In an effort to be a MOTH (Mother Out of The House) I went hiking with the family yesterday. My children did not recognize me with my hair combed and in sunlight, but after a few minutes of screaming to Daddy that a crazy lady had gotten rid of Mommy and stolen her dated clothes and unflattering makeup, they realized the crazy lady WAS Mommy and all was well. That did not actually happen, but it could have.
My thoughtful husband researched trails and located a lovely one that led to a waterfall and pool, and was supposedly family-friendly. Not "free of nudity and graphic violence" kind of family-friendly, because I think that is a fairly standard rule enforced by the BLM. (The exception seems to be around hot springs, where the heat and sulphur apparently cause people to behave like lunatics with no control over their actions. The BLM gives them a free pass.) I just did not want them to get hurt. We embarked on the trek, and I was pleased to see small children and their parents returning from the same hike we were beginning, looking happy and relaxed. I spotted no broken bones, snake bites, or Poison Ivy welts. Not even fingernail fungus. Or fungi. Neither one.
Soon after departure, I noticed the embankment alongside us growing higher and steeper. It did not take long before it looked like The Cliffs of Insanity on "The Princess Bride." Normally, I am quite comfortable in any environment featuring insanity, but I do not like to bring my children to the asylum with me. Nevertheless, I soldiered bravely on for 1.5 miles, and had just caught sight of the waterfall not too far away, when I summoned all the courage in my pathetic soul, and...
Turned around to go back to the car.
But, I did not stop ruining the day there. I am far too ambitious in my efforts to rain on any parade my children might be enjoying, to stop there. I told my children and husband they had to return with me. Surprisingly, this change in plans was not popular. My children acted as if I had lost my mind, which of course I had. That happened several decades ago. Unfortunately, even my oldest child has only known me for ONE decade, and so he continues to be surprised when I behave completely irrationally. He will learn.
Anyway, I could not watch them walk along this cliff anymore. The Utah Parks Council would probably describe it as a "slope," as would everyone else (including the preschoolers who have hiked it.) I maintain that it is in fact a cliff. Anyway, I finally compromised, allowing them to continue on with my husband while I sheepishly headed in the opposite direction. Judging by the number of tiny children passing us, I knew mine were safe, but anxiety knows no logic. So, I got the freak off that gorgeous, scenic, scary mountain and as far away from that terrifying fresh air as I could get. Another epic Mom fail from the MOUSE (Mother Of Unreasonable Stress Episodes.)
It's OK. I enjoyed my time alone at the bottom waiting for them as much as any hike. I found a prime seat next to the port-a-potties, so it still smelled like I was camping.
Stay tuned for the next post. It involves something more frightening than a cliff: Reality TV.
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