This past Saturday we had a million and one things to do. We were hosting 16 girls at a Kids Choice Awards Slumber Party, Molly had soccer practice and Liam had a birthday party. Not to mention we needed to clean the house from top to bottom for the party (missing that cleaning lady yet again). And of course the usual parenting routines of making sure the kids get up, dressed, find soccer clothes and equipment, wrap present and make card, be nice to each other and the dog, say no to drugs and become productive members of society. So with soccer practice looming at 10:00am and the clock striking 8:45am as the first eye in the house opens the love of my life rolls over and says, “I think I’ll go for a run.” Mind you he hasn’t exercised in like 6 weeks but thinks the start of a marathon parenting day would be a good time to go for a run!!! Speechless I watch as my very own Steve Prefontaine dresses and disappears for his run.
“Is he kidding me?” races through my head as the door slams shut. Only a man could wake up on a day like today and think (1) I really need some “Me Time” and (2) actually go out and do it. I don’t know whether to be completely impressed or mind rattlingly furious though I am leaning toward the latter. Since I don’t have the luxury of doing anything else I start my day. Wake the dead (oops I mean kids), clean the dog’s pee spot (our fault for sleeping so late – note here that Runner Boy either stepped directly in or deliberately over the pee spot and it is still here), make breakfast, locate missing soccer cleats, find matching socks, wrap birthday present, oversee card making for the Kindergartner (“B-I-R-T-H-D”-“no D points the other way”- “no it’s not ruined” – “OK fine start again” – “B-I-R…”), find soccer ball, make tight but not too tight ponytails, and breathe.
In comes Runner Boy. He heads straight over to me and gives me a huge kiss. Then says “Thanks I really needed that I’ll take over here. You go take a nice long hot shower.” Yeah right? Here’s what really happened:
In he comes and heads straight over to his IPhone to check email then unbelievably hops on his laptop. I finally boil over when I see Facebookpop up on his screen. I very calmly say, “For the record this will be Exhibit A in court.” This is a common phrase in our house in reference to our imaginary divorce proceedings. It is quite useful in getting the “you’re-F’ing-pissing-me-off-right-now” point across. As dawn breaks on marble head he understands the enormity of our looming day and giggles as he says, “Hey, I’ll drop them off if you start in on the cleaning.” Blatantly taking the least painful of the day’s co-parenting routine I am yet again impressed by the workings of the male mind. I really must take lessons someday.