A Stolen Day

I've been a bit MIA lately, namely because my family has been hit with the sinus infection semi. No way to politely say this, so I'll just throw it out there: it SUCKS. Got strep? Get antibiotics. Got a headache? Take an Advil (or bubble gum Motrin, for the toddler set). Got a railroad tie going through your temples while your nose runs non-stop green? Don't give your children any cold medicine--if the news stories about it weren't enough to scare me, the fact that it doesn't work for myself makes me realize it's not necessary--and steer clear of meds yourself, if you want to be cognisant. If I take, say, a non-drowsy Sudafed, I'm still knocked out, which doesn't bode well for tending to Ben, who, these days, unrolls a whole roll of TP into the toilet as a hobby. I swear, running a marathon is easier than having a sinus infection and taking care of kids at the same time; nothing like bending over to pick up a 35-pound kid, carry him up the stairs to change his diaper while he's screaming to really aggravate an already awful situation. Given the choice between that scenario and hitting the wall at mile 23, I say, bring on the miles.

Our whole family took turns with the gunk, and Ben was first, so he stayed home from daycare (or "school" as I call it, to make it sound less neglectful) last Friday. I'll admit: at first, I was bummed. I had a ton of work to do, and was coming off a trade show and was exhausted from that. But as the two of us eased into our stolen day, I realized that I spend very little one-on-one time with Ben; typically, it's 15 minutes of book reading before bed. We had a great morning as we built towers and roads and zoomed cars (and I wiped his nose every 2 minutes or so). I was contemplating going to the Y so I could stick him in daycare (I know: bad mom, spreading germs! But it was only going to be for 45 minutes, and I needed to sweat). I looked at the temp outside, though, and saw it was nearly 50, so I bundled him up, stuck him in our Chariot Carrier (which I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually run with) and off we went. We had a ball: we said hi to the choo-choos, hi to the heli-lopter, hi to the dogs we passed. He kept repeating, "Running mama, running mama," before he went into a trance and just enjoyed the ride.

For my part, I remembered that running with a stroller really isn't that much harder than running solo, at least if you're mostly on flat paths. I was happy to have a Ben soundtrack instead of my tunes, which I've so overplayed I have a hard time finding one I like. My body still isn't thrilled with the idea of running again, but instead of concentrating on every ache, I tried to concentrate on how lucky I was: here I was, the sun shining on a bluebird day in the middle of a Friday afternoon, pushing my own loving cheerleader as we shared a stolen day. It doesn't get much better than that. I try as hard as I can to appreciate such moments, but often I'm too rattled or preoccupied to do so. On Friday, I can truly say I did.

My life-is-good attitude couldn't have come at a better time: I walked in the door, and realized our dog had pulled a family size container of peanut butter and a full tub of Smart Balance from the counter--my fault for leaving them out--and proceeded to lick them both clean. Still, I'd rather deal with getting up six times in the night so she can empty out her innards instead of dealing with this sinus infection. Off to shoot up with some Zicam, which doesn't make me loopy, now.