We all remember our big firsts.
First car, first kiss, first romantic comedy.
My Best Friend’s Wedding was the first romantic comedy I ever watched. I was in 7th grade and it didn’t take long before I knew the movie line by line. One of my favorite lines, which I still say to my husband some 25 years later, is something Julia Roberts, our protagonist, screams into the phone while she drives a stolen bakery truck away from a wedding (a key plot line in any rom-com):
“This is what comes of telling the truth”
My Best Friend’s Wedding
Today I found myself living this line. Except instead of professing my love to my long time best friend on the day he was marrying someone else and now chasing him in a hijacked commercial vehicle, it went a little more like this:
“This is what comes of attempting 1,000 hours outside”
My brain
Let’s rewind.
A few days before Christmas, my neighbor came to the door with a set of pajamas. She had received this cute set of Christmas PJs in the wrong size and wanted to know if I would like them. The answer to this questions is always, yes.
The pajamas are so comfortable I wear them . . . frequently.
Fast forward to today. Still in my pajamas (they have been washed once, at least).
After spending approximately 423, 987 minutes telling my children to go to the bathroom before bundling up, we finally made it out the front door only 3.5 hours after we got up, a new record.
In my distorted view of what is actually feasible, I had planned to take the big girls sledding while the baby took her morning nap. As that plan had not materialized I now had all 3 of them with me in the front yard, a yard we hadn’t left in about 4 days.
So I decided to just take them all sledding. We’ll seize the day.
The park was fairly empty. I unloaded the sleds and thought: “oh, interesting – a skunk must have just sprayed.” Then I saw a car running idly and sniffed again. Not a skunk. Pot.
I wasn’t going to take my kids all the way across the park to the big sledding hill but I also wanted to get away from the smell in the parking lot. I found what seemed like a good compromise. The hill was modest. I set the baby down in the snow and put “the bigs” on the sled.
I was a little surprised to see how far the sled went the first time I sent it down the hill. I had underestimated the layer of ice beneath the snow.
The second time they went down the hill, I made sure the sled was pointed straight at a wide opening with no trees. Somehow the sled managed to veer to the left, and I’m fairly sure I terrified the elderly man walking by with his dog.
Time to find a new spot in the park.
By this point the baby was starting to get a bit fussy and I couldn’t blame her. She had been patiently sitting/laying in the snow during all of this. No worries, I could nurse her. A snowy park isn’t the most ideal spot but it would have to do. Just a minute, though. Let me get the bigs set up at a better place.
We found a more gentle hill and decided to let the 3 year old have her first solo run. Ever.
Off went the three year old, down the hill. I was so proud. My offspring, spreading her wings!
Until the sled kept going and I realized it wasn’t the best decision of my life to nurse the baby while my 3 year old tried sledding independently for the first time.
The sled kept going. My 5 year old took off after it.
I had put my child in harm’s way and now I was watching it all unfold while sitting in the snow, nursing my 7 month old in my Christmas pajama glory. This is what comes of attempting 1,000 hours outside.
After forever 5.7 seconds, the sled did stop. No one was hurt, but the combination of adrenaline and nursing hormones had me feeling a high stronger than the hotboxers in the parking lot.
I don’t know if this happens to all mothers who attempt to get their children outside for 1,000 hours a year. Maybe it’s some sort of initiation. Or maybe it’s just my luck.
I’m still not sure how such a small hill made for such a long run. But I’m also still not sure how Julia Roberts didn’t know she was in love with her best friend.