Nature calling.

Growing up, it was rare when a kind word was exchanged amongst the members of the household. It wasn’t necessarily that we were a spiteful, vindictive people—it just simply was not something that came naturally to us. As a result, I’ve become over complimentary to my children, which may explain why their heads are so large (the seven month old was just clocked in at the >97 percentile at the doctor yesterday for head circumference). In turn, I’ve also discovered my own love language is Words of Affirmation.

As a woman, this is a terrible scenario. The world is constantly bombarding me with words of criticism, and for 23 hours of the day, I succumb and also participate in this conversation, critiquing every action and aspect of my being. 

But for one hour a day, four to five days a week, I’ve gotten pretty good at speaking my love language.

“You are ROCKING this pace!”

“That was a good warm-up. Now you can really pick it up! You’ve got the strength for it!”

“Holy smokes! Look at how far you’ve gone—and still churning out a couple more miles!”

“Did you notice how amazing your arms look from pushing that stroller? Bow chicka bow wow!”

Et cetera.

It is a good thing I have that hour, because then I return home and become a sloppy mother of two small children, constantly wishing I were better and always pushing myself to do more until I am a giant pile of exhaustion. For that one hour, I am on top of the world.

The unfortunate aspect of that hour comes when my body decides to get in on the complimentary action. The comparison for success and accomplishment mentally comes from where I was to where I am, noting improvement and achievement. My body jumps in on the conversation on occasion, though, and it usually goes like this:

Me: “Man, you are rocking those new running shorts you shelled out some very-carefully-budgeted-for-dough on.”

Body: “Yes, you are! And as a reminder of how rocking you are that you’re doing this ALL after having two babies within eighteen months, I’m going to relinquish all control of your bladder into those new, awesome running shorts!”

I cannot fault my body. With all that it has done, and all that I put it through, I am certain that it has only the purest of good intentions. I need to have a conversation with it, though, and discuss how its attempts to uplift and inspire actually causes mass quantities of humility and chafing.

I worry that eventually, it will come to this:

In the meantime, I’ll be over here doing kegals.