Misadventures

It seems like every time we try to have a family adventure, it ends up being a comedy of errors that really isn't funny to us. Whenever I tell the story to our parents, though, they get a big kick out of it.  Perhaps because they've been there.  Perhaps because they're seeing that there is justice in this world in the form of payback for all the crap we put them through.  Or perhaps, because I'm just a really good storyteller with a flair for comedy.  But I doubt it's the last one.

Our misadventures don't begin until Friday afternoon.  The rest of the week was pretty boring. On Monday for family night Steve talked to the girls about service and how we feel good when we give service to others.  I don't think it sunk in, but it was certainly worth the effort to talk about it.  Some day I'm sure it will click. Wednesday, I volunteered in Emilia's classroom.  I respect those moms out there who do it out of the kindness of their hearts.  If I wasn't getting hours toward renewing my teaching license, I'm not sure I would have given it a second thought.

Thursday, when I went to pick up Emilia from school, the first thing she yells is, "I got invited to Lily's birthday party!" "How fun!" I responded.  As we're walking to the car, I find out that the whole class got invited to Lily's birthday party.  And I'm thinking, "Wow, that's a brave mom." I ask where the invitation is so we know when and where the party are, but now we're in the car and she's not sure she put it in her backpack.  "Do you remember when the party is?" I ask.  "I think it's tomorrow," she tells me--very sad that she might miss the party because she doesn't know where the invitation is.  I tell her not to worry.  Nobody sends home an invitation for a birthday party the day before the party. Except Lily's mom, apparently.  Because the next day she brings home the invitation and the party is an hour from now. Oh great.  Luckily I have some extra gifts that I keep sitting around for situations like these.  I throw it in a gift bag, gather up the other girls and head over.  Emilia doesn't want me to leave, so I sit at this stranger's (very small) house with 20 small children, including my cranky 2-year old.  I'm not a small children type of girl. After an hour and a half with 20 of them I was ready to burst.  We high-tailed it out of there and arrived home just as Steve did.  We had frozen pizza, leftovers and donuts for dinner that night.

Saturday started out good.  I went garage sale-ing in the morning.  I got a table for 3 bucks and some tools for my dad before Steve called saying Cecily had been crying for an hour because she wouldn't take her bottle.  I got home as quick as I could and fed her.  After everyone had calmed down, we gave the girls baths and then Steve worked on the yard while I cleaned the Chrysler.  The people who put the terrace in on the west side of our house put a sprinkler system in there, laid a thick black tarp on top of the pipes, then covered that with 6 inches of dirt and then left it for the weeds to grow.  No flowers, no grass, just dirt that gets watered with the lawn.  Before I knew the tarp was there, I decided it would be a great place for a garden.  Steve spent a good two hours digging that stupid thing out. Such a good man I have.

Here's where our Saturday misadventure begins.  We've been wanting to go to a place called Payson Lake all summer, but it's never worked out.  We had time Saturday afternoon, so we decided to go. Steve remembered it fondly from going in his childhood and I had never been there, but thought an outdoor adventure on what might be our last nice Saturday of the year, would be a great use of our afternoon.  After Bubs and Cecily woke up from their naps, we loaded into the car, determined to pick up some KFC on our way.  We had to get off the freeway to go to the one KFC between here and Payson, which was fine, but then we're driving and talking and all of a sudden I realize that Steve is driving past the Payson exit.

"Steve, aren't you supposed to take that exit?"
"No."
"But that's the second Payson exit."
"Nope."
"Yes, it is! This is the second Payson exit."
"Is it?"
"Yes!"
So we drive the four miles to the next exit, turn around and come back.
"Mom, why are we driving by those buildings again?"
"Nevermind, Emilia.  We just went too far."
We get to the entrance to the canyon and the girls are excited because they see cows and horses along the road. The road is really windy (curvy), though and I start to feel a little carsick.  Nothing too bad, just enough to make me a little cranky. As we get close, we start seeing snow on the ground.  "Uhh, I'm not sure we're dressed for this." We finally arrive at our destination and the thermometer on our fancy new car says it's 47 degrees outside.

Emilia showing off the snow

We all pile out of the car and put our jackets on, grab our food and head over to the picnic area only to find that all the tables have about 4 inches of snow on them.  We end up putting a blanket down on some bricks used for a retaining wall because it's the only place that's not wet.  The whole time we're eating: "I'm cold.  It's cold, Mom. I want to sit in the car.  Can we sit in the car? I'm cold. My blanket is falling down!!! I'm COLD!!"  Then Cecily (who, by the way, we forgot about when packing jackets and is dressed in short sleeves and pants) decides she's hungry, so Steve takes the girls to skip rocks on the lake while I feed Cecily in the car.  As she finishes and I get out of the car to get the stroller, so we can go on this scenic walk around the lake Steve was telling us about, I see Mira trip and sit down in the mud by the water.  She's wearing khaki pants.  But I don't know when to give up, so I determinedly get the stroller out, bundle Cecily in a blanket and load up Mira, who also gets wrapped in a blanket.  But Mira doesn't simply sit.  No, Mira, bops and swerves, making the blanket fall, which not only deserves a screaming fit that the blanket is falling, but also makes the blanket all muddy because I roll over it with the stroller.

Here's all of us putting on a good face.  You can kind of see the lake behind us. It was pretty, even if it was cold.

We make it about 1/2 way around the lake and decide to turn around because the sun is going to set soon and it's going to get even colder.  We go back over a bridge that crosses the stream that feeds the lake and Emilia decides she wants to get a closer look at the stream.  We all get out of the stroller and go down.  But when we're leaving, Emilia is in a hurry for the first time today, runs, and slips on the mud.  Now she's got mud on her knees and elbows.  If you know Emilia, you will know how *not* okay this is.  She's whimpering and walking like she's broken her knees, so we take Cecily out and let Emilia ride in the stroller.  At the car (which I've just cleaned, if you recall) I decided everyone has to take their shoes off, but Mira wants none of it, so she climbs up where I was going to have her sit.  After wiping the mud off, I convince her to sit, get her shoes off, then Emilia's.  I put the shoes in the back on an already muddy blanket, just in time for Steve to close the hatch on my head."I'm so sorry! I thought you were clear." Oy.  As we're driving down the mountain, Emilia says, "Tonight is the worst day ever."  You may be right Emilia.  You may be right.

Sunday morning, I'm not feeling so hot, so I stay in bed until 9:15, not sure I'm going to go to church with the rest of the family at 11. But I help get the other girls dressed, and Steve gets his chorister stuff done and food packed by 10:15.  There's plenty of time before church! We might even get there on time this week! So I decided I should shower and get ready. 45 minutes is plenty of time.
Mira comes into the bathroom with me begging for a Starburst.  I tell her no, which elicits a tantrum.
I figure she's just hungry, so I say, "Are you hungry? Do you want some bread?"
Whine-y "Ye-e-es."
"Okay, go tell Daddy, 'Can I have some bread, please?'"
She heads out and I hear her talking to her daddy. As I'm ready to step into the shower, I hear Steve yell, "Don't spit it out!"
We ran out of bread from the store, so I made some Friday night.  Mira's never had homemade bread, so she wasn't ready for the texture of it.  I run out in my bathrobe to see that she gagged on it and threw it up all over her church clothes.
We didn't make it to church on time.