To Walk or Not to Walk

I have written here a few times about my goal-oriented husband. He has a goal for everything he does. He wants to go to the gym 20 times a month (he met that goal in March). He wanted to fight in a grappling tournament (and placed second in his weight class and third with the heavyweights). He wants to run so many miles a week while pushing the boys in the buggy (something that is getting more difficult to do as the kids get older and bigger.) He wants to read so many books a year, listen to so many inspirational podcasts, pay off so much debt, go target shooting so many times, literally...everything he does...is a goal that he meets.

And me? Well. I hazard to guess I am the least goal-oriented person in the entire world.

Not because I don't want to be. I want to be. Badly. But EVERYTHING takes precedence to what I want or like to do because I am the mom.

Like right now. I am trying desperately to write this post, but Grayson got in trouble for hitting me and as a result is tearing apart our upstairs.

Be right back.

Okay I am back.

Here are some of my ideas of goals...

Dream: Get three hours of sleep.
Reality: Get one hour of sleep.

Dream: Not have anyone throw up.
Reality: Both kids throw up all the time.

Dream: Get Grayson to stop hitting.
Reality: Well that's clearly not even a possibility.

Dream: Have my own pillow.
Reality: Find Grayson laying on my own pillow with no pants on.

Dream: Enjoy an unsweetened iced tea from McDonalds.
Reality: Find Easton licking the straw.

Dream: Have something that is "MINE."
Reality: My Apple Watch, iPhone and car bluetooth are all listed as "Michael's Apple Watch, Michael's iPhone and Michael's Honda Bluetooth."

Dream: Use the restroom in peace.
Reality: Easton tries to climb on my lap as Grayson hovers nearby, unrolling the toilet paper.

Dream: Paint my fingernails.
Reality: Buy fingernail polish but never ever ever get a chance to use them.

Dream: Eat a meal.
Sad Reality: I cannot even keep the food on my fork, and I always spill my drink while taking a sip. Because I am sleep deprived, not because I am a slob ;)

I wish I was joking, folks, even though when I read these to Mike - he and I both laughed at them because they are SO TRUE.

It's so sad.

We have reason to believe that my great-grandfather had some anxiety in his younger years. In fact, this article was just posted on a Facebook page from the area where both sides of my family come from.

My mom says she remembers him being steady and calm, someone who faithfully read his Bible - so whatever he went through was something connected to his grief.

But it makes me wonder - did he also have anxiety? Maybe he walked to curb that then...and then later in life, he walked ALL the time and long distances. I don't know the exact details but texted my aunt to ask my uncle about it :)

Mike said he thinks my new goal should be a start of walking three miles a week. He thinks walking will help my anxiety because it has hit new heights. I ended up in the emergency room two weekends ago for rapid heartbeat and gave Mike - and myself - a good scare. I almost ended up there again today with another incapacitating panic attack.

I just don't know how I feel about a goal-oriented person setting goals for me. ;) But it's worth a shot because at least he will hold me accountable. :)