It’s Wednesday morning, not even 8 a.m., and I’m exhausted. Last night I was at the gym till damn near midnight, and then I was up again this morning at 5 a.m. The receptionist at midnight was still on shift when I came back this morning and we exchanged one of those, “weren’t you just here, crazy lady?” looks and then laughed.
I do 45 minutes of cardio and then my planks, which take about 30 minutes. After that I change into my black takini and head to the spa area holding a towel over my stomach to hide its girth and wish I could fast forward to when I will be able to fit into a real bikini again.
Remember when I said if I was a size 8 I would dance naked in my living room? Yeah, that never happened. Because even though I am now officially an average person’s dress size, I still don’t feel confident enough to undress in the locker room. I change in the bathroom, behind closed doors.
To make things more interesting for myself I set up a little game: I only go into the Jacuzzi if it’s already turned on. Otherwise, I just head to the steam room for about 15 minutes. I’m a firm believer in rewarding yourself, and pretending to be in a fancy spa is my reward for exercising so much I don’t know whether it’s day or night.
This next comment will only make sense to mothers of small children. When I’m done in the steam room I get to do my favorite thing ever: shower alone! I pack my own shampoo and conditioner and get to dress in peace and quiet for a change. The towel I picked up at reception when I checked in does not wrap all the way around me. The towel gap is closing but not fast enough.
After I get home and get Rylee off to nursery school I take a breath. Now it’s just me and little Henry. I sit him on the potty and read “Big, Bigger, Biggest!” by Nancy Coffelt. It’s one of those picture books that helps build vocabulary.
“I’m big. I’m large. I’m huge. I’m jumbo.” This is how I felt in my bathing suit…We read on. Henry is enjoying the pictures. “I’m hungry. I’m empty. I’m starving. I’m famished.” This reminds me I haven’t eaten my meal yet. “I’m sleepy. I’m tired. I’m drowsy. I’m spent.” I lean my head against the sink. I feel your pain sleepy squirrel in the book!
Henry says, “All done Mama!” climbs off the potty and then like clockwork pees on the floor.
I wish I could drink a Red Bull, but it’s not on the diet. Neither is coffee. Grr. The story still floats through my head. “I’m sleepier. I’m pooped. I’m droopy.” I try to convince little man to take a nap. He is more interested in tugging on my ears than sleeping.
It’s time to pick up Rylee from nursery school. I put on the radio to wake myself up. We get home and Rylee wants to play but I want to crash. Little Henry grows heavy with sleep against my chest. I love the way babies feel when they fall asleep in your arms.
Zoinks! I don’t want to! “Let’s play the nap game.”
“No, that’s no fun!”
“I’m sleepiest! I’m exhausted. I’m somnolent. I’m dreamy…”
I’m not above bribery.
“If you let Mommy sleep for 30 minutes I will give you a GoGurt.”
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