This guy.

Yup, I got to spend a full 24 hours of uninterrupted time with this guy last week, followed by three more days and nights right by his side.  Unprecedented in the history of lately with us I have to say.  It felt extraordinary on so many levels.  Our trip began and ended in exactly the same manner.  Knitting in my lap, music , (really good music), blaring in the car, and grins so large it would make a watermelon rind ashamed.  I dressed up fancy in a way that doesn’t shout,  “I’m a mom!”.  In a way that I haven’t in so long.  Cute swaying short skirt, bedazzled little flip-flops and a braided swirl atop my head to finish it off just right.  After we settled in, we left our campsite and walked past sights to make you gasp for air, weaved in and out of run down train tracks, and found ourselves surrounded by little shops filled with tiny appealing gifts and little bars filled with even more appealing drinks.  We opted for the latter, wandered the streets arm in arm on maybe the last very humid and very gloriously warm night of the season, and ate deliciously prepared food.

When we arrived a the theatre for the nights planned events we were thoroughly shocked and nothing if not down right disappointed when the stuffy old lady voice on the loud speaker came on announcing, “There will be no dancing.  If you want to dance, please go to the back of the theatre in the space provided.”  I about cried.  Or maybe I did, just a little, but it was dark and I had had a mango mojito (or two or three) and I don’t regret it.  The news was devastating.  We discussed the atrocity with our surrounding Michael Franti goers and agreed we were close enough to the back and that quite frankly this was bologna.  And lo and behold, just as soon as the lights went down, you better believe the man of the hour got the whole crowd up and no one ever looked back.  Not once.  The evening was saved.

The evening ended and we walked back the couple of miles to our tent by the great lake.  All along the dark beat up path I was blatantly terrified of the boogie man or some other thing that forms in your head when you can’t see your hand in front of your face, and Lee, well this tough old guy claimed he was not afraid one bit, only ” very aware”.  Ha.  Details, details.  We ended up beating out the rain by only minutes.  And rain it did.  It rained the kind of down pour that is so loud your voice can’t be heard unless your out right yelling.  It rained so hard it was going sideways, sideways right into the sides of our tent.  Right onto our pillows, right onto our faces.  We scooted into the middle, the driest spot, tucked our heads under our sleeping bag to avoid the giant plops of rain making their way through our tent’s rain slick, laughed a whole lot and somehow stayed cozy the whole night long.

Seems to me, over the last four years, though still so much in love, we forgot how easy it is to just be us.  No obligation of parenting, no pressure, no rush.  It’s just quieter.  Just still and easy.

We really needed that.  

Of course its pretty lucky to have this hard-working bapcia and pop pop on our side.  While we were off gallivanting around, our boys were home as happy as a couple of clams to have such grand company.

So I say, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.