Another weekend bites the asphalt.

wearyI was tired last night.  I even made it to bed not long after 9.00, which is  early for this little night owl. I was actually eyeing the clock before dinner,  wondering how the family would take it if I signed out before making that happen – but didn’t quite have the guts to carry it out.  (There’d be a rebellion – and that’s just talking about the Other Half.) I did renege on chopping up sweet potato to roast – and threw on a pot for rice instead,  muttering that there should be some law against mothers having to prepare dinner if they’d done more than, say, 50km riding that day AND had had a bad sleep the night before.

I’ve had bigger weekends, so I don’t quite know why I was so stuffed. Just two early mornings to go ride a bike (43km and 60km respectively) ?  When I’m about to do 5 consecutive days of riding bigger distances than that? What am I? A wuss?!) Perhaps it was being serenaded most of Saturday night by the Other Half’s chainsaw impersonations. (I very definitely woke up tired AND grumpy at 6.15am on Sunday.)

On Saturday morning we rode into town to meet up for coffee with the early bird community ride cyclists.  We are opting not to leave home at our usual ungodly hour of 5.40am to ride 23km plus another 30 odd for the community ride before returning the 23km home. We now leave at a much more sane and civilised 7.15, ride in, have coffee and a second breakfast with the other riders, then bolt home in time for M. to rush the girls to netball by 10.00, and me to have a shower and head up there half an hour later.

At netball I usually end up in the canteen all day, plus doing odd jobs round the clubhouse, so I don’t actually sit down very much. I did manage to stand and watch the last half of Ms 10’s game from two courts over – so I caught the action, in full cinematic colour, when, at the end of the third quarter, she sailed through the air at the end of the goal circle trying to catch an errant ball meant for her, but in reality heading way over the baseline. So did she. (Head way over the baseline that is. )  Only she didn’t bounce.  She went sailing through the air, then went SPLAT.

Everyone gasped in horror, and the Daddy – standing next to me – sprinted for her (right through the other game).  Me – no good in a crisis – thought I should do something constructive, and bolted for an icepack (wtf?) before racing over to them. He had checked her out and had her standing by then –  but  all I could see was the bloodied graze just above her lip.  Apparently I carried on a bit (I was so shocked that my baby had faceplanted…) and won’t live my “ohmigod, ohmigod”  reaction down for some time. “Even if it WAS really bad” – he said – “you shouldn’t panic them.”  So much for my First Aid qualifications huh. There are some people who are just not meant to be frontline in any sort of situation, and I’m one of them.

Despite her Mum’s reaction, she was very brave and tough – and not hurt as badly as one might have imagined.  The worst of the injuries were the usual netballer-style skinned knees and elbows, and she was amazingly stoic as we cleaned her up and found something to cover the knee. It took her out of the game for the last quarter, during which time her team played pathetically and lost the small lead they had – so she is feeling quite important, as if she is the lynchpin of the team. I also think she can’t wait to show her teacher today.

I called it a day just before 4.00 – leaving the eldest still playing her last game.

Sunday morning we’d arranged to go riding with another tandem couple.  Why the 7.30 start I’m not sure. It’s winter! It’s cold! (It’s early for someone who likes to sleep in on Sundays!) We rugged up, and we loaded up our two new front panniers and put them on the new front racks just to see how the bike handles with them. No problems. The rest of this week will now involve final decisions on what clothes and gear we will actually take on our five day tour. (Which is only one week away!!!)

For some reason I was a bit weary after 60km and didn’t achieve a lot the rest of Sunday, other than starting to copy maps of our intended route. I spent a lot of time on Google Street view, sussing out any road choices where they might be applicable. How cool is Street View for that sort of thing?!! What did we do without it?

And then, late afternoon, Himself suggests we go for a walk down on the beach. He hadn’t been there himself since all the storm action. So I squeezed in another rather unplanned half hour of exercise.

I think I earned my early night.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Today – Monday – The papers have been dumped on my front footpath, so I’ll need to do them .. despite the fact that the delivery coordinator hasn’t returned my call asking for confirmation on how much they actually pay for this run.  I’ve just left another message on their answering machine which I hope conveys how irritated I am that she hasn’t called me back and also puts the wind up her that I might actually decide not to do it after all.  (Oh well, payment negotiation, ambit claims etc, are worth a try…)

I noted that I was happy to fill in, but, depending on how much they pay I might not continue, AND I can’t do it next week as I’ll be away. [So there!]  I ran out of message time then. Don’t you hate that – when you’re on a roll with a message, especially one of a lecturing variety, and you get cut off by the BEEEEEP.

I’m going to leave half the run for Ms 10 to do – the parts which only require one side of the road to be done, so she doesn’t have to figure out zigzagging across the street.  It’s probably a good introduction to money earning for her. Even if it’s child labour. Somehow it doesn’t seem quite so ridiculous her earning a pittance as it is for a grown-up with a rusty B.A.

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