There are a few things going on. Or maybe there are few things going on.
Last night, as I assessed once again that I’d have to clean up the kitchen to cook dinner and then clean it up again, I got into a little squabble with Kid1. I ended it. She is destined for greatness, no matter what path she chooses. She can talk her way into and out of anything. I wish I could.
I know what the problem is. Our last Try Fitness workout was on Saturday. I didn’t attend the potluck on Tuesday. Kid2 is struggling with completing school assignments for the quarter, which ends tomorrow, and I really need to be there to help her stay on task. What a great excuse, right?
Let’s combine that excuse with my guilt for having been gone for more than six months twice a week for self-indulgent workouts. What happened here? While I was busy training, battling my bulges, trying to be significant despite being over 50 — my daughters were faced with having to take care of themselves. And they did it so well. OK, I came home more often than not to the disaster some people call the kitchen, but they survived. The kids did alright. Without me.
Last night, while I was roasting a tray of vegetables, a tray of new potatoes, and three pieces of salmon (skin on, I may never be forgiven), I realized that I didn’t need to do all this for them. Kid1 happily ate everything and enjoyed the crispy skin calling it, “salmony!” Kid2, for whom I purchased the salmon in the first place, dissected it and left it on her plate. I agree. It wasn’t as lemony as it should have been. The Hawaiian salt wasn’t enough. It wasn’t my best effort. Leftovers are packed, but I suspect they may be a pretty good salmon hash with eggs this weekend for breakfast.
Tuesday night I made a meatball soup. Italian wedding soup. It was glorious. They liked it. I’m even going to write up the recipe as it was that good. But I don’t have to hit a homerun every night.
“So, Mom, you working out tonight?”
Now the little voices inside my head are echoed by Kid1&2.
I wonder. When I step out the door, do they relax a little? Do the girls goof off unsupervised? Do they get their homework done? And I also wonder: Do I have to let go of the controls and let them grow without the helicopter mom rescuing them when they forget their musical instrument or lose their federal survey card? Smart children have their share of goofs.
What have I decided? I have three more marathon readiness series events before the Honolulu Marathon in December. I’m not all that ready. I will Galloway, the run-walk method of covering distances on foot. Even though I’m not in a training session with a group now, I have to send myself out the door and coach myself. I need to achieve these last few goals I have set for myself before my birthday on 12/12/12, and before the end of the world on 12/21/12. Unfortunately, I still have to renew my license, LOL.
I have to believe that my girls love me when they’d rather I head out the door for a workout instead of sticking around the house, sitting in The Chair of Immobility, drinking wine, and making freakishly complex dinners.
Frozen pizza anyone?