I’m Not Very Good At Golf

Once, my husband invited me to the driving range and as much fun as it sounded, it wasn’t. When I did hit the ball, I couldn’t hit it farther than a foot and a half. After twenty minutes, I got frustrated and ended up sitting on the grass drinking an over-priced beer from the clubhouse and watching him hit two full buckets of balls.

When he was done, over an hour later, I was sprawled across the soft putting green behind him.

Dead from boredom.

It was not my most favorite together-evening.

It was good it wasn’t first date. There likely would not have been a second.

My favorite together-evening was three weeks after I had my second baby and my husband and I attended an award dinner. It was boring and the food was sub-par but the walk around downtown after, on a warm spring evening? That was pretty awesome. I’d wear those heels that felt two-sizes too small for my swollen, postpartum feet all over again for a stroll through the outdoor lights of the 16th Street Mall.

Fast forward to a warm, sunny afternoon last fall, when we decided a fun together-afternoon would be mini-golf with our kids. Because who doesn’t love perpetual putting? Our kids could totally do this!

Turns out, mini-golfing with kids is one part confusion, two parts agility, four Hail Marys, one sign of the cross, and the rest chaos. It’s not nearly as glamorous as the PGA and here is why:

• We had to intercept our three-year-old like a defensive line everywhere he tried to run. Which was everywhere.
• We had to peel him off the fence.
• My husband pretended our kids were old enough to take the game seriously.
• My husband pretended our kids were old enough to hold a golf club properly.
• Everyone was putting at the same time.
• Everyone was fighting because someone putted the ball into the hole on their turn, despite the fact that they are all having the same turn at the same time.
• Our three-year-old randomly threw the golf ball at odd and inconvenient moments.
• One child declared themselves the winner because they putted the ball directly in the hole—with their hand.
• The non-winners cried.
• Someone somersaulted across the green.
• Swinging the club in the PGA doesn’t usually end up with everyone having to jump back, or duck.
• Swinging the club in the PGA doesn’t usually end up with the golf club going airborne in mid-swing.
• On more than one occasion our children took their ball and our game into the middle of the party ahead of us to join their game.
• We had to peel our three-year-old off the faux rock wall that houses a rushing waterfall with dyed water by the mini ghost house gold mine.
• Holes 4-9 were played by dinosaurs roaring the greens and kicking the balls around until they bounced off the brick borders.
• Someone wandered over to the 18th hole from the 4th hole and put their ball into the forever pocket where it never comes back.
• Someone else was mad they had to share a ball despite not losing theirs.
• Not everyone really golfed.

And while we did manage to complete 18 holes, we were exhausted.

Well, I was.

I mean, it’s still golf.

Our kids had the time of their life. The other people on the course were excited to see us leave and someone may have clapped. My husband wanted to play another game right after that on the second course. Everyone was down.

I was too.

But, only if I could sit on the faux grass drinking an over-priced beer from the clubhouse and watching him chase three kids and four balls all while dodging swinging clubs.