Raise a Glass for National Fitness Day


Cheers! It’s National Fitness Day.


Today I prioritized my workout because … self-care, Ladies … am I right? It is possible that I may be beginning to loathe this term. Can we bury it wherever “Cool Beans!” and “Totes ma-Goats” went to die?


a photo from behind of a mom and her son sitting in chairs in the grass with their arms raised up in the air


I came home from work needing to recharge. This is a common occurrence, but I don’t always allow myself the time. Today, I did! I walked right past the messy dining room table, across the kitchen floor that needs to be mopped, and into the backyard with Legos in one hand and sunscreen in the other. Legos are part of my self-care routine in that they keep my son occupied. It was sunny and gorgeous, and by god, I was going to soak up some Vitamin D for 30-45 minutes and get my workout in. I told myself this is MORE important than a clear table and clean floors. After my sunbath, I lifted weights in the basement and was pleasantly surprised when the hubs arrived home early. This meant a 30-minute run OUTSIDE (yay, more sunshine) instead of on the treadmill. Things were shaping up for a fantastic evening with my family. 


Now stay with me because I am about to take you on a journey. Today is laundry day. I meant to start laundry before I lifted weights, but I forgot. So it was 4 pm, and I was just starting— no big deal. I can wash today and fold tomorrow. Not my favorite way to do it, but I prioritized my workout, so the universe will respond accordingly. It will all be fine. I started a load of laundry and checked my phone. There in my inbox was a video of my son’s Big Wheel-A-Thon at school. I forgot to collect pledges for his fundraiser. Welp … looks like I am out an extra $50 to cover his contribution, but at least we have it! And add “teach son to ride a tricycle” to the to-do list … because that video was PAINFUL. Okay. Let it go, Kim. Keep moving.


six soft tacos on a wooden tabletop with avocado and sliced limesI took a shower, started dinner, and ran to the basement to get chips for taco night. Crap. We are out of chips. And mashed potatoes. My daughter eats mashed potatoes on taco night. Don’t ask. And I forgot about laundry. 6 pm now, and I am just now getting my first load in the dryer. Starting to get frazzled, but life goes on. Just don’t forget and leave a load in the washer overnight. I go for a quick turn up the steps, my foot slips, and I fall and crack my eye on the corner of the laundry basket I am carrying. I scream, sit on the floor, and start bawling. Wow … this is a far cry (Because why not? Puns are fun.) from where I was just a few short hours earlier after my run.


I go upstairs, ice my eye, pull myself together, and check my phone again. My daughter was 20 minutes late for her virtual voice lesson. Why does my phone hate me today, and why is it so easy to blame inanimate objects for my shortcomings when my inferiority complex and fear of falling short in every aspect of my life rears its ugly head? One foot in front of the other, Kim. If you stop moving, you’ll die.


I am nothing if not resourceful, so we fire up the device, get her on her lesson, and feel thankful for the short commute. This also means I now have approximately 45 minutes to have dinner by myself because my catastrophic energy had pushed the males in the house to the living room where they were hiding with a Marvel flick. I made my tacos, topped them off with some fresh avocado, and licked the remnants off my thumb … only to get hit with an overwhelming taste of lilac scented laundry soap. I guess I hadn’t washed my hands since cycling the laundry, falling, and crying, so now I am crying again. I have officially hit the “I just can’t” threshold, and if you are still reading and not annoyed with me by now, you should be. I closed myself in the bedroom and attempted to pull myself together … again.


I emerged a few moments later, scooped the soap-ocado off, put on fresh avocado (I washed my hands this time), and ate my tacos. I approached a more peaceful state (maybe I was just hangry?) until my starving daughter bounded down the stairs needing dinner, to which I had to break the devastating news that we were out of said mashed potatoes. Quesadillas are her next best option even though she really, really, really wanted the mashed potatoes, but she finally decides a quesadilla won’t ruin her life. I whip them up with lightning speed, slap them on a plate, and dump them in front of her. Feeling a little bit like a hero, I swing around to begin the task of cleaning up the kitchen only to hear that phrase every mom dreads at the end of a day that was supposed to be great but wasn’t— “Mom, you look tired.” Nice. Now I’m standing at the sink, fighting breakdown #3, just trying not to Thelma and Louise myself out of this whole situation.


a woman sitting on a couch with a bottle of wine and a half empty glass by her feet


So in honor of National Fitness Day, let’s all raise a glass to what fitness can (and can’t) do for you. You better believe I am two-and-a-half glasses in. I am also SUPER grateful for that workout right now because I have no idea how I would process the mental fatigue that the act of being a mom can cause without it. The dining room table is still cluttered. The floors still need to be mopped. And if I am doing this wine thing right, I will be half asleep on the couch in the next 30 minutes and most certainly will forget the load of laundry in the washing machine. I also haven’t added chips or mashed potatoes to the grocery list, but surely I won’t forget them….will I?