I think anyone that knows me has to know that I am inherently lazy. I do what I have to do so that my house doesn’t get roaches. But I procrastinate and watch an episode or two of Parks and Rec, and make a big pile of poopy diapers on the front step to off put the mailman.
If you are a person who is totally doing it all, I salute you. I’m not that busy. I’ve never been busy. I don’t want to be. It seems like a lot of work. I don’t do any housework after dinner. Unless something is truly gross. After dinner time is for couching. And blogging. And pinning. And making eyes at my husband. And enjoying that sweet sweet “kids in bed” silence.
So, Nick and I are walking in the park with the kids. We’re pushing our jogging stroller which should be called “brisk walking” stroller because I can’t run. Occasionally a super fit couple will breeze by us. Some with kids, some without. And in that moment I really wish that I could, for Nick, jog alongside him. But then I think about jogging. And I really don’t want to. So, every weekend, instead of jogging together, Nick and I take a brisk walk. Because lazy.
The moms with jogging strollers have better more defined abs than me. But are they as well rested? Maybe. Because I drank four chai’s today and I’m blogging this at midnight.