My kids are out to get me.
I’m pretty sure that my children are not actually out to get me but it really feels that way tonight. Yesterday (Monday) I was feeling great and couldn’t wait for my run. So after lunch I did the usual routine, brought Lillian upstairs for her nap and before I could do that Katrina had already fallen asleep for her nap. Lately Lillian has been great about her nap and all day Katrina has slept in 3-6 hour chunks. I’d slept well, Sunday was a rest day and I knew I could rock a run. I got on the treadmilll and started to pound out an amazing run. I felt as if I was flying and could go on forever. My goal was 90 minutes and 30 minutes in I hear Lillian in her room WIDE awake. I hurry to her and try the re-tuck in method, no crying (yes) but still chatting. Once running again Katrina squeaks so I check on her and she is back to sleep. Running again, Lillian is getting louder, and by the time I went just past 43 minutes both babies were crying/squealing that it was obvious I was done, and seriously depressed now.
I slept well, my legs and lungs were both loving it, and no one wants to cooperate for me. On Sunday both were great, all morning they were great but as soon as I feel amazing on my treadmill both have to ruin it. I was so angry I didn’t even have words. It was one of those cases where running only made me feel worse because I wanted to keep going and couldn’t whereas if I had never run I wouldn’t feel that horrible sense of disappointment I now did. So my mother was coming up Monday night for a few days and I just pushed all my long, awesome running hopes onto Tuesday. But now it’s 5:20am, I’ve been up with Katrina since 4am and I can just kiss any hope in hell of getting a decent run in pretty much good bye, again. So now I’m exausted, seriously pissed off and there is nothing I can do about it.
Welcome, to the dark side of motherhood.