Muddy Mess

I usually despise this time of year, the tranisitional period from winter to spring when everything around here is a nightmare. Anyone who lives out in the country or on a farm can likely relate. It is a sloppy, wet, muddy mess that sucks you in. It's like quicksand...the more you fight it, the deeper you sink in.

My husband despises it even more than I do. He fights with it day in and day out pulling newly delivered calves out of it so they have a chance to survive and using his tractor to pull other machinery out of ginormous mud pits. No wonder he is extremely cranky this time of year.

So I've been complaining about it the last few weeks. Nothing like running late for work and out into mud that suck up your high heels. After changing shoes, and sometimes pants, there is usually no hope for me being on time. I have spent the last few weeks lecturing my son about walking on the sidewalk, directly to the car so we can get to daycare without having to change his clothes. But he can never resist. There is just something about the splashing of puddles and the way mud pulls at your boots that appeals to little boys.

Not only is it muddy because the ground is finally thawing but it rained pretty much nonstop all weekend long. What were little puddles tripled in size during our trip to the store so Will got out of the car when we got home, he just could not resist running to the biggest puddle and hopping right in. It was one of those moments as a mom when you have to ask yourself, is this really that big of a deal? Sure it was raining and he wasn't dressed very warmly and he was making an absolute mess out of himself but it sure did look like fun.

We had nowhere to go and he'd want to come in if he was really that cold, right? What was it going to hurt if he got a little mud on his pants and coat...and face? After watching him joyfully hop from one puddle to another and hearing him say, "Mommy, you jump into the puddle!" I decided what the heck. We had a great time splashing around and getting muddy.

But tomorrow, when I'm running late, he better be able to resist that puddle that will be calling his name.