on running like a mutha.

When I run I push a double jogging stroller. Don't call it jogging, even if it technically is: I run. I run with these two screeching, "Go Go, Mommy!"

Mister Baby isn't allowed anything in the stroller. He wears a ridiculous fleece suit that covers everything but his face. He doesn't get shoes. He would just chuck them at me. Sometimes I forget. I let him take his special Woofy or a snack. He sets up mini-obstacle courses for me. As if pushing their combined 70 pounds isn't enough. Crazy. All of it.

Sometimes it sounds easier to just throw everyone in the car and run on the treadmill at the gym. Sometimes I do that. Sometimes I just stay home in my jammies. But lately, she really really really wants to run. When we're close to home, I let her get out and we hold hands and run together while I push the stroller with my free hand.

And like so much of this time with them, it goes so much faster than I am able to run.