May 17, 2006


Cardio Who?

In my dreams, I can run like the wind. In real life, not so much.

How do I know this? Because at least once every 2 weeks, I blaze out to my son's bus stop with his homework. The neighbours must be aghast to see a neurotic woman wearing an oversized T-shirt, baggy jeans, wedgie sandals (the only shoes by the door), a scrunchie in her hair, glasses and today, a piece of toast in her hand.

I beg him to pack his stuff the night before. Instead, off he trundles and I return to see his homework sitting by the computer. I do that twisty mom-hesitation thing ('the only way he'll ever learn is if you stop saving him'), and decide to teach him a different lesson another time. There is no chance I will ever run out of lesson opportunities with this kid.

By the time I get to the corner, I can see I am the same distance from him as the impending bus. It is large and yellow; I am a little smaller, and red. I can hear the Chariots of Fire theme song in my head, as Marc whips his head back and forth. He has to cross a major street to get to me, and while I don't want him dead, I do want him to get his homework. I would prefer not to be seen by any more people than I have to.

As he makes the mad dash to complete the homework relay, I nonchalantly keep my head down and pretend, while my sides heave like a racehorse, that if I can't see anyone, they can't see me. Of course they can see me. By now they probably know who I am as well.

After all, I do this every 10 days.

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