Headspace, the beginning

I’m finally at a point emotionally where I can write about my day Friday.

It’s taken awhile for me to reach this point, at least without crying or fighting back tears.

Let me start off by saying sure, parenthood is rewarding.  Yeah, I believe it.  There are times when it’s extremely rewarding.  If you want a rewarding story, click here and read no more.  Turn away now.

The day started off as it often does, with a morning walk with my friend Leslie and her kids.  We decided on this particular day to just walk around the park that is close to both our houses.  The path in the park loops nicely around playground equipment and a shelter area, plenty of space to walk; we thought we’d walk a couple of loops and then go about the rest of our day.

After the first loop or two, her oldest who is 5 wanted to play on the playground equipment instead of following on his bike.  Jude wanted to also play at the playground, so I let him.  Jett wanted to get in on the playground action, so I let him out, too and ditched my stroller – thinking that he would play nicely with the older kids.  I thought we were going to have an easy, breezy lap around without strollers.

Soon after we started walking without kids, Jett got spooked (thinking that I was leaving) and ran after me.  I told him he could walk with us as long as he stayed close – the stroller was too far away to go back for it.  Leslie’s kid who’s the same age as Jett was along as well.  The two kids got going a short distance ahead, and then a little further.  Pretty soon they came upon the point in the path where the loop joins with the street access path, presenting an option to Jett.  Of course, Lincoln, the other boy, turned for the loop like a good boy.  Not my kid.  He took the access path and didn’t look back.

I yelled and yelled at that boy to STOP!  STOP!! Come back!! JETT!  GET BACK HERE NOW!!!  He didn’t even turn his head back to look.  He just kept going.  And going.  The point came where I decided it was necessary to run after him.  As you can imagine, at 29 weeks pregnant, this wasn’t a decision I came to easily.  Leslie, bless her heart, told me not to, that she would, but with all 4 of hers in tow again by this point (plus Jude), I couldn’t let her.   She sent her oldest two to run after Jett thinking they could catch up to him and stop him.  No such luck.  By this point I was already running anyway.  Up a giant hill, mind you.  A hill I can barely push the kids up when they’re in the stroller, it’s that steep.

I got to the top of the hill just in time to see Jett running for the street, about 150 yards ahead of where I was.  And I saw at least two cars coming.  Luckily, he turned where the path meets the road and followed the sidewalk toward our house.  It’s the path we always take home.

At this point, any breath I could muster was expended yelling for my runaway.  And yell I did.  Repeatedly.  And I knew he could hear me.  Approximately the 50th time I called for him, he turned around and saw how serious I was.  He stopped; we were about 5 houses away from our house at this point.

I pulled down his shorts and training pants and swatted his bottom with my hand right there on the spot.  And then, tightly gripping his arm, I dragged him back to the park with me.  Oh, I was hot.  And hot.  In every sense of the word.  Except the sexy sense of the word.  I was not that.  No one should have to see a pregnant, red-faced, sweaty woman running.  Not ever.

Jett knew he was toast.

We walked back home as soon as we got back to our stroller.  I took the back way home just in case – I didn’t want anyone who had seen me running and yelling frantically after my kid minutes before get a second look at the spectacle.

But this, my friends, is only the backdrop to my day.  The exciting conclusion to come…