Before getting pregnant with Maisy, I had really gotten into fitness and health. I had lost about 30 pounds in three months, and had picked up running. I loved pushing myself to go farther, feeling my feet propel me forward, and I really, really missed it while I was pregnant. I would see other ladies running along the jogging trail on the way into town and I would almost seethe with jealousy. I want to hit the pavement! Not fair! and as horrible as it sounds, I wanted that 30 minutes of me time. No kids fighting, no meals that need to be made or cleaned up, just me.
So yesterday Andrew and the kids and I were outside playing. I had Maisy in the Boba (when do I not?), and the kids were just running around being crazy. Andrew gets this hair brained idea to hook up the little red Radio Flyer wagon to the back of the riding lawn mower. Yes, I’m serious. I couldn’t make this stuff up. He rounds up some tools, and voila! We have a hillbilly hay ride. The kids hop in the back of the wagon and are nearly peeing themselves with delight. Is this really happening? Am I that country? Oh, well. Kids are having fun.
Then I get this stroke of genius. If two kids are in the wagon, one kid is in the Boba strapped to the husband driving the riding lawnmower that’s towing the kids, I CAN GO RUNNING! I convince Andrew that this is a fabulous idea, and I bolt into the house to put my running shoes on. I am giddier than a schoolgirl at the thought of being able to go for a run. And hey, the kids will have fun, too, being towed alongside me. Win/win, right?
I hook up my hubby with the Boba and baby, and she instantly starts fussing. I pretend not to hear and dart off down our half mile long driveway. I can’t believe it! I’m running for the first time in nearly a year! It really, truly, was exhilarating. Sounds ridiculous, but it feelt GOOD. We get to the end of the driveway, and Maisy is a-okay in the Boba, and the kids are gleefully riding along in their ghetto rigged Radio Flyer. “Let’s go up to the stop sign!” I yell to Andrew. He agrees. The stop sign is another mile up the road. We make it to the stop sign, and Maisy has had enough. Andrew and I trade, and I have the Boba and he’s … get this … riding in the Radio Flyer with both children. We sure were a sight. A sweaty mom with a baby in a carrier pulling her husband and two children behind her riding lawn mower in a children’s wagon. Thank God we live in the boonies and no cars drove by! I’m sure we would have gotten a few stares.
Maisy is in full on code red at this point. I tell Andrew to take Maisy back and to just get her to the house. He says she wants to nurse (true) and that he wont be able to help her (true). So he goes home, pulling his little red wagon full of children, and I’m on a country road with my boob hanging out, nursing a baby as I walk home. Seriously? This is my run? I got about 1.3 miles in, but that’s it.
I look down at my nursing little girl, and tell her, “You stinker. My time would’ve been a heck of a lot better if I wasn’t breastfeeding for the last mile and a half.”
She grins. Heart melted, we walked back home, chatting about birds and corn fields and butterflies. Just the two of us. This is a running mom’s life, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.