When the Going Gets Rough...Go Outside.

When the Going Gets Rough…Go Outside.

When the Going Gets Rough...Go Outside.

I am not going to sugarcoat things. Today was one of those days where I was literally about what life was like before kids.  You know – quiet evenings enjoying the wood stove and some good radio and maybe a puzzle or game or just a good book. Where I could just talk to my husband as much as I wanted without interruptions. Where the only one whining (ever) was me and I didn’t have to stay up until 9:30 p.m. just to get the dishes done. Where going on a walk in the evening as a couple was an every-day thing instead once-when-relatives-come-to-visit sort of  thing. Where there was no one yelling or demanding my attention or pooping on things that shouldn’t be pooped on.

I know, I know – our kids are a blessing (and I do truly believe that), but I don’t think you get your “parenthood badge” until you are ready to sell them give them away for free.

Today also happened to be a rainy one. Our ratio of sunny days to rainy days is pretty unbalanced around here, so usually the rainy ones are an opportunity to relax a little and “get something done”. In our family – they usually just make everyone grumpy. Our Park Service “Mission 66” 1100 square foot home gets REALLY small, REALLY quick.

Finally we’d all had enough. I really should know better – I spend countless hours a week writing about it – but sometimes I simply forget that getting outside is the answer, even in the rain.

I sang the praises of DucKsday rain suits once again as I finagled kids of various sizes and strengths (muscles and vocal cords) into them. I also wished yet again that they came in adult sizes, but was at least doing a bit of a happy dance that my rain pants pulled on (finally) over my post-baby booty.  We found boots and hats and wished we had waterproof “rain” gloves that actually kept little hands warm and dry in 50 degree weather, and finally scooted everyone out.

We joked about the waaaaaammmbulence coming to our neighborhood, swore under our breath (ok, maybe that was just me) that if I heard ONE more whine, so help me….and started to pedal.

L finally calmed down and fell asleep in the Chariot. J and P became distracted by the bull elk and all the cows laying down in surrender to the rain too. I did some circles around everyone, rejoicing just a little in marrying a man who insists on pulling the trailer when he can (and usually an extra kid and bike too). *Sometimes it feels REALLY good to be just pulling your own weight.*

When the Going Gets Rough...Go Outside.

And we all took some deep breaths and calmed down…a gear crank at a time. The rain, the fresh air, the exercise, the lack of distractions helped us all. By the top of the hill we were laughing just a little more and ok with life again.

I wish I could say that the end of the day was peachy keen. It was not. In fact, it was the hardest we’ve had around here in a while. But, it’s life and I get that. I may not particularly enjoy the difficult moments, but I get it.

However, it was BETTER because of that 45 minutes we took outside, exercising and riding, as a family. As a mom, I could find a little more humor in the situation and remind myself that tomorrow was another day (and that bedtime WOULD come, believe it or not!)

And so – I am choosing to be thankful for my family and planning (as much as that is possible around here) for some extra time outside tomorrow, rainy or not. It really does make all the difference….

1 thought on “When the Going Gets Rough…Go Outside.”

  1. I hear ya. I’m in that last first trimester stretch where the hormones and lack of sleep (8 hours isn’t cutting it for me), and every tiny little annoyance is like fingernails on a chalkboard. My husband dragged me on a four hour bike ride on the C&O canal. I fought every pedal mentally, and even ended up in writhing agony from muscle cramps… But the whole experience actually got me out of my funk and I’m ready to tackle the world again. And by world, I mean the four year old, the three year old and one year old.

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