When I was young, my grandfather would take us out on his boat into the ocean outside of Los Angeles. I remember learning quickly about sea legs, and how it took special balance to get around the boat.

For those non-nautical readers, here is the definition from the Dictionary of Cultural Literacy:

To “have one’s sea legs” is to be able to walk calmly and steadily on a tossing ship.

I have a new definition for you all. “Mom Legs”

Some people are born with Mom Legs. They are able to adapt to a screaming infant, a toddler with markers in his hand and a mind of his own, a preschooler who only knows the word NO, and much more, all on 2 hours sleep per night and leftover macaroni and cheese as sustenance.

Unfortunately I was not born with my Mom Legs. I am equivalent to the person sitting on the side of the boat looking green and wishing the waves would die down a little. It has taken me this long to feel like I have a handle on things, and even then only barely. But I’m getting there – today I took a shower, did the dishes AND started the laundry, all while Jack was awake and standing right next to me. Will wonders never cease?

The picture above was taken at Desert Ridge, where Jack wandered about playing with other kids. Or I guess really next to other kids:















As with any good day of running, every boy needs a milk break:















We had to make a stop at Joann’s to look at crochet cotton. Jack was helping me shop:


















And then he fell asleep on the way home. Here’s what he looked like when he woke up:














Yesterday I went down to visit Julie, Mac and Caden. Luckily I didn’t have Jack with me because Julie and I had our hands full with those two boys! I can’t believe how much I’ve already forgotten about dealing with an infant. No one was seriously injured, however, so I chalk the day up as a success.