I had a meeting at church last night, and as it is conveniently located near Wegman’s grocery store, I decided to do a bit of shopping. I love grocery shopping, something about all the lovely food choices and the chance that a surprise might be hidden around the corner, a new dressing, a different tea, or an interesting flavor of yogurt. It’s weird, but I would chose grocery shopping at a big store over clothes shopping any day.
I finished up and was headed to the parking lot. Ahead of me walked a family, mom, dad, and the toddler perched on his shoulders. Mom was pushing the cart and when they reached the car, a toddler trade happened much to the toddler’s chagrin. Dad started loading the car and mom tried to settle her little girl in the car seat. It got me thinking about all the lifting and carrying involved in being a mom.
I am not big on organized exercise. I tried a gym once and hated it. I have some DVD’s with routines on them, but never seem to get into a routine of using them. It tends to be catch as catch can, and I am much happier spending several hours weeding a garden. But I do have “mom muscles”. The ones that allow you to carry 4 full grocery bags in from the car. The muscles that help you heave a resistant toddler in and out of a car seat six times a day. The strength to walk the stairs one more time for laundry, a drink of water, a last story. The ability to twist like a cat as your child launches into you from the steps and you both tumble into the dining room chairs your body curled around his in protection. THOSE muscles.
I don’t look like Jillian Michael from The Biggest Loser and her workout would probably make me cry in a puddle on the floor. But I can chase a naked kid around the house before and after a bath. And I can carry my work bag, a full backpack, and a trumpet on one arm while balancing a birthday snack on the other.
I’m not ripped and will never be, but I have Mom Muscles and I am pretty proud of them.