So today, the F-word did something - and I write this in love and respect - cretinous. Or rather, he didn't do it today, but today the thing he did some time ago bore its cretinous, cretinous fruit. Nothing too interesting - no sex, no crime, no bloodshed - an honest, if fucking enormous and insanely cretinous mistake, which he apologized for whole-heartedly as soon as its extent became clear. But I came as close as I come to hitting the wall - very close indeed - as this cretinous news was laid on me on top of a bad night's sleep with a restless Godzilla, deadlines, and a last desperate push to finish the coursework for Chinese class while my parents are still around Shanghaiing Godzilla daily - we're leaving their house on Tuesday.
Anyways, I didn't hit the wall, and I went for a run instead. A good, angry run, that lasted an hour, and gave me time and the chemicals to let go of my utter fury and contextualize the problem in the greater scheme of our shared life, which made it seem small indeed - and indeed, I hope it is. So all's well. Ish.
But it got me thinking about something I've been pondering since Godzilla was born: how the hell do new mothers who don't have time to exercise not lose their minds? How do mothers whose professional and emotional lives don't permit them to break an aerobic sweat daily not fucking kill everybody ever? How do you deal with this much exhaustion, this much responsibility and concern, this much bending, lifting, and twisting while a beautiful 25 pound sack of awesome clambers all over you, without having an opportunity to run around a bunch and keep your energy even? I have no fucking idea. I really don't. People are amazing.
Anyways, I didn't hit the wall, and I went for a run instead. A good, angry run, that lasted an hour, and gave me time and the chemicals to let go of my utter fury and contextualize the problem in the greater scheme of our shared life, which made it seem small indeed - and indeed, I hope it is. So all's well. Ish.
But it got me thinking about something I've been pondering since Godzilla was born: how the hell do new mothers who don't have time to exercise not lose their minds? How do mothers whose professional and emotional lives don't permit them to break an aerobic sweat daily not fucking kill everybody ever? How do you deal with this much exhaustion, this much responsibility and concern, this much bending, lifting, and twisting while a beautiful 25 pound sack of awesome clambers all over you, without having an opportunity to run around a bunch and keep your energy even? I have no fucking idea. I really don't. People are amazing.
2 commenti:
I don't know how Martha handles it but, she hates the very thought of running. Hmmmm
I'm trying to imagine what, that didn't involve the nasty or criminal behavior, would set me off so bad I'd want to go for a run.
Think job-losey.
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