Last year, I delivered a super sentimental post about our adorable first trip to the pumpkin patch. Everyone was like… awww. Well, I am happy to report that this year’s trip, while tons of fun and with plenty of adorable, picture perfect moments, was equally filled with hysterical memories.
We invited a whole pile of family and friends to join us… and just about filled an entire hayride with people we knew. (Completely recommend doing this! Everything is more fun in groups! Plus, our families LOVE meeting all of Munchie’s little friends and I know my mom likes meeting my other mommy friends… aka my future drinking buddies… if they ever stop being pregnant all the time. Seriously, when are we going to sit on the couch eating bon-bons and drinking wine all day while our children color on the walls?)
Oh, that brings us to the first pumpkin patch memory. Vegan Mommy almost had a baby in the middle of the pumpkin patch (crazy hippie)! Her doctor was all like, “you are officially on bed rest,” which she translated to mean… “just take a chair and sit in the middle of the field.” Fortunately, I am trained in emergency childbirth (random, fun, and slightly terrifying fact) and could totally handle that situation.
Among the many things I can’t handle, though? Well, apparently we can add hayrides to the list. WTF?!?! Who can’t ride on a freaking wagon being pulled by a tractor? Too incompetent to be lazy? Come on new, Momma Bish! After taking about three pictures of Daddy and Munchie (who were sitting across from me) I started to get a very familiar woozy feeling. I looked at my mom, who was sitting at the back of the wagon, with incredibly wide eyes and said, “MOVE OVER, NOW!”
Thinking I wanted to sit by my family, she scooted further toward the edge of the wagon. “No! The other way!” Confused she followed my direction. All I could think was… awesome… I invited all these people we know to watch me blow chunks off the back of a hayride. I couldn’t let that happen. How freaking embarrassing would that be?!?! My only option was to jump. I started reaching for the chain that was acting as a door.
My mom grabbed my arm, “Emily Marie! What are you doing?!?!”
“Mom, I have to jump.”
“Emily, you can’t jump off this thing. It’s moving. You will get hurt.”
“Mom, I don’t care… I have to do it.”
She tried to appeal to my logical, business mind. “Emily, it’s a liability for the farm, you can’t do that.”
“Mom, I’m not going to sue anyone… I just need to get off of this damn thing.”
Then she tried to appeal to my mothering/role model persona, “But all these kids are going to see you and they will think they can jump off, too.”
Damn… that was a good point. “Mom, just stop talking.”
I needed to focus. I closed my eyes, took long deep breaths, and counted to ten. Finally, the “Ride of Doom” came to a stop. I dismounted from the wagon like a ninja gymnast (pretty sure there were some aerial flips and such taking place). It literally took everything in my to NOT kiss the ground.
We stomped around to find some pumpkins, which was a hysterical event in and of itself. Kids were face-planting all over the field, as their little feet got tangled up in the pumpkin vines. (Pick up your feet, guys!) This year, we were a bit more excited in playing in the dirt and using the pumpkins as drums than actually finding a quality carving companion… but I’m sure that is a skill learned in time.
Best part of Vegan Mommy being perched in a chair? We had a great place to stack our pumpkins! After collecting our festive squash and a few delightful gourds (and taking a billion pictures), we made our way back to the barn (some via the rolling doom wagon… and others by foot… aka just me and a toddler who I’m pretty sure just has a fabulous soul and didn’t want me to look like a weirdo walking alone…). The kids played around in the corn tables for a bit, we paid for our fancy fall decor, loaded up the cars, and headed home.
No babies were birthed. No chunks were blown. No wipeouts needed so much as a bandaid. I would deem this trip a success. Next year, we will do it all again… but Momma Bish will be walking… because she is a giant wimp.
Big thanks to Brookfield Pumpkins for always being so gosh darn amazing! Please note, this is NOT a sponsored post… I just really really love this place and the people who own it.