In the Hall of the Mountain King

I made a meal for a family down the hill from us who had just had a baby. When I got home from work on Tuesday, I called to confirm that I could bring the meal down, and got the kids ready to go.

Since it was just down the hill, I figured we could walk, but as we stepped out the door, I noticed that heavy dark clouds were moving in. I considered -- for about four seconds -- loading the kids into the car instead, but then I thought, "Naah, we can make it -- it will only take us a few minutes (the house can't be more than three tenths of a mile away), we can ooh and aw over the baby for the obligatory three minutes, then head back. We'll be back in no time."

What I failed to take into consideration was that while I could do the whole trip (with ooh-ing and aw-ing) in about ten minutes, throwing the kids into the mix slowed everything down. All the way down the hill, it was, "Xavier, leave that bug alone!" "No, Miranda, you won't get germs from touching the retaining wall." "Xavier, it's mulch, not dog poop, but even if it were dog poop you can walk around it." "Miranda, we don't have time to play on the retaining wall. Let's go!"

Still, we finally made it down the hill. Down the street from us, they are building new houses and the tyvek wrapping was flapping ominously in the wind as the black clouds were clearly approaching overhead.

As I rang the bell, I said, "Kids, we're going to have to make this quick."

Xavier said, "I'm going to have an accident."

As soon as we got in, however, Xavier lost all interest in using the potty when he saw all the toys that the older boy (a two-year-old) of the household had in a toybox just inside the door. I quickly showed the woman how to heat up dinner, put it in the over, ooh-ed and aw-ed -- and our visit was still dragged out because I was trying to wrestle the kids back into their coats ("I told you not to take them off!") and herd them away from the toys. So instead of the three minutes I had allotted, it ended up being more like ... ten.

As we stepped outside, I looked out across the valley and could see the rain coming down in sheets at the other end. "Come on, kids, we've got to go!" The threat of getting soaked seemed to propel them forward, but the return trip was all uphill. The odds were not in our favor.

Still, we were making pretty good time when a garage door opened to our right and a big dog came wandering out. Now, we know the dog, we know the owner, and we know the dog is behind an invisible fence ... but my kids flipped out anyway. Talking loudly (to be heard over their cries), I tried to reassure them that things were under control: "Wow! Look at that! The dog can open the garage door ALL BY HIMSELF, how cool is that?"

Suddenly the door between the garage and the house flew open. "Is that Mandy I hear? Oh good!" The owner came out and got right down to business, "I wanted to talk to you about car-pooling -- you know, to preschool? -- because I see your green van there -- you do have a green van, right? -- just about every day, it seems, and I was thinking ..." And so on.

Finally I broke in, looking pointedly at the clouds. "Well, my husband is the one who drives Miranda to school, so I'll check with him and let you know."

"Of course, the car seats might be an issue. It might be better if you guys drove on Wednesday and Friday --"

Finally, amid assurances that we would be in touch, we got moving again, this time a little faster than before. The wind was beginning to pick up now, and there was no doubt where that rain was heading. I was considering whether I could pick up the pace by carrying Xavier as the UPS truck rounded the corner up ahead. I made eye contact with the driver (our usual), so I gave him a wave as he passed us.

Screeeeeee! The kids and I jumped and looked back to see the UPS truck backing up towards us. Oh, man, what now? As the truck drew parallel with us, the UPS man leaned out and said, "Are you Mandy?"

"Yes, I am."

"Great, I have a package for you. I didn't want to leave it at the house with the rain coming ..." Of course, he had to go get it out of the back, and, of course, I had to sign for it.

The UPS truck was heading off on its way, and I was now urging the kids to run up the hill; of course, I can't carry Xavier now because I have this package ... Suddenly we found ourselves parallel to the retaining wall. "Mommy, you promised we could walk on it on our way back!" It isn't safe for the kids to walk on the wall unless I hold their hand, but since I have the package we have to take turns, yada-yada-yada. As Miranda is hopping off the low end of the wall and I am helping Xavier down the final stretch -- Flash! Kaboom!

Okay, now the kids are screaming and trying to run for the house. I am trying to catch them -- one-handed, of course -- because I don't want them to run into the street and I have this idea in the back of head that you shouldn't run across a wide open area -- like the street on the top of our hill -- in a lightning storm. At the same time, I realize that I am the tallest object in this wide open area, so I am trying to crouch, clutching the package to my chest, as I attempt to slow my children down while simultaneously hurrying them along, like a rural professional Quasimodo.

We reach the house as the first drops of rain are pelting down. We get inside in the nick of time. Safe and sound. Warm and cosy. I walk over to the window and watch the rain coming down in sheets. Miranda joins me, and we stand there for a solemn peaceful moment.

"Mommy?" Miranda asks at last. "Do you think it going to flood? I'm worried our house will flood!"