a full run, whining.  And whining.  And whining.  Then whining turned into crying and crying to screeching.  I told her to go upstairs and wait for mommy.  I only had 10 minutes left!

Then I remembered that I didn't want to be that mom again (see previous post), so I thought, instead of running at my usual leisurely 5mph at no incline, I'd kick it up a notch.

So I took the incline up to 5 and turned the speed up to 6mph, which, for this girl, is almost a sprint.

It felt so good!

I ran and ran and ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore, and I was completely drenched in sweat.  But I was no longer irritated.  I cleared my mind and just... started running.

I loved every second of it.

It must have felt good to my body too because I sweat like I didn't think was possible to sweat, and my skin has that feeling similar to when you're out in the cold too long and you step into the warm house or wash your cold hands and they burn and tingle.  It's so weird!

I can't wait to do it again tomorrow...

I Was THAT Mom

Something has been eating at me since last week.  I've debated over & over whether or not to blog about it, because I don't want to write about my bad days - just the good ones.  But I can't seem to get over it...

I was that mom - once.

I yelled at my daughter, Hannah.  When I say yelled, I mean yelled - through grit teeth and tight lips.

Here's what happened:

My oldest daughter Hannah, my youngest daughter Ava and I all share a pickup truck.  I'm not talking about a deluxe-four-door-tons-of-room-extra-large pickup truck.  I mean standard cab shortbed, nothing extended and no bed cover.  No child latch system, standard seatbelts.  Nothing heated, dent in the door, ABS disabled... you get the picture.  We are packed in like sardines!

My youngest daughter still has to have the toddler booster seat, and she sits in the middle, because my oldest daughter Hannah needs the shoulder strap for her seat.  Everytime we get in, Hannah tries to buckle her seatbelt by herself, but the carseats are so crowded and close together she can barely reach (or find) her buckle.  When she can't do something, she starts to cry.  She doesn't ask for help or use words to tell me what's wrong, she just cries.

So I looked over at her and I immediately knew what was wrong - this happens often.  On that night, I was tired, I hadn't had any adult interaction in over 3 days and I just let her have it.

"You're almost 5 years old!  You should know how to buckle your own seatbelt"!

"I can't believe I have to get back out of the truck and come over there and buckle that belt for you!  This is ridiculous!"

"Are you kidding me?  Why do you just cry?  Why can't you use your words and just ask for help?  Then I wouldn't get so mad!  Why does this happen every single time we get in the truck?"

"Well, if you can't get buckled then I will just start driving and hope nothing happens.  Or better yet, you can just walk.  Anyone who can't buckle their own seatbelt can just walk".

It was brutal.

The second my mouth stopped moving, I felt like dog poo.  Serious dog poo.  And by this time, both girls were crying, I was crying and I looked around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching.

This incident took me back to the time Hannah was born (see my previous post Flashbacks to Losing it) and what an incredible short fuse I had.  It has taken me years to get control of my emotions and actually plug in so that I can control them.

What was my excuse today?

I had none. 

None that was valid anyway.  My sweet little girl did not deserve to be spoken to this way.  If she ever spoke to me that way she'd be in BIG trouble.  Just because I'm the mommy doesn't give me a free pass to do and say whatever I want.  I'm supposed to be teaching my girls - teaching them how to properly express their feelings.

I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized.  I told her that I had no right to speak to her that way, that I was sorry to have yelled at her.  I told her how special she is to me and that even if she can't buckle her own buckle she can ask for help anytime.  I will help her with no problem.  And someday, when we get a bigger vehicle that's a little more family-friendly we won't have this problem.

She said she forgives me, and the little one said, "Mommy, y'ok?  Ssssss (Sissy), y'ok?"  And I gave her a big squeeze and told her how sorry Mommy is too.  And we told her that we are all okay.

I am still trying to figure out why I got SO angry over a seatbelt!  I wasn't mad at Hannah, I think I was frustrated with being crammed into the bed of a truck.  We have no room for storage, and being winter, everything gets touched by wet boots or shoes and ends up wet or dirty.

All that aside, I need to remind myself that I am blessed.  I'm blessed to have a husband that loves me and goes to work everyday to support us.  I'm blessed to have a truck that gets us around.  A lot of families can't afford 2 cars, or any vehicle for that matter.  I'm blessed to have healthy children who are learning to do the tasks that will get them through life.  I'm blessed that Hannah knows to buckle herself - safety first! 

I could go on & on.  It's unfortunate that I needed to remind myself and put myself in check.  But I did.  And it's been eating me up ever since.

I need to confess this (which I'm doing here), forgive myself and move on. 

It's not a setback, it doesn't happen often and hopefully my daughters won't remember that moment.

I have learned from it and I will handle it better next time.

I don't ever want to be that mom again.  Ever.