** You can win the beautiful Anaju bamboo baby wrap I'm wearing in this post by entering here! **
I was optimistic.
I was entranced by and enthusiastically excited about yesterday's weather forecast.
I was brave.
Amid promises of 68 degree temperatures and partly sunny skies, I made the snap decision to take the boys, with out any other adult reinforcements, to a local farm to pick pumpkins with our Mothers of Preschoolers group.
I was terrified.
Upon arriving, I noticed that it was cold. So cold the toddler insisted on wearing his funny-looking orange hat. And I noticed the farm, while cute, was pretty muddy and the grass was slippery and wet with soppy mud under it. Like, the pigs, if there were any, would have been excited because the entire farm was wet, dirty, muddy, swampy paradise. I could see it now. I would be the one saying to Farmer Paul that mine was the toddler who was stuck up to his ears in one of the many mud patches, and do you think we could get that tractor to pull him out if we throw the toddler a rope and yell "hold on!"??
I was persistent.
Despite my fears about losing the toddler to the pigs and the colder than expected weather, I paid the money to enter anyway because the baby immediately conked out in his favorite wrap, and the toddler was totally and completely wide eyed and in love with the tractors that were seductively parked just feet away from the entrance. "I need to drive that tractor, mommy," he said solemnly with his eyes focused steadily on the big red prize. And I believed him.
I was agile.
While wearing the sleeping babe in a wrap, I managed to pick up the toddler to pet the horse, chase him as he darted under the legs of a giant, inflatable cat, rescue him from a scary man decoration, wash the moldy pumpkin gunk from his hands after he dipped them into a rotting pumpkin and catch him by his pants before he tumbled off of the wagon while on the hayride as we slide sideways through the mud.
I was relieved.
Three fourths of the way through the planned farm adventures,I congratulated myself in my head because the toddler had managed to have fun yet not totally and utterly destroy any of the decorations, defeather any chickens, lose any fingers to the horse or land himself (or me) in the pond while trying to rescue some pumpkins that fell in.
I spoke too soon.
Just as we began the kid-sized corn maze, it happened:the baby began to stir. His face turned red, he wriggled and I felt a huge explosion inside his diaper. I tried to explain to the toddler that we needed to go back to the car to change the baby but we would go back. He did not like that idea. He didn't like it so much that I had to drag him out of the corn maze and through the field toward the car. Of course, when you're dragging an uncooperative toddler through a soppy, wet field, disaster is sure to follow. And that it did. We came to a part of the field that had a low-lying ditch filled with muddy water. The farmers had placed stones in that area to form a kind of sturdy ground for crossing. I'm sure you can imagine what happened next:
Uncooperative toddler doesn't follow mommy across the stones; rather uncooperative toddler drags his feet, stumbles and ends up stuck in the ankle-deep mud. So while I didn't need a tractor to pull him out, I needed every muscle in my upper body, and as I pulled, the toddler pulled and flung mud over what seemed like every square inch of our bodies. A poopy baby and a muddy, wet, cold, mad, uncooperative toddler helped me realize that our farm day was over.
I was insane.
Who in her right mind still has faith in the weatherman's predictions after he's been wrong concerning about 80 percent of the forecasts for October? Aside from that, who in her right mind takes a seven week old and a two year old to a working farm by herself as her first real outing with both boys after it had been raining for, like, the entire month?
What can I say? I was optimistic. And at least I got a good shot before we were covered in mud.