A Hike!

It rained last night, cooling everything off.  When we woke this morning, the kids went right down to the couch to watch TV, and I was a bit frustrated.  They have watched SO MUCH TV this summer.  I get tired of being the Barrus Family Activity Director, but I also get tired of the kids just sitting around.  So I suggested we go on a hike, just up Rock Canyon.  Close, not too difficult, lovely.  What could be better?

Lots of things, apparently.  The kids whined that we had to go.  They whined that we were hiking.    They whined that I didn't bring enough snacks.  They whined that they had to be together.  They whined that it was Tuesday.  It was just a whole lot of whining.  But I endured, soldiering on in the spirit of nature enjoyment.  I pointed out how beautiful the morning was, that we were strong and healthy with bodied that do everything we want, that it was nice and cool, that the sky looked interesting, that we might see mountain goats.  And I tried not to get angry that they were being pills.
I told them we would hike at least until the first bridge, and maybe beyond.  We've been to the first bridge before, but never farther with the kids.  We made it to the first bridge with only a few stops, but then they rebelled and said they would go no further.  Brandt started back alone.  As Blythe and I were arguing at the first bridge, I said, "Look.  Let's just go a little further, to the second bridge.  We've never been that far.  Let's see if we can go farther than we've ever gone before."  She looked at me with a defiant gleam in her eye, took three large steps past the first bridge, turned to me and said, "There!  I've gone farther than I've ever gone before."

The only thing that saved me then was a biker coming down the trail.  I asked him how far it was to the second bridge, and he told us it was very close, just around a little bend in the trail we could see from where we were standing.  With the "end" practically in sight, they agreed to continue and we made it to the second bridge.  The water was running down the canyon, and the children asked if they could play in it.  I readily agreed and then requested that we take a selfie all together with the second bridge in the background.  They came and huddled next to me, then began fighting about who would take the picture, who would push the button.  Brandt pushed the button, Blythe made a hideous whining screech she is prone to make when something isn't going her way, and I lost it.

I grabbed my pack and began screaming at both of them.  I stomped off down the path, angry that they couldn't enjoy the beautiful mountain, the path, the cool air, being together.  They nitpick at each other and whine, whine, whine, and I was so mad.  I didn't cool down until we were nearly at the car, and I can testify that the hike down was much quicker than the hike up.  Blythe was crying, Brandt was apologizing, and what should have been a beautiful morning was ruined.  They will probably never hike with me again.

Looking back, I wonder if I should just let my children spend all summer long in front of the TV.  I would get much more done around the house if I didn't have to haul them anywhere or feel responsible for their mental, emotional, and physical well-being.  I wonder how long it would take them to get bored and actually get up and do something themselves.  Maybe next summer I will perform an experiment and see how long they can go glued to the television.  By then Brandt will be old enough to be alone with Blythe at home, so I could go hike by myself.  We might all be a lot happier.

We stopped at the big rock for the requisite photo.

Together, then individually.

Always.

Beautifully cloudy sky over the canyon.

At the second bridge!

They made it, and with even a smile on their faces.

Blythe is having a stretch

The selfie before the storm.

Blythe freaked out just after Brandt pushed the button, no one was ready, and so we're a blur.

Then the screaming began.