Impatient…This Post Has ZERO To Do With Training

*I hesitated about publishing this, wondering if it belonged here since it has nothing to do with training.

I hate waiting for the UPS man. He has some kind of grudge against me for something one of my former selves must have done to his former selves in one of our slightly less cool former lives. Maybe it was more cool. Who knows? But we are at the end of his route which means I know my new Garmin is motoring around the city in the back of his giant brown truck and he will hit my house sometime after 6 pm even though he will pass within 200 yards of it at least once on his journey.

It’s my gift for emptying a small pharmacy’s worth of drugs into my body to fix my broken baby maker then allowing the doctors to “rip”, as my 11-year-old likes to say, my wonderful healthy boys out of my body because one was strangling himself with his cord and 7 years later myself and the wee one were at risk of bleeding to death*. While my true gift on Mother’s Day is, in fact, the fact I have 2 healthy though mouthy and often sometimes unruly, dictators children to snuggle and smile at while they roll their as at me while I perform the robot dance in public (oh yes, I have!), I’m still excited that I got to order this little device that will help satiate my need for charts and graphs and all things organized and analytical. It is something I rarely get to enjoy because my ship is in a regular state of mutiny. Sometimes I’m the leader of the mutiny, it all depends on the day and the amount of coffee I’ve consumed.

And now I wait. Listening the rumbles of the various trucks driving around our subdivision waiting for the familiar sound of a big brown truck.

*I laid in bed from 7 weeks to 24 weeks wondering every day if this day was the day that I was going lose the sassiest member of our family. When I abrupted at 28 weeks we were told that they could admit me and watch me/us but that the clot keeping back the swirling pool of blood next to the baby’s head (that seemed larger than my baby’s head on the US)  could go at anytime and there was a good chance there wouldn’t be time to save both or either of us. Then he said he’d let us think about it and left the room. Think about what exactly? Who knows if it really was that dramatic, it sure felt that way.