It’s always hard to stay fit while juggling the demands of young children and work. Last night I didn’t sleep very well, ending up stuck to the vinyl covering of the sofa in the living room, and then almost keeled over walking to work. Well, I was carrying both my laptop (Dell have done well to craft a computer from purest lead) and my daughter on my shoulders, in thirty degree heat. Must remember to not do that in the future. Then, after an evening call that finished at 6:30, I had to go home and wrangle the child into bath and bed, before another call that started at nine, and then another one after that which only began at eleven. That’s a pretty horrible combination; if the meetings were closer together you’d stand a shot of getting them done and then going to bed, but with an hour and a half between each one there’s not enough time to go and do something fun in between, but your evening still gets broken up too much to enjoy.
So like an idiot, I went for a run at ten p.m.
It’s June and Singapore, which I think means the haze is back. Or at least that’s the reason I think my throat was burning after twenty minutes of trotting slowly around the 26th floor running track. I went back upstairs, stripped in the dark and bunged my sweaty gear near the washing machine, took a shower and then prepped for the next call.
This is something that I would do when I ran in England, except there’s an extra frisson of excitement when you consider the risk somebody might report you for being naked in your own home. It’s only a matter of time before La Serpiente Aquatica Negra gets jailed for running through the apartment at bath time, sans clothes, giggling and shrieking “ni-ni! ni-ni!”. Well, she wont be arrested for failing to pronounce “naked” properly, I suppose.
We had a strange negotiation at bed time. Since my wife will be out of action when it comes to La Serpiente’s bed time after Baby Two arrives, I figured it was high time to get my daughter reaccustomed to her father putting her to bed. Our opinions differed: she howled “Daddy out” until I left the room, then flopped down to sleep. Then after ten minutes she cried for me to go back in, and then sobbed “Daddy napping” again and again, until I lay down next to her cot.
Actually, no. Until I lay down, got up, tried to leave the room, lay down again, got up, gave her her bottle of water, lay down, got up, tried to leave, gave up, lay down, and sneaked out.
And then ten minutes later she started crying again, and my wife had to go in to console her as I was on a phone call by then, rendering my attempt to put the child down myself quite redundant.
On the other hand, with baby in bed I can do my Pilates without anyone trying to sit on my head. It’s an ill wind that gathers no moss.