I'm baking oatmeal raisin cookies right now and the smell might be enough to make me eat one. So instead of eating one, I'm going to write one instead.
Some serious miles were put on over the long holiday 4th of July sparkling weekend, 25 this way bright and early for a parade only to go the 25 back and then add 160 that way for a family picnic and fireworks night. Then a wake up before the sun to drive the 160 back home so a certain person could work (I felt bad...for a minute). And then a smarter person than I would have stayed home and possibly relished in having a moment of silence, but instead I packed up some sunscreen and skewer making supplies and hit the road to head 100 miles the other way to find Danae and her people at the lake. Knowing full well I'd haul that distance back the same night so I could wake up the next morning to drive 59 miles the other way to Sister Pister's rodeo and back home for the afternoon and then to the farm for picnic and fireworks and then back home. At that point it was Saturday night and I slept.
It was a lot of going, going, and gone with brief thoughts of I should have stayed home and kept things simple.
But then there was this one moment on the water, right before we were going to head back to the cabin on Friday evening. "She's a Wild One" by Faith Hill came on over the pontoon radio. Danae and I sang. Like sang sang, loudly and without missing a beat while the wind blew gusts across our faces and dried out soaking wet hair. We had Emma sandwiched between us at that point and she kept looking up at us and laughing. We were feeling it.
And right there and then, it made everything worth it.
Earlier that day, I had asked Danae, "So is those whole lake thing working out for you? Do you get tired of the packing and cooking and hauling and dragging everything and kids being out of their routine?" Her response came later because we were interrupted with somebody needing something. Her response came when we were on the boat and her kids were soaking wet from swimming and we were all sun tired. She looked over at me and said, "I love the lake."
I do believe it's part of being an adult. The hauling and planning and cooking and organizing and not really relaxing while doing the vacation-esque thing. It's part of our jobs. To have the little people around us experience life.
Experience going under a wave with their "Auntie" Amy and having their momma have a mild panic attack watching from the sidelines.
Experience telling stories on the boat while everyone laughs at you. Those skills come in handy later in life when trying to make new friends in college.
Experience tubing with their dad.
Experience watching their mom and her friend sing so loudly and freely with not a care in the world. Or not seem to have a care in the world anyway. That's the key.
And no, I don't have kids of my own but I sure am around many sets of them in many different settings and I believe in the fun. The fun which comes from not always making the smart choice about keeping things simple or miles driven.
The fun which comes from grabbing the baby who really isn't a baby anymore but yet always will be and looking for fish as a distraction from the mommy clingy syndrome.
The fun which comes from interesting fashion statements like brother's baseball cap and a baby doll's scarf.
The fun which comes from fires in the evening air.
The fun which comes from just doing it. And sleeping later.
But then there was this one moment on the water, right before we were going to head back to the cabin on Friday evening. "She's a Wild One" by Faith Hill came on over the pontoon radio. Danae and I sang. Like sang sang, loudly and without missing a beat while the wind blew gusts across our faces and dried out soaking wet hair. We had Emma sandwiched between us at that point and she kept looking up at us and laughing. We were feeling it.
And right there and then, it made everything worth it.
Earlier that day, I had asked Danae, "So is those whole lake thing working out for you? Do you get tired of the packing and cooking and hauling and dragging everything and kids being out of their routine?" Her response came later because we were interrupted with somebody needing something. Her response came when we were on the boat and her kids were soaking wet from swimming and we were all sun tired. She looked over at me and said, "I love the lake."
I do believe it's part of being an adult. The hauling and planning and cooking and organizing and not really relaxing while doing the vacation-esque thing. It's part of our jobs. To have the little people around us experience life.
Experience going under a wave with their "Auntie" Amy and having their momma have a mild panic attack watching from the sidelines.
Experience telling stories on the boat while everyone laughs at you. Those skills come in handy later in life when trying to make new friends in college.
Experience tubing with their dad.
And no, I don't have kids of my own but I sure am around many sets of them in many different settings and I believe in the fun. The fun which comes from not always making the smart choice about keeping things simple or miles driven.
The fun which comes from grabbing the baby who really isn't a baby anymore but yet always will be and looking for fish as a distraction from the mommy clingy syndrome.
The fun which comes from interesting fashion statements like brother's baseball cap and a baby doll's scarf.
The fun which comes from fires in the evening air.
The fun which comes from just doing it. And sleeping later.
1 comment:
It is worth all of the work in the end! I am so glad you came up! My kids enjoy seeing us put on impromptu shows :) (Someday I am sure this will embarrass them, but that will be fun too!)
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