Ninja Mom

I'm simultaneously proud and mildly ashamed: yesterday I set up the pack-and-play next to the treadmill in the basement. I managed to do a 35-minute jog while my baby lunged at the mesh walls, trying to reach my running sneakers. I attached a bag of toys to the handrail and tossed her a new one every few minutes to keep her occupied. I felt vaguely guilty doing this, but also like some kind of super ninja-mom. And when I got off that treadmill, I felt great! I am still a mystery to myself in many regards, but there is one thing I now know for certain: if I don't exercise, I get mean. Really mean. It's quite noticeable. So that's how I could justify putting my kid in a cage for half an hour. Really, everyone was happy. Layla was exploring a "new environment," and I was getting an endorphin high.

It seems counter-intuitive, but I've found it's actually easier to get my own needs met with two children around. It's like I reached a crucial tipping point after Layla was born. My needs were so fully sidelined, that I began to fight back--to claim time and space for myself. It might only be half an hour per day, but I'm going to find and take that half-hour for myself, however that might be and whatever wacky way I have to rearrange the furniture. I think we're all healthier and happier this way.