As you well know I am not a very exciting person but I do things that get me stared at in this smallish burg, namely today biking with my glowing pink hair through Hoquiam on Ralph’s Ute, which in turn had Phoenie’s bike piggybacked as I was meeting the kids at the Y and didn’t want to haul them both. (My daughter loves, loves her new fast and lightweight bike and the adult size enables her to have longer, faster, and more effiicient rides.) I’d used my very belt to lash the head tube of Phoenix’s bike to the flight deck of mine. After a few blocks of this I stopped at the hardware store and bought a couple bungees and used one to secure the bikes – and, in turn, free up the same service for my pants – properly the rest of the way.
The kids had a swim date from about three PM to five PM. I spent those hours at home phone and internet-free, practicing yoga, which I’ve found I am best suited doing separately from children running about and stepping on my throat. By the way, my “home studio space” lacks a few things, practically a strap and blocks (which would help as I almost killed myself on Sleeping Pigeon today), aesthetically perhaps the lack of redolant cat when my face is hitting the floor.
Anyway, at the Y to pick the kids up, just when I walked in the lobby (after answering the bike-related questions of a very interested four year old who immediately intuited he could ride atop the back of my steed), they both came running out. They’d gotten all showered and dressed and packed up, economically rolling up their towels in the duffel bag, and they were hungry. We continued our bike ride only seven blocks to the Mia for Italian fare and I drank glass after glass of water. Ralph met us there straight from work.
I am still getting used to the idea of time to myself where my kids aren’t either directly supervised by me or arranged for by me – or stressed over. Readers know I am not an overprotective mom in the general sense people seem to mean this, but I have in the past been sensitive to (and, okay, okay, easily pissed off by) comments of grownups regarding my kids’ conduct or my choice to let them be somewhere on their own. Even today I hovered barefoot and talked to the lifeguards overlong while my kids got swimming, nonplussed at my babies’ lack ceremony in saying goodbye. It felt so odd to just leave them and let the lifeguards boss them. In fact when I picked them up Phoenix gave me a dutiful report of the corrections the lifeguards had asked for, mostly involving grabasserty and Nels’ forays into the deep end. Nels can certainly swim and he’s mulling over taking the official swim test so he won’t get hassled for venturing over his head. And that whole thing is none of my business, neither to encourage or coerce but only to assist him if he needs it (which he won’t).
Home and I’m pleasantly sore and tired and ready for a snuggle and bed. Tomorrow I’m running again in the morning, then taking Nels out to his friend’s, after which I’ll sneak off to the bakery and select a few cupcakes et cetera to share with my little girl who’ll hopefully still be asleep and cuddly when I get home.