- I'm a widow and a mom of two kids.
- I'm not outdoorsy, but wanted to teach my kids we can all get out of our comfort zone.
I am not an outdoorsy mom. I've never been camping — and have no desire to ever "rough it" out in the woods. I'll take the long way to avoid the muddy route, and I'm as terrified of spiders as they come. I'm also a solo widowed mom — which means it's up to me to give my kids a full range of childhood experiences, even the ones outside my comfort zone. Especially the ones that include muddy routes and spiders.
Last fall, in an effort to show my kids life outside of my comfort zone and help them expand their comfort zones, I took my two tweens to a hotel where the main attractions were the lake activities and the hiking trails. From the moment we started packing, and none of us had appropriate hiking gear, I knew we'd be in for something new.
We took what we thought was an easy trail
Once settled at the hotel, I asked the receptionist about a hike they had listed in their brochure. I asked if it was appropriate for us — and I pointed to the three of us, assuming she'd take note of the jeans, the lack of hiking gear, and the general air of non-outdoorsyness. She said yes. She told us it was a very easy trail and said we didn't need anything more than sneakers. She said it wouldn't take us very long, either.
So off we went.
Halfway through the hike, surrounded by nothing but boulders and sky, at a point when going back would have been more perilous than continuing on, it became obvious the hike was not appropriate for us — nor was it going to become appropriate suddenly. We were not walking along a dirt path, stepping in a little mud, as I'd assumed. Instead, we were climbing over boulders, crawling through narrow spaces, and concentrating intensely at all times to find the right footing to avoid sliding into the depths of the mountain.
We were so far out of my comfort zone; I couldn't even see my comfort zone.
There were tears
At one point, we had to pull ourselves up using just our arm strength and determination not to fall. The kids needed me to balance at the top to help pull them up. I looked around to see if any other hikers were around to help me — we were alone.
There were tears, there were promises to call the hotel to get emergency help (I had visions of a helicopter coming for us — yes, looking back this was a little dramatic), there was real strength as we (literally) pulled each other up cliffs and did the thing we thought we couldn't do.
Eventually, we made it to the top. We were muddy, soaked, and tired but also absolutely euphoric. My daughter was ready to do it again — but not any time soon. My son said he'd never felt so many emotions at once, fear topping them all. Both said it felt like a family trust exercise, and they'd won.
I was happy we were safe, that a choice I'd made hadn't resulted in injury to either of my children. I was thrilled that they'd had a positive experience — and hopefully, that means their comfort zone will include more of the things that are outside of mine. More than that, I was happy to have shown them that our little family of three is capable and strong and a solid enough unit to withstand any obstacle that comes our way.
All of it — from the tears to the celebration — was a reminder, maybe a metaphor: that the three of us can do the hard things even when we're thrown into spaces that seem too hard. That we can save ourselves. That somehow, together, we'll always find a way to get to the top. Sometimes in the chaos of widowhood and the exhaustion of solo parenthood, it's easy to forget that.