Winter is gone and, with it, my lazy season. The days (OK, weeks) of “it’s too icy to run” and “let’s bake some bread to make the house feel cozy” and “maybe just a glass of red wine to warm up” have finally come to an end.
So, I’m back to counting the Weight Watchers points of what I eat during the week and following a training plan for some races later in the season.
I’m back, in other words, to self-discipline.
It’s not easy being a middle child. And my middle son, in particular, occupies a Jan Brady-esque universe in which he is constantly subject to the moods, schedules and interests of his louder and more physical siblings. Of my three kids, he is also the most like my (math genius) husband and the least like me. I have to really work to find ways to connect with him because, honestly, his idea of bonding time is gleefully shouting complex equations at me while I cook dinner and I am not always up to the challenge. So, for his birthday last week, I decided that I wanted to go all out with a celebration that would show him just how much he’s loved. And love, for my middle son, is best measured in Legos.