When I was meeting with the trainer last week, he said that it's good to take a week off every few months. I thought he was insane! The thought of not working out for a week just blew my mind...I couldn't not work out. I'm addicted, damnit!
And now I'm sick. I pushed it and worked out Monday night, but called it quits after only doing my weight routine (an hour workout in and of itself). And I haven't been back since.
I was going to try tonight, but I opted to try and rest instead. I went up to bed and let J take over the kids. Liam, however, spent most of the time that I was resting by sitting at the top of the stairs repeatedly saying, "I want to see Mommy." He also left the hall light on and, being the original Princess and the Pea, it bothered me to have that sliver of light coming through the door.
I did manage to rest, though, going in and out of sleep and having some funky dreams to boot.
When I emerged from my room a couple of hours later, Ella bounded up the stairs and asked me if I "waked up" and told me she was "so happy to see me." Dude, my kids rock.
I'm looking forward to returning to the gym, but I'll be smart about it and not push myself until I'm (close to) 100%.