Today I caught myself daydreaming of standing on the Olympicpodium, shiny gold medal twinkling round my neck, stumbling over the words ofStar Spangled Banner on national TV. There would be endorsements from Nike and interviews on Good MorningAmerica to follow of course. Ryan Lochte would fall in love with me, no doubt. Ohand I’d have to go on Dancing With the Stars too, maybe record an album.
|Who eats Wheaties anymore?|
God, I am sobusy. I need a personal assistant. I’llhire Michael Phelps. But if I hire Michael Phelps, he’ll fall inlove with me too. Then him and RyanLochte will have to have a swim off for my love. That’ll cause all sorts ofdrama. Probably even more interviews and my personal assistant is training 8hours a day vying for my heart. I don’tneed that, so no go on Michael Phelps.
“Waaaaaaaah”. The Kid’scrying jolts me out of my daydream. I run across the room, hurdling the dog, in6 flat to pick up his sippy cup he dropped for the millionth time during breakfast.He’s still not happy. I sing “itsy bitsy spider” again in a funnyvoice, wash the last dish, yogurt from his face, my hands, face and shirt anddead lift my 20lb baby to my hip. We play on the mat, perfecting our floorroutine. The race to the dog hascommenced and The Kid is winning. I scoophim up before he crosses the finish line, balance him on one hip, the laundrybasket on the other and take the stairs two at a time. His screaming in my ear drowns out the last remnantsof the cheering crowds in my daydream.
I sit for a marathon nursing session, blocking kicking feet and pinching fingers withone hand, lobbing perfectly thrown baby toys directly in the toy chest with theother. I change his diaper again,wrestling a rolling baby 8 times in one change. After chasing a squirmy, wet baby around the Olympic sized bathtub,singing itsy bitsy again, teaching him how to count his toes-in English andHebrew, two more nursing sessions, another diaper change, a marathon walk withthe dog, dress him and me in our training gear, dive underneath the backseat to find his favoritetoy, lift him into the car and go to the gym where I spend an hour riding abike in spin class.
I lift him twenty times over my head just to hear him giggleone more time, we go back and forth rocking and bouncing down to a nap then gracefullytiptoe away to eat a sandwich before he wakes up and we start all over again. Do that before noon Nadia Comaneci.