The other day, I decided to take the kids to the park “after nap.” We usually don’t do afternoon excursions, because my dairy farmers are up so early and we seize the morning. Once we’ve relaxed/slept for a few hours, we generally just go in the back yard to swim or ride scooters out front.
But this particular park has a full fence, a sprinkler, great sight lines. I figured it’ll be awhile before I can take my kids out on adventures with the familiarity (note I never say ease!) I have now. So we loaded into the car and headed into the humidity.
What a mistake!
Within minutes of arriving I knew it was going to be a bad trip. I just sort of accepted it, which is great because then I wasn’t frazzled as shit went down. I was able to take all the disasters in stride.
Miles wanted to go in the sprinkler in his clothes, which is fine. I was shocked that he agreed to go barefoot. He feels that his feet are a private part and never, ever reveals them. But there he ran, through the water in his denim shorts and undies. It was lovely, until he decided he *needed* his brother to go in the water with him.
Felix did NOT want to go in the water. He never agrees to enter water with Miles, which is a smart move because Miles is rough as heck and is certain to waterboard anyone in arm’s reach. Instead, Felix wanted to play with some other kid’s plasma car. He eventually swindled a ride on the car, but had to be pried off when I had to take Miles into the bathroom.
Obviously Miles had to poop at the park, in wet denim shorts.
There I stood in the bathroom with one pooping kid and one sobbing kid, devastated to be removed from the plasma car. Hot, hungry, tired, Felix flopped on the disgusting public bathroom floor and I was too pregnant to do anything but let him.
After Miles got cleaned up, I slung still-crying-Felix over one shoulder and tried marching us to the car as Miles followed behind, weeping at having to leave, inexplicably naked. Just trotting through the streets of Aspinwall, nude and crying.
I lashed everyone into the car, turned it on, blasted the AC, and then stood outside the car for a few moments to catch my breath. It was awful. It’s awful to be nearly 38 weeks pregnant and have to haul a sack of kid-gear plus a toddler, plus keep a naked 5-year-old from being run over. And it was hot and humid.
I’m starting to rethink my response-at-the-ready when people tell me I’ve got my hands full. “Oh,” I’ve been saying, “This is the easy part! It’ll be much harder when this new one is external.” Surely once I’m able to bend and move and breathe more easily, things will be a bit better? Even if the baby is also crying, at least I’ll be able to walk to the car faster when I’m not waddling.
Who really knows if this is the hardest time for me. What I can tell you is that we are done with afternoon adventures for the duration of my pregnancy. Consider us shut-ins from lunchtime onward!