Yeah, I’ve been working out…

How often do you get to say that? While they were all here, my sisters said something about me losing weight, and I realized that it would probably be the only time I could ever get away with saying, “Yeah, I’ve been working out…” I guess that makes twice now.

So I was there today working out and another mom came to the machine next to me with her infant daughter in a stroller. She was talking to another gym patron and mentioned that her daughter was the reason she was there in the first place—but it was worth it.

Every time I hear a parent say that about their children, I immediately begin to wonder if I could claim the same and really mean it.

Don’t get me wrong—I love Hayden very much. Just the other day, I was thinking about how sweet and adorable he is—and I was amazed to be able to say that I was his mother. I feel very blessed (or lucky, if you prefer) to be his mother, the one that he will run to to make everything all better for years to come.

But so often I focus on how hard motherhood is. My parents and youngest sister went home yesterday after a nine day visit, and I was scared to be alone with Hayden this week. How would he readjust to having only me around after growing so accustomed to being held, played with and fawned over all the time for more than a week?

Just fine, of course. He’s still got his mommy. Today Hayden was sitting on the floor, reclining against a pair of Ryan’s boots. I crawled over and took the boots away from behind him. He balanced there, leaning back, for a moment. He glanced back to see me and then gently let himself fall into my outstretched arms.

What complete trust. He didn’t see my arms behind him, but he knew I was there and I wouldn’t let him fall.

Is that kind of trust and love worth all the work? Today I can say yes. Although the work is sometimes a drudgery, if nothing else, that service increases my love and affection for my son.

And I’d like to think that my heart has grown a bit more than my biceps in the last year.