I have a confession to make. When it comes to planning family outings/holidays/events I always end up feeling like Clark Griswold and I must be related. Hell, who am I kidding? Even my family dinners would be an utter embarrassment to Clark! But, much like the delusional dreamer he is, I keep trying for that "perfect" (read: non-dysfunctional) family bonding memory. Yet, against my better judgment, I keep trying.
A while back I wrote a post about how I took the kiddos rollerskating for the first time. It was Hell on Wheels, literally. So bad, in fact, that I was given free tickets just on the off chance that I'd be stupid enough to try again. (FYI: Those free tickets have never left my purse. They are coated in melted candy gooeyliciousness, I'm sure) because THAT is a memory that I refuse to relive and am trying to bury deep enough into my psyche that even the world's most
court appointed famous hypnotherapist won't be able to make me pull that little tidbit of my past out of my head. But I digress.
As much as I keep failing to make those Norman Rockwell memories as a single mom with 4 young kiddos, I sometimes find myself hoping I can give them a single memory that they can happily share with their own kids, instead of a psychiatrist, someday. Last night, we had our first major snowfall since we moved up North. And, coincidentally enough, Santa brought them their very first sleds for Christmas! (That giant elf's a psychic genius, I tell you!) So I told them that I'd take them sledding (for the very fist time) when I got home from work today. Oh, the
fantasies delusions I had of our little family giggling as we sped down the same snow covered hill that I so fondly remember my brother and I pushing racing each other down!
All day at work, I kept watching the clock. Waiting to get home and fulfill my sledding fantasy.
Then. It. Happened. The scenario of family bliss that I had played repeatedly in my head was upon us.
An hour right after I got home, we headed out to the local hot spot of sledding. We got lucky. There were only a few targets kids left for the kiddos to collide with! WooHoo!!! So I grabbed our new sleds, told them the basics (In all honesty, I might have been "Griswolding" too much to actually explain anything. Whatever. This was MY fantasy. So we'll just assume that I did.), and carted our asses up the hill.
The first ones to head down were myself and the Baby. Because I'm overprotective like that. It had absolutely NOTHING to do with me not being the first one down the hill. DUH!!! Anywho....about 3 feet into our epic ride, the sled broke. And we skidded down the hill. Head over heels and asses. Way to go me for making sure she was sledding safely!! smdh
Next up was the Princess. EPIC ride!!! Right up until Boy2 broke the rules I may or may not have explained and flew down the hill. Slamming her straight in the kidney with his sled.
I let the Baby take her next few rides down the hill alone. Because I wanted her to experience the freedom of flying down a snow covered hill on her own. I assure you it had NOTHING to do with me fearing that the weight of my fat ass caused the first sled to break. Although.....had I actually risked the cheapo $5 sled and sledded down the hill with her, I could have saved myself about 20 semi-impossible walks DOWN the hill. Just to walk back UP the hill. Carrying both a sled and a toddler who couldn't seem to keep her boots on to save her life. come to think of it, if I'd tried the sled after all those trips up and down the hill, my ass might not have broken another sled. Hindsight is a bitch.
It went on like this for a solid
20 minutes hour before I decided to call it quits and remove any and all links I might have to the Griswold family on Ancestry.com. And demanded that we go home. Flash forward to the Princess "accidentally" letting go of her sled and watching it scoot down the hill 30 times, Boy1 "conveniently" losing his balance and sledding down another 10 times, and Boy2 flashing me the bird peace sign while he hit the ramp he was told to stay away from.
I finally got them ready to leave. We were headed to the van. Then the Baby saw the snow drift that I, in my infinite wisdom, told her to avoid in the parking lot. Nothing sucks off snow boots like a 5 foot snow drift, folks. And nothing makes your ears bleed faster than a 3 yr old walking through snow in nothing but stocking feet.
All said and done...We. Did. It. Once again, the kiddos and I made it home. Safe and sound. (Minus a few bruises and a possible kidney issue for the Princess. And frostbite for the Baby.) And, while it might not be the most "perfect" memory.....it's still a memory. And one that I'm only slightly ashamed for them to bring up to their future and inevitable therapist.