The kids and I have been lamenting lately about all of the construction going on here north of Dallas. Not only are we missing living close to the beach but we are missing yards. And grass. And well, anything green to be honest. We even walked to a construction site a few nights ago that was a gorgeous sunflower field just a few months ago and sighed.
And then the kids ran around the construction site like lunatics and and cheered at a pile of PVC pipe. But that's another story.
So maybe the lack of nature was weighing on my mind tonight. Maybe it wasn't, but at this point I really need some sort of excuse. The kids and I were out running errands and I let them wear their pajamas because none of the errands required leaving the car. And because I like to let them think I'm cool every now and then.
We were driving home when we spotted a beautiful field of lush grass. We commented on how fun it would be to take off our shoes and run through that field. We were talking about how cool the grass would feel and how much we missed big yards with lots of grass.
And then I had that moment. The crazy burst of spontaneity that I used to have quite frequently (ask anyone who knew me before the age of 24) that has somehow diminished under the piles of laundry and diapers.
And so I did it. I decided to throw caution to the wind. The street looked fairly empty and you only live once. We were going to make a memory, gosh darn it. We were going to run through that field and laugh and play tag and feel the beautiful grass underneath our feet. And they would remember it for 50 years and tell their kids how fun and spontaneous 'ole Grandma Webster used to be.
So I pulled into a parking lot across the street and told the kids to get out. They thought I was joking. They refused. I insisted. I told them to take off their shoes and they pointed out that they didn't have them on anyway. "Even better," I shouted maniacally as I dragged them out of the car.
And then we ran across the street laughing to this beautiful field of tall lush grass. Okay, we ran 5 feet before cars started zooming past us. And then we waited.... and waited.....and waited..... while the cars passed us and then we ran across the street while laughing.
Once we actually reached the grass, we all took off across the field. However, as we started running through the grass we realized that we weren't running. We were kind of wading. Okay, there was no "kind of." We were definitely wading. Perhaps my depth perception is not quite what it once was because this grass was a whole lot taller in person than it was from the view of my windshield parked across the street.
And it was muddy. Very muddy. So muddy in fact that the kids were just sinking in it. And then they started crying. And then one of my shoes sunk down into the mud. And I couldn't get it because I was too busy noticing that my 2 year old was sinking as well just a few feet away from me.
I grabbed her and held her and I went back to look for my shoe. I couldn't find it anywhere. Then my son took off for the car followed by my oldest daughter who was yelling, "WORST. IDEA. EVER!" And we got to the edge of the field and waited.... and waited... and waited as the cars zoomed past us. And they were shivering. And muddy. Once it was clear, I finally followed them across two lanes of traffic while limping with one shoe and simultaneously trying to scrape the mud off of my youngest child's leg.
I got them in the van and
As I got back in the car my two older kids were laughing hysterically.
"Mom, you're just like Cinderella!" exclaimed my son.
"Or..... maybe she's more like Anastasia" said my daughter. "No way Dad's coming back out here in that mud to look for her old shoe."
Thanks, kids. And there was our night. They talked about it non-stop the whole way home and laughed all throughout the bath as I was vigorously scrubbing mud off of their legs and telling them that this was never to spoken of again. And that I didn't really like those shoes anyway. We didn't quite make the memory I had planned, but I feel certain we made one. Of some sort.