I finished up a quick run at Bare Cove park yesterday and walked to my car. Parked next to my minivan was another van, with a dog tied up to the door somehow who was whimpering to get loose, a 1-year old in a double Bob jogging stroller who was also crying and a three year old in the van, yelling at her frazzled mother, who was just trying to get it all pulled together so they could take a walk.
"Argh, that was me!" I thought. I couldn't stop staring. I probably scared this poor mother. But I've been there. It's not even like I'm out of the weeds by any means-- but I'm not there. And I'm happy! So many mom-blog posts are nostalgic in nature, and of course it's bittersweet watching your babies grow up, but I was so grateful for this little window of perspective. I had just got to run by myself, and before that I worked from home, and then I was running errands. Nothing exciting, but writing and running in the morning are what keep me sane. And at 3pm when everyone's home from school, I'm fresh and I'm ready for whatever they need.
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