You'd think a walk with a relaxing alcoholic beverage couldn't go wrong, right?
Wrong. :) I totally had fun writing that... anyway... We started strong and hard. The hubby and I were cocky and maybe a little optimistic in the assumption we could bring our two young boys and our two dogs, while also enjoying a leisurely stroll.
First, the kids would NOT stop fighting. They were nag, nag, nagging. Snap, snap, snapping. And push, push, pushing my last nerve. Hubby and I had to walk ahead ten meters so the leisurely stroll didn't turn into a yelling match between adults and kids.
So, drinks in hand, we're walking the dogs well in front of the kids, when a young gentleman walks by with his own dog. Our dogs sniff, get excited, then our Blue Heeler decides she doesn't like the other dog and gets all snappy. No big deal. We move on, all classy and sh*t because we've still got our alcoholic beverages in hand.
Ten minutes later, we reach a point where we need to turn around to save us moving from the lovely nature walk to a busy street, and we head back the way we came. Without fail, hubby has to take a business call (classy alcoholic beverage in hand) and I take control of the dogs.
No big deal. Our dogs are medium in size and share a lead so they walk side by side. They could pull a mountain if they wanted to, but I'm currently in control, even with my classy drink in hand.
Moving on, hubby is on the phone, the kids are walking way behind and this young gentleman (who is really around forty-five but I'm being nice) steps out from a rough track and asks me how to get back onto the road. Being the lovely person I am, I give him directions, while holding my classy drink, and pretending my dogs aren't trying to detach my hand from my arm with their aggressive pull because they really don't like his dog.
The dog lead breaks and both dogs run free. My normally friendly Blue Heeler sprints at this man, all up in his dog's face, growling and being an absolute trollop. I'm panicking because I've never seen my dog like this before, and my husband is on the damn phone, and I don't know where my kids are... and I still have my classy drink in my hand.
So I run. I run my little legs toward this man who has one of my dogs around his left ankle, another around the right, and the lead between them, almost tripping him over while he tries to calm all the canine antics. I rush for his legs, my face all up in his crotch as I'm grappling to grab my Blue Heeler, classy drink STILL in hand.
Finally, hubby rushes to my aid, HIS classy drink still in hand, and latches onto the broken lead to pull our dogs away.
I'm hyperventilating and this poor man is staring at me while I start to blabber apologies like they're sins in confession. I feel horrible. I'm embarrassed. But yet, I still have my classy drink in hand, and he's now staring at it like he feels obliged to call the local AA chapter, or maybe give me a speech on healthy drinking habits.
BUT he leaves, waving cheerio and not even batting an eyelid over the whole dog situation that has me convinced I'm a horrible dog mum.
Anyway, we continue walking, hubby creating a makeshift hand grip with the broken lead while the fighting kids keep strolling meters behind us. The dog incident hasn't deterred their bickering. NOPE, they're still in major I-wanna-kill-my-brother mode as we approach a part of the path that has a massive clump of trees on either side. Immediately my seven year old remarks on the creepy vibe. The scenery is like a horror flick but it doesn't pause the fighting. In fact, it now adds whinging to the mix because now my little man wants to go home.
My husband, being the brainy man he is, suggests I hide behind a nearby tree and scare them as they approach. And being the cool mum I am, I decide why the hell not. They've been trolls during the entire walk, and I deserved a little catharsis. So I hide, I even video tape myself as they approach and I jump out from behind that tree with a massive yell.
You'd think the moment would end with a returned scream or yell, then good-natured ribbing and calls for retribution. Well, that's what I envisaged anyway. But no, that's not how it turned out. My youngest screams - expected. Then he begins to cry - not expected. Then he begins to hyperventilate, sobbing so hard his lips turn blue and I think he's going to pass out.
That moment in time shot me straight to pole position on the Worst Mum in the World list. I had to stand there consoling my child, classy drink STILL in hand, as he came down from the pinnacle of hysteria.
The rest of the Wine Walkers expedition was spent at my son's side, trying to beg forgiveness as I dragged my feet home.
Wine Walkers may never happen again.