Hear this, hear this!
I hereby proclaim that I have succeeded in reaching the pinnacle of jogging-related happiness.
Should I never slip on a pair of runners again, I will still die happy in the knowledge that I succeeded in fulfilling my jogging dreams.
Last night I found myself feeling quite unexpectedly cranky. I felt that the weekend was a disappointment. Family members were not doing what I wanted them to do, when I wanted them to do it.
Weekends have always been a challenge for me. There, I said it (I must feel very safe in this bloggy environment).
You understand, as a stay-at-home mother I never knew how to view the weekend. Is it my time of rest and relaxation, or is it my time to embark on an even more hard-working attempt at organising, feeding, pleasing and humouring all family members? In addition, I love schedules and time-tables. Nothing makes me happier than waking up on Monday morning and knowing that the children MUST be in school by 8, Mr. CB must be at work by 9, and I must be at work by 10. This is why I could never, ever home-school my children. It is also why I cannot work from home, and have therefore set up permanent camp in my local libraries.
Where was I? Oh, yes, so now the weekends have changed because I have two teenagers in the house. But I'm still finding it incredibly difficult to match my weekend expectations with reality. Last night I wanted to organise a family activity, but we couldn't all agree on on one. I wanted to have a family dinner, but I wanted someone else to cook it. Then I started becoming highly irritated at the smallest gesture made by any one of my "people." Was that an insolent shrug? Was that an offensive rolling of the eyes? I began to pace from room to room, suddenly noticing all the jobs which still need to be done by my people, dirty clothes, mildewy towels, dog-hairs, overflowing recycling bin, shutters which have been broken, missing toilet paper, bowls left in the kitchen sink with hardened cornflakes stuck on them.
Stop. Breathe. Yoga pose. Ommmmm....
SO THAT'S WHEN I GRABBED MY SHUFFLE, PUT MY RUNNERS ON AND LEFT THE HOUSE.
I did not slam the door, but I almost did.
I ran 8 laps of the beach instead of the usual 6 and I felt like a champion. A CHAMPION I say. I was floating, and I was blasting the music very very loud. I listened to this, and this, but I really got going with this song:
I may have even done some of those sexy dance moves, and a couple of elderly gentlemen walking their dogs got quite a show. Best Saturday night ever.
I returned home to my people energised and buzzing with joy. My people greeted me at the doorway with apologies, hugs, a huge salad and steaks cooking on the barbecue.
MY JOB IS DONE.