The first time ever...

I ran from my baby.

If there is one thing I've learned from mommyhood in these short 12 1/2 months, it's that we as women, can endure anything.  I laugh now at what I used to say about "I'm never having kids...." blah blah blah.  How selfish of me?  But it's ok.  I was young.  We learn.  I can't see my life any other way.  Being a mother is amazing. 

Except on nights like this. 

Brannan and BK3 met me at the studio after my last class, to go to California Pizza Kitchen for a dinner out.  Have you been lately?  They are doing a promotion where you receive a few scratch off coupons at the conclusion of your meal.  You're supposed to use them at your "next" visit.  Not to mention you cannot open them or scratch them off prior to.  Obviously it's a deal to get you into the restaurant just one more time.  And since my husband is convinced that we have the $100,000 grand prize sitting on our kitchen table, we've been frequent customers.  Hey, 20% off isn't so bad either.  We got a few more tonight....I'm sure we'll be back.  The avocado egg rolls haven't bored me yet.

We got home around 9:00 p.m. and I got BK3's bath ready right away.  I love bath time, as all mom's do I'm sure.  I'm exhausted.  AND VERY FULL from dinner, not to mention the fact that Baby Boy 2 has hit some sort of growth spurt inside my uterus and I'm feeling a little large lately.  I'm sure the 90 degree weather doesn't help.  But bath time it is for the little guy.  Daddy B was getting changed out of his clothes and walks in just as BK3's face starts to tell us something.  I'm not sure about anyone else's kids, but since BK3 was about 2 months old, I can tell when it's time.  For a #2.  He focuses.  Makes a half smile with the left side of his mouth, and then JUST as his face starts to turn like a tomato, he lets out a grunt.  That's my son.  Or more-so, that's DADDY's son.  And I'm going "no.....it's all good.  He's done the deed twice already today.  He's just grunting....no #2 for him.  I quickly start to wash him up, when I get to his backside with the wash cloth.  I felt it.  The sure sign that a treat has arrived.  As I rip my hand and the wash cloth away, the treat flies into the water....which then becomes joined by yet another....AND YET ANOTHER.  All within a few seconds. 

I caved.  I RAN.

I looked at Brannan and said THAT'S IT!  I CAN'T.  I JUST CAN'T.  PLEASE.  YOU DO IT!

My son was giggling at his latest accomplishment, and I had run.  Fast. 

And not one bit of me felt bad for "abandoning" my son to his Daddy who witnessed the whole thing.  Daddy B took care of it.  Like I know he can.  I've made it through nursing a newborn...as Daddy snored next to me.  I made it through the 3 midnight runs to the ER with the croup.  I made it through the stomach virus without asking for help.  And here is a turd in the tub.  And I run like a python is chasing me. 

Shame on me.  But then I realized.  Wait...Daddy handled it.  Maybe I should run more often?

nah.