I lost Eric about a year ago. We actually ran out of things we disagreed about – that were actually interesting. We still have discussions about whether Coca Cola really is better than Pepsi (which it is), or why he insists upon corrupting our children with the intolerable twang of his legends of country cd collection. But, like I said, the interesting topics were exhausted and he moved on to a blog that actually serves a purpose, handsandfeetmarketing.com
Check it out.
Anyway, I decided to revamp ricnrin.com and make it all about me. That is great fun. I don’t have to worry about making my arguments; I can just say whatever I want and if people disagree, they just can stop reading. Corinn without a filter. Look out world.
So, my first post shall be about just that. Poor filterless Rin. In a car with the boys on a bridge over a flooded Mississippi river.
I am terrified of water. I like to blame my fear on an unfortunate paddle boat incident in the early nineties, but it actually has been there as long as I can remember. My worst childhood memory is swimming lessons.
Why, why, why would you take a child into the water and make her try to float? People don’t float. This is why they drown. It’s borderline abusive, if you ask me.
Anyway, I was in St. Louis to see my beautiful new baby cousin this June and the river was high. The flood plains were covered in water and that always makes me a little sick to my stomach. This time was different, though. I was alone in the car with the boys and I realized that I had no plan.
Like any other sane, responsible parent I have a plan for when the vehicle goes off the road and into the water. The problem was that Eric is always in the plan. HE WASN’T IN THE CAR!!! So as I’m driving I start to realize the boys wouldn’t know what to do and they would not only need to be privy to said plan, but also the fact that there was a plan in place.
I knew it wasn’t a good idea to say it. I tried. I tried so hard. I even bit my tongue. For real. It didn’t help. Before I knew what was happening I heard my own voice:
“OK, guys…If we go over the bridge and into the water (this part was kind of muffled because I was still biting my tongue), we will wait until we hit the bottom of the river. Then we wait for the water to fill the van. Michael and Evan unbuckle, I’ll unbuckle Caleb and then bust out the window and Michael, you just swim up. I’ll get the other two.”
Did that just happen?? Maybe they didn’t hear me. Maybe it was just my imagination. The birage of questions interrupted my denial.
“MOM!! Evan cannot swim! What do you mean ‘if we go over?'”
“Michael, we aren’t going over. I was just talking. I just needed to get it out. We are fine. I’ll give Evan something to float on.”
“Why do we wait for the car to fill with water?”
“Well, it makes it easier to get out. If we do it too soon the water will rush in on us. But look! We are over the bridge and we are great, so just don’t worry. And don’t tell daddy.”
You know they told daddy. And everyone else they saw.
“Mom’s scared of water and said that we have to let the car fill with water before we get out when (not if) we go over the bridge”.
Awesome.
So there. There is my not-so-proud parenting moment where fear and crazy got the better of me. So know, today when you feel like you maybe aren’t excelling at this parenting thing, that you did not make yourself appear to be a fear-inducing, paranoid, lunatic that has a back-up-over-the-side-of-the-bridge-plan. That was me.