Irony

i-ro-ny (n)
1. Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs

Yesterday, there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth because I never made it to the gym.

"Why in the name of all good things did you declare your new gym-ness to all the world?" I cried in my head, with much woe.

"One day! Your gym streak lasted for one day?!" I continued to chide myself.

Of course, I always thought (but somehow knew that it wouldn't come to fruition) that I'd go in the evening when Jay came home. But then, Jay came home weary and there was the season premier of Law and Order on the DVR to watch and then I had to go to bed early so that I could get up early to go....to the gym.

It didn't help that yesterday was a one of Henry's finest. In the morning, he stepped on a tube of hair conditioner whose contents squirted out across the hallway and floor. I didn't even remember to take a picture before I cleaned it up.

About an hour later, I heard an very scary sound. Henry was gagging which led to vomiting which led to this sweet surprise to clean up.

Sorry...this is kind of gross.

Yes, he had a nickel in his mouth. I share this not to incriminate myself, because I am well past that stage, but because Henry is far beyond the point of "baby-proofing" a house.

"You could try harder," you might (probably) think.

True. We could. We should. But he's like a bloodhound for mischief. It'd be a full time job and I've already got one of those. Several, in fact.

So our days go like this, dancing from one disaster to the next and it usually ends with something like this happening.

Into the rice. While I was vacuuming elsewhere. There's that word again.

I took about ten pictures while he walked towards me crying and needing to know I still loved him. I do...but, that was good jasmine rice!

This morning, I didn't get up early to go the gym. The alarm sounded and I shut it off. Shocking...I know, but in my defense, I didn't get a good night's sleep. You see, Henry got his hands on our sleep number bed's remote control and after several hours, I noticed that my back hurt. A back shouldn't hurt when one possesses the mighty sleep number bed and I realized that my side of the bed was hard as a rock. I looked, briefly, for the remote control but knew if the numbers had changed then they had been changed by remote. And if they had changed by remote, then the remote had been in Henry's possession. Who knew where it would be.

When I finally got out of bed to look for it this morning, I found it by the laundry room and checked my sleep number. 90. I normally sleep at 40. No wonder. Jay sleeps at 70 and his was on 20. He didn't sleep well either.

I decided that, today, I would get to the gym no matter what the cost. At 9:00, I loaded all three boys into the van, filled out the necessary forms to leave them there for an hour, and made my way up to the cardio machines upstairs.

To alleviate the massive amount of boredom I experienced the first day of my gym-ness, I brought a book with me. Thus, I began the elliptical movement of my legs with my book shielding the awful clock that ticks so much slower when working out.

Determined to refrain from constant checking, I went as long as possible without even a glance. By my cell phone time (a little irony - but at least it doesn't have a second hand), I had gone about 14 minutes when I finally lifted up my book to check my stats.

Still blinking on the control panel was "push quick start to begin". I'm such a pro.

I made my way over to the treadmills and walked for 25 at a 15 minute/mile pace and continued to read. I know it's not the best workout, but I could get used to 40 minutes of reading and exercising at the same time. I didn't want to stop. But I did.

I lifted some weights, did some ab work and made my way back to the child care center to pick up my three little amigos.

First words out of the caregiver's mouth were: "Henry is such a good little boy. He kept walking around with me to help me pick up. What a sweetheart!"

Does anyone else see the irony in this?

Looks like I've truly run out of excuses.