Wednesday, November 16, 2011

DubyaWife Storytelling: Punch Buggy Red

We turn the corner on a Fall windy day, I'm singing some late 90s alternative rock song and thinking this is the best music ever made, my 11 year old daughter is rolling her eyes. The car is almost on autopilot cause I've turned this corner so many times. It's a typical day, a typical moment, coming home from work and school. We've discussed homework, we've discussed what's for dinner, we've discussed "the plan" for tonight, we're just weary travelers ready to make it home at the end of the day....



DubyaKid smiles and giggles from punching me on my upper right arm... and just as I react with an "ow" and grab my arm...



She punches me again, She laughs! She's so proud of herself for having not only gotten me once, but twice.

The stories always the same each day. We come home, we turn that corner, and DubyaKid is ready. And I mean ready! We have not one, but two red Volkswagen Bugs on our street and my daughter is relentless.

I have the bruises to prove it.

Occasionally I'll get in a punch or two here or there, depending on if she's in mid-sentence, or if I have her distracted. But in reality, I'm the punching bag here. Plus, she gets so disappointed with herself when I get the punch in first, she laments when she fails to be diligent to her evil punching plan. I don't have the heart to punch my own kid, even for a game. So I continue to remain thwarted each day.

The other day while I was running, my mind wandered (one of my favorite things about running) and I started to think about those punch buggies...

She's so diligent...

She's so tenacious...

She's so consistent...

And not only is she very consistent, but she's enthusiastic about it! Every time.

This mirrors the way I want my motivation. This is how I wish I viewed my nutrition, fitness... or just life in general.

Diligent. Tenacious. Consistent. Enthusiastic.

Every time.

This morning I passed those punch buggies again and I smiled. They are a reminder. A reminder that my daughter gives me every once and a while. Through a little bit of pain comes a smile and a giggle, and even a little sense of satisfaction. Those punch buggies aren't something to ignore, and neither is our health, or for that matter, our lives. We have to attack it. We have to attack it with force, in bursts of energy. Just like those punches.

When she hits me...



What she's really saying is...

"Wake up, Mom! Live enthusiastically! Live tenaciously!"

Thanks, DubyaKid, for the reminders. I will.

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