"You Can't Take Me, I'm Free"...or are we!?

 

"Horse Trailer", Photograph. Circa 1986, Janelle Jensen Fritz & her 6 days older cousin Leah.

At times, I can be a bit impetuous. On special occasions, I can even be considered impulsive. A couple weeks ago my 6-year old son and I were setting off on a Saturday afternoon/evening shopping excursion. I was fretting about our timing, and I felt anxious about whether we would be able fit in our itinerary. Costco, Toys-R-Us, Gas fill-up, your basic middle class Saturday, but with pizza back for dinner for the two-at-home. From the back seat, I hear, "MOM, hold your horses! We will get there." Smiling I said, "you are right, I'm probably just getting ahead of myself." To which he promptly responded, "Yeah, and did you know that you also have a bull you need to hold onto too?" 

Honestly, that one stunned me speechless. All of the sudden I realized that this was not just one of those "cute exchanges with my 6-year old".

From time-to-time this boy imparts hard truths. Ones that as a parent I'd rather not face, but ones that he is able to bring up in figurative language, nonetheless. It's an act of brilliancy blended with my own inner voice being re-projected through my son. The timing is always such that I can't deny it away coincidentally. Especially, as it has happened to me on several occasions, and, my husband can attest to this as well.  When I related the previously stated exchange to him, Johnathan stated quite accurately, when he replied, "Yes, I know exactly what you mean. It happens to me too. It's like your own inner monologue coming and striking you in the ass, but with the voice of your innocent loving child." 

"Out of the mouths of babes", INDEED. 

Thus...I suppose, I should give credence to Psalm 8:2  ...

"Out of the mouths of babes, and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger." 

The thing with figurative language, is that when you apply it directly, the meaning is usually clear. Though, when you start to play around with the context? It can get shifty. 

I knew what he meant when he said it. I knew my bull, and the horses. I know my stampede, and there are definitely some wild feral mustangs in my herd. And that bull? That is dependent on my current state of litany. But, like I said, they are wild mustangs. And, if you don't have any of your own? Then realize, they are beautiful. Captivating, and  our country has some, as in our good ol' US-of-A.  If you are still in the dark and ambivalent? I invite you to live vicariously....or so catch a drift...with a pick from my 18-month old niece with "You Can't Take Me....I'm FREE!" This past summer she chose "You Can't Take Me" as her favorite song from the movie Spirit, about wild Mustangs that are being bound & broken by man. Love her. During the video, when "Spirit" (the mustang) is bound, the lyrics "I'm Free" ring out. Are the faculties holding hostage? Or is the rebel truly, "with out a clue"? In the video it is only when he is literally "free", that he truly makes the literal leap of faith across an expansive chasm.

CSNY stated it as an economic equation: 

find the cost to freedom
buried in the ground
mother earth will swallow you
lay your body down

"Steering."  Janelle Jensen Fritz. Sandy, UT circa 1986

Happy Birthday, Duck & Cover!!!

Are you familiar with those days, where the moment-to-moment seems to roll out chaotically, yet, when you package the whole of the experience together it seems a memorable gift? This is precisely the birthday present I gave my friend today.

For starters, I had her birthday month secured wrong in my head. Correct day, but I thought I had another month. Obliviously I called to see if she and her kiddos wanted to join P & I in feeding the ducks at the park. She talked me into hitting up a playgroup before the park. It was there that I foot-in-mouth inquired on her "upcoming" birthday. 

As we left the playgroup park-bound, in an act of redemption, I drove through and grabbed fast-food-fajitas (I figured Sonic wasn't conciliatory enough). Once at the park, we toddled towards the river benches. Cautiously guiding two 2-year-olds carrying fountain drinks, a 4-year old in 1/16 inch healed sandals, my 5lb dog Moo-shu, and arms full of Rosa's takeout. We were wary of the approaching geese, as experience had proven them aggressive. We were 5-feet from the bench when we allowed our misgivings to slack as we loosened our protective huddle. It was then that the crippled goose struck. I was setting the bags on the bench when a loud honking and child screeching pierced the air. I turned to see my friends 2-year-old boy being attacked in the stomach by the goose. Motherly instinct kicked in literally, as she kicked then chased the goose away. Quickly we hijacked it the hell out, taking cover behind a flag pole structure with a 3-foot protective wall. Geese & ducks from all directions advanced. As the children and I tossed them bread, in order to curtail their trespass into our refuge, my friend reverted from momma bear to animal-lover lamentations about kicking a crippled goose. Heart-sick she looked up Animal Control, and placed concerned calls on it's behalf. Miraculously, her little 2-year-old tossed his former attacker crumbs, and talked unaffected, as if an over-exuberant puppy had overtaken him. When we ran out of bread, we knew we only had a short window in order to make it away from the river and the ravaging fowl. "Okay kids, we have to race to the playground, run fast." 

We finally managed to set down a successful picnic, and enjoyed the sun & company. After lunch the children played wonderfully on the playground. We watched from a nearby bench, as we all but, shrink-couched our skeletons from their closets. Who says you don't need a good venting on your birthday!? But not too worry, before we delved too deep into realms best traversed by a paid professional, momma duty called. 

Bathroom bound with a potty training toddler, they didn't quite make it. (And might I add, who engineers the bathroom at a park a good football field distance away from a playground!?) Playtime over, she held his sopping, dripping shoes, and we rallied the troops for departure. In the 5 seconds in which she diverts her attention to call for her 4-year-old, and I gather up my 2-year-old in my arms while holding the leash in my hand, he strips. Bare butt and streaking. We exit, stage left. We leave our audience laughing as we make our way to the parking lot. I sing out a timely Happy Birthday, as we are just about in hysterics ourselves. At the car, she changes him, and we say our goodbyes. Suddenly, I look around panic stricken. "Where is P? I don't see him! Do you see where he went!?" To which she replied amusingly, "Ummm, Janelle? He is in your arms."

 Blame it on the sun-exposure....

The thick icing on her cake was a bright red sunburn which revealed late afternoon. A gift that just keeps giving. Fortunately, she loved the packaged experience for its amazing hilarity, and declined my promise to disengage myself completely next year with a simple card.