Not Really Batting A Thousand: Updated

Hank woke up coughing about 5:00 this morning. I should say that Matt is much better at hearing the kids in the night than I am. I was actually awakened by Matt's pounding footsteps as he rounded the end of the bed. Now that I don't have a nursing baby, I just don't wake as easily. Anyway, he'd had a low fever a couple days ago, followed by sniffles, so I wasn't that surprised when the cough arrived. Somehow, when Hank has a cough, it always sounds terrible. Not like true croup--if you've heard that panic-inducing barking sound you never forget it--but a very harsh cough. Strange. Laura had a raspy throat late last week, so I think this is the second act of some virus. We calmed him down and had him in our bed for a while, then somehow he and I both wound up back in his room, where we slept in 'til 9.

What I did not do was show up in Laura's classroom at 9:20 to help with reading groups, as I was expected to do, and as I've been doing on alternate Thursdays. There's the problem right there, maybe? Doing something on alternate weeks is harder to remember. Not that I realized I was forgetting, because I was busy with the forgetting. And Matt certainly didn't remember because I don't tell him scheduling things until they're about to happen. Anyhoo. So Hank didn't have school this morning, and he and I stayed inside and kept it chill.

About 12:15 there was a knock on the door, and I thought, "Well whoever could that be?" Oh, it was Laura, my child, walking herself home from the bus stop. For my next trick, I had forgotten that it was a half day of school. Despite the fact that the day before was a half day. And also Friday. (Note to self: Friday is a half day.) There are two other moms walking our way from the bus stop, so it's not like she was alone, and these ain't exactly the mean streets, but still, this is not normal Beck behavior. The first words out of Laura's mouth were, "You were supposed to come to my class today." Then she said, "But because we couldn't do reading groups, I got to go to the media center and work on my story. I find I can focus much better there." Those were her exact words. "Media center" indeed. I said, "Wait, I didn't show up and so you didn't have reading groups at all?" Apparently not. So in some small way, I managed to hinder the education of children today, the education of eighteen children, when usually I just have my two to stunt and obstruct. Efficient!

Then some other stuff happened and I agreed to let Hank take a nap on my bed, instead of in his room, and he wanted me to lie down with him, so I did, and instead of sleeping AT ALL he just talked to me in this adorable croaky voice. A sample: "Mom, are you scared of me because I sound kind of like a monster?" Not too scared, I said. He went further: "Monsters don't brush their teeth." I admitted that that was kind of scary. "What do they do?" I asked. He expanded, "They don't play with toys either, they just walk around outside. And go to monster playgrounds." "Ah," I said. "Do you want to walk up to the playground later?" He said, "Yes, and I'm ready to wake up now."

As we were walking up out of the cul-de-sac, Laura on her bike and the dog on her leash, Conspiracy Guy's little girls rocketed out of their house to see where we were going. I told them the playground, and they ran back into the house. A second later, they were back saying their dad said they could go with us. Of course they could. Was someone else parenting? Then they are always allowed to go where that is happening. Not to bitch out here. They are good company for Hank, so off we went. Gorgeous blue sky, crunchy leaves, perfect temperature. Then after they played, I let them run all over the tennis courts while I chatted on the phone with my friend. I am pretty sure that their tromping around wasn't an approved activity for the courts, but whatever. I kept them off the nets. And then I got us all home in one piece.

And now this has turned into a narrative of my day. Did you sign on for an itinerary post? So then Matt got home from playing basketball, and he took over putting the kids to bed, and I went and bought a copy of that 30 Day Shred DVD. Then I put on my tennis shoes (I hate wearing tennis shoes and the ones I have are ten years old, I'm not even kidding.) Then I shredded. 29 days to go. There is a weird feeling in my stomach, I think it is my abdominal muscles packing to leave.

Then I mentioned several times that I had just worked out, though I had to talk kind of loud to be heard over Matt popping popcorn. Then we watched 30 Rock.

So I kind of forgot some important things, and I didn't accomplish a whole lot besides, but it was not a bad day as they go. I'm hoping Hank is well enough to go to school in the morning, because it's their costume parade day, and I told him he could wear the Boba Fett mask with his knight costume. Anyway, I hope you're all stretchin' and survivin' out there.

Updated to add, in response to questions: The 30 Day Shred consists of one 20 minute workout every day. During that 20 minutes, you're moving the whole time, going through cycles of strength, cardio, and abs. I'm sure you'll be hearing more about this as I shred more. I don't know what "shred" means in this context. Perhaps "shredded" is like "ripped," which is what I think the kids are saying to mean "having well-defined musculature." I dunno.

Also, Hank officially has croup. He sounded so bad this morning that I didn't send him to school in his costume (sad trombone), but instead took him to the doctor. She said his lungs are perfectly clear but yes, that cough is croup. She didn't tell me to go home and calm the frack down or anything. She's good that way.