Wait in the Van, a tragicomedy.
Act I, Scene I
My dad and his wife came over this morning to hang out with the boys. We headed over to the basketball courts so the boys could pedal around on their trikes before the sun blazed away our collective will to live. Plus One had taken a fancy to the small hills surrounding the blacktop, but instead of discouraging this primal behavior, I figured, Hey, why not let him? Hills are fun, MOM! He's a CHILD! Set his spirit FREE! Be caring! Be flexible!
And it was so.
Until, mid-sentence with my Dad, I looked over to see that T9--boy that kid is not to be trusted--was in the midst of waddling himself down that very same hill his brother had claimed. Because, RAHK! RAHK! RAHK!
From my viewpoint, I was certain T9's body would be mangled. My shouts were frantic and melodious, and I heard my Dad's feet pounding the pavement close behind. STAAAHHHHP! PLUS ONE! PLUS ONE! NONONONOHHHHHH!
I braced myself. but while T9 was covered with tire marks from head to toe (quite literally, I'm afraid), his only reaction was to grunt as if highly annoyed. Did I mention my this kid bites? Annoyed grunts shall become fearsome teeth in the coming days, I'm certain.
Act II, Scene I
Rather than check this day off my to-do list in one fell trike-collision swoop, after their grandparents left, I packed up the boys and headed to the gym at the community center. According to this NEW ME! mode of thinking, days can actually be salvaged after things like paper cuts, hitting one's one funny bone, or forgetting to brush your teeth. Surely hit-and-runs by way of tricycle are somewhat similar.
I put the boys in the play area of the exercise room and boarded the elliptical machine--about the only piece of equipment I can handle confidently at the gym. My iPod shuffling, heart wincing, and pores flooding, the Level 5 interval kicked on and I had to adjust my stance in order to continue the pace. You elliptical people totally know what I'm talking about, too. The thing where you lean on the display panel or lift yourself up a bit on the small handle grips? Sure, it's cheating. But so is...well, about a billion other cool things.
Karma has it out for me, however. That bitch. No sooner did I lean forward to rest on the grips, did the spastic moving handle PENETRATE the fabric of my sleeve and HURL ME FORWARD as it continued in motion.
As you might expect, I pretty much grunted in annoyance the first time, but I didn't move. I was TIRED. Then it happened again and fell half way off the machine.
Act III, Scene I
As we emerged from the gym, the rain had started to come down with fervor. I huddled the children under our ineffective umbrella and tried to take advantage of our impromptu puddle jumping session. Surely a day can be salvaged after TWO machines try to take the lives of certain family members?
We shook off in the entryway and the boys went off to play while I foraged through the fridge for dinner options. It was around this time that I heard the rain flinging against the windows in gusts. My husband's voice suddenly came to me from memory:
Don't forget to keep an eye on the wind, my trustworthy and reliable wife. That tarp awning could blow away with disastrous consequences.
I darted over to the back porch and looked over at the shelter. It was moving, guys. With each gust, the unanchored structure threatened to lift off like a motherfucking kite on speed. Naturally, I panicked. After spending several minutes pacing through the living room, cursing my life, picturing the metal poles busting out neighbors windows a-la National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and thinking WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!, I metaphorically smacked myself and darted outside.
And, what, do you think, I planned to do? People, I stood there, soaked with rain and sweat, furiously gripping one of the structure's six metal poles. The lightning crashed around me, and I PFFTT'ed rain off my lips as it streamed down my face, violently shouting to the heavens like the deranged woman I am.
Our heroine survived the awning debacle, was able to shrink down her outstretched sleeve, and texted pictures of her son's facial tire mark for comedic value. The day? A relative success. Stay tuned for the next installment where she goes on a water skiing adventure, jumping over a shark to demonstrate how cool she is in an amazing ploy for friend mongering!