Mountain Climbers

We are mountain climbers. We are. The girls and I set off to climb Stone Mountain the other day (Stone Mountain which my brother Cole lovingly refers to as the mole on the hiney of America. . . Only he doesn't say hiney).

The most important thing that I have to say about this endeavor is... Don't do It. Not with a 2-year-old. Not unless You're Xena Warrior Princess or unless HeMan is your boyfriend and he's available for an afternoon hike. Actually I take that back, you should do it once just for the experience, but don't do it twice.


I must say that my little smunchkin was quite the trooper though. She climbed all the way up that mountain with minimal assistance from Mama. Not that Mama could have been any more assisting than she was, I was very appreciative of the fact that I had to stick to a 2-year-old's pace because I can't go any faster than that anyway. And she didn't get "cared" until we arrived at the very top and she was starting to feel like she might fall off. Trooper is definitely the appropriate word, as it was the one that many people (people who might be placed in the senior citizen category) used as they passed us by and smiled at the girls and gave me a look of disdain. This is not child abuse people, it's called exercise. Okay, it may be a little extreme. And I think I might now understand the looks having completed the mission.


Of course, the particular energy manufacturing plant above was still skipping when we arrived back at the car. She did crack up several fellow hikers though. At one particularly steep portion she fell into despair and laid herself flat upon the mountain and starting screaming "Mama!, Mama!" They found this quite funny and encouraged Chaney that they felt exactly same way and then chuckled until out of earshot. At least someone was chuckling.

Another note... One would think that after a long hike up a big hill in what is sometimes categorized as an "amusement park" one would be able to purchase a cold beverage or frozen treat at the top of the big hill. One would be wrong. I should not have allowed myself to hope. But I had heard the little store on the top of the mountain had been open more frequently than it was once upon a time. It is still not open frequently enough. But they do allow you to sit in the air conditioned building for awhile, which was almost as good.


It was a beautiful day though. One of the reasons I thought it was a wonderful idea. Down at the bottom of the mountain the sky was blue and there was a slight breeze. Enough to trick my mind into seeing tinges of fall that were not actually there. When we arrived at the top, the sky was still blue, but there was NOT any breeze. Not a one. How is that possible? How can the wind be blowing on the ground, but not on that big giant rock so high in the air. If you've ever been up there, you know that's one of the best parts. After all that hard work, you get to stand there with the wonderful breeze blowing through your hair, cooling you, making the whole ordeal worth it. And with no breeze and being so very much closer to the sun after that very long hike, it was very hot.

So we sat there on that big rock and ate our yogurt covered raisins, and apples and drank some water and then we came back down. My little Trooper had done such a great job making it up the mountain, that she was completely exhausted and could not make it another step. So she received a piggy back ride all the way down. Every time I would attempt to put her down for a 30 second breather, she would cry "I cared, I cared." Which was astonishing as she climbed the whole daggum mountain with barely a peep and when we are almost back to the car, she's scared to death. I could appreciate that I had worn her out though, and so I would take my 30 second breathers with her little arms wrapped like a vise around my neck and her little feet dangling just above my knees
In summary, We made it and I am out of shape. Every time I climb the mountain I vow never to do it again. And then somehow, a day comes along when it again sounds like a good idea. But I must again vow . . . I will never climb that mountain again. Not until the pipsqueeks are adults and can carry me up. To those of you who do it weekly, and to you crazy freaks that run up it, I salute you. But I will never be one of you. Girls, hope you had fun cause it will be awhile before you get to do it again.