hornet’s nest

I’m not a morning person. I must start this post with that hard truth. BUT, I also have gotten rather addicted to exercise. This happened during my involuntary 4-month sabbatical. I’d go to an exercise class at 8 or 8:30 am each day because I had the leisure to do so when the rest of the civilized world was getting their productive selves into work. It was fun to pretend to be a tennis mom for a few months.

My sabbatical came to a crashing halt a few weeks ago when I thankfully entered the land of the employed once again. So I learned to wake up at 5:45 am & hit pure barre class or walk a few miles through my neighborhood hills in the dawn’s early light. Again, I’m not a morning person, but the workouts are important to me. Night time exercise just doesn’t work – too many other things tend to get in the way.

My children’s summer fun was rudely interrupted when they started school last week, and between my new job and their new school year, it’s a lot of change to deal with. So we’ve muddled through the past few days, trying to find a rhythm again. Today, that rhythm was completely out-of-whack.

I was feeling flushed and happy to have a workout behind me when I arrived back at home around 7:15 am. My husband and youngest poured out of the house just as I was pulling into the driveway, and they were NOT happy. Conflict is never good in the wee hours of the morning, pre-coffee, and they had a doozy of a conflict over whether she could bring a diet ginger ale to school for lunch (dude. you can’t. quit asking.) There were tears, spankings, and so much more. I walked into a hornet’s nest.

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