The Animal Fair

Thursday. Three days on my own with the kids and I’m nearly finished with my list of projects designed to keep me occupied until December. In light of my current Too Much Time To Fill state, I developed a plan B: field trips.

Tonight I decided to take the kids to a local farmer’s market. How hard could it be? Three kids, one stroller, a few tents. Cake.

More like Cake Fight, actually.

We parked alongside the road and unloaded the burdens into the stroller. Have you ever tried to push a stroller through sage brush? A double wide stroller? Yeah. Not made for sage brush. We nearly lost Harrison a.k.a. Indiana Jones on the way to the gravel road where the tents were set up (he was hiding from the bad guys). Did you catch the gravel part? Ever tried to push a double stroller through gravel?

Aside from the 60 pounds of childhood flesh and the gravel, it was a nice night. Saw a few cute booths, sampled some great tomatoes, all in all that first four minutes went really well. Then Rex wanted out of the stroller. Why not? He’s being so good. Lies, all lies. Oh how quickly the storm clouds billowed in.

I decided to be the nice fun mom my own mother and Jason would never approve of and get the kids each a little souvenir. Junie got a new bracelet because at nine months (today) she just loves jewelry, and Rex picked out a hideous stuffed dragon at some cheap-o stand. Harry? He wanted his face painted. Sure!

As soon as Harrison sat down Rex started messing with the paints. As soon as I told him no he started to melt down. Picture a banana popsicle in the middle of the asphalt on a hot August day. That’s about how fast Rexy unraveled. As soon as Harrison was finished (Tiger Harrison, he informed me) Rex wanted to be a mouse. A yellow mouse. Since Rex and his loud little voice (yes, it carries just like mine) were about ten notches above adamant, I decided to practice survival parenting and gave in.

She only managed a pink nose and whiskers before he really lost it. “I want to be a frog!” Weeping, wailing, throwing the dragon. We were like a tiger/mouse/dragon circus with a miniature fat lady perched in the stroller chewing on her bracelet.

Somehow we made it through the sagebrush wilderness and back to the car, despite our mouse’s smudged whiskers and the tiger that stalked us through the bush. The June Bug? Perfect. Never made a single peep. Hey, we put on a good show, who wouldn’t be entertained?

I think our next outing will be a little closer to home. Like the backyard. I think we could handle that.


  1. What an adventure! That’s the stuff memories are made of!

  2. Mother Goose says:

    perfect visual of the meltdown! you are a brave woman!

  3. SevenVillageIdiarts says:

    If I knew how to nominate you for some hilareous writer/blogger award, I would. You should add this post to your side bar. It was MASTERFULLY written and made me laugh so hard I almost wet my pants.

  4. See where over-confidence gets you? But hey, at least you killed an afternoon in an educational sort of way. Just think of how smarter you are tonight than you were this morning…

  5. Alison Wonderland says:

    See, all that when you could have just come to my house. Well, ok, today might not have been good unless you’re ok with the kids and nailguns mixing… but you get the point,

  6. That is hilarious and I’ve been watching our military moms here…getting out with the kids must be the theme because those women go all over and find things going on here I had NO clue were available. Next you should shoot for a corn maze…:) That sounds nice and safe, huh?

  7. I’m glad someone is reading my blogs! I think I have met you one of the times you’ve been out here. LOVE your family. Your dad was so sweet to come visit me twice in the hospital. I guess I was just down a few halls from his office. But yes he’s here and I’m glad someone felt my pain!!!

  8. Michelle Wilkes says:

    I’ve been there so many times, I actually couldn’t laugh while I read it. Some things just hit too close to home.
    Except I usually go with the friend who has perfect children and is looking at me with wide eyes either wondering why I can’t control my children, or why, out of all her friends she decided to invite me?
    Backyard sounds nice!

  9. by AnnieValentine says:

    I refuse to be friends with those that have perfect children.