I had plans for this blog; the last blog before the big jog. The entry that reflects on where I started vs. where I am now, and a chance to write once more to the people we are now before we transform into a new version of ourselves as we put one more marathon mile behind us. I had plans to talk about how the support I received and my Summit X3 Baby Jogger with all-wheel suspension contributed to being able to have this marathon on my weekend to-do list. I also had plans for Baby to nap while I wrote all of this.
She didn’t nap.
Days like yesterday, when the Nap Resistance of 2022 was going down and my day’s well-planned intentions were leaving me to date someone else, all I could think about was how foolish I am to think I could be anything beyond Baby’s overworked lifeline. The Positive Vibe Tribes of social media tell you otherwise, “inspiring” you with photos of them effortlessly #crushing their goals while Baby hangs out sans protest in its carrier or playpen. I consistently have to remind my millennial mind that they are not certified parenting or mental health experts, and that their backdrop staged with breakable crap at toddler eye-level is wildly unrealistic.
I wasn’t so naïve or self-centered that I didn’t know what we were getting into when my husband and I decided to make our household eligible for Child Tax Credit for the 2021 tax year. But I can’t help but think if I had only prepared myself to expect to fall short at anything outside of caring for Baby (that painting I started 14 months ago be d@mned!), I would have been better at adapting to this new life and wouldn’t have been so hard on myself for not being back to working full-time by now while running up to 20 miles every weekend.
But we’re here now, and I wouldn’t replace my life with Eleanor with any type of existence without her. Even if it meant she never napped again and left me elbow deep in passed vegetable Thai curry during every diaper change from now on.
I’ve been careful in these blogs not to talk like I’m certain I’m going to cross the finish line because I’m not certain of anything and I don’t yet know what my post-baby body does after 16.3 miles. But to be here, three days away from an event I look forward to more than Christmas is beyond exciting. Being here as a mother of a healthy 14-month old is even better, even though this little blog took me more than two hours to write because I had to comfort No-nap McGee between sentences.
Despite all the thoughts and worries that ruffle up your brain box throughout the day, one of the best parts about parenting and marathonhood is how, when you’re in the thick of it, those cumbersome concerns are automatically filtered out to make room for what matters most: Your kid and putting one foot in front of the other.
And the free banana at the finish line.
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