I’ll spare the details on the bowels portion of the weekend, but suffice it to say that an enema does not seem like a good idea at any age and 6-years-old is no exception. In fact right after Nola said “I’m freaking out!” She said, “I do not think this is a good idea!”
Every morning leading up to the weekend at about 6 a.m. when I checked my iPhone for the weather and meetings so I knew what to wear, I would think man I can’t wait until this time on Saturday when I can roll over and just go back to sleep. There is something about waking up really early and then getting to go back to sleep that feels so good. Different than if you just wake up at 9 and you’ve already slept in. You don’t have that oh-I’m-still-tired-and-I-actually-get-to-lay-here-curled-up-in-my-warm-bed-and-not-get-up moment. You missed it. So I was so excited when I woke up at 6 on Saturday morning cause I knew I’d get that little gift. But then I laid there and I laid there and I laid there. And I did enjoy laying there in my flannel cocoon, but I could not go back to sleep. Then Jay got up and I knew it was probably 6:30 because he was leaving the house at 7 to go to some health care reform seminar or something about the business of being a doctor in the City.
He showered and I pretended I was sleeping in a oceanside cottage at the edge of the rain forest in Costa Rica during a morning drizzle and that Lucy was actually a monkey laying on my chest and not a cat. Then just as I had achieved a semi-conscious state, I heard Jay in the living room hit the back door and yell, “You idiots.”
I got a new puppy for my birthday back in September. She’s about 7 months old now and she’s very good at it. We also have a 4-year-old black lab who’s decided she likes to dig. Jay came in the bedroom to say good-bye and mentioned something about the recycling bin. I laid there a little bit more trying to conjure Costa Rica, but mostly wondering what havoc the dogs had wreaked in the back yard.
So I made my way to the backdoor. It looked like it had snowed newspaper. You idiots I thought and went and put on some coffee, grabbed my flip flops and found a paper sack. It took about an hour to pick up all the itty bitty shreds of newspaper the dogs had pillaged out of the recycle bin.
Since I was on a roll, I picked up the rest of the house, Nola helped a little and Bob quietly destroyed her room until my parents and brother showed up to play with the girls while Jay and I went to the OU v KU basketball game.
We live down the street from the basketball arena, so we set off on foot to watch KU stomp OU. Just me and Jay. That doesn’t happen very often. It was nice to get a chance to spend an afternoon together. We had great seats. Easy access to restrooms. And no one had to drive so there was no fighting. There was a point of the game that I reflexively started cheering for OU. Mostly it is no fun to cheer for a team that is up by 20 even if that means cheering against the team that you thought you’d come to root for. Also one of Bob’s best friend’s at daycare is the basketball coach’s little girl, so I sort of started feeling a soft spot watching him stomp his foot on the side of the court. Jay all dressed in blue never found that same soft spot.
We walked back home, where my Mom had gotten Bob to pick up her room and then she offered to buy us Mexican food. So she agreed to watch a laxative laced 6-year-old so we could go to a basketball game, made my other kid pick up her room, bought me a double cheese burger with jalapenos for lunch and then took us out for dinner. Yeah my Mom kinda rocks. Also I am a cow.
Fortunately I am a cow training for a marathon. I got to spend most of Sunday morning running 12 miles. I love running. But running on a spring Sunday morning is … well to be cheesy a gift. And also when you are a working mom of kids too young to use the restroom in a restaurant without a chaperon and a husband who spends most of his time learning how to be a doctor, you don’t have a lot of time to yourself. Especially not the kind of free time that you don’t feel guilty about. And I get that when I run. So it is even more of a gift. Because how can you feel guilty about running 12 miles. And no one can really argue with that. Oh you are so selfish. I just get to run and be out in the world all by myself — well with Ira Glass, because about the only way to get through a 12 mile run is to listen to This American Life. No one is hanging on me or asking me for anything. I never think man my pants are too tight or I don’t like the way my arms look. Because I’m basically doing anything that could be done about it right at that moment and also your shadow always looks good. If I want to turn on a street because it looks interesting, I can. And if I change my mind I can turn around and no one questions me about it. No one says where are you going? Or why did you do it that way? Or I need to go to the bathroom. Or can I have this? I so get Forest Gump. I so understand that running thing. You don’t run to run away from things. You run to process those things. Just me and Ira.
I made my regular stop at my sister’s to for a water break. Mario was out back smoking meat. You cannot imagine how good a bacon covered brisket smells 7 miles into a 12 mile run. I wanted to jump on top of that smoker and start ripping into it like a post-apocalyptic zombie. Fortunately my sister had made chocolate chip cookies and I was easily distracted. Cause I am guessing sitting on top of the smoker might have burned. And I cannot afford to have grill-shaped burns on the soles of my feet this far into marathon training.
Later we actually ate that brisket off of plates around a table in celebration of my Dad’s birthday. And because I ran 12 miles earlier in the day I had 1200 calories extra in addition the the regular calories you get to eat just because you’re a human, I took full advantage. It was a great day and a awesome evening. We ate cake, played cards, watched the Oscars and gave my youngest sister a hard time about Justin Bieber. The windows were open and the air smelled like spring. It was great.
I’m pretty happy with the way I spent the weekend. I’d say it was a good use of 1 of only 52 weekends. Also eleven years ago this weekend I met Jay. I discovered that at some point during my run on Sunday.