I once ran a half-marathon in San Francisco where every time we hit a plateau—every time we finally stopped climbing—I’d lift my eyes and see another hill starting just yards in front of me.
That’s motherhood. A series of hills, interspersed with brief plateaus when we’re lucky.
The problem is that we don’t always recognize when we’re on a plateau. We forget that we have air in our lungs and some parenting confidence swelling in our hearts.
And then we start to climb again, and dang it, we realize we missed the plateau.
Tell me it’s not just me that happens to! 😉 To see where I’m going with this post, I hope you’ll take a moment follow me over to Simple As That with one quick click. Thank you!
