Thursday, March 13, 2008

muddy waters

Dear Oma,
Once, when I was a child, I came home for dinner caked in mud. So much mud, in fact, that I recall being hosed off on the back stoop before being allowed in the house. I had ventured out that morning with E (my big sister) to meet up with one of her classmates and one of mine. After sampling E's friend's new Madonna tape, she offered up "fishing" for crawdads in the creek. The thing about creeks, or cricks (which are even smaller than creeks), is that they don't actually have much water in them. What a sight we must have been; the four of us climbing down into the murky ravine, sludging around hunting crunchy, antennae-ridden creatures of the dark, and emerging hours later covered to our chests in deep black mud. I know we walked part of the two miles home, baking in the sun like a piece of pottery in the kiln, but I'm pretty sure a kind soul with a truck bed (dad?) took pity and drove us most of the way. I also remember being a smidge nervous about your potential reaction to my new look. But in the end all I can think of is being hosed off with really cold hose water.

Um, so. I'd just . . . well, sorry about that.

I was taking out the trash this afternoon. I had just finished cleaning my little apartment for a jewelry party (to be discussed later), and Punkin was stoked to be able to run around outside. I tried to catch him, I tried to tell him "Walking Feet! Stay with Momma!" but it, I mean he, went down too fast. Down into a deep puddle; he offered a muddy hand for me to assist him back up, and we threw the trash in the dumpster. On the way back to the apartment, he finally studied that muddy hand, "I pooped!"

Two towels, one extended bath, and a sinkful of muddy water later, we left our clothes drying in the tub and laughed about our adventure. Because once upon a time, my mom was really patient with me.

the other lion


Kristiem10 said...

Aww, what a sweet story!

Laura said...

what a sweet story :) :)

Haley-O said...

Oooo, this was a wonderful post! Really great read.... Love "walking feet" -- must try that!!!

Anonymous said...

I am so glad you have those wonderful memories. We lived in the perfect place for growing up and I will never regret it.
Sometime you will need to share the stories of the piglets and the escapade behind Ahlden's barn:)


Sarah said...


Anonymous said...

As someone who works with teens for a living, I just want to give you a little heads up.....teenage boys are just as drawn to mud as toddler you might want to learn a few laundry tricks now! =)

On another note, I remember that day vividly! You opted not to tell the story of the piglets, as oma mentioned? Don't know why! Some things look like mud...but....

"Sister E"

d. said...

"Cricks" are what we call a creek when we don't know its proper names, i.e., Pigeon Creek.

But whatever. I'm just relieved to see someone else use the term. I'm regularly chastised out here in stuffy New England for my True American English. 8^)

Sarah said...

i totally say crick too...must be a midwest thing!

FXSmom said...

lol...i pooped. That's good. Oma is lucky to have ya :)