No Wonder I'm So Tired…ilanawiles
Researchers have found that toddlers expend as much daily energy as an adult who just did 83 rounds in a boxing ring (as reported in the Daily Mail).
I’m trying to decide if this surprises me or not.
Mazzy, my two-year-old, has been running circles around me since she learned how to walk. Scratch that, she was also a ridiculously fast crawler. Have you ever tried to get anywhere crawling? It’s like the hardest exercise ever.
And what I find more amazing, is that I can run on a treadmill for 45 minutes without a problem but once you put me on a playground and tell me to track my two-year-old, I want to pass out from exhaustion after fifteen.
Why is chasing your toddler so much more exhausting than a solo trip to the gym?
Is it because you don’t know when it is going to end? Is it because your level of exertion is controlled by somebody other than yourself? Or is it because there are so many nice benches around and you wish you were one of the mothers who could zone out with a book, knowing that her child will make it out of the playground alive whether she follows them around or not?
I could be THAT MOTHER, if I had THAT CHILD.
Mazzy is what Modern Family calls “a runner”. Did you see the episode where they put Lily on a leash at Disney Land?
We’ve got the same kind of animal on our hands.
Mazzy wants to see how far she can go and how fast before I catch up with her. Actually, I’m not sure I even figure into the equation. I think her legs are just set to run as soon as she is placed on the ground.
Recently, my husband and I took Mazzy to an art festival on Governor’s Island. It was a beautiful day and there was tons of kid-friendly stuff for Mazzy to do there. But Mazzy was more interested in the fact that we had placed her in an open area that was not gated. She could run anywhere, do anything!
As a result, I found what should have been a lovely day, to be incredibly frustrating and totally exhausting.
Why? Because I can’t keep up with her. And the second she’s out of sight, I get incredibly nervous.
My friends all took their kids to the Mermaid Parade last weekend.
“Do you want to come?”
“Not in a million years. I’d lose my child as soon as we got off the subway.”
“Just stick her in the stroller.”
Sounds easy enough— but Mazzy is not a stroller kind of kid. If her legs aren’t moving, she’s not happy.
And if I’m going to keep up with her through 83 rounds of boxing, we better do it in a place that’s fenced in. Because sometimes I need to stop, catch my breath, drink a glass of water and give myself a pep talk to keep going.
Without fearing that my child has left the state.