Procrastinating
For the first time since fourth grade, I’m seriously contemplating going to bed without brushing my teeth. Isn’t that the grossest thing ever? I might have the energy to swish around the Listerine, but I don’t think I have the energy for the full brushing routine. Mike is probably snickering, reading this. Perhaps if I just brushed my teeth for the recommended two minutes it wouldn’t be such an ordeal but I go longer. Maybe four minutes? Or possibly six. Ever since fourth grade, when some kid made fun of my stinky, yellow, gunky teeth and it suddenly clicked that DUH! Brushing your teeth gets rid of the stinky, gunky yellow goop, I have been fanatical about brushing. I was such a good kid that always obeyed, my mom just assumed that when she told me to brush my teeth I went in the bathroom and brushed them. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why I never brushed my teeth.
I think I may have just posted something I’ve never talked about in this journal before. Wonders never cease.
Remember my day from hell at the playground yesterday? I think I have some kind of balance issue. Today my friend and I braved the heat to meet up with our moms club at a different park. This park just installed one of those new-fangled playgrounds that’s supposed to promote balance and challenge the kids instead of just having them climb a ladder. It was not really appropriate for our little boys, but it was in the shade so my friend and I decided to make full use of the equipment and tested out this revolving circle thing. It was fun at first, but then Erik wanted to ride so I put him in front of me and held him while we went down. Suddenly Erik and I were on the ground. I just started laughing because it was so ridiculous that I would fall AGAIN. Erik decided he wanted nothing to do with the circle, smart boy, so my friend and I experimented some more. Important Lesson: When the circle swoops down, you must lean in or you will fall off.
Aren’t you glad I didn’t decide to go down the tongue slide? I can’t find a picture of it, but it has to be seen to be believed. You have to climb up very challenging little ladderish steps, then you have to figure out how to go down a curved, skinny, no-sides slide. It looks exactly like a tongue. I can only assume that your legs are supposed to hang over the side because I don’t know how you could sit in the traditional legs-straight-out slide position and not fall off.
Luckily there was a sand volleyball pit next to the playground, so when the boys got bored they went over and covered themselves in sand and my friend and I were able to stay in the shade. Erik, the darling, was covered in sweat (as was I) which made the perfect adhesive for the sand. He kept sticking his head directly in the sand, like he was preparing to do a somersault, so he was a mess by the time we had to leave. We went straight from the park to the gym, so that was kind of embarrassing. One of the rules is that the children must be clean and neat when they arrive, so I guess we were being rebels. No one said anything about it. I think I know where the rule comes from (moms who bring their kids straight from bed, still in their jammies, with maple syrup all over the place) and I think they know that Erik is usually fairly neat and clean so hopefully they can deal with a sandy boy once in a while.
There’s a new woman working who brings her three year old daughter. I really like them both and the daughter swoons over Erik. As soon as he arrives there are hugs and she tells him they are best friends. You have no idea how happy this makes me. Finally! A kid a little older than himself that loves him and that he can play with, unfettered by his crazy mother, for an hour or so. I am seriously considering inviting the girl to his birthday party. Would that be weird? I guess I have a month or so to figure that out.
Once I dropped him off, I went to the locker room and changed my clothes, only to discover I forgot to pack socks. GRRRRRRRR!!!! I had to do BodyPump with no socks, which totally sucked. I was already a sweaty mess from being out in the heat. I need to keep an emergency pair of socks in my backpack, I guess.
Ok, now that I’ve rambled on about nothing I guess I better go and brush my teeth. Why can’t the toothbrush come to me? Bastard. Maybe an Advil is also in order. My c-section scar has been hurting like crazy the past couple of weeks. I’m almost to the point of going to the doctor, but what could a doctor do? I hate doctors.