Today, we are seven.
Well, maybe not today exactly but in March 2010, our big yellow book baby was launched into the world. Seven years ago this month, Run Like a Mother was born! While there was a lot of sweat and a few tears, we've never been happier about the journey this book launched. Just like with our human babies but with slightly less pushing.
We'll be celebrating all week with contests on social media (you follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, yes?) and a trip (or two or three) down memory lane. If you're looking to pick up a signed! copy (or two or three) of our books, you can get a great deal on 'em here. Each book is a mere $10. You can pick up all three for $25. Now's the time to fill out your collection -- or make sure all your BRFs are part of the Tribe.
Today, a piece from Run Like a Mother from Dimity, inspired by the 423 times she'd read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
If You Give a Mom a Pair of Running Shoes and 40 Kid-free Minutes
If you give a mom a pair of running shoes and 40 kid-free minutes, she's going to want to go for a run.
If she wants to go for a run, she'll need to put on a bra -- a sports bra, preferably.
When she digs for her bra in a massive pile of dirty laundry, she'll spot her daughter's favorite, must-wear-four-times-a-week starry shirt covered in glitter glue. She'll head to the laundry room to drench the stains in Shout.
As she descends two flights to the basement laundry room, the phone will ring.
When the phone rings, she will check caller ID. She recognizes the number of an annoying mom of a whiny kid who can't seem to grasp the "play" part of "playdate." She lets it go to voicemail.
When she replaces the phone in the jack, she'll remember she didn't charge her iPod. Oh well.
Continuing on to the laundry room, she will decide she should pee before she runs. On the toilet, she will spy another sports bra, hanging on the bathroom doorknob.
When she sees the sports bra, she'll bring it to her nose to see if it's clean or crusty from last week's run. Lucky day: it's clean.
When she heads back up two flights to her room to get dressed, she'll spot a guaranteed no-leak sippy cup, filled with tepid chocolate milk, spouting like a whale on the brand new rug she splurged on at Pottery Barn.
When she sees the brown blob, she'll drop the f-bomb. And then she'll be glad only the dog was around to hear.
After she flies back downstairs to get the carpet equivalent of Shout, she will douse the rug in chemicals not fit for inhalation by dogs or kids. She cracks a window and hopes the smell will be gone by the time she finishes her run.
When she finally gets to her room to get dressed, she'll realize she doesn't remember where she put the bra.
As she runs back down the stairs, her left hamstring will twinge. So she throws her leg up on the kitchen counter and flops toward her toes in a half-hearted attempt at flexibility.
When she stretches her hand around her foot, she will see that her watch reads 2:20, which leaves her exactly 20 minutes for her 40-minute run.
She will swear again, then dart from room to room in search of the bra, get dressed, lace up her shoes, and sprint out the door.
And when she hits the road, she'll wonder why she's out of breath before she even started.
If you want a visual trip down memory lane, here's one of our first videos. Do you run like a mother?
Come with us on our trip, too! How and when did you find us?