Where's My Head?

I had an experience yesterday that made me wonder where my mind has gone... (with pregnancy it goes bye-bye, right?) Lately whenever we drive by the mountains or any large hill, Drew will ask (more like beg) if we can climb it. Now I'm not feeling my best at the moment, but I didn't want to deny him an adventure just because of my condition. So yesterday we ventured off to a nearby park that is known to have lots of mountain trails behind it. Consequently we pulled up and two police officers were talking outside their vehicles, apparently taking a break. I asked where they would recommend hiking. They looked slightly puzzled, no doubt due to my big belly and two toddlers in tow... (not exactly your typical mountain excursion group). So they suggested I drive a short distance where the trail is flat and paved. I explained that we were specifically looking to "climb a mountain" to fulfill Drew's wish. They understood and pointed to a trail, but warned me to watch for wild animals (rattlesnakes mostly). Feeling a little uncertain, we started out toward the trail hand-in-hand. The kids were loving it and chatted excitedly whenever the terrain changed (dirt to gravel to large rocks, etc), and whether the incline of the path was heading up or down. I was feeling optimistic about their good mood when the path suddenly turned muddy. I looked ahead to gauge whether we could still cross, but it looked too soft. The sides of the path were overgrown with thistles and thick brush. I contemplated walking on the side. But a few steps into it, the aggressive grasshoppers jumping up and attacking me put an end to that notion. I told the kids we'd better turn around and head back. Drew immediately protested, and like a sap I gave in. Where the heck was my head? We trudged on and the ground started swallowing up our shoes. Mud seeped into our toes and finally engulfed the tops of our feet. I was experiencing strong suction as I tried to get my back foot out of the mud and take each step forward. Drew didn't seem to care and just commented quietly that his feet were muddy. Matt was screaming at the top of his lungs, "TOO MUDDY! TOO MUDDY!" I noticed people navigating the trails above us, and I must have looked like the biggest fool, pulling these kids forward, repeatedly jerking my back leg with every step like a dumb animal trying to get unstuck. Finally I just started laughing at my stupidity and turned the kids around. We actually made it back to the car, albeit with the equivalent of Frankenstein's boots on our feet from the high platforms of mud. Luckily the two officers were gone so I didn't have to experience the humiliation of them witnessing the consequences of my poor decision-making. What a sight we were. And all because mom's head went AWOL.