We interrupt our regularly scheduled blogging to bring you The Shit Show. Yes, that’s right, The Shit Show, where regular, happy family outings suddenly dissolve into chaos and knee-slapping hilarity ensues. Ok, maybe just the chaos. Either way, it’s a ongoing serial that happens to my family on a fairly frequent basis. Take last night for example.
My husband and I decided it was time to take the girls down to the canal for a skate. We live in Ottawa after all and the Rideau Canal is not only the world’s largest skating rink but it’s also been declared a World Heritage Site. As if that’s not enough, they also have Beaver Tails. If you don’t know what a Beaver Tail is then I just feel sad for you. Really.
So, while the kids are at school, we gather all the gear we’ll need. We stop on the way to pick them up and get hot drinks for everyone. Woo hoo, we are rocking this parent gig today. We grab the kids and they are giddy and all, “Thank you so much, you are the best parents ever to grace the planet. We’re not worthy” and we’re like, “Yeah, we know. We’ve got it all sewn up today”. Smugness is our undoing.
First, crossing the very, very busy road to get to the canal, I lead my children out into oncoming traffic in classic space cadet mode. I have no idea what I was thinking except clearly that red meant go. My husband is standing on the sidewalk shouting at me, cars are honking and my kids are looking at me like they have no idea who I am. I make it back to the sidewalk safely with my kids and my husband decides maybe it’s best if he crosses the road with them. Good call.
Before we hit the ice, the complaining starts. “This doesn’t look as big as last year,” says the oldest. “Ah, honey, it’s 7.8 kilometers long. Believe me it’s as big as last year.” “The ice doesn’t look as smooth as the arena.” “You have got to be kidding me,” I say, “Do you know how lucky you are to have this in your city?” “This is boring” she says. “We haven’t even hit the ice yet. How can you be bored?” Her eyes glazed over now, she is looking right through me. I have completely lost her attention.
We sit them down and start to help them get ready. My youngest starts to cry as soon as she gets her helmet on. Apparently her head has grown three sizes since Saturday when she was last skating. Then my oldest remembers she only has ankle socks on. “Oh well,” I say, “I told you to stop wearing those in October. We’re not going home now.” My husband helps her with her skates and the moment she stands up the tears start and the drama. “Ow, ow, ow, these are hurting me.” “Oh for heaven’s sake, what’s the matter now?” I bend down and my husband has her skates tied so tight, he may be cutting her circulation off. Apparently he thought he was tying skates for an NHL player. I fix her up and send her off. Not two seconds later she’s screaming again. “I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding.” Seriously. What the hell is going on here? She’s only skated ten feet, how on earth is she bleeding. I skate over and sure enough, she is. A scab from an old injury has come off on her leg. Thankfully, by the grace of God, I have a band-aid and we’re able to start moving.
The destination here is the Beaver Tails hut. We start out towards it and all is going well until the inevitable, “I have to go the the bathroom”. We are now midway between our starting point and our destination. There is a go hut near Beaver Tails so we encourage the kids to skate a little faster. Of course, because we have have two girls, I’m the lucky parent who gets to go in with them. I help with coats and snowpants and mittens and freakin’ hats to get them in their stalls and the next thing I hear is singing. When the singing starts, we’re not talking a quick pee here anymore. Oh yes, my children have decided they need to christen the canal. Both of them. Told you this was a......you get the point. Tick tock, tick tock, how many hours do mothers lose this way I wonder? At least my lucky husband is out in the fresh air while I’m suffocating holding 30 pounds of winter clothing and breathing less than fragrant air. Sigh. Why didn’t I have boys?
Finally, out on the canal again, we move to the Beaver Tails. For ten blissful minutes all is forgotten as we indulge in these warm, sugary bits of pastry heaven. Mmmmmmm.
On a sugar high, we start to head back. My youngest daughter takes my hand and we skate quietly along. The snow is falling softly around us. Finally, I think, this is the picture I had in my mind earlier in the day. Sweet time with my family.
“Mommy”, my daughter says in her tiny little voice, looking up at me lovingly.
“Yes, doll”
“I farted”
“Awesome honey. Thanks for that”.
Maybe not quite what I had envisioned.
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