Big Montana Sky

We recently returned from our yearly trek with my best friend's family to Flathead Lake in the northwestern part of Montana.  It's a great trip that always ends too soon.  (which is why the trip becomes longer every year)

The menfolk garner great pleasure from building the best fires in the pit each night, after amazing, home cooked, themed dinners, great bottles of wine...and, well, even more wine after that.

Both of our families dream of building homes on the lake one day.  We've each joked about our stash of kitchen appliances and the errant piece of furniture that has, for now, been relegated to a storage area; labeled for years to come: 'Lake House.'

We rent a pontoon boat.  We rent sea doos.  We freeze our asses off on both, and don't really care because it's that much fun to ride on a massive lake even if you're wearing uggs, winter coats, gloves, hats and scarves.

 We take a day trip to Glacier National Park and go for a walk in the freezing rain.  Because it's THAT spectacular anyway.

We yell at our kids to not run on the dock.  (okay, so that part may be more me than anyone else)










We take a whole seven days to get into the groove of traveling with children---a point we kvetch about at night with hopes it takes zero days when the kids are older.

We go to bed too late and wake up too early.

We make friends with the locals and mean it when we tell them we hope to see them next year.

A little brother laments the big brother he wished would play with him the way the two sisters do...and his Mom hopes that their frank discussions help him realize how special their bond is nonetheless.

We shop for things we don't need, and realize we forgot to pack things we did need.

We get to reunite with middle school friends we haven't seen in a decade--who live nowhere near the neighborhood, but because it's Montana, a five hour drive seems like nothing.

We have the good fortune of a couple of grown up-only nights out because a good friend back home has family in the area that is happy to babysit!

And two old friends who've changed leaps and bounds since their high school days, can talk openly about how different their parenting styles are--how different their children are, and yet still know that it is worth it to spend this invaluable time with each other summer after summer.  And every once in awhile, they might just find themselves doubled over in laughter like they used to when their lives were a bit simpler, their stomachs a bit flatter, and their ability to stay up all night a bit more fine tuned.  But make no mistake...they've still go 'it!'

Blistless In California

Blistless or B-listless

Definition:

When a Blogger becomes listless or apathetic about posting. It is also indicative of what will happen to the Blogger's mailing list.

Yes, it would appear that this affliction has struck Mama Deb.  And my apologies, as the definition tells me that I have now likely passed on said affliction to you poor followers.  It's been slowly making its way into my life over the past year, but has really taken hold over the past couple of months.  I'm fairly certain my desire to not sound like a pathetic, skeptical, pessimistic, overly dramatic, loon may have a thing or two to do with it. (Though the ounce of optimistic, rational calm I have left keeps telling my other self that I'm strong enough, good enough, and doggone it, people like me!)  

I had good intentions of telling you just how fabulous our recent trip to Hawaii was and then it all sort of went to shit starting the night we got home and I was wallowing in my own sorrows too much to tell you something that might make you think I had been happy for Six.Whole.Days.  You know, cuz I got a rep to protect.

So I'll start with the crap and then end it on the high notes of our trip.  Sound good?  

We got home on a Thursday night around 11 pm.  Naturally we were all sorts of screwed up on our body clocks, so it was tough to wind down and go to bed.  B went with very little fight, but M started having this awful indigestion/burping the second we walked through our front door.  Interestingly, this indigestion had started a couple of weeks prior, but had magically disappeared during our vacation.  But we'll speculate more on that later...

I, being *slightly* anal retentive, was happy to stay up until 2 am unpacking and attempting to settle back into our home so that I would have less crap to look at when I awoke the next day.  Staying up would prove to not be in my favor as M started to get really uncomfortable within minutes of my head finally hitting my pillow and succumbing to sleep.  It finally became so bad for him that he was yelling and whining and I was worried that he would wake B up and then we'd really have ourselves some nighttime fun.  So I ended up transferring B into bed with the other half (who slept soundly through all of this, bless him)  and I took B's bed in the same room as M's.  M was up until 6 am burping and farting.  I had finally come to some sense and around 5 am gave him a pepcid ac, the only gas fighting medicine we had at the time.  (which is odd because, well, we have a lot of gas around our house, folks!)

So when we awoke at 10 am the next day, I was all sorts of out of whack.  That night was fine--not too much on the gas front--but Saturday, oh-dear-God, SATURDAY, it was so not good.  The poor kid was clearly uncomfortable for much of the day and by that night he was pacing and screaming in pain.  I'm talking the kind of screaming that could make a neighbor call the police and CPS on a family.  It was terrible to see him like that and to not know what in the heck was causing it or what to do.  And, you see, the thing about having a non-verbal autistic child is that you worry you are either a.) overreacting to every outburst or scream or, b.) not reacting enough.  This is what happened to the other half and I that night.  After M had paced for hours and the clock had reached 1 a.m., I (following previously mentioned option 'a') packed he and I a bag and got myself dressed in order to take him to the ER. The other half, however, (following option 'b') told me that I was 'a' and that the ER wouldn't be able to do anything to help him.  I finally relented, hit the kid up with some more pepcid,, and we all fell into a restless sleep around 2:30 a.m.  I'm going to fast-forward a bit to save you some more wordiness about discomfort, burping, and farting, so we'll skip ahead to Tuesday, a full three days after the peak of the indigestion.  By this point, the other half had been gone for 24 hours on a business trip and I could no longer watch M in such a state.  I took him to his doctor (after dropping B off at a friend's and packing yet another bag for a presumed trip to the ER) She agreed that I needed to bring him to the hospital for further testing.  Six hours later, we left after x-rays, an IV, a slew of blood tests, a catheter, and a 'high' enema.  (no, not just a 'low' enema, thank you very much)  The poor kid was so backed up that that day even his bladder had ended up blocked and took an entire hour to drain via catheter despite not having peed since about 11 hours earlier.  I'd like to note here that I am not a *complete* idiot and did realize that my child may have had some constipation issues.  However, I had been trying to manage them and he was going a slight bit ever couple of days.  If he hadn't gone at all for days I would have been more concerned about that than I was.  Lesson learned.

Now here's the kicker, though:  Two mornings later I awoke to find a voicemail on my phone that had been left the previous night at 12:30, while I slept.  The message was from an ER nurse who said that they were sorry to alarm me, however, one of M's lab cultures had just come back showing bacteria in his blood and they really needed me to bring him in for reevaluation.  AGH!  I spoke to the nurse who mentioned the word 'staph,' and away we went again to the ER for another seven hour visit.  It would turn out that we were one of the unlucky patients who had their lab sample contaminated by the naturally occurring staph flora we all have on the surface of our skin.  BUT, because he had started limping and they were worried it could be sepsis in his joint, they did a pelvic and hip x-ray while we were there that lead them to find a wicked crazy amount of gas still in his gut that they then gave him two hours worth of IV fluids and some zofran to treat.  Geez.  

On top of this (and because you, no doubt, are enraptured by my tale of my child's gas, poo and other bodily goings-on) we discovered that he has a condition called hyperphosphatemia.  Our doctor had asked that they test for this since M has also been hypocalcemic for years. (a thing that has just recently started to really concern me)  So it would seem that these two out-of-whack tests combined point to a possible parathyroid dysfunction which we will now see an endocrinologist for in a couple of months.  (Because that's how freaking long it takes to get into children's specialists, for those of y'all who aren't lucky enough to have to try to book these appointments)  We will also revisit the genetics department since it's been two years since we last did that and the ER doctor feels we need to continue to look into possible metabolic disorders for which testing may now be available.  (fingers crossed, though, that we don't find anything there...metabolic disorders can be s-c-a-r-y)

PHEW!  Are you still there?  Do I need to buy you a drink for still reading all this?  (Because I will, you know)

So instead of making my fingers ache anymore from typing, or make your eyes strain anymore from reading, I will leave you with some cheery photos from our lovely trip to Hawaii where both boys were incredible champs BOTH legs of the flight, and where having my mother-in-law there to help us proved to be the best decision we could have made!  I'm already ready to go back!

Hawaii

I wanted to thank each of you for taking the time to share your advice, personal accounts, and encouragement that it would be okay for me to take a trip without M.

I sent many of your comments to the other half--I thought it was very important for him to read so many viewpoints that differed from his.

It has been decided that M will come with us.  I know he will have an amazing time once we get there and am hoping for a happy surprise on the long flight over.  The good news is that my wonderful mother-in-law will be coming with us to help with both boys.  This may be even better than the original plan of just taking B with us as now we will have the opportunity to get away occasionally without either of the kids!  I see fruity drinks with umbrellas and lots of time lounging by the pool in my future and I cannot wait!  The weather has been awful here for weeks, so this trip can't come soon enough.

Thanks again.  I so appreciate those who take time to read what I write, but even more so for those who are willing to share their opinions with me!

Decisions

I posted the following at Hopeful Parents yesterday.  Nothing fancy, but something I could really use your input on as we try to make this tough decision!

Instead of writing something poignant (ha!) or witty (right!), I could use a little help from you Hopeful Parents out there.

The other half is getting to go to Hawaii for business next month and we had planned on the boys and I meeting him at the end of his conference for a family vacation.  We were fortunate to go to Hawaii just over a year ago as well.  It was a lovely trip, aside from the awful-ness that was trying to fly home.  M did pretty well, all in all, but in truth, he is a different child today than he was just 13 months ago.  

I thought I could handle the 5 1/2 hour flight to Oahu by myself, but after flying back home to visit relatives last week, I absolutely know that I would not be able to do that with two young children successfully.  M's sensory issues have multiplied greatly and his ability to not lash out at me (verbally and often with pinching and grabbing) has gone right out the window.  The flights to and from our visit weren't the worst flights we've ever taken, but they were also far from the best, and they most definitely filled me with more consistent stress because I was aware that he was on the verge of a (loud) tantrum at almost every moment of the flight.  

My amazing mother-in-law has offered to fly with us to Hawaii.  This would be wonderful on several accounts.  Not only would she be an extra set of hands at the airport and on the plane (allowing me to actually get out of my seat to use the bathroom, which you know is going to need to happen on a flight that long!), she would allow the other half and I to take our own time, free of the kids, if we wanted it.

But here's where I need your help...she has also offered to fly to our home in California to stay with M while the other half, my typical four-year-old, and I go to Hawaii by ourselves.  The other half won't hear of it, but I have to admit that I think it is a really nice idea.  First off, we have two other domestic trips planned this year that M will absolutely be included in.  And second, doesn't B, my typically developing child, deserve a vacation where he can go places we normally wouldn't be able to go without the constant worry that it could end at any moment based on his brother's needs?   And as guilty as it makes me feel to admit it, I could use a 'normal' vacation as well.  It would be great to eat out at a restaurant, leisurely, without worrying that M will yell, or worse, try to grab food off of another diner's plate.  (yep, that happened to us the last time we went to Hawaii)  

It is hard to imagine how looking at photos after a trip like this--with one very important family member missing--will make us feel.  Just thinking about it certainly stirs up all sorts of emotions in me.  And I know that M adores the sunshine and being at a hotel.  But would I be the worst parent in the world if I actually did take my mother-in-law up on her offer?  Have YOU ever made this sort of decision?  I would love to hear your personal thoughts and stories.

Good In This World

I wrote the following for today's post at Hopeful Parents. Check out the amazing writers when you have a chance!


I wanted to share a story of a recent trip our entire family took to Kauai. It was a wonderful trip for the most part, that could have easily been overshadowed by the craziness that was our experience of trying to get home.

We had a red-eye flight booked and were nervous enough about the prospect of the kids only having five hours in which to get their night's sleep. When the flight was delayed until nearly midnight, we tried to put on a cheery face and make the best of it by returning to our resort for an impromptu, moonlit picnic on the beach where my youngest fell into a deep slumber on one of the lounge chairs.

Kids are so lucky to be able to fall asleep like that; tolerating transfers to and from rental cars, and even managing to stay asleep through security...and for the next four hours that we were trapped in the Kauai airport before they finally called 'uncle' and decided it was time to shuttle us all to a local resort...the same resort we'd been staying at for the five days prior.

My older son, M, has severe autism. This makes for an added layer of excitement when traveling. Oddly enough, he did much better on the long flight to Hawaii than his typically developing little brother did; a fact we commended him on many times throughout the trip. And to our surprise, he was a total champ with the flight's delay and even finally fell asleep in his chair as we waited--and waited--for the news on whether or not the mechanical problem they'd reported to us as we were literally a step away from boarding the plane, was going to be fixed or not.

I think all 130+ of us did a relatively good job of remaining calm and lighthearted through this annoying wait. My husband quietly chanted, 'Go, Sully!' after the captain told us he was a husband and father of five and a (chuckle) 'safety guy.' (Gosh, I hope all pilots are 'safety guys!) I mean, none of us wanted to fly over the Pacific ocean on a faulty plane...but there did come a point where we all realized we weren't getting on that plane that night, so why didn't the airline come to the same conclusion before 2:45 in the morning??

By this time, some people were getting restless. The not-very-customer-service-oriented airport workers didn't quite think their plan to get us to the hotel through very well. They decided to let the first class, platinum status, and people with special needs leave the gate area to collect their baggage first. Oddly enough, our family fit all three criteria...we were on our way to getting the hell out of there, finally!

But they didn't give us time to actually wait for our luggage on the carousel before they let all of the other people out too...and so, the free-for-all ensued as people rushed and pushed, attempting to grab their luggage before the rest of us so that they could get a better spot in line for the shuttle.

The other half and I were holding about 90 lbs. of sleeping children, two carry-ons, and pushing a cart with three pieces of luggage. Our backs hurt. We were tired. And when about 20 people...none with young, sleepy children, mind you...cut in front of all of us and refused to acknowledge the few passengers who were willing to stand up for what was right and tell them to get to the back of the line, I started to feel that burning in my throat I always feel when I get myself upset about people behaving unjustly and unkindly to their fellow humans.

M must have felt the unrest, too, because he woke up in the other half's arms at this point, very confused and upset by what was going on around him. The other half quickly wisked him to sit on the sidewalk away from the line as people stared unabashedly at him. Now the burning in my throat was turning into tears as I held back from screaming at these people, 'You have no idea what this amazing little boy has accomplished by holding it together for these past four hours!!' So instead of making my own scene, I decided to be proactive...I approached the airport employees and told them that my son with autism had done amazingly well thus far, as had the other small children patiently waiting at this ungodly hour with their families. I told them that I knew this situation wasn't their fault, but that they had to take control and allow the people with special needs and young children to get on that bus (wherever it was) before the rest of the passengers.

I took my place back in line and noticed a woman rushing over to the same airport employees. This same, kind-faced woman had been smiling at M much of the time we were in the waiting room. She asked the employees where the little boy with autism was, and they awkwardly pointed to M who was still wailing and confused with the other half. My husband came over to me after that, handed me M and took B in his place and said, 'This kind lady is going to take you and M to the hotel so that you can check in before everyone else gets there.'

I lost it. Totally, freaking bawled my eyes out, right then and there. In this crowd of people--many of whom couldn't give two shits about anyone but themselves--this woman made sure to help out someone she knew needed it. I gave her a huge hug as I attempted to collect myself and get us into her husband's car.

It turns out that this couple was from Texas--or the mother ship, as I refer to it. The place where I am from, and where my heart still longs for at times like these. Her husband is a traveling orthopedic surgeon and they were living on the island for a year. Nancy, the woman who 'saved' us, told me that she worked with kids with special needs for many years.

I gave them both enormous hugs--hugs that felt like I was hugging my own parents--and thanked them from the bottom of my heart for helping us out. M had gained his composure by this point, as had I, and we were able to check into our hotel room before the long line of passengers arrived.

I still can't recall the story without getting a little choked up. It sounds like such a small thing, but it was really an enormous gesture that helped restore my faith in humanity a tiny bit.

So, to Nancy & Dave of Cedar Hill, Texas...bless you. I hope you know how much your kindness meant to my family.

Vacations With Children Who Have Special Needs

Someone posted a link on one of my autism support boards about a family camp for kids with special needs. They'd heard great things about it...so I opened the link because, who knows, maybe this is something we'll want to do one day?

As I read the descriptions of the new log cabins complete with full accessibility for those with special needs...and then I read that there was an airport nearby 'just in case a medical necessity required one to need to fly out for an emergency'...and then I saw the photos of the medically fragile children and the children with Downs happily being hoisted into the pools...and I cried.

I cried because I know the other half would never go for it. I cried because there's still this part of me that doesn't totally feel like we fit in with the families that can fully embrace these sorts of camps. I cried because I selfishly want to go on 'normal' family vacations without them having to be total safe zones for my child.

I have not yet blogged about it, but we took a very spontaneous and wonderful trip to Kauai two weeks ago. The kids were out of school and we were feeling the need for a getaway. Fortunately, the other half had been saving up Marriot reward points for years and we had enough for a free, five-night stay pretty much anywhere. When you live on the west coast, last-minute travel deals are definitely available to Hawaii. The other half booked our tickets at 6pm and we were in the air by 9 am the next morning!

The trip really was fabulous--well, except for our delay in getting home, but that's for another post. M did amazingly well on the long flights and was overall a champ on most of the trip. But there were those little letdowns that I tried very hard to not let overshadow a trip of mostly successes. For example, I really, really wanted to take the kids to a luau. I thought they'd really enjoy all of the dancing and drumming. We went to the most-amazing Hyatt resort and even had the chef prepare M a special, gluten-free plate. $250 spent and I had maybe five bites of a plate the other half had to prepare for me and one, weak mai tai. M just couldn't/wouldn't tolerate it. And this is not a child who has sensory sensitive issues. M LOVES music and drumming...usually. And even B got in on the action. We seem to have hit the terrible threes combined with his need to cause a bit of drama when his brother is doing the same. It was so thoroughly disappointing. I had to really force myself to not dwell on it once we left.

I realize just how whiny this all sounds and I also realize I need to focus on the great parts of the trip--chilling by the pool, playing in the sand, driving to Hanalei. But I can't help but wonder if we'll ever get to a place where our blood pressure remains low during an ENTIRE vacation. Is it possible? And if it is, does it have to be in a special setting? As I have said before, we are in such a transitional stage of our lives. Acceptance of our new normal comes only with time and practice, and unfortunately at different paces for each member of our family.
But we will get there. And we will find our purpose and our path in this world.

You all are helping me achieve that with your support. So thank you!

Getting Away From It All

First off, have any of you ever noticed that I always capitalize each word of my post titles? (I am betting that a certain vice-principal, writer-extraordinaire, reader has! haha) I love punctuation, if you haven't already noticed. I found James Frey's 'A Million Little Pieces' utterly fascinating because of the way it was punctuated. Check it out and you'll see what I mean. It's my geeky way of being literarily-rebellious. (And look-I just made up a new word!) I also like to end sentences with prepositions. Take that, eight grade English teacher, Mrs. Woodard. I'd like to see one of your appliqued sweaters and your pointer stick try to be so daring...ha!

Okay, back to the point of this post. Yes, I seem to be lagging quite a bit between blog entries. I think of something to write at least once each day, but I can't quite wrap my brain around taking the time to sit down and let it spill out. (A-ha! Another sentence ending in a preposition!!)

I think part of the problem is that most of what I am thinking about seems too personal to open up about. (Yes, 'about' is a preposition) It's not that I don't feel comfortable writing about these things, it's just that I am pretty sure I'd feel obligated to qualify each feeling with an 'I realize I am very lucky,' or 'I wouldn't change my life if I could,' yada, yada, yada. You know...all of those things the guilt of society makes us feel we have to say. It's not that I am not thankful for being so blessed in many ways, or that I'd change things if I could, it's just that, dang it, sometimes I want to expand upon the feeling of, 'This SUCKS,' or 'Why me?' Yes, I realize I do that to an extent, but sometimes you just feel like having an all-out, sprawled on the ground, kicking and screaming, two-year-old, temper tantrum, ya know?

So what do you do when you're feeling the stress? You high-tail it out of town, that's what. On Wednesday night the other half (who has been lacking in spontaneity the past five or so years) said, 'Why don't we go somewhere for the long weekend?' Sounds great to me, as I'm always up for a road trip, but, uh, it's Memorial Day weekend; one of the busiest weekends of the year. Well, since we like to do it up stress-style 'round here, we searched for a rental house until finally finding one in Mendocino at 5pm on Thursday night. We were packed and in the car by 5:18 and on our way up the coast. We stayed in an amazing house the first two nights. It even had a full-size arcade game programmed with all of the oldies like Burgertime, Space Invaders, Joust, and Jungle Hunt. We lounged around, went to the farmer's market and saw more dreadlocks on pre-pubescent kids than I've ever seen in my lifetime. I finished my second book in over a year (so sad that I've lost my ability to take time to read). I read TWO People magazines. We hot tubbed. We saw wild turkeys. We ate a feck-load of bacon. We danced to Pandora. We left food on the counters without worrying that a dog or cat was going to eat it. But perhaps most important, the other half and I co-parented better than we have in a very long time. He stepped up to the plate with the boys way more than he has in quite awhile, and I really, really, REALLY needed that from him. I've come to realize that part of my problem (only part, not all...there is no blame game going on here) is that I take my frustrations out on the kids and become overly-stressed with them because I am frustrated with him. I have felt like I am the one constantly dealing with the struggle that is getting M dressed (and subsequently, often being hit), or taking him to appointments; or the only one responding to B's relentless whining and requests. I suspect the other half has finally noticed my resolve crumbling. Heck, who are we kidding? It's not just crumbling, it's coming down in a torrential landslide at this point.
We were so sad to have to check out of our little paradise less than two days after we'd gotten there that we decided to find another rental for another two days. The second house was not nearly as plush as the first, but it was very family-centric in its layout and ended up working out very well for us. Television was not a focus on this house, so we took walks, collected wildflowers, and played in the yard. The second house struck a chord with us because the owners had noted in their guest book that their son had been born with a serious heart defect that had resulted in several surgeries and ultimately, a heart transplant. The family wrote that they did not know how long their son would be on this earth, so they built the home knowing that they needed a place to make cherished memories and to get away from the stress, worries and fears of home. My gosh, could we not relate! The other half and I both noted that you could really feel the presence of the little boy in that house. I do not know if he is still physically present on this earth, but I sense that he will always fill the rooms of that house no matter what.

We took the scenic, coastal route home; anything to extend the familial high we seemed to be on.

When we got close to home you could sense that we all felt the anxiety rising once again. The worst part was that M started crying when we turned onto our street.

We dreamed of a vacation getaway similar to those we rented. We spoke of ways to continue that feeling of being on vacation in order to help us through the tough times. We decided that we need to visit places like Mendocino more often. Places that give us that peace our bodies need in order to stay healthy; places that bring us together as a family and remind us that we do love each other and that we are, after all, quite blessed.

On Meeting Strangers...

I was just reading another blog I frequent (Cage Free Family) about this family from Austin who has given up pretty much everything to live and travel with their two children and two dogs in an RV, while searching for peace, adventure, and organic foods along the way. It's a pretty amazing concept, and one I fantasize about, but know that my materialistic desires could never succeed in accomplishing.
Anyhow, the author spoke of meeting strangers and how she tries to do it every single day. I am this way. My father is this way. I meet people in grocery store lines or post offices and I can strike up a conversation in just about any setting. I half joke that if you put me in front of a wall I could have a conversation with it. My other half thinks this is a bizarre and somewhat annoying habit. It is one of many ways we are quite different from one another, though he does give in and participate in my fun when we are visiting foreign countries. (When in Rome, eh?)

When reading Cage Free Family's recent post, I realized I'd not yet shared the story of our adventure in Arizona where we met four amazing women who were probably in their late 50s to 60s at a winery. While we were tasting, the person working the wine room jokingly said that if we were looking for some fun people to hang out with the four women on the other side of the room were a hoot. We later went over to where they sat for a brief photo opportunity that lead into an evening of hilarity and honesty with some really beautiful women. After we took pictures of each other in various wine-drinking poses, one of the women announced that she was going to perform a song for us. So out of no where, she begins to sing this fabulous Broadway-esque tune for us. My friend, R, just had to chime in about my love for singing and I was soon 'talked into' a song of my own. (Note: I do not do private performances! I am much less intimidated by a crowd of people and bright lights shining in my face than I am of singing for only a few who have their eyes glued. right. on. me. AGH!)
We followed them to the next winery where we laughed and told stories; took more photos, and drank more wine. The ladies had plans to meet their husbands for dinner and take in a local show. They suggested a restaurant for us to try and told us to come back to where they were eating afterward for karaoke. After a failed attempt to get into the restaurant, we ended up back at their place where they'd saved us two spots just in case. More giggling ensued and then a turning point in the conversation. Somehow I mentioned that R and I had become friends because our sons were in the same preschool for children with special needs. The woman who'd sung the song at the winery was in shock, and admitted sheepishly that earlier she'd been watching us thinking how carefree, young and happy we were. It was a reminder to all of us that so often things aren't *quite* as they seem. We all have stories. We all have burdens to bear. And sometimes we all need a little time to be a bit like our old selves and kick up our heels for a moment or two. That is what this trip did for me, and I am grateful.

To make a long story longer, we ended up going back to the home of one the women. They'd missed their play and we were all having too good a time to care. We drank wine, then coffee. We took silly pictures in front of their fireplace. I was talked into singing another song. We talked about serious stuff. We talked about not-so-serious stuff. We looked at family photos. We exchanged email addresses and made promises to keep in touch. It was like hanging out with family that you actually liked. It was lovely, and I'm so glad we did it.

When telling the other half about our adventure his response was, 'I can pretty much guarantee I would never do something like that.'

'I know,' I said. 'We talked about that tonight!'

Take chances. Talk to new people. Life is too short not to.

Getting Away Is Good

I am sllleeeeeeeppppyyy from my trip, so 'Getting away is good' was as profound a statement I could come up with today. I got home yesterday evening after 4.5 fabulous (or 'fucktacular,' R's and my new favorite descriptor) days away. When speaking to the other half on the way home from the airport, he said in a somewhat flat tone that either implied exhaustion or a well-rehearsed line, 'My work is hard, but I now have a new respect for what you do.' Of course the next thing he said was, 'How long until you get here? Can I go get a beer?' But perhaps he did get a good picture of just how unfucktacular it can be to run this here household.

R and I were busy bees on this trip. I look forward to not being so groggy so that I can share all of our adventures with you. I don't think I got more than 7.5 hours of sleep on any given night as we were up and at 'em bright and early doing yoga, hiking, touring, or eating bacon. (I thought it was a good idea to eat as much bacon as I possibly could while on vacation and even dared to eat it with every single meal...I came pretty close)

Here's one shot of R & I at one of AZ's wineries. We went wine tasting after a few spa treatments. A couple of them weren't too shabby. Who knew?



Lots to tell you, but I think that cold I was trying so hard not to catch from my boys before my trip has finally decided to take hold. I'm happy to be home and to know I was missed!

You know you're almost 35 when...

...you're at a bar with your husband, surrounded by a bunch of 20-something young lads and *maybe* three women, and yet you manage to only get hit on by the very drunk 70+ year old named Ray who wants you to dance with him to one of said lads very poor rendition of some mosh pit song that you are currently too old to even recognize. Ray proceeds to tell you three times how he was in the navy and is drinking a black russian, and would you like one too? Even though you keep politely declining and seemingly half-interestedly respond, 'Oh, I'm sure the navy was very exciting,' he still does not leave for a full 10 minutes, during which time your husband has mysteriously disappeared and is no where in sight to help. (In fairness to myself, I must add here that none of these young lads were worth a damn. I mean seriously, how many COOL 20-something-year old guys actually enjoy singing karaoke?)

...you sort of feel bad for the 70+ year old old man who hit on you and have a very serious conversation with yourself in your head about how you hope you are not hanging out at a karaoke bar with people 50 years younger than you when you are his age.

...during the same evening you drink three vodka tonics (okay, maybe *four* since that third one was a double tall) and you can barely keep your eyes open during the next day's tour of the amazing Hearst Castle and keep telling your other half to please stop talking as you are trying to 'rest your eyes' as he is driving.

...the two wineries you taste at after the Hearst Castle tour set you right for a couple of hours, though you're back to barely keeping your eyes open as soon as you try to go out for dinner.

...even though your children are being well cared for at home and you have two whole days with no one screaming at you to do as you please with your other half, you still feel inclined to go to sleep at 11 pm on the second night. (please reference third entry above)

...you find a 2 inch long 'crazy hair' coming out of your chest after you've just had a full body massage. (And this isn't the first time you've found one of those. Yeah. I just said that on a public blog)

...you actually really missed your kids and are looking forward to going home to see them.

...you're right back where you started within 24 hours; wondering when you'll get your next break.