It is a wild and windy night tonight. I can hear the wind whistling through the chimney of my tiny gas fireplace.

All the kiddos, including the biggest one of all, my husband, are snuggled in their beds.

I am thinking about running.

Yes, running.

Just last week I embarked on a little adventure and decided to train to *run* a 5k. I have been known to say that you really shouldn't run unless someone is chasing you, but as I get closer and closer to 40, I want something more active and challenging. I want to set a goal, and do something outside my comfort zone.

So today, day two, I went running. Armed with a borrowed iphone and a handy little app, I set out to run. I had been looking forward to this little break in my day. To a little time, on my own, doing something just for me.

Then my daughter asked if she could join me. I think I just heard a chorus of exhausted mothers just groan.

This? Was not my plan. 30 minutes with the daughter who's emotions have en all over the map lately, while I pushed myself past the point of reasonable breathing did not sound like fun.

Yet, I heard myself agree.

So we strapped on our shoes and I strapped on my less selfish attitude and off we went. It was as hard as I expected. It might have been nice to be panting on my own...but the smile on my baby's face as she was included in "my" time, ushered in with no complaints, showed me something much more important.

Maybe my little girl needs to do this as much as I do? For herself. To prove she can.

More importantly, maybe she just needs to know she belongs. With me. Her mama.
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