I am still in the process of recovering from A Very Scary Incident During Which I Lose Visual Contact With My Youngest Son In a Dog-Horse-Chicken-Filled Ravine That I Can't Climb Out Of.
In our relationship, T is the one who is always looking out for potentially dangers and pitfalls for the boys, and I am the one always saying, oh, let's just try it, it will be ok, noone is going to get hurt. He thinks I'm slack and careless, I think he's a paranoid scaredy-cat. In the end, I think we probably balance each other out nicely.
But I am rethinking the level of risk to take now. After the Scary Incident. In part because I PANICKED. I always assumed that if I perceived my children to be in mortal danger, that I would react immediately and appropriately to rescue them. But in reality, I just stood at the top of the ravine and screamed my head off. Which of course had no affect on B. Or rather it had the affect he was looking for, and thus he just ran further down the ravine.
Fortunately, my hot mama friends came to the rescue. Squid bravely and calmly (something I couldn't muster at all, but had a wonderful affect on B) went down to the depths of the poison oak and sticker patches and pushed B up by the butt, then pushed me up by the butt since I was quite incapable of climbing up myself, while jennyalice and Mama B watched over A and Leelo and their own kids.
I was pretty disappointed in myself and my own inadequate reaction. And disappointed in B for blatantly disobeying and willfully entering into a dangerous situation. Proud of A for independently deciding that we were all where we shouldn't be and climbing back up to safety. And grateful for the tribe that helped me get through it.