My Own FREE Personal Trainer

Last week I texted two of my local friends:

 

Free: one adorable 20 month old who loves to give hugs. She’s a great motivator of personal exercise: you will be picking up random things all over your house and returning them to their rightful place ALL DAY LONG!!!!

 

I then added:

 

Okay, I wouldn’t give her a way…but if you need a personal trainer for an hour or so, her prices are very reasonable: $0

 

I turned 42 on Monday. And even though it was a very nice birthday, I can’t say since turning 40 that birthdays are a lot of fun…

 

Anyhow, I’ve been feeling old. Random aches and pains remind me that I’m old. The grey hair seems like it’s getting endless. And I understand more and more references that others don’t. To contribute to all this is Ellyson. Who is constant motion. Constant unintended mischief. Constant, constant, constant.

 

Like a Tasmanian devil that neverstops.

 

The other two start their days off with school. It would be nice to say I have discovered something that will keep Ellyson busy for a while as I work with Emry and Ethan, but I have yet to discover anything that will keep her occupied for longer than ten minutes. And when she moves onto the next thing, she simply leaves whatever she was playing with scattered all over the place: puzzles, magnets from the fridge, marbles, Legos, game pieces, books, Hot Wheels…you name it, she can scatter it. And often all over the house. I find trails of random things everywhere I go, leaning over to pick it up and stuff it in my pocket to put back where it belongs. And now that she’s figured out how to move chairs around so she can climb up on things…well, anything is game.

 

You can go ahead and say I am a terrible mom because I don’t make her pick up each and every thing. I do make her clean up quite a few things, but sometimes I am already so exhausted from Emry griping about yet more sentences to read and fill in, or making Ethan rewrite his letters he’s scrawled across his paper, or having Ellyson put away the puzzles and magnets, that the marbles I’ve found under the table, in the bathroom and tossed across the living room are just easier to pick up on my own. Because Ellyson hates to clean up when she’s told to. She’ll put on a pouty face, hunch her shoulders over, and huff when you tell her what to do. And there’s only so many times in one day I can handle that. 

 

The other day, Ed remarked yet again at how great it will be when we get a larger house.

 

“Why?” I responded. “So Ellyson has even more space to trail everything around?”

 

Ah, yes, she is adorable!