Today, for example, Trixie and I decided to take The Dogz on a walk that would culminate in our arrival at Dash's bus stop.
What actually happened? About 3 blocks from the bus stop (and about 3 minutes from the bus' arrival), Trixie totally maxes out her energy. After much coaxing and cheering, we get another block further when I see that great yellow submarine coming around the corner. Fortunately, T-Money was
smoking relaxing in her driveway so Trixie could stop and rest while I literally sprinted to the bus stop, two crazy dogz in tow.
I was startled by how fast and hard my legs were moving. When I started leaping over bushes and knocking baby strollers over, the scene became very Ferris Beuler - esque. That image was only in my head though and I have no idea what I actually looked like, racing down the hill in my tie-dyed tshirt, curls and dogs flying behind me. Oh, and did I mention that The Dogz are currently sporting this look:
This is a pretty common problem for me (the tired bebe, not the cone heads). Last summer I took les bebes to an amusement park and I somehow ended up having to carry both of them across a 200-degree parking lot. I keep asking myself what step in my equation I'm getting wrong.
Perhaps I shouldn't have reacted to Trixie's complaints of being cold by encouraging her to run the first two blocks. Maybe I shouldn't have let her wear her sparkly heels without socks. Or maybe I shouldn't base my equation on a stereotype that, like 80% of the clothes in my closet, doesn't quite fit me anymore.