Lamenting the Cool Chick

I used to be pretty cool. I mean if climbing mountains in Alaska, or kayaking the Grand Canyon is your idea of cool. Sleeping under the stars on the Sea of Cortez, drinking cold water straight out of a glacier, trolling for fish from the stern of my kayak was my job, not my dream vacation. One year I spent over 300 days in the wilds kayaking with icebergs, or rafting southwestern rivers as petroglyphs and ancient ruins floated by. Oh yes, I used to be one pretty cool chick. Lately however; that cool chic has taken a bit of a vacation. It seems that one husband, one black lab, and two little girls later the cool factor has been replaced by the drool and gruel factor. Gone are the days of waking with the off shore breeze, and sleeping with bergies calving in the distance. Today I awake to little elbows digging into my ribcage and toddler cries a wet nappie snapping me out of my drowsey bliss. I guess adventure does not have to come in the form of snow-capped mountains, class 4 rivers, or wave-swept seas. Today my adventure comes in little pink socks, tiny fish crackers and crayon marks on the kitchen wall. At night when I put my little adventures to sleep, I close my eyes and smile when I think of the great adventures that await them. I think of the cool chicks that that they are going to be...that they all ready are, and how I would gladly trade any mountain in the world to be rolling and cuddling on the floor with my little girls, my black lab, and my husband...now that is cool.