In the Weeds

Oh it just wouldn't be me if I didn't have some sort of a breakdown before a big event. That's my M.O.

No worries. I'm almost one with it. Learning to roll with the punches here.

What normally happens the week before any event, any event whatsoever, is that unplanned events occur. Illness. Sickness. A new aversion to the kiddie care at the gym. Oh any of those fun things like that. Happens literally every time. Every week of every year could be boring and uneventful except for the week we have something going on. And inevitably I have a period of about, oh 20 minutes, when I am reduced to a pile of grown woman-tears. (Yes, I'm a crier. Sue me.)

Anyway whatever decides to happen ends up piling up on top of whatever it is I am already inner panicking about and it feels like when I used to wait tables. We called it, "in the weeds"...

It all started with the throw up.

Tuesday night there was a sick Poops. Losing guts. No idea why. Yada yada yada, for a few hours, until it stops and then it's done.

Weird.

So the next day, for him, we decide no camp. We don't know the cause of said affliction and/or if it is indeed gone, so we stay home. It's a movie day. Which also means, there is no workout for me -- one of two final swim/slash/runs before the tri. Which is ok, because in my head I've moved it to Thursday. I still have Thursday, Friday and kind of Saturday but not really Saturday because you're not supposed to do much the day before. But I'm flexible. I'm Mommy first. Anything else, second.

So Wednesday was an entire day of not throwing up which is always good. A good day in fact. And the man has his appetite back. His only request? Pizza. I don't know about you, but when special requests come on sick days, I will pretty much give him a (reasonable) free pass. So pizza you want? Pizza you get. A small price to pay for losing everything in your body for a couple hours nonstop while a mommy stands by helplessly holding the bucket.

So I turn to the internet. Because, oh, yes, ordering pizza is soooo easy now!! You just order it online! One click! Yippety do!

You just plug in all your information and VOILA! PIZZA is at your front door. Is the way it's supposed to go.

But when, for some reason, and you know that it is NOT YOU, your card does not go through online, did you know that someone from Tennessee contacts you??? Instead of, say, the pizza place right down the block?

So I get the call from Tennessee that my card did not go through and of course I refuse to reorder over the phone because, well, it's someone in Tennessee and how do I know that this is a Pizza Schmut call center and not someone who has hacked into my computer somehow? So I call my local pizza place and order it over the phone and say I'll pay cash. Whatever. The kid wants pizza.

So I load up the car with the kids and go get cash with the very same card that did not go through, by the way. And don't you just hate it when cards don't go through and they look at you or talk to you like you're some sort of pauper who's beneath them? I'm sorry ma'am, (says their tone of voice) but it appears you can't afford pizza tonight. Now, why don't you go away so I can help other people who can pay?

Oh sure. Because it HAS to be me. It cannot possibly be your machine.

So I pay for the pizza and of course, GUESS WHAT?? I check my balance the very next day and it appears that my card magically went through!

Oh really.

So now I've paid twice for this damn pain in the ass pizza. (Sigh. But still worth it I guess darn it because of the "Mommy, this is the best bread ever!" that I got from a little boy who ate - and held down - the pizza. So I just say -- finger wagging here -- You are very, very lucky, Pizza place!) But yes, I did call them and give them the business.

Then Thursday starts off nicely, everyone's dressed and ready to go and I realize I cannot find said ATM card. I search my car. My bags. My wallet. The floor. The toys. Pockets. Nothing.

And it occurs to me that I actually don't remember taking it back out of the ATM after I got the cash. Or do I? I can't think! I was frazzled by the pizza thing so there is a good chance I might have left it! So I report that "missing" and now I am without. Which kind of stinks. Because now I have to be "cash or check girl." For 5 to 7 business days. But that's ok, because Thursday is a gym day and the kids are all healthy. One goes to camp, one goes to Kid Kare at the gym.

I get about 20 minutes into workout when I hear:

ATTENTION FITNESS MEMBERS! ATTENTION FITNESS MEMBERS! WOULD RYAN'S MOTHER PLEASE COME TO KID KARE! I REPEAT, COULD RYAN'S MOTHER PLEASE COME TO KID KARE!

People are snickering. I hear one lady say, "I'm not Ryan's mommy!" And I think, "I am, so shut it lady."

So I head on over and there is a little tiny someone, standing at the door, crying. Inconsolably. Red faced, big fat tears streaming, mouth open, hiccupping from crying.

OK OK, there there honey, we'll go. It's ok! The lady is apologizing, saying she really tried to keep him busy but he just wouldn't have it. And I know she tried, it's not her fault, it's ok, he's just having an off day I guess.

So instead, now the panic is beginning to set in that I'm scrapping this workout too, but I breathe in deeply and think, that's ok, I have two workouts left before Sunday but I still have Friday at least. We'll scrap Thursday, but I will still be able to get something else done that I really need to do which is, take our snack over to the bike shop so I can get something to wear for the tri, (if I can't work out).

Because, at present, I have no idea what I am going to wear. I know what I won't do. I won't throw on bike shorts after the swim because they cut off my circulation at the waist. And plus you can't run in them because of that massive padding in the butt. And plus mine take me about 10 minutes to put on. So the race will be over when I get them on.

And sure, some people do the whole thing in their bathing suit, but, uh uh, THAT'S NOT ME. My thighs still believe they are, indeed, one thigh, and not two. They probably always will no matter how much weight I ever lose. The chafing would be unbearable.

The one piece tri-suits help with that (see all this stuff I've learned??? I never thought about any of this before!). Anyway, trisuits, it's like a spandex tank and bottoms that are fused together at the middle and without the cutoff in circulation, so you can swim, then bike, then run in it, it's like a bathing suit type of running and cycling dream! It dries quickly and there's no changing! Oh. But they're $175 you say?

OK so I'll try to find one on clearance. Oh. But the ones on clearance seem to be on clearance for a reason i.e. stain, hole, etc...

And no one else has them. Hmm. (Dream temporarily shattered.) Ok I'll try on two pieces then (spandex top and spandex bottom). And this process becomes all very eerily remniscent of when I was in the larger sizes trying to stuff myself into regular clothing -- the sweating, the near-crying... And as suspected, two pieces won't work either. This sucks. Circulation being cut off everywhere. Baby is crying again. The dressing room is becoming very stressful. Oh and plus guess what?? That's right. No ATM card. Ugh. We're leaving anyway.

So not only do I not have anything to wear (I want my mommy!), I am also panicking that I still don't know how to change a bike tire should the opportunity present itself on the ride because no one is allowed to help you if you get a flat. And by now I realize I can't go to the store to try on tri clothing because somewhere between the time that I got money out and the time of well, now, my ATM card has disappeared. Meantime, going to the store is a fruitless venture anyway because my normally level-headed and pleasant 19 month old for some reason cannot seem to hold it together in any type of store (or daycare) whatsoever, so I am just sweating and panicking on the inside the whole time anyway. Not to mention two days of workouts are gone. TIME IS RUNNING OUT!!!!!!!!!

And this is where I really start to lose it.

It's about lunchtime by this time, I have really tried to roll with the punches but now I am really starting to panic. And heeeeeeere come the water works!

I really am at the end of my rope for the day. I have my little cry. And we head out the door to pick up the other one and I leave myself enough time to get my most favorite comfort food of all, the light caramel frappuccino at Starbucks (130 calories fyi).

World is looking better. I decide to go to the bike shop when husband comes home, the heavens open and I find an outfit (husband came home bearing gift of cash for ATM card-less wife). I decide I will wear my bathing suit for the swim, throw on Tri shorts over it (which are like bike shorts but with lesser padding) then toss on a light blue, very light bike jersey (which is super cute and I am excited now because it matches my helmet) and that will be it.

I found a quickie free bike maintenance class at the bike shop, I skip on over there, and now I am somewhat versed on changing a tire although I am not sure I'll actually remember all the steps but I'll just pray for no flat at all, mkay?

World looking much better now.

So on to Friday's workout at the gym but the kid just won't do the kidcare again. Crying and madness ensues before we even step foot into the gym this time. And this is all becoming very very super inconvenient.

But life will go on. I'll just have to go now when the husband comes home. And I guess I'll have to live with the fact that I'll only have one more workout instead of two and pray that I will just be ready on Sunday.

Right?

It's really almost funny now. (Almost.) Because of course why is it that one would get sick and the other would go on strike from the daycare the WEEK before the triathlon when I feel like there is so much left to be done? How? Why? Really???

Murphy's Law. Well at least I have something to wear now. If I get a flat or can't finish the race, at least I'll look good! Right?

In the Weeds

https://babytealeaves.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-weeds.html