This morning I laid in bed, not because I was lazy, but because getting out of bed meant I had to put on clothes depending on what I was going to do for my daily workout. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be a run (layers and layers–it’s 9 degrees out there and snowing) or yoga (shorts and a tank top since THE HEAT IS ON). The kids and Greg were all asleep, so I figured either way it was alone time but that yoga would be best so I wouldn’t startle Greg by making a “hey, I busted my a$$ at the corner of 11th and Western [because I thought it would be wise to run up hill in the snow], come peel me off the road” phone call.
So, I found my clothes and tiptoed out (okay, after telling him about my cheating on the scale). When I opened the door, I was greeted by a ‘lil girl and then heard a yell for “Mama! Mama!”. Crap. Both kids were wide awake, and the dogs wanted out, too. I took some time with the four kids and then set myself up for yoga.
Oh, now would be the time to mention that Evan didn’t have to potty upon waking, but gladly slipped into his
Thomas James (#5, his favorite number) unders and had his sister teach him how to fill a sippy cup with water from the bathroom sink, right?
I settled in to an hour of yoga, telling the kids that they needed to watch from the couch or go play in the toy room because this was me time (finding my peace and all). No questions unless they’re urgent.
Maybe at this point you can tell me why a four-year-old cannot entertain herself (even after 2 years 2 months as an only child) yet a 25 month old can entertain himself? Please? Someone? No? Okay. She bothered me the entire yoga set, turning an hour workout into an hour and 15 minutes. So much for finding OHM. Finally, with 20 minutes left, she decided she was marching her Alice in Wonderland costumed body up to her room “for a nap”. Good riddance, child.
I went back to yoga, settling in to the last, more relaxing moments of my workout. With (kid you not) 5 minutes to go, Evan starts yelling, “I wonnnna potty! I wonnnnna potty!”. I inhale. I exhale. I peel myself off the mat and scoop the kid up. He HATES our downstairs potty, so I skip steps to the upstairs. We make it just in time (with a small dribble on James) for him to empty his bladder. We switch to Thomas (“I wooonnna wear 5! 5! 5!”) and I hand him a bag of Swedish Fish as his pee-pee prize. At the sound of the peeling of wrapper, out comes Alice, demanding she get a pee-pee prize, too. Where is my peace?!??!!
I make my eldest cry, she retreats to her room, and Evan watches me finish my yoga, chomping on gummy fish and smiling. Perhaps this is my peace…for now.