The Tiger Must Be Appeased
I am trying to be better about getting exercise. We have a stationary bike in our garage, and I've been pretty good about riding it most days lately. My challenge is getting my kids to leave me alone while I'm huffing and puffing my way through the routine. They're supposed to leave me alone, but -- surprise, surprise -- they don't always.
Today while I was riding, and during the most difficult, steepest part of the program, Tallulah wandered in. Yes, even though I had told them not to bother me unless 911 needed to be summoned. Again, such a surprise.
"Mommy, where's the paint face?" (That's her way of saying face paints.)
I breathlessly tried to tell her I didn't know and I would find them when I was done. She didn't like that answer, so she hung on the handle bars and commenced begging. Gasping and straining, I told her again that I couldn't help her right at the moment, that she would have to wait.
She was having none of it. After all, she was all dressed up like a tiger, and she wanted to complete the look by painting her face. She started to dig in and rev up her whine. Meanwhile, sweat was dripping into my eyes, my legs and lungs were burning, and I just could not deal with that tenacious little she-who-must-be-dealt-with thing she does.
So I went with the first, most expeditious solution that popped into my head:
It worked. She left me alone. She found the markers and did a number on her face:
This little story illustrates the two basic problems with Me Time for Mom. First, Me Time makes me say really stupid things, things I would never say if I wasn't trying to do something nice for myself. And second, the aftermath is a bitch.
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