Today (like every Saturday) I had a long run. We (me and my chicas) were up to 11 miles and I had it all planned out. Leave at 6 (a.m. that is) head through Broad Meadows for the first five, then out to Crump for the last six. I figured that we'd finish a little after eight and I'd have some down time before I had to teach Stroller Strides. I even had a new book on hand that I wanted to start during the very rare "kid-free" time I was going to have. But of course, like all good plans, this one faltered ... and I nearly missed the run.
It went down a little something like this. I set the alarm last night for five a.m. as I climbed into bed. Then I rolled over and passed out. And apparently I must have taken a sleeping pill before I went to bed (or maybe it was just pregnancy brain), because when that alarm went off, I kicked J and thought to myself, "Why the hell is that thing going off?" And I went right back to sleep.
Then, over an hour later I woke up in a state of panic. I looked at my watch. 6:20! Oh, crap! I kicked J again and blurted out, "I missed my run!" Knowing that the girls would be passing the start point just before seven, I hauled tail and got ready. (more complicated than you think - get dressed, get about 96 ounces of fluid, eat, get a snack, grab the garmin, my id and my cell.) Then right as I was about to head out the door, I remembered that R was on vacation and I had to make the call about the weather for Stroller Strides. I jumped on the Internet and saw that there was a chance of showers and both the sky and the radar looked iffy. So I moved class indoors (which I probably shouldn't have ... seriously, R I don't envy you) - which is also a complicated process of email and phone messages that seemed to take FOREVER in my time crunch. Either way, I finished, jumped in the car, and sped the entire way there.
I made it. I had to explain my stupidity, but I made it. I even managed to squeeze in eight miles before I had to book it to Stroller Strides.
And speaking of squeezing things in, Doodle managed to do a little squeezing act of her own this morning. When I got back from class, I found the girls in the playroom while J was upstairs. And when I walked in the room, I found one heck of a surprise. A poop-filled cloth diaper on the floor. My first instinct was to yell at J for being stupid enough to leave a soiled diaper on the floor. But when I did, he swore up and down that he hadn't done it. And you know what? He didn't.
Doodle did not have a diaper on. And her jumper was completely snapped. She had managed to stick her hand up her pant leg, undo the Velcro on the diaper and squeeze the rather bulky mess through the leg hole. Apparently, we have a little Houdini on our hands.
And what did we do? Laughed. Shook our heads. And said, "How the hell did she ever manage to do that?" Oh, yeah and then we cleaned her up.