I was all ready to go, fuelled up on a banana, some nuts and a cereal bar eaten two hours earlier. I was even sort of well-rested having collapsed on the bed after the morning school run for a delayed lie in, due to a severe lack of sleep the nights before. I can do that now, I have no idea how I’ll cope when my paternity leave ends. Unemployment sounds pretty good right now.
So I was all fired up to run at 6pm. What could go wrong?
The boy.
The four year old boy, his homework and his unwillingness to do it.
It should have taken five minutes. All he had to do was copy some letters that had already been written out for him, a and s, lower case. All he had to do was write the damn letters. It didn’t even need to look good, all he had to do was attempt it. Two letters, copied a few times, it should take minutes and that’s working slowly.
Three hours.
It took more than three hours, lots of arguing, screaming, tantrums and constant cries of “I don’t want to”, “why?” and “I don’t know how to” (after he’d already written one and clearly knew how to) before he had anything resembling attempts at it, along with a whole page of lines and scribbles. Oh, and at some point a pencil got snapped in half. Hey, it was frustrating.
BUT IT’S DONE WE GOT IT DONE NOW HE’S IN BED AND IT’S DONE
and tomorrow we get to do it aaaall over again.
Parenting, the best, most infuriating decision I’ve ever made. I think this evening took ten years off my life. I hope he spells my name right on my gravestone.
What do you do? Drop it and let him off? I wish there was a clear rule book that covered every single possible aspect of parenting that we could all follow and agree on. All we wanted to do was leave it and put him to bed but I don’t know if that’s the Right Thing or not. Ugh, this whole thing is a minefield.
So I got him to bed, changed the baby’s nappy, changed it again because he pooed immediately after and finally got out for a run just after 9.30. By this point I’d already burned off the energy gained from my pre-run snacks but I also couldn’t eat again right before running so I’d have to just get on with it.
Fortunately the run itself was great. By now I really needed that release so it was perfect for that. This run was the three blocks of five minutes which might be my favourite so far and I’m tempted to just keep repeating this one for the time being until I manage to create a more structured routine again. After an evening like this I don’t think I could do 20 minutes.
There really isn’t much to report about the run itself. I didn’t even check the breakdown beforehand, I just got out and did it. Each five minute block passed by petty quickly and, even though I really needed to rest and didn’t have it in me to run any further, I was a little disappointed to see it end.
I kept it local again, especially since it was dark so it was nice and quiet and uneventful. I passed two dog walkers, which is not good for my social anxiety but it was made bearable by the fact that I could disappear around a corner shortly after they witnessed me.
However there was a third one on a long stretch of pavement and that was too long to let someone watch me run towards them so I had to cross over. A perfectly timed car forced me to stop for a few seconds mid-run, which did irritate me but I powered on. I really am my anxiety’s bitch sometimes.
I did scare a cat at one point. It jumped out of the bushes, saw me running towards it and freaked out. So it ran away, or at least tried to but it ran in the same direction I did to avoid it so it panicked even more but managed to get out of the way in time. Sorry cat, you caught me at an awkward moment but I can assure you I’m an ally and I like you more than people.
So that’s my evening. I ran eventually and loved it. I parented and, um, yeah. I welcome all running tips, parenting tips, hell, I’ll welcome parenting criticisms at this point. I hope tomorrow’s homework attempt goes a bit more successfully and I really hope Wednesday’s run happens, you know, at all.