A Walk in the Park

I am walking down the trail with a sense of urgency. A is in the double-jogger, whining, "I waaant a snack," after just having eaten her snack minutes earlier. C is strapped to my chest in his front carrier wailing loud screams of agony. He's just gotten his tears, so his sweet, little face looks even more pitiful than usual with all the tears streaming. Despite the loud yells that not even top walkman volume can drown out, I am calm, smiling at passersby, who I notice are all looking down as if to avoid eye contact. I can't imagine why. Oh, and did I mention that the stroller has a flat tire?

Let's go back to the beginning of the jog that started with such promise.... I arrive at the track with happy children. A grabs her new book and C snoozes quietly in the stroller. My run seems easy, and I quickly fall into a nice stride, when I notice the jogger seems awfully difficult too push, more difficult than usual. (Understand my three month old son weighs 15 lbs. 6 oz.) I look down to see the right-side tire is almost flat. "Awww man," I moan. I call T , who assures me that it will not damage the tire to keep on running, so I continue. Then I hear, "Mommy, I need juice."

"Mommy forgot your juice, and you just had something to drink."

"I need to potty."

Not now, not now. "You just pottied two minutes ago, sweetheart." I really think it is her attempt to go back home, so I keep running. If she asks again, we'll turn around. She doesn't mention it again.

Three miles, I make it three miles, non-stop. Truly a milestone, considering the horrible shape I'm in. Getting back into marathon shape with two is much more difficult than it was with one. But, what a fun challenge it presents. My celebration is cut short, though, when I see A leaning over her brother. "A , stop that, he's sleeping. Do not wake him up!" Or what, I think. It's too late, though. C opens his eyes and in minutes is crying. The crying escalates until we get to the half-mile marker where I unfasten his seatbelt and fasten him into the front carrier that I actually remembered to put into the stroller. I think this is might be a small example of what Paul meant when he wrote about perseverance producing character, etc.

And here is where you found us at the beginning. My desire to get back in my old clothing vs. my sanity. I pick up the pace even more (at least my angels motivate me to push harder at the track), and we finally make it back to the car. I unload cranky kids into the car, where A stops whining and C stops crying. I wrestle with the stroller and finally bodyslam it into its folding position and hoist it into the car. I can only laugh and remind myself that parenting isn't for the faint of heart.

Side note: My little pumpkin cracks me up. She is learning to sing along with the radio, and it is the cutest thing ever. She's memorized most of the Veggie Tales songs, and when her daddy is listening to the hair band channel on XM. She'll say, "I like this song; turn it up." :)