I'm ashamed to admit it now, but the truth is
there was a day (maybe more) last week I didn't want to get out of bed.
I was mourning the loss of a big goal, grieving the absence of running and my most favorite race on the horizon.
I had no idea the emotional toll an injury can take on a girl with
a smitten love affair with the sport.
I missed rolling out of bed before the sun, sneaking soundlessly out the back door,
meeting dear friends in the dark street
for good runs and great conversation.
I missed the morning's crisp, chilled air on my face and the rhythmic sound of my own breathing.
I missed tired legs and melodious feet pounding pavement.
I missed coming home and waking my quiet house from its slumber, tickling toes and singing silly songs to get tired
kids out of cozy beds.
I missed the energy to make em' their favorite, "Eggs over easy on white toast, please!"
I missed the frantic filing through laundry baskets in search of clean clothes and matching socks, all the while hounding em' to, "Practice the piano and pick up your rooms!"
I missed smearing mustard on bread, stuffing backpacks, hurling little Max in the car,
and driving, tunes blaring,
my youngsters safely to school,
slinging words out the car window like, "Be good, work hard, and I love ya!"
Cuz' that's how mornings rolled round' here......
Prefaced with one of my favorite things of course, the thing that has quite simply saved me from myself,
For the past two and a half weeks I haven't waken before the sun but its warm rays shining through my bedroom window have awaken me.
I haven't tickled toes or sung silly songs.
Nope, I've rolled out of bed begrudgingly, feeling not quite like myself, to the sound of morning madness led by the temporary director, AKA, Dad, and although I love him ferociously for forever picking up my pieces and always following the promise he made my dad the day he proposed, to take good care of me, it kind of made me feel worse.
I spent too many days drowning my sorrows with extra large Sonic sodas and eating entirely too much chocolate, whining to my family and especially my running friends who so graciously listened, cared and supported, cuz' I know they felt my pain, and I sure love em' for it.
......and then yesterday arrived like a welcomed, therapeutic cure to my terrible, nasty, bad spell
greeting me with sweet, smiling faces, hand made, loving, Mother's Day cards and a breakfast fit for a queen.
Later we squeezed in a church pew as each of my littles took turns sitting on my lap or snuggled at my side begging for arm rubs and ABC back tickles.
I took full advantage of their closeness, breathing in the fresh scent of clean hair and smooching soft cheeks.
I'd glance over at Bob, my heart melting just a little, each time he'd flash me his handsome smile.
In that moment I soaked it all in
the love and adoration I have for my family,
and absolute gratitude I have for my divine role as a MOTHER.
Isn't it so true, the simple, quiet joys really mean the most?!
I relished in those simple joys the entire day, not giving a moment's thought to my injury or missed opportunity, realizing how distracted I had been the past few weeks, consumed with myself, letting sadness rudely cut in front of my happy line.
I was reminded of a phone conversation I had with my dad a week prior, telling him of my fractured femur and whining about what it meant.
Although I know he was genuinely sorry for my pain he brushed off the situation like it wasn't THAT big of a deal, "If that's the worst thing you're dealing with right now, you've got a pretty good life!" he chuckled. I was confused by his lack of sympathy and even a little offended, thinking my dear old dad, "just didn't get it."
Now I see clearly
how perfectly he did.
Thanks Bob for putting up with my moping the past few weeks and for pampering me all day, insisting I didn't lift a finger. For cooking, cleaning and taking care of every detail with the kids, but most importantly for being my everything.
Thank you Payton, Avery, Owen, and Max for a special day. For showing me that life's little set backs pale in comparison to familial love, and although I'm not always on top of my game and make many mistakes daily,
I hope you will always know...
being your mama is wholeheartedly and will forever remain,
the most important and favored race I'll ever run.