The other day while AJ and I were on the road, my husband was busy fixing up my basement office. I�ve been kind of a basketcase for the last few weeks for no particular reason, other than, perhaps, that it�s been a while since I�ve had a stage four freakout. These kind of emotional meltdowns are usually the result of a lack of time alone, which has been the single greatest adjustment of motherhood. One of the things I really love about my husband is that he�s always understood that. I went through a string of boyfriends who were threatened by my need for alone time or who thought I was hiding something. Anyway, in this case, a contributing factor was what I like to refer to as AJ toy ooze. Since Christmas, AJ�s toys have been creeping into parts of the house where they have no business being on any permanent basis. The biggest problem was my office. What was once a relatively calm and orderly workspace was half covered in piles of AJ toys and piles of still unmailed Christmas cards (I really do intend to send them. I swear!).

I got home and the clutter was gone. The toys were gone. There were candles on the table. It was a picture of Zen perfection. He brought my bike inside and set it up on the trainer � something I�ve been meaning to do for months (In my past life I was a pretty hardcore cyclist. I trained for the AIDS ride twice and managed to injure myself in non-bike-related fits of klutziness both times and was never able to go).

This afternoon AJ followed me down here as I searched for a forgotten phone number and he noticed the bike. �Ride your bike, Mommy!� �AJ, I need to find this phone number. Hold on.� �Mommy, please ride your bike NOW.� He used the magic word. How could I refuse? I got on and started to pedal. AJ started to giggle. �Faster, Mommy, faster!� I obliged. AJ pointed out, �You�re not going anywhere.� Oh, how true. He added, �Faster and faster!� I pedaled as fast as I could then let my feet slip off the pedals while the wheel slowed. AJ wouldn�t let me stop. �No, Mommy. Pedal. PEDAL!!�

I think I may have found a personal trainer.

AJ will be conducting spinning class three days a week in my basement. Anyone interested?

And now I�m off to ice my calves. But first, a link to a remix of Dean�s post-caucus rant. Yes, you might even be able to dance to it.

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