My Morning Shit Show

7am comes far too early most mornings.  It may have something to do with the fact that I’m not retiring until the wee hours of the morning, but let’s not place blame.  My alarm this morning was greeted with the usual grunt and groan, with wide eyed confusion as I attempt to turn the darn thing off.  You’d think after having this phone for over a year, I’d be adept at maneuvering the different tasks.  This one still throws me for a loop.  Then an interesting thing happened.  For the first time in several weeks, my wonderful little bundle of joy (this is my opinion of him upon first waking, it changes, just wait) wakes on his own, comes strolling into my room with his favorite teddy bear in hand and crawls into bed with me for our morning cuddles.  He decides he does not have enough energy to participate in our morning run.  It’s only a half mile jog, but to him it’s exhausting.  Thinking ahead to the rest of my day, the thought of sneaking in a real run and getting the exercise done and out of the way before 8am sounds super appealing so I suggest we go for a longer run where he can ride his bike.  Sometimes thoughts should remain just that-thoughts.  The next hour proved to be the biggest shit show of the week thus far. 

His response to my suggestion was cute though, I have to admit.  Laying there, still clutching Mama Bear and snuggled into me, he gets his contemplative look as he mulls over what I’ve said.  He nods first, then speaks “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea Mom cuz my legs only use half the amount of energy to ride my bike as they do when I run.  Let’s go!”  He jumps out of bed and runs off to get dressed.  Moments later, as we’re heading out the door, still all excited, he turns to me and says “Since I’m using half the energy to ride my bike I think we should go on a longer route.  Let’s do FIVE MILES!”  His enthusiasm is inspiring but let’s be realistic-I haven’t really run in three months, and usually don’t go further than three miles at a time.  Five is a bit excessive.  We compromise at two.

Running gear on, iPod set to go, I send him off to retrieve his bike and helmet.  I am relieved when he doesn’t argue with me about it not being the “right” helmet.  His is currently MIA so he had to wear his cousins.  Usually, that’s an area of heated discussion.  Thankfully, this morning it was not.  The bike however, having not been used in sometime, is encased in spider webs.  My wonder child, lover of all creatures creepy and crawly, will not touch spider webs.  They freak him out.  He’ll pick up with his bare hands the most disgusting, vile, dangerous looking eight legged monstrosity, but he won’t touch the web.  Mom to the rescue.  I drag the bike out, clean it off and hand it over for inspection.  He approves, hops on and falls off.  The chain had somehow come off and wedged itself in between two parts whose names I won’t even pretend to know.  After some considerable force and four hands on the task, the chain is back on.  Covered in rusty grease, I realize it is sunny out-until now, this fact had escaped my attention.  I want my sunglasses.  No sooner do I make it back into the house, do I hear crying: loud, obnoxious crying.  Turns out, he’s fallen off his bike a second time and we haven’t even left the yard yet.  Forget five miles, even the two we planned seems like a daunting task at this point!

Fast forward: he falls two more times, has a meltdown in some grass because it’s hard to pedal and nearly runs me into an oncoming gigantic SUV because riding in a straight line is apparently a more difficult task than one would think.  He’s frustrated and upset, I’m anxious and irritated and we’ve still got three quarters of a mile to go.  His methods of calming himself irk me, the more I’m irked the less patient I become.  The less patient I am, the more tense our interactions are, and now we’re both ready to scream.  The peaceful bliss with which I welcomed him into my bed and referred to him as a bundle of joy, is far gone.  Now the countdown to bedtime begins!  All before 8am.  Tomorrow, I'll be sure to not have any bright ideas.