It's just after dawn on Sunday morning and I'm coming off a long Bert-less week of taking the prickly teen to seminary at an appalling hour of the morning. Plus I'd been up late waiting for the prickly teen to return from his mosh pit concert. So I was exhausted. I say all this by way of excuse.
I'm woken by a sweet little 5yo voice.
"Mommy, where are the paints?"
And I think, "Paints? At this time in the morning? Well, I can hear Bert crashing around downstairs so I guess it's ok. The 5yo wants to paint? How cool is that? I love it that he's asking to paint! Normally he's not interested. That's so cool."
Meanwhile time is flowing by and the 5yo is waiting for an answer. I finally get my lips and voice to work and my sleep addled state manages to force out the words "Bookshelf in homeschool room."
So off the little cutie trots and I attempt to float back into my dream that inexplicably contains Shania Twain.
A few minutes later he's back. "I don't want a book." he says, "I want paints."
"Yes," I reply, a little more coherently now, "The paints are on the shelf next to the books in the yellow box."
"I said PANTS," he says, "not PAINTS."
Oooohhhhh! I'd totally misheard him and sent the poor kid looking for pants on the homeschool bookshelf. :D
So I tell him they're in his drawer and off he trots and I hear him playing a short while later so problem solved and I settle back in to doze. The dh comes back to bed (he's so jetlagged) and I tell him about it and we giggle.
Five minutes later here comes Andrew again looking for pants. What? He didn't find any in his drawer? No. He can't find them.
So I say, "You folded about five pairs when we were doing laundry yesterday and put them away. Where did you put them? Are they in the drawer under your bed?" He goes to check. Nope. Goshdarnit, where could he have put them? But there's a basket of laundry at the end of the bed that I washed late last night while waiting for the prickly teen so I tell him to look in there.
He can't find any. Aaaaarrrrgghhh. You know what this means don't you? It means I have to open my eyes all the way and actually get out of bed.
I make "Uuurrrrggghhh" noises as I roll out of bed and make him giggle. I lift up a couple of items of clothes and pull out a pair of pants for him.
"NO!" He says in frustration, "I need PANTS, not UNDERPANTS!"
And all of a sudden the synapses fire and the rusty cogs start turning and the lightbulb goes "bing!" above my head and I say, "OH! You need TROUSERS!"
My poor son. This whole process has taken about 20-30 minutes of confusion for him. Bert starts laughing and says, "How long have you lived in this country?" What can I say? :P Early in the morning the native language takes over. Though I'm so American now it's been a long time since I've experienced that kind of language confusion.
So anyway now I'm thoroughly awake and thought I'd tell you about yesterday's run. I don't know the Garmin info off the top of my head but I did pretty well with my new slow commitment. I think my avg pace was 13.xx and I only did 3 miles. That's pretty good considering the Voices attempted to entice me to go longer and faster.
I was able to ignore them better than usual because I hurt. Oh yes I did. My lower body is a mass of gentle aches. And by gentle aches I don't mean outright pain I mean, "Uh oh, this could either develop into something bad or it could resolve itself and go away." It's a waiting game now. What will next week bring? Strengthened legs? Or a poster? My heart quails - please not a poster! But my stubbornness is still intact. Unfortunately Nurse Sensible Gland is fully awake and is looking at me with disapproval. I smile innocently and while she is not convinced she has also not put her foot down. Phew.
Happy Sunday y'all. What a great day Sunday is. :)