I'm a pants pooper. When I say that, I don't mean that you should be checking my drawers for chocolate swirls. I mean I can sometimes (fine, often times) have a glass-is-half-empty outlook on life. My husband is the opposite.
I'm always skeptical of T's hair-brained ideas when it comes to family activities. I'm freaked out by messes, injuries, and activities that I perceive to be "more trouble than they're worth." Nine times out of ten, though, when we follow through on them, I am transported to a magical place where I'm 9 years old again. Then, inevitably, I tuck my poop tail between my legs and say to him, "Yes, honey, you were right. That was fun. I had fun."
Our recent trip to Duck was no exception.
We had planned to check out the sand dunes, which if you are not familiar, are pretty fucking impressive. We're talking mountains upon mountains of sand. We went to the beach in the morning and planned to hit up the dunes in the afternoon. But, with a toddler nap time on the horizon, I was wondering how the heck we were going to swing it all.
"If he falls asleep on the way, we'll just carry him in, bring some towels, and let him sleep on the sand."
Easy, peasy, Japanesey. Right? Not when you have anal-retentive tendencies and are used to being hyper-scheduled, hyper-controlled, and just plain hyper. I reluctantly agreed.
The second issue was the boogy board. T was insistent that we bring it to ride the sand dunes, brah. Seriously? Do we really need to bring in a boogy board? Can't we just take leisurely walks around the dunes?
I relented. The boogy board came with...and so did my untrusting, unbelieving, unsure face, which T likens to an expression you'd make if you'd suddenly and unsuspectingly gotten a whiff of something foul-smelling.
J did fall asleep in the car on the way to the dunes. T carried him in, we laid him down on a towel and covered him with another. This is what he did while we took turns climbing the dunes:
M rocked it out, all the while squealing, yelling and laughing.
Take one with Daddy.
Take two, solo.
And as much as it pains me to write this, the boogy board was pure genius.
When J woke up, he promptly got into the dunage.
Fun with Dunes was a blast. And with most things that I resist because I'm scared, tired or can't relinquish the monster need to control, I am glad I conceded to the Powers of Fun. As a mom, sometimes I can get wrapped really tight about meals, naps, messes, routines, and all the other things that help me make sense of my day-to-day life with two small children. What was that line from Ferris Bueller's Day Off about inserting a piece of coal into Cameron's ass, twisting and getting a diamond? Well, you get the picture. It is a conscious effort for me to let loose and enjoy those carefree moments with my family.
So, with that being said, I'm glad I have Mr. Would You Please Fucking Relax nudging me from time to time....even though I don't always know it.
Plus, the boogy board did come in handy when we needed to transport an exhausted and extremely whiny preschooler back to the car.