Getting outside with my daughter (photo used via a Creative Commons license)

Learning Fitness from my Little Girl

Getting outside with my daughter (photo used via a Creative Commons license)
Getting outside with my daughter (photo used via a Creative Commons license)

This post, is a part of a four part series, where we’ll hear directly from the parents in the community. Brooke Takhar is a freelance blogger and social media specialist with one daughter, eight pen pals, and 47 grey hairs.

Three years after my daughter was born, I stepped on a scale and had an unexpected outburst. There was lots of swearing involved so I’ll just paraphrase it like so: something had to give. With so much of my daily actions being modeled for my daughter (saying hello to neighbours in our elevator, staying positive through a scraped up knee, manners and more manners), I realized the indent I made on the couch each night and the food she saw me shovelling into my mouth was not something I wanted her to think was the “norm.”

After taking the first small steps of this life makeover (no pressure) by picking up a pair of runners and checking out the local running club, I realized I could also look to my daughter as someone who modeled behaviour for me.  I was always so concerned with raising a great kid, that I didn’t see she had already developed some pretty cool ideas.  Here’s what I’ve learned from my daughter:

No matter the weather, outside is one giant playground.

Zip up her favourite rain jacket and stuff layered legs into rain boots and she couldn’t care less about the weather. She doesn’t hunch into the wind and rain, wishing she was on a warm patio with a drink – she kicks and splashes and begs me to wipe off the swing so she can pump her legs high, higher, highest at Moody Park. So, we roam and chase each other outside. After dinner is a great time; it helps me avoid the phantom munchie pangs and lets her burn off remaining energy, ensuring a rosy-cheeked deep night’s sleep for both of us.

When she eats her meals, she stops when she is full.

Those last two bites, the ones I would polish off so that I don’t waste food, are simply pushed away. Food is fuel and it is delicious, but when she’s done, she’s all done. Forks down.  I can expect her to munch on a neat pile of cucumber slices that we bought from the Royal City Farmers Market because I am happily munching too. I’ve even lifted my lifelong prejudice against carrots so we can crunch together while discussing important topics like Disney princesses.

She challenges herself while being active.

Last week, on a dark and windy Friday evening, we walked hand-in-hand back from a visit to our favourite pool. Our hair, still wet and sweetly chemical-scented, whipped behind us as we talked about our favourite part of the night. She couldn’t possibly grasp how proud I was of her fearless “I’m ok, I’m ok,” post-water swallow or how I could hoist her over my head over and over without collapsing into a red-faced wet heap.

Every day I choose to be healthy and be kind to myself is a day that she shares with me. I could tell her to take the stairs instead of the elevator, choose a long meandering walk over a car ride or an apple over an Oreo, but I’m just doing it instead. We do it together. The lessons and love flow both ways. In these moments I feel wise and wonderful. I feel like I am finally getting a hang of both being her Mom and being the healthy self I want her to follow.