Boy, Are My feet Tired

Today I decided to get the boys out of the house for a few hours. Since we only have one car, that means we are walking wherever we want to go. It was a beautiful day in Atlanta, in the mid 80's and with big fluffy, white clouds dominating the sky. What a perfect day to go for a 6 mile walk to and from the playground. Or so you would think.

To start off, trying to get the 3 of us ready at the same time, plus diaper bag and snacks, takes forever. The kicker is as I'm struggling to get everything done, Devin, the 9-month-old is crawling pitifully behind me crying his little head off as I go from room to room. All he wants is for me to hold him. The nano-second that I pick him up, he stops crying and then starts up again when I put him down so I can get dressed or do whatever needs to be done. At times I just want to give up and stay in the house. I don't think Dylan would even care because he's glued to the TV.

When we finally do leave, I'm already hot and already perspiring a bit. I've got Devin strapped to my hip using a homemade sling while Dylan sits in the double stroller. I barely make it up the first and steepest hill in our neighborhood without passing out or having my heart explode in my chest! I'm drenched in sweat and it's not even 10 a.m.! I wanted to call my sister while we walked, but I could barely breathe let alone hold a conversation with someone. Dylan kept talking to me and wanting a response. I had to beg him to stop. "Mommy can't talk right now, son. Please." Huff-puff.

I must admit again that we stopped on the side of the road to use the potty because he said that he had to go. We weren't near any gas stations or stores. We pulled off to the side, and I tried to get him to use the On The Go Potty. No deal. He was too distracted by the pine needles and all the loud trucks passing by. We were behind a tree in hopes of giving us a buffer, but that didn't work. My husband called me a "redneck" for letting him do that. But what am I suppose to do? Anyone out there have any suggestions? We always use the potty before we leave the house, but he has a small bladder. I don't want to use pull-ups because I'm trying to train him right. I don't know...Looking for ideas.

By the time we got to the playground, I was pouring sweat. We stopped in the bathroom first. One look in the mirror caused me to wonder what people driving past must of thought when they saw me. I looked like I had run a marathon. My face was flushed, hair soaked and sweat just everywhere. A wet paper towel does wonders.

Sometimes I wonder why we even go to the park. All Dylan seems to want to do is play with the wood chips and bury his cars in the wood chips. This time I didn't let him play with the cars. I told him we came to the park to use the slides and run around. He kind of latched onto this older boy and followed him around the whole time the boy and his family were there. That meant that he climbed on things that I didn't think he was old enough to do. Boy did he prove me wrong! He climbed the highest rock wall, climbed some other crazy contraption that he could have fallen through, and tried to slide down a pole like a firefighter. Trust me, Devin and I were there the whole time lending a helping hand and saying a little prayer. A lady with an older girl made a comment, "He's all boy, isn't he?" Yes he is. Her daughter was timid and scared when it came to going down the big slides and doing other things on the playground. Dylan was full force. Not to say that some days (like when we went to the pool the last time) he's just not feeling it. But every kid is different. I wonder if (when) we have our girl will she be a princess or follow after her brothers?

What are the rules to the playground? Dylan and the older boy were trying to climb on the same thing at the same time. I told him that he needs to take turns, while the boys' grandmother said that since he was bigger he needed to help the little ones and to let Dylan go first. Now we could have stood there and had a friendly argument, but then no one would be able to play until we figured it out. I didn't want anyone's authority to be challenged, you know? So who was right? The person who corrected their child first, which was grandma? Should I have just smiled and had Dylan say "thank you" and if it happened again, I could have jumped in first and taught him to take turns? Now that I've had time to think about it, I think that's what I should've done. I'll try to remember for the next time. Or is there a better solution? The boy was nice about it and even let Dylan go in front of him another time without any prompting from his grandma. Good kid.

After getting Dylan to run around some more and seeing that he was losing interest, we headed home. We had an eventful and pretty good time out. Treated ourselves to Wendy's for lunch. Of course, my 2 stinkers fell asleep on the way home. I was trying to devise a plan to quietly get them into the house without waking them up. They foiled those plans when I stopped at the mailbox. Both of them were wide awake and ready to go again. As much as I hate letting Dylan watch too much TV, I was too tired to do anything. I turned PBS on just so I could catch a break. I eventually got down on the floor while Dylan watched Word World and Devin was crawling around and playing in the toy corner. I closed my eyes for just a moment. Refreshing, but I should have done it as soon as the show started because I waited until it was almost over. Dylan woke me up so he could watch something else. That's when I got up and finally turned it off. Let's play something!

I wonder: do you think the pancakes for breakfast, Wendy's for lunch, and Papa John's pizza with garlic dipping sauce that we had for dinner undid all those 6 miles that I walked today? I'm hoping that at least all that walking will undo the junk I did today. Kind of balance it all out. I did have a few pieces of apple. Yay me! I thought about making a salad before the pizza, but I was too tired to wash and cut the lettuce, wishing that I had brought a bag of pre-mixed stuff. Oh well, there's always tomorrow to try to eat healthier. Trust me. At 30-years-old, I've come a long way, baby, in regards to my eating habits. I'm one of the pickiest eaters you'd ever meet. I'm trying to do right with my kids. But that's another issue for another night.