Sunday, August 23, 2009

This is why I drive

Master J spent the night at Mamoo & Papa's Friday night. On Saturday, he convinced Papa to buy him a large Lego building kit. Apparently, he invited Papa to play Lego's in his room there, forgetting to mention that he actually had none there. Hmmm, Papa has already agreed to play Lego, therefore he must honor that commitment by heading out to the store. As a side note, when Papa said he was willing to spend $20 on a Lego kit, he was informed by Master J that "That's not going to get you much!". Nice kid I have.

So Mamoo & Papa took Master J shopping and came back with a huge building set. After arriving back home, Papa & Master J spent several hours building. But due to time constraints, they were unable to finish the project in one day. Master J wanted to go back to finish it today.

Master J asked if we could all go back to Mamoo & Papa's house today and Mister C agreed. Anyway, all of this is the back story. But, this is not a story of good times spent with doting grandparents. No, this is a story of pain. Because Mister C decided we would all ride our bikes to my parent's house.

Umm, I'm not real great with bikes. I mean, if it has a motor and I'm clinging to someone else that is in control of it I can totally do it. But me pedaling? On my own? Not so much on my daily agenda. Don't get me wrong, it sounds good in theory. Good clean family fun, right?

Not so much.

I have this minor issue with coordination that makes walking a gamble on some days. I'm fairly sure I would fail a field sobriety test if I were stone cold sober. No lie. I trip on air, I bump into things constantly. I have walked into door frames and my toes are constantly curled in fear of whacking things. I have slid down stairs more times than I care to mention (hence the single story house). No, grace is not my middle name. And Mister C wants to put wheels under me? That's just not a good idea.

But after much trepidation (and nagging from Mister C) I gave in and agreed to bike over to Mamoo & Papa's place for breakfast.

First of all it should be noted that I am not the only unenthusiastic one in the bunch. Master J has no desire to bike over either. He would be just fine with driving over thanks. But Mister C is bent on family together time. After some basic whining and laying in the driveway claiming illness (by Master J) and several bathroom trips, drinks of water and consumption of bananas (by MJ & me), we head out.

Mister C zips around in circles encouraging Master J to get started. Master J dutifully falls into line behind his dad. My shaking, weaving, brake pulling self brings up the rear. I hate this. I feel like I'm out of control of my body and I'm praying none of the neighbors steps out to get their paper and waves. Both of my thumbs are wrapped securely around the grips and two fingers are on the brakes. I'm fairly sure there's no way I'm waving back without falling over and hurting myself. The last thing I need in the neighborhood is pity and a reputation.

We don't get very far before Mister C informs us we have to "make a few stops". He has brought along DVDs that need to be returned and wants to pick up bacon for breakfast as well. WTF? Why? Why? Why? Why does every trip have to include extra stops? I'm already not happy about this whole biking thing to begin with and now we have to go a mile out of our way. I'd knock him off his bike if I could catch up to him.

So we ride. God love him, but Mister C is a hazard to the teaching of road rules. He rides on the wrong side of the road, never stopping at side streets or store driveways. Master J follows. I'm sure the people on the entire route now know my child's name. I must have shouted at him a dozen times to stop because his father zipped across some street and Master J didn't even look before doing the same. Had he been right with his dad it wouldn't have been so bad. But he wasn't, he was far enough behind that a driver seeing Mister C pass would think he was riding alone and not realize a kid was getting ready to blindly ride in front of them. It was horrible.

But the bigger issue started about 15 minutes after we started. My a$$ started to hurt. I think it's actually the bones that had all the pressure on them. Not that I'm skinny by a long stretch. No, one would think I had plenty of padding to ride comfortably across country. Apparently not. And there's only so many ways you can shift your weight around on a three inch bike seat when you're terrified of falling off. But I continued on.

There's a bunch of construction between our home and my parent's. There are big signs saying "sidewalk closed" right where the construction starts. Does that stop Mister C? It does not. He blithely rides by the sign stating it will be "fine". And it was. Until the halfway point. Where the sidewalk was replaced with a large pit filled with exposed sewer pipes and gravel. So we had to walk our bikes down into the ditch to go around. Past the construction debris, past the chain link fence topped with barbed wire and back up to where the sidewalk resumed.

We finally got to the video store where I read aloud the signs about no bikes on the sidewalk to my oblivious husband that had just ridden past (yes, there was more than one). Master J & I walked our bikes to a bench in front of the grocery store that's next to the video store so Mister C could pick up the bacon. It hurt to sit. My bones are screaming about the injustice of that tiny, cement feeling seat. Master J & I drink our water and blow our noses and tell each other how red our faces are. Mister C gets back out way too soon for me. Because now I have to put my backside back on the cement block and go another mile.

The best part is that because of the busy street this store is on, we have to back track to the nearest corner to cross to the side that we will eventually need to be on. The rest of the ride continues with much pain and whining (on my part) but eventually fewer cars and fewer panic attacks about Master J getting hurt. For his part, Master J is being a champ. Mister C continues to spin circles and dance just out of reach.

We arrive at my folk's house and my son and husband immediately start playing with Lego's with Papa. I rip off my shoes and socks and collapse under the ceiling fan in their living room. It takes me a solid twenty minutes to recover enough to get up off the floor. Mamoo makes breakfast and then she & I drink coffee and talk while the boys work on the Lego creation. The only chair that doesn't cause immense pain to my backside is the big, cushy recliner, so I spend a lot of time there.

Eventually though, the happiness must end. We need to go home and no amount of whining will convince Mister C that it's a good idea for "some of us" to ride home with our bikes in the back of Papa's truck. No, this is family time. Yay, family, grumble, grumble.

The ride home was shorter by a mile, but warmer by about 25 degrees. Yeah, it was 107 when we got home today. And my backside screamed the whole way. And just to add insult to injury, my chain fell off as well. Because I've got nothing better to do. But then the nausea kicked in and I forgot about my pain for a little while. Trying to figure out whether to get off the bike and retch in someones yard or try to power through and hope you don't throw up on yourself will do that I guess.

Eventually, miraculously, we arrived home. I left my bike in the driveway and went into our bathroom and hit the floor. I lay there hoping the nausea would go away now that I was out of the heat and no longer exerting energy. I was also hoping not too much cat hair was sticking to my sweaty skin. That was kind of gross. But then, Mister C came in the bedroom and let the puppy out of her kennel. The puppy that had seen me walk past on my way to my bathroom. And instead of following his directions to go outside, she came flying into the bathroom to find me. And couldn't believe her luck when I was actually prone, totally defenseless against her mauling my head with her tongue. She completely ignored Mister C yelling at her to go outside until he came to the bathroom door to get her. And then she peed a little. Right next to me. Nice.


Anonymous said...

Oh my dear Kelly, you deserve a medal for this Sunday morning trek..If I had known my SIL had put you through that, I would not have given him extra bacon(even if he did buy it) Now you know why my bike is in the garage with only
miles on it. Your dad made the mistake of taking me on a looong ride and I haven't forgiven him yet. I'm ready for you to put the bike on Craigs list:-)