The busy-bodies (who had been strapped into car seats for over an hour and a half) and their parents decided to brave the not-so-sure-footed trails down into the ravine. The paved asphalt path around the perimeter would have been too easy and since this adventure was my idea, I was feeling a little pressure to make it one worth visiting again and off the scales fun. It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have my heart set on trying to practice taking pictures. A stroller carrying kid paraphernalia is cumbersome and awkward down in the ravines, so stroller-less and diaper bag-less we went. I felt so naked.
We thought after visiting the stream that the wet area near Nathan's rear was from some fresh water he inadvertently stuck only a long narrow portion of his rear end into. Hmm. Nathan must have thought we were flaming idiots because for the next hour he didn't want us to hold his hand to help him walk and insisted on us picking him up. And wouldn't you know it, every time one of us picked him up and complained about our wet shirt sleeves or love handles, we questioned the other parent on whether or not the wet spot was from fresh water or bodily fluids.
Yes, son, we are in charge of raising you.
I did get somewhat frustrated because Nathan was not going to walk anywhere without holding a stick. I've mentioned it before: the child is always carrying some type of tool. Which then makes it difficult to help him navigate the uneven terrain because holding just one of his hands makes for a very uncomfortable sideways fall, usually using the nearest foot as a pivot causing him to twist as he goes down. And a tool-carrying version of the infamous phrase from "The Christmas Story" echoed in my head: "You'll poke your eye out."
I did have fun taking a very limited amount of pictures, but as mentioned in the beginning, I had my heart set on practicing. A couple of times, when reaching for both of Nathan's hands to keep him from tumbling head over heels down a steep embankment, the camera I'd been waiting so long for and had hanging around my neck, would swing from behind my back and bonk him in the head, causing some discomfort.
About mid-way of our trek in this beautiful ravine conveniently blocking the 15 mph winds, we ran into some children on the playground that make it hard for me to be nice to them. They were with their mother and used words we try to avoid like "kill" and "butt", referred to Jim as "hey dude" and insisted on me taking their pictures then running over to see it. I shouldn't be so, oh I don't know what the word is for that, but they were loud, obnoxious and our children just stood still and stared at them a lot.
It must have been our ever-so-positive attitudes that kept us naive for so long, because when we finally did agree that the wet spot was from Nathan's body and we now officially smelled like sweat and child's pee, we had no idea how to get back to the parking lot. The paved path around the perimeter is 1.8 miles long. We were in an area I don't remember ever seeing before, so choosing the correct direction was imperative. The chance of us being close to the parking lot and heading the opposite way was very real.
Our guardian angels then appeared, driving a minivan. I (who does not fear asking for help when Katherine's insisting on being held because her legs hurt and Nathan's diaper is officially so full it's using our apparel to soak up his urine) flagged down a sweet elderly couple to ask for directions. They acted sure, but then not so sure on the quickest way to get out and then said those sweet words I loved and feared all at the same time, "Would you guys like a ride back?" They very well could be serial killers and hunt down families; was my fear. Oh thank the Mighty Provider for sending this chariot disguised as a mini van; was my gift.
We hopped in, most of the clan quite reluctantly, and I the free-loving hippy mother I've turned into lately was chatting away with these complete strangers. They didn't know when they offered that the big people in the car were the ones truly smelling like pee and hopefully they didn't notice. All they could do was talk about Nathan because their 7th grandchild was just recently born up in New York and they haven't got to see him yet.
They drove (according to the closet-detective I married) approximately 0.3 miles to the exit and before they picked us up we were heading the opposite way. (I'll do the math for you; it would have been 1.5 miles of walking in less than stellar circumstances if we weren't offered a ride).
Thank you dearly to the couple who have lived in Palm Coast for five years that picked up the ragged-looking couple with two small kids. We appreciate your kindness. We promise to pay it forward.
All in all, it was a great day. Nathan slept for over an hour and a half on the way there, Katherine enjoyed movies quietly in the back, my husband didn't badger me about not bringing the diaper bag and we got to spend some coveted family time together.
YOU ARE HILARIOUS. I love this post. It's just so true to our full blessed lives with little ones. I can relate to so much you wrote. I was cracking up. You are a great story teller and writer. :)
ReplyDeletemelanie