Um, you guys? Living in Colorado is NO JOKE. Obviously, living right in the mountains and all, I'd heard there were bears, and I'd seen the tipped over, scrummaged-through garbage cans to prove it. And I'd also heard there are face eating mountain lions, but OMGDENIAL on that one. So let's just say I was enjoying being a Coloradan and fancied myself a tough mountain woman. HAHAHA, not, but I was kind of liking the new version of me that wears legit Durango cowboy boots and goes on hikes for fun and wouldn't pee her pants and run screaming like a little girl if she saw a bear. How wrong I was friends, how wrong I was.
Yesterday. The kids and I were playing at our back door neighbors' house. Well, the kids were playing with their new little friend, and my new (seriously awesome, Texan, wine loving) friend Emily and I were enjoying a glass of wine and chatting. Dinnertime came, it was time to go home. It was still broad daylight, we're just walking across their yard and into ours, no biggie. You'd think. I'm wearing MG, Cowboy Anderson's leading the way, and Vivi's just behind me (holding a box of crackers like she's bear bait) (because her mom is like, real dumb). And then, all of the sudden, I see something standing in our path. Something big, and brown, and fuzzy. I'm all "damn, I didn't have much wine at all, WHY am I hallucinating that there's a furry brown bear standing twentyish feet from us?" And then I'm all "OH EFF BOMB!!!!!!! OMG BEAR!!!!!!!!!! RUN!!!!!!!!!!!! TWENTY MORE EFF BOMBS!!!!!!!!" I'm pretty sure all of southwestern Colorado, and maybe some parts of northern New Mexico, heard the commotion. I'm screaming, Vivi's screaming, Mabel's screaming because her pacifier got knocked out of her mouth when I jumped eighty-two feet into the air. (And Anderson's all cool and collected just fast-sauntering across the yard. Manly Colorado man.) The bear takes off running a little ways, then stops in our other neighbor's yard and just stares at us like we're DINNER. Or like we're crazy humans all up in his habitat carrying crackers and smelling like babymilk or something. So at this point we've neared our deck stairs, and I grabbed each of my kids by one arm, I dropped my beloved bag (priorities, y'all), and just seriously sprinted up those stairs carrying three kids, slammed the gate at the top, and stood there. Still screaming, I do believe. Vivi ran into the house bawling, and Anderson (MANLY MAN) stood on the deck going "mom! That bear is looking at me! He's brown!"
Proof. And no, before you even ask, I did NOT take this picture, are you crazy? I called Emily from the deck, her husband came to retrieve their dog, who sweetly accompanies us home from our play dates on the regular. Her husband also brought his camera, and caught a few shots of the bear as it retreated from our neighbor's yard and hid out in our front yard.
So, you know, it was really fun going outside, but never again. Like ever. (I said that in my Taylor Swift voice, fyi.)
PS: Cowboy Anderson. Named as such because yesterday was Cowboy Day at preschool, and for the first time ever, my boy didn't cling to me sobbing at drop off time. "Because cowboys don't cry, mama." Yee haw, little pardner.
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