Oh, Christ they are getting big. I don't mean in a sentimental way such as "wow, they grow up so fast, whatever happened to the time." No, I mean in "Son of a bitch they are heavy, my back is starting to hurt."
I thought Little Hoss would make it further than she did. I thought she could do the whole hike. 1.5 miles of natures awesomeness with dad. Look at the trees, look at the bushes, look at the deer. It was going to be cool. Superdad that doesn't shy away from a challenge, take his kids anywhere, kick so much ass as a SAHD that all would look upon us with awe.
She made it about a quarter of a mile.
Now she is sitting on top of my shoulders, all 40 pounds of her. It doesn't sound like a lot and most of the time it isn't. It's after 1/2 a mile that it feels like a lot. I should have joined the army just so I could learn to properly "hump it" across the trial. But I didn't so now I'm learning way past my prime.
Bubba Hoss is being pretty good though, all 21 pounds of him. He's talking to himself, occasionally mentioning that there is a tree over there. He's on my back in a backpack made for small children. It also turns out that this thing isn't as comfortable after a half mile either. And he keeps kicking me in the spine. Knock it off man, that's starting to leave marks.
60 pounds of kid destruction, that's what I have on my back. Christ, when did they get so huge?
It's hot. It's Africa hot. It's the kind of hot that you remember when you are 80 years old and eating tapioca pudding. "Remember how hot it was when I took the kids hiking in the woods? Hottest summer in a decade, a yup. Where's my pudding and that hot nurse?"
I'm sweating like a fat kid peeling an orange. It's dripping down on me in torrents. If I had sweet abs they would be glistening and the ladies would be coming out of the forest to watch me walk by. But I don't. What I have instead is a hairy belly. Little known fact about hairy belly's. They absorb sweat like the super shammy. Soaks it all up like bread in a bowl of milk of your spent cereal. Makes it steamy so now it's hotter than it should be. Don't think the irony of this is lost on me. God decided to take away all my hair on my head leaving me like a cueball but awarded me with an abundance of chest and belly hair. Thanks man, that worked out well. The platypus was stupid by the way. What do you think about that? Oh great, look at all that back hair. Maybe I'll just shut up now.
Yes dear, I see the butterfly. Yes dear, I see the rocks. Yes dear, I see the bugs. The bugs won't hurt you. Yes honey, I know that Bubba Hoss is just right there but let's please stop trying to turn around to see him. And no more spitting while you are sitting up there until we have a chance to work on your aim.
I'm so thirsty. I thought I had brought enough water and was prepared but I failed to take in kid law. It's a very simple law of nature. It says that you are never prepared and they will break whatever you have anyway. I made the mistake of giving Little Hoss the water while she was riding me like a pack mule. Sure, she took her slug, even tried to give her brother some. Then she very gleefully dumped the rest down my neck and back. It felt good at first and I wasn't to upset. Now I'm upset.
The water mingled with my back sweat and made a nice little beeline to my ass. Now I have crack sweat and I'm pretty sure everyone can see it. Not that I have to worry about that though, we haven't run into many people out here. If we had, I would offer to pay their college tuition if they just carried one of these dead weights.
What have they been eating? Have I been feeding them bits of steel and bricks? That is the only explanation that I have as to why they weigh more than Andre the Giant. Maybe Hossmom has been feeding them lead weights. Doesn't she know the dangers of lead poisoning? She's probably pissed off at me and this is her passive aggressive way of paying me back.
It's moments like these that you like these that you like to blame everyone else except yourself. It's a survival technique. For example, I am currently damning to hell anyone and everyone that thinks nature is a good thing and promote it. They can all suck it as they rot in hell. I bet they are all vegans that hate humanity, and me in particular. Get kids out of the house, they say. Get them outside with nature, they say. Screw them. Dora the Explorer has probably done more good for kids than the entire rain forest.
Get your fingers out of my ears, guys. And stop with the freaking kicking. The next one that kicks me is going to hear the story of Hansel and Gretel without the good parenting ending, you got it? This hike would be a lot easier if you guys stop playing my head like a drum.
I would love to take a break. The kids, however, like to keep moving. They meltdown every time I try to put one of them down. It's my own fault. I have raised them to move, to keep going, to adventure. We go out just about every day. Another one of my Dad is Cool things that I am currently rethinking. It's normally fun for me. We do stuff that they like but stuff that I like to. We visit graveyards, civil war battlefields, art museums, donkey shows. I know that one day I'll end up back in a cubicle working next to Smelly McTalkLoud and I want to take full advantage of staying at home with them. Now they won't stop until we've had a full adventure. Damn me, why am I so awesome?
So we go, do all the fun stuff that is only really fun when you have kids as an excuse. When was the last time you went down a water slide screaming WEEEEEEE! Little note on that--water slides are made for children, not 250 pound hairy bellied men. You can feel every bump on the way down and I may have sprained my neck.
I didn't pack any aspirin or icy hot. Something to keep in mind when I decide not to go hiking again with the children. I didn't think a three hour romp through the woods would require me to bring things like bengay or an occupational therapist.
They were getting a little hungry so I gave them a little baggie of gold fish crackers to eat. Yet another bad idea on the hike of hell. Turns out that when crushed gold fish, head sweat, and water are mixed together it makes a nice little crumbly paste. I bet you could make a pie crust like this. It wouldn't taste very good but I bet you could do it.
Oh thank god, there's the car. We are almost there guys, just hang on, we're almost there. For the last time, stop kicking me before I dump everyone in the stream.
Let's do it again.