All week long we’ll be looking back on some of our fave CSP posts from the year. So far, we have revisited Smarty Cynthia’s A-MAZ-ING chicken tortilla soup and Jen V’s Resume of a Mom. Today we’re hanging with my partner in crime on all things pink & green, Smarty Cheryl. I love Cheryl’s writing style – she always shares a piece of her soul with a hint of wit sprinkled with her Southern roots. It’s especially fun when she writes about moving from one rite of passage through another. This one is just that and is fun to read over and over. Enjoy!
Ten years ago I really became a mom.
We all have different points in motherhood where it starts to feel real – maybe it’s the first pregnancy test, the first cry, the first bath. Or, maybe it starts to feel real farther down the line – maybe with the birth of the third child. Maybe it’s the birth of the sixth. It’s different for everyone. For me, I started to feel like a mom after my second child was born. Of course, I felt like a mom when my first was born because, well, she made me a mom. But, when my second was born, I guess you could say it’s when the {BLEEP} got real. Ten years ago today I had no idea how real it could get. Ten years ago today I was preparing to be induced with my second, and little did I know that the jump from one kid to two – not two to three or three to four – would always stand out in my mind as my biggest jump. I had no idea what it meant to be the mother of a son. I had no idea what it meant to “juggle.” I had no idea what it meant to mother a fussy baby. I had no idea what it meant to never get a break.
I just had no idea.
Until he was born. Not quite 15 months after his big sister. When my first was born, I remember I could take breaks – I napped when she napped. I got her to bed at 6:30 pm, and I happily watched my shows. I bathed one baby, fed one baby, and clothed one baby. But, once my second was born, it all stopped…but I didn’t. He was a little more high maintenance than my first, and I just could never seem to catch a break.
When I was pregnant with him, my friends hosted a “Sprinkle” for me, and they all chipped in and got me a Dreamer Design double jogging stroller (it’s so very vintage now – they don’t make ‘em anymore). If you know me at all, you know I am a runner. I’m not a very good runner, but I run, therefore I am a runner. Well, my amazing friends knew me well enough to know that I would not survive a day without being able to go on a run on my own terms, so they gave me the most perfect gift anyone can give a “real” mom:
Freedom.
Just a tiny sliver of freedom.
When I look at that stroller now, I realize that it symbolizes the dawn of everything. It was the start of Us. Of what we are today. It was me before 30. It was them before I even really knew who they were – or who would follow them. It was before lululemon – I’d run in a cotton sorority t-shirt and gym shorts. It was before iPhones and social media. It was before kids begged to play games on an iPad and before people posted their workouts on Facebook. Do you remember those days? You know, it was when “Oprah” was the housewife’s best friend. Her show’s intro at 4:00 pm was basically the end of a “work” day, and a text to friends looked more like this: 77776667777 (SOS). Rather than this: LOLOLOL.
And it was only ten years ago.
I’d run with them most week days because my husband traveled, and I just didn’t want to fuss with Child Watch at the Y. I ran with them on hot days, on cold days, and days when it was slightly drizzling (I had a rain tarp ;-)). We ran to the park, around the block, and to the store. I read books to them while we ran (still can’t believe I did that). I played music on my iPod (we did have those) through a set of speakers made by a company that I am sure is nonexistent today. I ran with them when I was pregnant with their brothers. Then I ran with their brothers when they were in preschool. I ran with all of them so often in that stroller that I felt lost when I was without it. Or without them.
I ran for something to do. I ran for us to get fresh air. I ran because it was free.
I ran because I was free.
They rarely fussed in that stroller. For however long it would take us to finish a run, they would be content. And still, to this day, my kids beg to go for a run in it. I rarely use it anymore, though, because if we want to run together now, they can bike next to me. Plus, they’re all so crazy heavy.
But, I caved recently and took all four kids on the greenway for a run. Just to make things easier, the older two rode their bikes, and the little two rode in the stroller (not in this pic). All bajillion pounds of them.
Big surprise. I felt so free pushing them. I felt SO young that I am now convinced that the stroller is the Fountain of Youth.
My husband keeps hinting that the stroller needs to go. The kids are all in school long enough now that I can get a run in without the “hassle” of a stroller, and it takes up valuable garage real estate. The other day he went so far as to tell my youngest that we were throwing it away. My youngest, who only has five years vested in the stroller, burst into tears, and begged me to keep it.
Please. Of course we’re keeping it.
The five us – my four and kids and I – can NOT get rid of that stroller. We’re like a terrible country song. Now that 2/3 of our family is double digits, it’s the only thing left that reminds us of where we came from and how far we will go. We’ve got miles and miles and MILES left but when I look at the stroller – it’s bald tires, it’s torn canvas, and its worn-in seats – all I can think about is how many miles we’ve already covered and, despite my short stride, how fast it’s gone. And, every time I see it sitting in its spot in the garage, I am reminded of how lucky I am be pushing them forward one {breathless} step at a time.
Ten years ago today I had no idea that I was embarking on a marathon. Thank goodness I didn’t or else I might’ve quit at the Carbo Loading on the eve of his birth.
Happy 10th Birthday (tomorrow) to my first son – the one who really started this race, and the one who taught me how important it is to pace. And Happy 10th Birthday to the best piece of baby gear I would EVER receive – the one that kept my sanity and my figure somewhat intact…which is more than I could say for my second born. 😉 Love you both!
1 comment
This is awesome. I love your writing Cheryl!