This is my first summer as a mother of a school aged child. I so longed for the summer so that I could have my baby back home with me. I daydreamed of us holding hands and twirling in a field of flowers. Then the end of June came and now I cry myself to sleep every night because I'm so sick of hearing my own name (which is Mom, for the record) that I could stab my own eyeballs out with a dollar store bubble wand.
So basically every day is just trying to figure out something to do to occupy everyone's time, exhaust them to tears so that the'll go to sleep while it's still light out, and also to keep us all from killing each other like it's the goddamn Hunger Games.
Brad took a week off a little while ago so we decided to take a day and head down to my favorite place in the entire world: Trinity.
Trinity is beautiful. It is full of old houses and little shops, and it has really good food. Also, lots of space to explore and for children to wear themselves out so that they are too tired to ask "are we home yet" fifty thousand times in the 45 minutes it takes to get back to Clarenville.
I know. Start the car.
We drove on down to the little town and Brad decided it would be super fun for us and our two small children to check out the abandon and run down Trinity Loop site. He is so safe, that guy.
The four of us pile out of the car and decide to brave the broken beer bottles and various other dangerous objects to go down and investigate an old ferris wheel. The kids were thrilled, I tell you.
So there we are, toddling along the old train tracks, chatting about birthday parties and other things that a 3 year old and a 6 year old might care about, when all of a sudden Brad yelled, "Jesus Christ, Lauren! Get the kids!"
Apparently, a short 20 feet away from myself and my own two little cubs, there was a full grown male black bear. I never saw the bugger. Brad claims it's because I have "town eyes". He also said that the bear was about 400-500lbs. Liam says the bear tried to bite him. I don't know who to believe, but I grabbed the kids and took off to the car like a streak of shit either way.
Brad has been crucifying me for going on ten years about my lack of ability to spot wildlife. I have seen only one moose on the highway in my entire life. Once I interrupted Brad's putt for birdie on Humber Valley Golf Course to alert him to an approaching fox. When he looked, it was in fact a stray orange house cat with a bushy tail. I do not have an eye for these things, so it was not surprising to either of us that I missed a big Jesus bear.
However, I was to redeem myself later in the day...
After our ordeal, we decided brunch at the delicious and quaint Trinity Mercantile was in order. We settled the kids away at a table and began to eat, and that's when I saw him.
He approached gingerly, lured by the scent of food, no doubt. It was still mid morning and I suspected he was recently awoken from some sort of hibernation. I tried to remain calm. He was close, and I was concerned that he would smell my fear. I huddled the kids towards me to ensure they did not disturb him in his hunt for breakfast and gave my husband the ol' "look the fuck over there" eyes accompanied by a nod in his direction.
"Jesus, by!" said Brad, "Sure das Mark Critch!"
What a moron.
The majestic Newfoundland Critch took a coffee to go and then, after chatting with the ladies who served him and a few other people, left the premises.
It. Was. Fascinating.
I know what you are thinking, and yes, I did consider enticing him to our table with food. I have heard from several people that this particular species of Critch is extremely friendly and only slightly skittish, however I did read on a sign somewhere that you shouldn't feed the wildlife and so I decided to only observe the graceful beauty in his natural habitat.
Like, I know that Brad saw a black bear, but to see Mark Critch? Who is the real winner here?