Hard Core

"Hmmmm....what's in here?"

I meant to post this a while ago, but nothing could immediately top the "stuck in the mud" post.  Now that I am not so traumatized....


Although last year's Halloween was technically Angela's first Halloween, I don't really count it. At six months old, she had no clue what was going on. She probably thought her bag of money costume was some odd sleep sack. This year mobility coupled with a pretty good cause and effect understanding made it Angela's first "I get it" Halloween. I wish I had a camera when she received candy at the first house we went to for trick or treating. My chocoholic looked like she had discovered nirvana and she planned on fully experiencing it at her earliest opportunity. I stupidly did not consider this when I fastened her in the car seat. I let Angela continue to hold onto her treat bag. John and I chatted while we drove to our next stop. We paused when we heard ripping paper. We looked back at the same time to find that Angela had fished out a Kit Kat from her bag and was eating it- wrapper and all.


If that is not hard core, I don't know what is.

Mothers Know Best

As a kid, I hated how my mom was always right. "Be careful or you will fall". Splat! Down I went. "Don't forget your coat. It's going to get cold." Defiant and fashion conscious, I would blithely leave the coat at home and later shiver while cursing her knowledge. And now I am a mother, who like my mother and her mother, issues these orders gentle reminders to her offspring with similar results.

 

The park outing started off lovely. The air was brisk but bearable. Oddly, neither of the girls wanted to play on the equipment, but instead wanted to walk around the large duck pond in the middle of the park. We collected leaves and acorns. We threw rocks in the water. It seemed idyllic- like one of those moments that you just wish you could capture on film. If someone did capture what happened next on film, it will probably be featured on America's Funniest Home Videos. If you do happen to see what I am about to describe, please let me know, especially if prize money is involved. I deserve a large cut.

 

Anyway, I digress.

 

While we walked along the water's edge, I kept reminding Alice not to get too close. I explained how even though parts of the shoreline looked solid, the ground was soft and mushy. I turned away from Alice to watch Angela climb down from a rock wall. A cry of horror and fear pulled my attention back to my eldest who was mired up to her knees in mud. Arms outstretched she called out to me, "Quicksand. Mommy, help!!!" My body jolted into action while my mind thought, "Shit. I would have to be wearing my favorite shoes." Still, love of my daughter outweighed that thought and I gingerly walked into the quagmire. I could feel the cold dampness of the mud ooze into my shoes and through my socks. I squelched the "God, this is gross" thoughts and proceeded to pull my terror stricken and stuck daughter out while praying the little one decided not to join us. I have to say I could understand the panic Alice felt because my feet got really stuck in the ooze. I pulled her out and got us both on pavement. I looked down and saw we each only had one shoe on. Fuck. I decided to ditch her $15 Payless pair, but I went back to pull out my beloved Ugg shoe. By the time I got out of the mud again my hands were covered, but I had my two shoes. I stuck my foot into the muddy bed and picked up Angela who quickly became muddy from me. What a sight we must have been. A crazy lady with mud squishing out of her shoes carrying a toddler while berating the one shoed, mud covered preschooler following her.

 

I have to say I was not overly angry at Alice. There are some things that you just have to experience for yourself. In doing so, you learn the ever important lesson- Your mother is always right.