3:06, she has a little longer to sleep. 4:54, nearly time, but not quite. Annery rolls over again and looks through sleep-blurred eyes, 5:05. Close enough. She creeps from her bed, anxious not to wake her husband. His alarm won't go off until 6:00. By then, she'll be a sweaty mess.
Slowly, slowly, she turns the handle of their bedroom door. The ancient door groans a little as she pulls it closed behind her. It has to be shut tight, or the light might creep in. Across the hall, the girls are still asleep. To ensure they stay that way, Annery closes the bathroom door behind her before switching on the light.
Gym clothes lay in a pile next to the potty chair, ready for a brutal start to the day. Peeling off pajamas and preparing to face the day, Annery glances the strange arrangement of hair staring back at her in the mirror. "It's too early for this", she thinks.
Still, the goals and plans she's made force her into workout gear. A quick step on the scale reveals that she's still not losing weight. She gives herself a pep-talk about the 15 inches she's lost and the muscle she's gained. Time to lace up the gym shoes.
5:35, bracing against the cold Midwestern morning, she silently thanks God that her windows aren't frosted over. There's no time for that. The streets are dark. Few cars on the roads and fewer people running. That one lone runner seems crazy. At least she'll be inside. If only her car would warm up faster.
5:45, Annery steps out of her car, mostly dreading the grueling hour she's about to face. Still, she feels so accomplished when it's over. It's a new circuit, full of exercises that seem to have been designed by Jillian Michaels on a crabby day. Jacob's Ladder, sled pushes, lunges, jumping....Annery isn't sure where to start. Everything seems equal amounts of awful.
6:50, she's a pool of sweat as she crawls into her car. It doesn't matter if the car is cold. It doesn't matter if the air blowing out isn't hot. She can barely make her muscles depress the pedals as she heads home. The sun is creeping up the horizon. "At least that's something", she thinks.
7:00, home again. Each stair to the door tests her ability to walk. In the door and she's greeted by a husband nearly ready to head off to work and a 1 y/o determined to climb her legs before her gyms shoes come off. Annery manages to break away from the little leg-climber long enough to toss jacket and shoes in her bedroom. Then she's on the couch, sweaty and red-faced, holding Sweet Pea.
Holding her phone in one hand and Sweet Pea in the other, Annery checks her email, relieved no new work messages have come across in the two hours since she last checked it. A quick check of Facebook shows a few good blog posts to read. As Annery checks out the latest news from This Ain't the Lyceum, Clan Donaldson and Call Her Happy, she decides on her post for the day. She even finds a picture to go along with the theme.
Then Annery opens her copy of Small Steps for Catholic Moms that she won at Revolution of Love. The day's passage seems especially poignant, and she snaps a quick shot on her phone to share. As she reviews the shot, she notices her thumb poking out in the bottom of the frame. Not the picture she had planned, but perhaps an even better shot.
|Thank God from whom all blessings flow|
7:30, a sneeze announces that Little Bean is awake. Couch snuggles with the baby are over. Time to start the day. Breakfast, shower, dishes, laundry, work, schooling, they all await. A blog post will sneak into the mix. After all, Annery likes writing far more than dishes and laundry, but slightly less than eating or a really hot shower. Maybe Little Bean will do the dishes while Annery folds laundry. Maybe Annery will find a burst of productivity and it will all get done.
9:15, only the pleasant things like eating and hot showers are crossed off the list. Annery finishes up a third-person post and sighs. No more putting it off; she has to start the laundry and get to work. Well, right after she changes that horrible smell coming from Sweet Pea.