I'm a teacher. Something that I teach in reading class is multiple meaning words. For example, runs. My fastest runs are in the morning...or...I have the runs. Notice the difference?
So this weekend we had both kinds of runs. Too much information? Oh, you're welcome and stick around...there's more!
My mother was in town and we had a great time together. She had a 24 hour flu bug (read-the runs) Friday night and wasn't feeling great Saturday but by Sunday all was well...we thought. I laced up and was trying to squeeze in a few miles that afternoon while my girls slept.
Because the girls are now sharing a room, nap time is a little tricky. Mackenzie, my two year old, sleeps a little longer than Addison, my ten month old. Mackenzie gets to sleep in mommy and daddy's bed so that sister doesn't wake her early from nap time.
On Sunday I had remembered to pull everything out of my room before Mackenzie went down so that I could get ready for my run without disturbing her...everything but my shoes. Dang it. I tip-toed in, silently opening my closet door, I felt her eyes on me.
"Hi Sweetie, can you go back to sleep? Sorry I woke you" I whispered to her. She shook her head yes, and I bent down to give her a kiss. "Um, Kenze, do you need to go potty?" I smelt something BAD! She shook her head yes again. I took her hand and led her to the bathroom. Her pants were wet...
Now is a good time to mention I don't do well with bodily fluids...blood, spit, snot, poop...I am never the woman for the job. I called for backup. My mom must have heard the panic in my voice because she came quick. I was trying to keep my lips from curling back in disgust and scarring my daughter for life. She was already upset with herself. We got her cleaned up and I washed and rewashed my hands, stripped the bed (my bed), and with my mom's reassurance that she "had it from here", headed out the door for that run.
I ran hard to clear the smell, images, and memories of the "explosion" from my thoughts. I was running until the runs were no longer on my mind. I did a tempo run, with my second mile right at nine minutes. At first I was fueled by nerves and adrenaline, but than it turned to anger. I was mad at myself. The way I handled the situation with Mackenzie...my poor girl wasn't feeling well, but I was the one being the baby not her. I decided not to run my fourth mile, but instead turned towards home, eager to check on my little one. I came back refreshed, and made sure to grab my girl and giver her big smoochies, letting her know it was no big deal, everyone gets the runs!
So this weekend we had both kinds of runs. Too much information? Oh, you're welcome and stick around...there's more!
My mother was in town and we had a great time together. She had a 24 hour flu bug (read-the runs) Friday night and wasn't feeling great Saturday but by Sunday all was well...we thought. I laced up and was trying to squeeze in a few miles that afternoon while my girls slept.
Because the girls are now sharing a room, nap time is a little tricky. Mackenzie, my two year old, sleeps a little longer than Addison, my ten month old. Mackenzie gets to sleep in mommy and daddy's bed so that sister doesn't wake her early from nap time.
On Sunday I had remembered to pull everything out of my room before Mackenzie went down so that I could get ready for my run without disturbing her...everything but my shoes. Dang it. I tip-toed in, silently opening my closet door, I felt her eyes on me.
"Hi Sweetie, can you go back to sleep? Sorry I woke you" I whispered to her. She shook her head yes, and I bent down to give her a kiss. "Um, Kenze, do you need to go potty?" I smelt something BAD! She shook her head yes again. I took her hand and led her to the bathroom. Her pants were wet...
Now is a good time to mention I don't do well with bodily fluids...blood, spit, snot, poop...I am never the woman for the job. I called for backup. My mom must have heard the panic in my voice because she came quick. I was trying to keep my lips from curling back in disgust and scarring my daughter for life. She was already upset with herself. We got her cleaned up and I washed and rewashed my hands, stripped the bed (my bed), and with my mom's reassurance that she "had it from here", headed out the door for that run.
I ran hard to clear the smell, images, and memories of the "explosion" from my thoughts. I was running until the runs were no longer on my mind. I did a tempo run, with my second mile right at nine minutes. At first I was fueled by nerves and adrenaline, but than it turned to anger. I was mad at myself. The way I handled the situation with Mackenzie...my poor girl wasn't feeling well, but I was the one being the baby not her. I decided not to run my fourth mile, but instead turned towards home, eager to check on my little one. I came back refreshed, and made sure to grab my girl and giver her big smoochies, letting her know it was no big deal, everyone gets the runs!
oh no, that's never fun to clean up. Glad the run settled you down and had you lovin' on your baby again :)
ReplyDeleteOh that is something I don't deal well with either! Blah! When my son was a baby he threw up and it got in my mouth. I still shudder when I think of that!!
ReplyDeleteToo funny! Way to make a bad situation better with a run!
ReplyDeleteit took everything in me not to bust up laughing hysterically in my cubical when I read this. :-) Thanks for the sweet story.
ReplyDelete