|What? No, this isn't my 5th cream puff drizzled with chocolate! Who told you that?|
Those muscles also hurt later when:
I picked up Thomas
I sat up
When I coughed again
Boot camp is working. I've been twice. Yesterday, my arms [the area I pointed to in questioning, Paul says are my triceps] were so sore after our circuit training I felt a slight pain as I brushed my hair.
Last week was a week of taking a step back to assess myself within parenthood, job performance, my vocation as wife, and the care of my body. It was both humility and hope. Raise your hand if you too have been doing some self-assessment, seeing an area of needed improvement, and making plans for some positive change. That's great! Let me applaud you!
And now let me warn you. It is going to get worse before it gets better.
Case in point, the 1st day of Mommy Discipline Reform School last week, my toddler, Thomas, was in time out at least a dozen times. I felt pain knowing he felt confused about why mom was without her coddling nature. I felt I had done so much damage not being consistent and firm with him so many times. Each day Thomas was better until Saturday when Daddy and Mommy were tried as a team through a whole toddler behavior obstacle course. We were put to the test with each broken rule, whine, sneaky move, and tantrum. I didn't recognize Thomas that day. However, we all know kids are smart enough to make sure their parents mean business. We do. Thomas knows and has been increasingly well-behaved and all the happier because of it.
And second case in point, this self-indulged public humiliation I've signed up for at 6:15 am with people who wonder if maybe boot camp isn't exactly fitting my "needs" as I huff, puff, wince, and altogether look frightened through the gym room workout rotation. [Ouch. I just laughed at my misery. More ab pain.] I've been working out for a week with a little hodgepodge of: running, walking, cardio via the Kinnect, vigorously weeding [Yes! There is such a thing. You haven't seen my yard.], and as you've already been told, boot camp. My pants were not made from the same fabric as shared by the young ladies of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, ever meeting whatever size requirement I'm currently sporting. Nope. In fact, since I began working out my pants feel tighter, my arms appear rather more pathetic, and the digits I'm staring back at on my scale, neither higher or lower than they were two weeks ago, are startling at best.
Good things come out of hard work. Things will look up. A new strength will take shape as I've seen so many times before in myself and others. This abdominal pain which immobilizes me from doing so much as a handful of crunches today, it's a welcoming billboard to Strenghton, Strengthopolis, St. Strength City, Strengthfield, Strengthview. Take your pick. I'll race you there. Well, tomorrow. My abs hurt today.