Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Putting Along

"I'm only nine holes ahead of the Kellermans? Ok, let's speed this up."

Morning Readers,

Thirty weeks, you guys. Things are getting serious.

Clothing Status: Now only wearing trash bags and flip flops.

Despite the fact I spend most of the time trying not to tip forward, my present circumstances haven't negated motherly duties to the other children. I'm still required to feed, clothe, and run after the pack, at a slow jog. As of now, I'm pretty sure there are three of them, but, seeing as they've taken advantage of how fat I am, I can only guess at their numbers, while they dodge out from under tables and spring off the tops of doorways.

I'm still determined to maintain some semblance of being a "fun mom," however, which is how I ended up at the golf course last weekend.

Husband made the bid. "Who wants to go putt putt golfing?"

The shouts of children agreeing drowned out my raised hand and concerns that, perhaps, I was big enough to tumble in one of the miniature ponds and not be able to get out.

"Is mommy coming?" Doc asked.

I nodded. "As soon I can find an outfit that makes me look a little less like a golf bag, sweetheart. I wouldn't want anyone trying to drag me around by mistake."

For those of you who've never taken three small children miniature golfing, it really is a once-in-a-life-time experience. It could be something you do twice in a lifetime, but that depends on your level of bravery and tolerance for watching short people swing metal poles around, like tiny, broken cuckoo
clocks. Surprisingly, arming them was the easiest part of the journey:

"Ok, does everyone have a putter?"
"How'd you lose yours already?"
"But where would you have put it? Honey, you're standing on it."
"Ok, what color of ball do you want?"
"They don't have brown. How about a electric green?"
"What do you mean, you don't want to play if the ball isn't 'pink enough'?"
"Well, where did you see it last?"
"Excuse me, sir. Do you have any duct tape? No, everything's fine. I just need to secure all this equipment to my children."

And so we headed out. Luckily, this particular course was built around a "monster" theme, which afforded us many teachable moments, not only in the hand-eye coordination area, but also in the realm of historical mythology.

Husband tried desperately to get our ducklings in a row, his one and only admirable goal revolving around getting the children to each take a turn.  Sundance had other thoughts.

"But, Daddy, if I put the ball right next to the hole, I can just knock it right in."

"That's true, honey. But if you start back here, it's more fun."

She pointed her club accusingly. "That is a huge Frankenstein head. I have to knock it through his neck?"


"But was he real?"



"Um, no."

"So you would say he was more of a legend?"

"Er ...I guess."

Sundance scooped up her ball. "I'm just going to drop it in the hole."

Meanwhile, after shoving his ball into the mouth of a plaster ghost, making it irretrievable, the toddler grabbed his putter and took off across the course. "I'm going home."

"Should we stop him?" I asked.

"Shh, I'm trying to make par through that giant vampire bat." Husband said.

The only child who became highly emotionally involved was Butch. When it comes to anything competitive, he's a five-year-old who consistently has his eye on the prize. Which is why he finished ten holes in front of the rest of the family and condescendingly asked why no one had bought him a bucket of balls so he could head over to the driving range.

"Because we're terrible parents." we answered.

He seemed to take that at face value.

The beautiful weather was enough to balance out any other challenges, even the point where Doc tried to smuggle a sale set of twelve golf balls out of the shop. I ended up being able to putt around my stomach, but I'm looking forward to trying it again, when I'm not trying to swing around a watermelon.

Only nine more weeks and I can try to make par around the giant cobra, without falling in the miniature pond. 

Until Next Time, Readers!

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