Gullahmama’s Blog

Some days I have no idea what I’m doing. I try to be a decent mother, wife, woman, but I’m not always sure how. Take my son — great kid. Handsome. Talented. About as interested in scholastics as my left shoe. And I want great stuff for him. I want him to have options. To make the best of his opportunities. But the thing is, I can’t MAKE him want what I want for him. It was easier when the children were little. They accepted my values for them as their own. Eat this. Sit here. Wear this. Read that. Ahh, the good old days! But sometimes, like now, I’m at a loss. I think I know what’s best for them. But what if I’m wrong? Then again, what if I’m right?  Sigh. So I keep pushing. Okay, nagging. Reminding him of homework. Checking on class attendance. Pushing him to complete chores. It is not fun. But it’s still my job.

It reminds a little of the 5k I just completed (yes — I was coming around to that!)  I was a little intimidated at first. All those folk who were lean and ready just waiting to run off at the starting line. I was trying to stay near the back to keep out of the runner’s way. And off they went, surging around me, ahead of me. But I kept a steady pace and soon I found my niche. There were a couple of older guys walking ahead of me and 3 women right behind me. I decided not to let the women behind me pass me! So I kept moving, pushing myself a bit. Feeling the pull in my muscles as I determined to keep position. And after a while I stopped worrying about who was ahead or behind, and just kept moving. A step at a time. And I finished in 50 minutes, 53 seconds. No awards there, but a little faster than my practice walks and it felt great! I just kept going. Just kept doing what I needed to do. And so I will. Step by Step. Nag by nag. Push by push.

Yesterday my son called me before basketball practice. “I don’t think I can make it,” he moaned. “Everything hurts! I can’t even move my legs!”  Basketball season has just started and the coach has been working the guys hard. Drills. Suicides (he’s described them to me, but I can’t remember exactly what they are now — except for that they’re tedious and painful). And running up and down bleachers. Sim has come home for the past few nights groaning like an old man who has fallen with his walker and using two hands to lift his legs onto the couch where he remains until he’s finally able to drag himself up the stairs to bed.  But yesterday he’d had enough. “I can’t make it through practice if I can’t move!” he said.
“Well son,” I replied in my wise mother voice, “if you want to be a starter you gotta show up. Work through it.”  And so he did. When he dragged home last night I had dinner ready (meatloaf, smothered potatoes and broccoli — yes I earned Mommy points!) and a bottle of Gatorade. He ate dinner followed by a couple of Krispy Kreme donuts and was in bed before nine. End of story. Sort of…

This morning my alarm rang at 4:45 a.m. as it always does. I hit snooze, which I also frequently do. Then I hit it again. Then I sat up. Then I put on my walking clothes. Then I lay back down. My shoulders hurt. My neck felt like I had slept on it wrong. My eyes felt blurry. I could be premenstrual. I read a magazine. I decided my body was telling me to take it easy. This was a good day to just stay in bed until I felt better. As I was making a cup of tea to curl up with in my favorite curling up spot I suddenly had a flashback — to the day before. “You gotta show up,” I told my son. If you want something you have to work through it. Oh crap. Another opportunity to practice what I preach. Because I do want something. I want to be strong and healthy. I want to have fun on my first “race” (A 5k bridge run this weekend) in years. I want to be able to enjoy myself for years to come. So — I’ve got my sneakers  right next to my chair. When I drop the boys off at school, I’ll drive to one of my favorite courses, zip up my jacket, and put in a few miles. What I do is so much louder than what I say.

The artwork is “Ball four” from Art.com — great image. Wish I had done it!