It was an unassuming October day. The kids were home. Seven stormy days of rain were on their way. My willingness to be outside with my kids would end at 7 pm and resume once the rain had cleared. Indeed, as I write this the lights flicker and I clutch perhaps the last hot mug of coffee for a few days. The warnings say prepare for 3-5 days of no power. You would think it’s Y2K with Target selling out of bottled water and AA batteries.
All that to say, I had big fat plans to wow my kids with a trip to the pumpkin patch. It was going to be perfect as they bounced around the patch searching for the perfect pumpkin, meanwhile, I would be sipping on a latte from my trusty thermos. My plan was perfect. Unshakable. I invited my dear friend and her three kids. She proposed we meet at her house and drive together in her swagger-wagon mini-van. I was game. I broke the news to my littles they would be riding in a van. They lost their crap. They were beyond excited to ride in such a vehicle. I could have told them we were going to get their teeth pulled and they would have been giddy with delight as long as they could roll in that sweet ride.
4 PM: We arrive at our friend’s house and start loading all the kids into her van.
4:20 PM: All kids are loaded and buckled. Some may be screaming (mine) and I’ve already dispensed the first (of three) rounds of snacks for the 25-minute ride. While I dispense snacks, my sweet friend is looking for her keys. We check under the van, in her house, in her pockets, in my pockets, and interrogate the kids to see if they took them.
4:45 PM: Discover the keys under my toddler’s rump. Yep, under his cheeks. All buckled and everything. Dear Lord, what was his plan with those?
4:50 PM: Start the ignition (something we had only dreamed of up to this point).
4:51 PM: Turn up the volume to Casper Baby Pants (kids indie tunes) and hit the road.
4:55 PM: Discover the road is closed and encouraged to use an alternate route.
4:56 PM: Pull off the highway and head to the fancy grocery store that has set up a mini-patch in the parking lot.
5:05 PM: Explain to the kids that this is the pumpkin patch and it is awesome. No pumpkin slingshots or hay rides in this concrete jungle.
5:10 PM: Allow children to climb on, roll, and sit on all pumpkins. Block children from running into the parking lot. Convince toddler to stop eating gum off the ground. Force children to choose just one pumpkin to take home.
5:35 PM: Corral all children into the grocery store. Easier said than done.
5:45 PM: Forget son’s pumpkin at check-out after I’ve paid for it. Head to the car with a squirmy toddler on hip only to be waved down by the teenage grocery bagger who announces I’ve left my pumpkin unattended.
5:47 PM Begin buckling all children only to find the youngest of the five has pooped her pants.
6:00 PM: Confess to the children that you are out of energy and convince them to carve the pumpkins with their father.
If you got to the actual pumpkin patch with hot cider and hay rides, I SALUTE YOU. If you made your way to the Piggly Wiggly to pick up a possibly already rotting pumpkin I SALUTE YOU, TOO. We are making memories. They don’t have to be perfect in our eyes. Just joyful in our children’s eyes. Getting comfortable with our actual life will go a long way in teaching our souls and the souls of our children to be content.
PS. To all you mini-van driving mamas, I won’t lie… those auto-sliding doors slay.
For more like this check out Mama Needs A Minute and Encouragement for Desperate Moments of Motherhood. Ooh, don’t miss I Almost Bit the Head Off A Teddy Bear.
Title image by Ivy and Tweed Photography