We walk a lot during the nice weather. We live in a subdivision; if we walk aaalllll the way around the "block" it equals one mile. We look at bugs, cracks in the road, and the houses. The kids pick up sticks that are in the shape of guns. We talk about things going on in our lives. I usually think we are having a deep, meaningful conversation, one which they will look back on in adulthood with gratitude and appreciation. Then somebody farts and the conversation breaks down into shrieks of delight and a 10 minute digression about all things fart-related.
The other day I decided the kids and I could really use one of our walks to escape the grouchies. So we stuck the baby into the stroller and set out. Due to an unfortunate combination of being Floridians and genetics, the older children opted against wearing shoes. A decision that would cost us two minutes of plucking stickers from their feet shortly after leaving the house. We were admiring the neighbors' Halloween decorations and discussing our upcoming trip to Orlando when we came up to a squashed snake. We had to examine it's disgusting remains for what seemed like an eternity before moving along. I can only stare at fly-infested snake guts for so long so it seemed like an ideal time to sneak a peek at my phone.
The snake's novelty eventually faded, and I tucked my phone away. We made our way down the third street of our walk. Just as we approached the point to turn onto our street I realized my phone was gone. No! Nooooooo.
Sigh. I debated how badly I wanted an upgrade anyway with how many un-backed up photos and ultimately chose to turn around to find it. Right as we turned around the baby decided that precise moment was as good as any to relieve himself of the poop he'd been saving up for two days. He is not fond of hanging around in dirty diapers so he immediately started fussing. I picked him up. Let's just say: blowout. All you moms know what that means without me giving lovely details. This was bad.
I had to push the stroller while holding a crying, fat, poop-covered baby. The school buses were apparently making their stops too because we were literally run off the road by a lunatic driver. We made it all the way back 3/4 of a mile to the snake carcass, and no phone. At that point, we had back-tracked so far that it made more sense to keep going in that direction to make it home.
Finally, I could see our house. Home, sweet relief, HOME! I made it into the house, slumped on the floor, and pried my wet-from-sweating pants off. I cleaned the baby and fixed him up. Our air-conditioner is broken so I stood in front of the fan in my bedroom and waited until I regained some feeling other than burning muscles in my left arm. Yes, where I live a "cool Fall day" is still 87 degrees plus 90% humidity. Still drenched in sweat, hair frizzed out in every direction, and poop on me, I went out to the living room where the kitchen door is in full, plain view. The kids were so thoughtful and opened the door for the yard man. That's right-rewind a bit to the part where I had to peel my clothes off because I was so stinking hot. That's right-there is no part about me putting new bottoms on. Other than not being able to ever look the yard guy in the eyes again, I'm fine.
I had to push the stroller while holding a crying, fat, poop-covered baby. The school buses were apparently making their stops too because we were literally run off the road by a lunatic driver. We made it all the way back 3/4 of a mile to the snake carcass, and no phone. At that point, we had back-tracked so far that it made more sense to keep going in that direction to make it home.
Finally, I could see our house. Home, sweet relief, HOME! I made it into the house, slumped on the floor, and pried my wet-from-sweating pants off. I cleaned the baby and fixed him up. Our air-conditioner is broken so I stood in front of the fan in my bedroom and waited until I regained some feeling other than burning muscles in my left arm. Yes, where I live a "cool Fall day" is still 87 degrees plus 90% humidity. Still drenched in sweat, hair frizzed out in every direction, and poop on me, I went out to the living room where the kitchen door is in full, plain view. The kids were so thoughtful and opened the door for the yard man. That's right-rewind a bit to the part where I had to peel my clothes off because I was so stinking hot. That's right-there is no part about me putting new bottoms on. Other than not being able to ever look the yard guy in the eyes again, I'm fine.
