Let's return to November, 2011 for Adventures in Pregnant Jogging:
An Apology. Sort of. More or Less
However, I didn't get this close to the end of the month only to fail now at NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I have successfully written 24 blog posts in a row, and I'm going to get 6 more finished and pat myself on the back.
So let me tell you about our quarter-mile dash through Downtown Disneyland last week. We met our son and daughter-in-law and The Athlete in Disneyland. After an afternoon and evening of riding elephants and watching parades, we went to dinner (aka supper, according to The Hillbilly). We chose a restaurant on the end of Downtown Disney that is farthest from the place where our shuttle would pick us up to deliver us safe and exhausted at our hotel.
|Notice the Little Mama is extremely pregnant!|
Have I mentioned that the daughter-in-law is 7 months pregnant? And after a full afternoon of singing birds and boat rides that took us around the world past singing children (sing it with me now!), and a really good, filling dinner (supper), we found ourselves 1/2 mile from the shuttle bus. 10 minutes before the last bus for the evening was scheduled to leave. With a 3-year-old and a very pregnant young woman. We found ourselves with 2 choices: 1) walk back one mile to the hotel or 2) spend the night in Mickey's house. Granted, option number 2 would have required CIA training which none of us had. My Hillbilly, The Son, and I resigned ourselves to the walk. Little Mama had other ideas.
|Still quite pregnant.|
She pointed that belly at the parking lot and turned on the afterburners. "I am NOT walking back to the hotel!" Not one of us was able to keep up with her. The Son carried The Athlete, The Hillbilly pushed the stroller, and I just hustled. Half way through the Gumball Rally, The Hillbilly could see that the son was weakening. Little Mama was still out in front and not looking back. The Hillbilly and the son executed an in-flight trade off, stroller for Athlete.
|The Hillbilly trades off for the Athlete|
I looked ahead and saw the security checkpoint. Little Mama sailed through without stopping. The Son shoved the stroller through and waved as he went past. The Hillbilly followed right behind. I stopped, opened my purse, shut my purse, and hurried on, falling behind. Ahead of me, Little Mama was cutting through traffic in the shuttle area, The Son close on her heals with the stroller. The Hillbilly was telling The Athlete, "You may have to carry Grandpa the rest of the way."
The shuttle was in sight. Little Mama found new reserves of energy and reached the bus as it was closing its doors. I held my breath.... and the doors opened. Little Mama hopped on. The Son proceeded to fold the stroller, and by the time he finished The Hillbilly, The Athlete and I were seated, panting and sweating, on the bus.
The Son stepped onto the bus, looked at Little Mama and said, "We could have walked in a leisurely fashion to the hotel without killing ourselves like this."
And Little Mama looked at him with that air of contentment that only a pregnant woman can summon up. And she just smiled.
So, anyway, I'm sorry for not having a real post prepared for you today. I promise to try harder tomorrow.