Thus, the cliche about we parents just wanting to use the bathroom alone.
Staying at home seems to exacerbate this feeling. Like, I never escape them. They're in my bed at night, on my lap when we watch tv, in the shower with me, and, duh, in the bathroom with me.
Add to their ever-presence, there is their long list of demands and needs: And, it is ALL urgent.
Yesterday, Norah was yelling for me like she was on fire: "Mom!!! I have a BIG problem!!!"
I go upstairs to see where she's bleeding from and find all her limbs attached. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"I need you to print some Ariel pictures for me to color. I'm all out."
So, yeah, attending to my own needs, like running, is tricky.
I was talking to my brother, who doesn't have kids, the other day and describing how I Jenga together my runs, and naively, he goes: "Can't they just play in the garage or the driveway while you're on the treadmill?"
I used to believe in the same fairy tale, but alas, if they're playing nearby while I'm running, I get interrupted so much I can't even run a full mile without fielding requests, refereeing their brawls, and twisting my neck to make sure they're not juggling power tools.
Explaining this to my disbelieving brother, he again inserts his ignorance: "Can't you tell them you're running and they can't interrupt you?"
He slays me. Seriously. Slays. Me.
Telling them to NOT interrupt me is to invite interruption. Every parent knows that THE worst way to ensure quiet while on an important call is to inform the kids that you're going to be on an important call. You may as well just say, "Okay, guys, in five minutes, I'd like you both to start jump roping with my sanity. As loud as you can. Please."
The important phone call anomaly applies to treadmill running too.
So, for me, the best way to fit in the home treadmill runs is when they're watching tv. I figure it's a fair trade: They melt their brains while I restore mine.
Of course, the downside to this is that most kid shows are about as long as an ant's leg. So, I usually have a window of 18 minutes, maybe longer if they've chosen a show they agree upon on Netflix (thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus for Netflix's automatic start of the next show 15 seconds after one ends). But, at most, I never have longer than 36 minutes.
On the treadmill, I can for sure fit 2 miles into 18 minutes. And in 36 minutes? About 4 miles.
So the kids may be the secret to slowly bringing back a little speed to my running. If I ever win any land speed records, I'll have to remember to thank the good programming people at Nick and Disney for forcing me to keep running faster!