Out of the Wild

I used to think of myself as an intrepid adventurer.  I would decide I was going to undertake a giant bike ride from Vancouver to Seattle, climb some rock face or jump out of a perfectly good airplane. 

Adventure has taken on an entirely new form since having Henry.  Now, instead of packing climbing gear or food rations for 3 weeks in the woods, I tote a giant bag full of diapers, formula, two changes of clothes, toys, diaper wipes, socks, health records and anything else a good sherpa would bring. 

My return to being a wild woman started innocently; I would ocassionally forget to pack things in the diaper bag and then feel like an idiot and a bad Mommy.   After a bit of time, however, I started to find that I could actually satisfy my need to live dangerously by purposefully forgetting things that I might need. I got a bit of a rush upon returning home with only one diaper left in the diaper bag.  My adrenaline surged after the time I actually forgot a bottle and went to the grocery store and back without incident.

I really only do this accidentally, or when I'm about 99.8% sure that we will not need whatever item it is that I'm getting my kicks from that day. But that 0.2% is enough of a margin to allow me to feel like the reckless, danger-junkie that I am.

The toll for not preparing correctly when starting our on an adventure has changed, as well. It is no longer a slow death from exposure or a 10,000 foot fall to the earth.  It is now a quicker, but more painful social death by grocery-store people judgement, or savage noise from the little person whose needs I have failed to meet.

I also managed to find a way to satisfy my need for self-flagellation through exercise.  The toughest thing about having had a C-section with Henry was the activity restriction that followed.  I'm not good at sitting still.  Having recovered well, however, I managed to start sneaking out on my bicycle 6 weeks after he was born.  We were given an amazing jogging stroller when Henry was born, and I now use it to it's full potential.  A couple of times a week I throw the reusable bags in the bottom, put Henry in wind-proof clothes (yes....because I'm that fast), strap on my running shoes, tie the dog to the stroller and head out to terrorize unsuspecting pedestrians.   

We plough down the sidewalks, 6 feet wide and 8 feet long. People scramble out of the way of the baby-dog-CaveMom juggernaut hurtling down the sidewalk towards them at, realistically, about 8 km/hr.  This activity manages to exercise the dog, exercise me, get some fresh air for Henry and get groceries. And, as you're not actually supposed to tie up your dog at Hillside Mall, we also have to dodge the neon-clad, bicycle-driving security gaurds, further exercising my need to flirt with the wrong side of the law.

I told myself I wouldn't change after having a baby, and certainly nothing could be farther than the truth.  My friends have taken endless pleasure at commenting on how soft and mushy I am now.  But I still find ways to be that wild and crazy, devil-may-care troublemaker that I've always been.