The MOTHER of all Races

Anthony took us camping last weekend. It was really fun. We had smores and ...did ....camping ... stuff. Basically Anthony and the boys satisfied their caveman instincts by surrounding themselves in the great outdoors and making fire. *grunt grunt...YEAH. FIRE.

I was with the boys at the bottom of a short hill when they both claimed that they were WAY faster than me and could beat me up the hill. Having been quite the runner in my hayday, I could not let them taunt me with their youthful energy and gently told them that while I was sure they were indeed very fast, that they could not beat me. Not being able to verbally come to an agreement, we decided to put all of this nonsense to a rest and just race. We lined up, all confident that we would beat one another.

Isaac, "On your marks, get set........

........

......

SNOW!!!!!"

Matthew and I stumble to a stop and get back to the start.

Isaac, "On your marks, get set....


.....

Me, "Isaac, come ON."

......

GO!!!

We took off. Matthew is clearly not competition, but Isaac is a few feet in front of me. I am bouncing Isabelle along with me, who is adorably giggling while we run. I was running over holes, sticks, huge rocks. I gained ground. I barely catch up to Isaac as we come to a stop. Too close to call. I quickly remind Isaac that I am carrying an extra 20 pound sack.

I hear footsteps. Oh... yeah... Matthew. I look over to him, still crazed by my competitive sprint to the top of the hill....oh no. I am the worst mommy in the world.

Here comes Matthew with puppy dog eyes. So defeated, so sad. He couldn't believe that I had left him in the dust like that. I was quickly brought back to the reality of motherhood and reminded myself that I am supposed to let them win. WHAT kind of mom is so immature that she does not put her child's needs in front of her own? Crazy competitive mom, that's what kind. And that's apparently me.


*Matthew won the next race.