When we came back from the Northwest, I no longer had full-time daycare but I was down one kid (thanks to Grandma and Grandpa). This made my transition a liiiiiiiittle bit easier, especially since the kid I kept is the easy one. He doesn't scream at the top of his lungs, he doesn't throw tantrums and he takes two 2-hour naps per day, making it easier to do things I want to do.
(And before you start in on me, I realize that many, many people are stay-at-home parents and I respect that. It's a really freaking hard job. It's just not one that I necessarily choose. I much prefer to work, then come home and love on my kids. The whole staying at home gig is pretty rough for me mentally.)
We started with a two-hour bike ride up Ohio Creek Road. Hazel is way too big for the trailer and wouldn't tolerate it anyhow so road rides with her are non-existent. Mr. T? He could care less because dude, it's naptime!
Well, it's naptime until Mom realizes that his trailer seat should have been more reclined which would have prevented him falling asleep against the bar and rubbing half of his scalp off. Oops. I wondered why my normally easy-going baby was screaming so much.
While we were stopped so I could figure out the screaming situation, a very nice gentleman from Texas pulled over to see if we had a mechanical issue. I told him I just had a screaming baby and maybe that could be considered a mechanical issue? but he quickly drove away. Weird.
Also, riding 26 miles pulling a trailer and a 17lb. baby is kind of like riding 60 miles and pulling a baby. At least that's my theory and that's the theory I choose to believe.
On Wednesday mornings, I have daycare, so I quickly dropped Tygh off and headed out for a quick 45-mile ride with Ingrid. Ingrid is my massage therapist and a former Olympic nordic skier. She is rad, in every sense of the word. Funny, positive, fit...I like her. A lot. Also, I have no pictures of our ride because we were riding too hard. True story. Our average pace on the way back was 22mph. BAM!
Then Brian did something crazy: he raced his mountain bike at Crested Butte. On Wednesday nights, they have free music, free racing and free dinner and beer for racers. It can't get much more free than that. It also makes it difficult NOT to race. I mean, hell. Free dinner? I'll suffer for that!
Not to mention that Crested Butte is absolutely magical this time of year. Putting it in to words would be an injustice to its beauty so I won't. Just come and experience it yourself.
Thursday with baby looked like this: A "hike" up the Baldy Lake trail that was really a hike up the road to the trail and then a little hike on the trail. Basically, I am dense sometimes. I got to the first gate in the car and assumed I couldn't drive past it. So I parked, got out, assembled all the baby accoutrement, stuck the baby in the backpack and set out. Except when I got to the gate, it was just a silly latch that I could have undone and just driven past. Duh. By that time, with Tygh on my back and everything packed, I was unwilling to get back in the car, buckle Tygh back in and then drive on. So I hiked the road for quite a ways.
When I did finally reach the trail, I came upon a couple in an ATV. The conversation went a little like this:
Older man: "Well, don't that beat all!"
Me: Confused
Older man: "Now, I have seen everything!"
Me: Confused
Older man: "You, hiking up this trail with a baby in a backpack!"
Me: What????
Older woman: "You are a brave, brave woman."
Me: Smile sweetly, say thanks, continue hiking.
As if nobody ever carries a baby in a backpack up a trail ever.
Also of note: I hate the baby backpack. It's supposed to be adjustable for 5'1" to 6'2" but OMG it's ridiculous. I have to cinch the waist belt down as far as it goes and it's still not tight enough and the shoulder straps are still wide. Blergh. The backpack is often the best option for hiking alone in really out of the way places because I can carry other gear but I hate it. I will continue to hate it until Tygh is big enough to hike on his own. And it's a Sherpani, which is a brand made FOR WOMEN. Aggravating.
That is all.
On Thursday night, I gave that baby to his dad and went riding at Hartman with Kristen. Get this: I did Rattlesnake and The Notch AGAIN. AND I did better. Slow progress, people. Slow progress.
Kristen is sad because we were the only two who showed up to ride and she probably wishes someone faster had come.
I love to torture myself (which means I love to ride my bike a lot) so I hauled Heavy T up the road to Pitkin and back. It was hard enough to get him up the hills, but the way back included a super awesome head wind and thunder. And lightning.
Do you know what baby bike trailers are made of?
Metal. And some canvas. But mostly metal.
So that time trial was fun. And also exhausting. I was glad to make it home where Tygh and I could live another day without being struck by lightning. Also, it was time to pick up his sister (remember her?) and my mom at the Montrose airport. So maybe the weather-related time trial was a good thing. At least I picked them up on time.
