Thank goodness I don't have to add curlers to my day's routine too.
Well, the progress part has yet to be determined. Hmmm, ok, that’s not exactly true. My kids are saying please and thank you (almost) automatically now. That part only took 6-8 years. That’s progress right? And it wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t relentless, right? You get the idea.
The correlation between parenting and the staple of ultra running mantras, “relentless forward progress”, hit me night before last. But the nasty cold hit me first. And, as you know, a stay-at-home-mom can’t really call in sick unless she’s too sick to make a call. The gunkiness hit me quickly…the subtle cough at 4:00pm Monday was a croupy-hack by 8:00. Chills swept in shortly thereafter along with their sidekick body aches. No sleep that night worsened the deal. And the deal was I had to have all the business Quickbooks and taxes paperwork organized and to my CPA by Wednesday at 9:00am. Blurry-eyed and in between shuttling kids, I worked on the pile. By Tuesday after dinner, with about 2 hours to go to finish the accounting, I HAD to crawl into a hot bath.” No worries”, I told myself. I’ll just take a quick one, then finish up the paperwork. I slunked away and closed the bathroom door. Of course, hubby and my awesome biz partner, Michelle, who is here for a few weeks helped when they could, but a mom’s work is never done and no one does things like mom. The love curse.
I slid into the sanctuary of my hot, bubble-filled claw foot and tossed a book by the tub, just in case I got bored. (Nope, I can’t relax. I stash books, phones, magazines and lists everywhere I go, event when I’m sick.) The title of the book made me roll my eyes. “Relentless Forward Progress” It’s actually a guide to running ultramarathons, but at that moment, I just knew that if I opened it and started reading, it would be a detailed account of my day. About 37 seconds into my “break”, my 5 year old daughter came in and plopped herself down on the bathroom rug and proceeded to talk to me about I can’t remember what when suddenly she screamed, “I have a bloody nose!” I opened one eye to see big red drops hitting the rug and her eyes as big as saucers. Bracing myself for chills on top of chills, I jumped out, wrapped a towel around myself and took her out to the dining room. Hoping hubby could take care of her was a silly thought. Not because he’s not capable, but because I thought she would just hop on his lap, gushing nose and all. After a half hour of nose-pinching with head down and a cold compress, having exhausted almost all of my kid-song repetoire, it finally sort of stopped. Kinda. At least enough to put her to bed and get back to the taxes.
Or so I thought.
With wet hair and just my robe, I talked and laid with her until she finally fell asleep at 10:30. At one point, about 9:30, I had thought I could sneak out and jump-start my tub with a little hot water and sneak back in. This was met with screams from her bedroom. So, I slept with her until 11:00.
Gripping a mug of hot throat coat tea, I padded back into the dining room where sat my pile of regurgitated receipts and statements for hubby and I’s businesses. It was his poker night (he left after putting my son down and after May and I were asleepish). He came home at midnight, refreshed my tea, brought me Ricola and gave me a shoulder rub. I shivered and sweated at my computer until 1:30am while he read me statement transactions.
At 2:00am I finally got my hot bath. I can’t say it was worth the wait, but it was worth something.
I’m not very far along in the ultrarunning guide book. I just read a chapter about “Bonk Runs” where you get your body used to running long distances, repeatedly with limited fuel. And B-2-B runs where you go long back-to-back, two days in a row so you can feel what it’s like to push through with tired legs and mental stress. Yep, I was right. It’s a book about motherhood.
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