By Shelby Cain
So it’s here. And it’s awesome. Sunshine, birds, even a little green grass here and there. Pretty much everything about spring is fantastic… except one thing…kid chaos.
Is anyone finding their kids exceptionally chaotic this time of year? I guess we can file it under the heading of spring fever, but whatever it is… it’s freaking me out.
This was the scene the other day. In our endless pursuit to be outside to experience every single solitary ray of sunshine, we decided to walk downtown and ‘pull a mainer’.
I went into the garage to get the stroller. As I attempted to dig it out from underneath the sleds and skis and other discarded winter items, I heard squeals coming from the street. I looked up to see both girls had found their scooters and were scooting, helmet free, down the middle of the road towards the hill.
“Freeze!” I bellowed as I sprinted for the road, tripped over a fallen shovel, and landed in the mud. That got their attention. “Mommy, you fell! Mommies aren’t supposed to fall!” Too late.
I flung the scooters to the back of the garage and continued my unearthing of the stroller. During this time they managed to get so deep in the mud beside our house that I had to remove them, and then the shoes. Full change of clothes. After threatening them with their lives one last time, I was able to get the stroller free. Okay, let’s do this.
But wait. What the… the tires are flat. I have to go back into winter mountain to find the bike pump. Are you kidding me?
Now Five has spotted her bike. They both want to ride. Okay. At least I don’t have to find the bike pump… nope, I do. Five’s bike is okay but Three’s is on the rims. I manage to locate it and am pumping frantically as I yell at Five to slow down. She’s whipping past our house in a blur so fast she can’t hear what I’m saying. I think I’m having an anxiety attack.
Finally tires are pumped and I’ve corralled Five and explained that riding that fast makes Mommy’s heart hurt. Okay, we’re ready. Within three steps Five is so far ahead I can only see the dust she’s blown up and Three can’t stop putting on the brakes, which is making her cry. What happened? This is not how I left off last summer. Cars pass by slowly, looking at me like I’m some visiting aunt and I have no idea what I’m doing. They’re right about one thing.
By the time we get home my voice is hoarse from screaming, “Stop at the road!”, which they do, by one inch. Help!