Making Do With Mom

Hey, y'all -

It's no secret that your dad is the outdoorsy one, who knows how to do stuff. Which gear to pack, how to get it there, how to best manage two children and a wife in the wilderness...those are all the domain of your dad. He could make an emergency shelter out of two toothpicks and a ziploc bag.

But we can't just sit on the couch and wait for him to come home, because we'll go bonkers.  Instead, we're loading up and getting out there...

...even if I sometimes usually don't know what the hell I'm doing. 

Laney wanted to try rock climbing. So I took her to the Y where we suited up and gave it a try, even though we learned that their safety helmets were designed for tiny little alpine people and not enormous Lee noggins. I might as well be wearing a plastic yarmulke. 

It was not for me. ("This is why God invented stairs!") But Laney loved it and has since signed up for the Junior Scramblers team so that professional people who don't mind when their butts are dangling over a gravel pit can teach her the ropes. 

Then, there's cross-country skiing. Laney loves it. Laney's friend Abby loves it. They love exploring together and falling down on purpose which is the kind of thing you do before you learn what a deductible is. 

The challenge was Hagen. What to do with Hagen... Because Hagen is sho 'nuff not going to ski. And if we let him hike, he'd have to stop so many times to talk about Pokemon, we'd never make it out of the parking lot. 

I got crafty and figured out that if I put the skijoring harness (OF COURSE your dad owns one) around my waist backwards, I could hook it with a dog leash to Hagen's little plastic sled and tow him behind me while I ski. 

 

Hagen seems good with this set-up, because he can ride and talk and lie down and pretend to be somewhere else when he decides he's sick of the great outdoors. 

Yes, these overalls are ludicrous and huge and tacky and my friends tease me about them. They're also waterproof and quilted and the closest thing I can find to wearing a bedspread. They're here for the long haul. 

And so am I. 

Love,

Mom