You know how some supermodel will pop out a baby and a few weeks later she’s strutting down a red carpet in a tight mini dress? And the entertainment news anchors always ask her that shockingly original and not at all offensive question, “So, how did you lose the baby weight so fast?” And the model giggles and says, “Oh, it just melted off from running after my kid,” even though that’s physically impossible if she’s only the mother of a newborn because NEWBORNS DON’T RUN?!
Well, I’m here to show you what running after kids all day REALLY looks like. Yes, it does burn a boatload of calories. And no, I will not be strutting down a red carpet in a Lycra mini dress anytime soon.
8:15am – My boys have been up for hours, but I still have not consumed an entire cup of coffee let alone anything resembling breakfast. From the 6am wake-up call – a short person in a Pull-Up announcing, “I pooped,” inches from my face – until now, I have been running back and forth from the kitchen to the family room serving milk and cereal, turning on cartoons, fetching blankies, etc.
Now we are T-minus 20 minutes from departure for soccer camp. Yet no one is dressed. That requires running back upstairs for clean undies, then back downstairs, then downstairs again to the basement to see if the favorite T-shirt is in the dryer. Then I have to literally tackle the toddler, wrestle him to the ground and force the shirt over his head. I’m sweating and I haven’t even put on a bra yet.
10am – The 6yo has been delivered to camp, after we sprinted across a field to get there on time. More wrestling ensued as I slathered his face and body with sunscreen. Now I am heaving the 3yo out of the car and into a shopping cart at Target. But wait, now he wants to get OUT. And back in again. And then back out.
12:15pm – The groceries are purchased, the 6yo’s been picked up, now it’s back home for lunch. No one can carry in their own crap from the car because they’re “too tired.” I hoist 3 grocery bags, a soccer bag, a stuffed animal, and some assorted clothing in my arms, my purse in my teeth, and slam the car door shut with my foot.
2pm – Up and down the 3 levels of our house doing laundry. Possibly lugging around the vacuum to clean up various spills and messes. Possibly scrubbing the upholstery where SOMEONE dripped blue popsicle even though they should know better than to set foot outside the kitchen with a blue food item. (Why do they even MAKE blue food items?!)
4pm – At the park, I somehow end up carrying everyone’s bikes, scooters, helmets, and water bottles. Wasn’t the point to RIDE the scooters? My shins are a map of bruises and scrapes. We’re not there 5 min. before the 3yo shouts that he has to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW!! I swear, it’s like zero to emergency with newly potty trained kids. We sprint across the park to the germy public bathrooms. Then it’s back to the playground. Then it’s back to the bathroom when I realize I left my expensive stainless steel water bottle in there. I bet I’ve logged 6 miles by this point.
6pm – By the time the dinnertime fire drill is over – someone ALWAYS needs to be wiped or rescued from peril RIGHT when the garlic is burning or the pot’s boiling over – I’m done. DONE. I feel like I have run a marathon, swum across the English channel, and hauled a stack of monster truck tires from one end of a football field to the other. I am so exhausted and wrung out that I have no choice but to soothe my nerves with large quantities of cookies, ice cream and/or wine. Funny how the supermodel moms never mention THAT, huh?