Since last I blogged, I gave birth. My kid's 15 months old now. I spent the last 4 months of pregnancy and the first 10 months of my daughter's life with no energy to do anything.
Then, I started playing rugby. That was better, and once I'd started to do that I found do other things as well.
Today, I woke up at 5:45. My dawn alarm clock keeps losing time, and I need to fix it.
Instead of rolling over, I got up and made muffins. While they were in the oven, I dragged one of my boys out to the little green space two blocks from my house, for company, and ran sprints: Google maps suggests each is 240 feet; I measure them in lightpoles (and of those, I ran six sets of two lightpoles). It isn't much, but I sweat. I couldn't do it four months ago.
When I got back, my other boy had taken the muffins out of the oven. (He had crawled back into bed. He loves his sleep.)
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Muffins. They have blueberries in. | | | | |
Tonight, I re-read The Phantom Tollbooth. New books still seem too hard, like I'll risk too many emotions. I take the little victories.
I've been ruled by
fear for too long. I can't say fear won't rule me again, but for now, there are muffins.