Me so tired.
Me have so many dishes to wash.
Me. Me. Me.
This afternoon we went for a super tedious family ADVENTURE, and did a totally harrowing nature walk down a really precarious, slippy-rocky area of the escarpment. As usual, it was super duper fun getting the kids ready to go.
Ella: "I DON'T WANNA go there! Do they have toys there?"
Ella: "do they have games for kids there?"
Ella: "do they have CANDIES there??!?"
Ella: "Well, what can we get there?"
Me: "Fresh air! And it's FREE!"
As if she gives a crap.
Jack was even more fun: he wailed, cried, lamented, pleaded, dished out a steaming helping of verbal abuse, and chinned The Man and I a few times (chinning = digging bony little chin into sensitive forearms. It's our verb. We invented it. Lick it, stick, stamp it, no erasies).
So, once there, I realised that I've lost 98% of my sense of adventure (ie; my backbone), if indeed I ever had any at all. It was steep, treacherous, and there were lots of wobbly rocks underfoot. In some spots it was muddy (yeah, okay. If you have no treads on your running shoes, and you're heading downhill, that IS something to think about).
There were a few random turds on the path at one point (Ella stepped in one), and WORST, WORST, WORST of all--a FREAKING BAT swooping over one section of the path.
"OH MY GOD," I said; "if that thing flies into my head, I'm going to lose it."
The Man: "that's a myth."
Me: "no, I'm not talking about that urban legend about how bats will get tangled in your hair. I know that's a myth. I'm literally talking about it flying into my head. My head is a large object, and a big target."
Jack: "what's a bat?"
Me: "a mouse with wings."
Jack: "UHH! UHHHH! I DON'T LIKE IT!" that's my boy! Sniff!
The Man: "why? it's NEAT!"
Me (muttering): "like hell"
Ella: "I like the bat!"
Then we got to a point that was finally FLAT, where we could see the river racing lustily along below. Of course, The Man and Jack had to go stand right by the edge of the CLIFF, while I did the panicky mom dance a good ten feet away from them.
Then Jack was done with the whole shmoz. So, back up we went. Why was I such a panicky idiot? I'd been down this nature trail plenty of times in my life. However, I'd never been with THE KIDS. ONE OF THE KIDS, NAMELY, THE GIRL KID is extremely clumsy. Also, I hate heights. Also, let's just put this out there: I don't like nature. Let me clarify: I like trees, and plants, and rocks with moss, and all things beautiful and organic, but I do NOT like muck, turds, ANY BUGS (even those stupid lady bugs that people are always trying to convince me are CUTE, when I KNOW they look like this:
SHUDDDDDDDDER...just what I thought--heebyjeeby city.
DITTO for butterflies, naive humans.
So, we made the slow clamber back up to the top, and all the while, I had to drag not only my own poundage, but my girlie, who I was too paranoid to NOT help her up all those rock steps.
Oh, and the best part was when we walked through that spot again with the psychotic bat! You think I'm being melodramatic? Well, I felt the little f$cker whiz right overtop my head. Yeah, I felt the little breeze. Nightmarish.
Jack; "why are ya nervous, Mom?"
The Man: "Mummy is ONE WITH NATURE."
Yeah, I like nature: in my back yard, sitting at my picnic table, with an adult beverage, watching the sweet, chubby robins hop around looking for worms.
That's plenty of nature. PLENTY.