The Grass Is Always Greener…
Disclaimer: I’m about to go on a little bit of a rant. If you have a tender heart and are easily offended, you might not want to read this…
The other day, someone said to me, “You’re lucky you don’t have kids so you can workout whenever you want.” I looked her, smiled, and said, “Yeah. I guess so.”
This is not the first time I’ve been told this. I’m fairly certain it won’t be the last.
I will not pretend to know what parenting is actually like. I have no idea. So forgive me if I’m a little insensitive (read: I’m about to be a lot insensitive). But, my dear friends (and in this case, acquaintances) that are so burdened by your children, please excuse me while I toot my own horn a little.
While you may be working a full-time job as Supermom, I am working a full-time job as well. And yes, I realize that your job doesn’t end at 3:00 (and probably includes little Johnny deciding to teeth, tantrum, and shit on everything all at once), but – if I want to be a good teacher – neither does mine. On top of work, I choose to volunteer both in and out of my workplace. Damn right, I choose to do that. Why? Because I enjoy it. And because I think that kids like yours deserve opportunities to play, volunteer, and just have fun.
Working out “whenever I want” has to happen at 4:00 in the morning and then again at 4:00 in the afternoon. Sometimes those times change because life happens and we all know that life doesn’t always work on a schedule.
I’m not complaining and by no means am I downplaying the role that you have as a mom. (I myself had a Supermom…like, seriously…four days a week, she ferried me 2-hours each way to Kelowna so that I could skate. And I’m only one of four kids!) She did things that I can only imagine being selfless enough to do. Because – let’s face it – mothers are often selfless.
Let me tell you why I’m ACTUALLY lucky.
I’m lucky because I get the opportunity each day to make healthy lifestyle choices for myself. That might mean getting my ass to the gym…even if it is at some ungodly hour. That might mean preparing food that’s good for me…even if it tastes like cardboard.
I’m lucky because I get a chance to do something that I love to do. Every damn day. And while there are bad days…sometimes lots of bad days…there are enough good ones to make it all worth it. I imagine parenting must be a lot like this, but of course, all I can do is speculate.
So the moral of my little story: We all have our own lives and we choose our priorities. It doesn’t make me lucky or not lucky because kids aren’t one of mine. I am not “Tra-la-la Kang”, carefree and eating bonbons all day before I casually stroll to the gym for a wokrout. I work hard so that I can live the life that I want. Luck has nothing to do with it.