Thursday, April 22, 2004

Things are getting serious.

It's been more than six years since I had my first baby. Aside from the obvious life changes that a baby brings (stretch marks, sleepless nights, sniffing butts - just to give you a few that start with the letter "s"), babies have kept me at home. Most of the time. And when I'm away from home, they are almost always with me. They are with me when I sleep. They are with me when I shower. They are with me when I sh..... okay, you get the picture, right?

Today, I hired a babysitter to watch the kids while I went running. And not just any babysitter. A teenage babysitter (who I have in the past used as a mother's helper). I have never done this before. I use babysitters so rarely that Bailey has been known to ask us to go out, so she can get a break from us. And the babysitters have either been family, or my friend Tara, child-care provider extraordinaire. This is a big deal. And while I was mildly stressed about it, I felt OK. It's only thirty minutes, right? Really, what can go wrong in thirty minutes? They can't starve. They don't need to go to sleep. They can't get to like her better than me in that short of a time, can they?

So, off I went. The time of day was completely different than my normal time. I have mostly been running in the morning, but today it was after school, since I was at the mercy of teenage scheduling. I had to run by a lot of teenagers, all on their way home from school. I try to avoid people in general when I am running, partly because I am sort of concentrating, or timing, or thinking interesting thoughts. And partly because I don't want to see their looks of pity as I struggle up a hill, or of laughter at my goofy exercising walk. I avoid teenagers in particular, because they, more than anyone, would be aware of how uncool my clothes are. However, they were all polite, and if they were laughing at me, they kept it to themselves 'til I was past.

And finally, to further demonstrate the seriousness that I place on my "running", I got thoroughly rained on. It was slightly raining when I left, and raining in earnest by the time I was done. Iwore my tights, and let me tell you, I was pining for my water resistant polyester track pants. And for a hat that didn't climb my head.

When I got back, Cam and Dex were sitting in the front door with the babysitter, waiting for me. But they were happy, and there had been no crying. Bailey was still downstairs, playing with her friend. Not only did she not notice I was gone, I don't think she noticed she had a babysitter. I'm not sure if I want to do that again - it seems like they might forget that I am the center of their universe. And if I am not that, what am I?

Monday, April 19, 2004

I guess I don't embarrass easily enough.

Here is this week's list:

  • fairy gingerbread
    1/2 pan, (2 pieces with whipped cream)

  • Big Xtra, medium fries

  • 4 pieces of Domino's Pepperoni Feast pizza, several pieces of Chicken Kickers

  • 2 TH FV Cappuccinos

  • 4 too many pancakes with butter and syrup

  • Harvey's Grilled Chicken Pita, a few onion rings, a few fries

  • Small bag of BBQ Lay's potato chips


I have always thought of myself as someone who embarrasses easily. I hate saying the wrong thing, I hate putting myself out there if there is any risk that someone doesn't want me to, and I generally don't do goofy things. I'm the one who never does the bird dance, and who won't participate in the funny face making contests. I don't play practical jokes (in case someone doesn't think they're funny), and sometimes I can't give gifts I have bought (in case the recipient doesn't like it). All because I am afraid of being embarrassed. In my family, I am considered to be a party pooper. (Not that I would EVER poop at a party. Far too embarrassing.)

I guess I have to rethink this. Who in their right mind would continue to eat the amount of junk I do, knowing that it would be posted on the web for all to see and judge? Wouldn't a person with a low tolerance for embarrassment maybe stop eating so much crap? Or at least lie about the crap said person was eating? I think so. So, I guess I no longer embarrass easily.

The next time you see me, I'll probably be doing the bird dance, while making a funny face and holding an Ultimate Burger.