Mama’s too old for this…

No matter how many times we tell ourselves we’re not getting old, something happens that makes us realize that yep, we ARE getting older. Maybe it’s seeing your oldest (or youngest) jump off the block in summer swim team. Maybe it’s looking in the mirror and seeing a couple wrinkles. Maybe it’s doing the math and realizing you’ve known your husband for more than half your life – and you met in college. Maybe it’s knowing that your family is complete. That this is it. This is what your family looks like. No more babies because we’re just not as young as we once were.

These moments hit out of nowhere, right? Like on a boring, rainy Monday afternoon. I had one of these moments recently.

Two words: Plaza Fiesta.

And my best Spanish: No way, Jose.

It was all so innocent – the kids and I were just trying to check one off on the Pinterest-inspired “Summer Bucket List” (I {heart} Pinterest but there are definitely days when I wish it was never invented – sometimes I think life would be a lot easier if I didn’t know that everyone else was doing something much fancier than I – including making Summer Bucket Lists. Hmmm, guess that means I’m getting old??). The kids had been BEGGING to hit up this little piece of Mexican paradise in our backyards for months. I finally caved in (see last week’s Yes, Mom post – it’s still going on!!!).

I planned to get a little socializing done while they kids wore themselves slap out on a three-story plastic jungle gym. Tickets bought, wristbands adorned, and shoes off, the kids went running off with strict instructions to stick together. The place was a mob house, of course.

Then I saw them. The Rules. Children under 5 must be accompanied by a guardian. And that guardian cannot be another child.

What?? Don’t they know that’s the mom-of-four-kids M.O.? That’s why we have so many kids! So our older kids will take care of the younger ones in this exact situation!!

It was like I signed up for the Reserves only to be sent to the Front Lines.

I just didn’t feel like I could break the rules with a packed house. I couldn’t imagine explaining how I lost my 3-year-old because I was too lazy to watch after him.

So I did it. I went into the Plastic Jungle. I wouldn’t have hesitated with my first – I was 26 back then – a mere baby.

Well, folks, we all know I’m not in my twenties anymore. And we all know what I was thinking before I entered:

I’m too old for this [fill in the blank].

Being three stories high in a cramped, sweaty, hot, plastic (sorry can’t think of a better word) hell – well, let’s just say it changes a person. I’ve seen the other side, ladies. And it’s not pretty.

It was like all the miles I’ve logged running over the last twenty years, all of the Pure Barre classes, the Flywheel classes, the five Bootcamp classes – all of those were just training. Training for the Big Day. The Big Day in Plaza Fiesta.

My body contorted in ways it just shouldn’t.  The screaming kids were like my personal drill sergeants as I raced after my 3-year-old on tight ropes and through foxhole tunnels. I felt my skin burn anew with every awkward slide down a tube (let’s get this straight – there’s no water on those slides – makes for a very slow and painful descent when you weigh over 80 lbs). My head pounded with stress at the realization that there was no way out unless I slid, ducked, or jumped (trust me, jumping off the third floor wasn’t looking so bad).

To quote a friend who had to crawl through a Chick-fil-A playground to save her 2-year-old: It was like I was Andy in ‘Shawshank’ escaping from prison – throwin’ up with every desperate crawl I made.

And let’s all be clear: Plaza Fiesta is like a mucho grande Chick-Fil-A.

Finally I just couldn’t hang. Stick a fork in me. Done. I bribed my seven-year-old to follow his little bro’s every move and left it at that. The Plaza Fiesta peeps could take one look at this old lady and know I was too dangerous to cross.

I sat there blurry-eyed with an iced cold water in hand (of course wishing it was a cold Corona with a lime), and decided right then and there that some things are just better left undone. Thirty-somethings are not meant for three-story-plastic jungles and rules are meant to be broken.

And a little research needs to be done before checking off the next item on the Summer Bucket List.

Have you done anything recently where you’ve silently said, “I’m too old for this [fill in the blank]”?? Tell me I’m not alone! 🙂