Simba...It Is Time!

One weekend a year, my mom (who as of this precise moment is the greatest person alive) watches my children and allows my husband and I to get away. On this weekend, we leave, hastily. We don't look back. We act silly. We don't answer phone calls (unless it's my mom). We do whirlwind sightseeing that our small kids are not yet capable of. And, most importantly, we recall who we were before our children, and fall in love all over again.

Sometimes, parents need a brief gift of four days to come home refreshed and feeling human with a sense of self. It is so easy to lose yourself in the shuffle. I leave on this adventure in two days...and in honor, I thought to share some of the things that come Friday morning I'll be thanking God I'll be without until Monday night, but come Monday night I'll be desperately yearning for once more:

• No one waking me up before sunrise by screaming in my face.
• No one hollering that they were pinched, shoved, bitten or spit upon by their sibling(s).
• No one coming to snuggle, only to fart on my lap.
• No animated movies on the TV.
• No one complaining about what I made for dinner and informing me that they are refusing to eat it (I am NOT cooking).
• No boogers wiped on my pants...well, not unless I wipe them there.
• No multiple inquiries about what is going to be for dessert, and then the incessant nagging about why I've not made dessert (see above about complaining about the dinners, you little jerks). 
• No one ransacking my purse. 
• No one using my bathroom b/c the other one was occupied, only to dump nail polish on my granite vanity. 
•  No one asking me to fix something, retrieve this, put together that or help find it. 

Right now, I'll not miss those things, but there are some things that even the die-hard in me will go into withdrawal over, after moments of leaving home:

•  Sticky hugs and wet slobbery kisses. 
•  Kissing boo-boos and using my Mommy-Magic to heal what ails. 
•  Hearing, "I love you, Mommy" at bed time tuck-ins. 
•  Looks of surprise and awe when I walk through the door each evening. 

 All in all, if these are my lists of misses and non-misses, I'm surely one lucky Mom. Luckier so for the chance to get away - in what I'm telling my kids, "Important Cathy & BJ time, b/c everyone needs their own time to be who they are, and we need a couple of days to be someone other than Mommy & Daddy so that we can come home and be better at being Mommy & Daddy for you."

 On that promise, my kids think this is the greatest idea. A weekend with Granny, who I'm sure will forego naps, offer endless desserts and who would never ever make gross things for dinner; and come Monday a much more patient Mommy and Daddy will return. What's not to love? And now, Simba...it is time to take your rightful place, amid your bursting back pack and travel sized liquid gels, with passport in hand and em barque on your greatest journey - the Grown Up Weekend.

Just Karate Chop the Hell Outta It...

One of my favorite times in my house is when I’m making dinner. I get home earlier than most, and this is my time with my kids. And by “with my kids” I mean – I send them out of my kitchen after my rounds of huggies are done. “Go on, go play so mommy can make something nutritious for your tummies.”

This is my zen time. I get to cook, usually uninterrupted by my three little angels. Our house has great acoustics, so I can usually hear most everything going on in the other room. Some moments are priceless gems as these siblings have a moment of shining glory and play together nicely, and some moments are well – moments of pure insanity. Mostly these moments rule. Many times, I let them play out and see how it unfolds – only stepping in when I sense danger with my Spidey-sense tingling. And some moments, the best moments are when I hear the most random and bizarre things being said in the other room that leave me with no clue as to what these little darlings are even thinking, let alone doing (please keep in mind that they are seven, five and three years old).

“I’m going to work, and when I get there I’ll have a briefcase.” Nice. I’m wondering if they even know what a briefcase is. I don’t think I know anyone who actually owns one…

“You can’t put that there, because then chocolate will get flung all over the ceiling.” Good thing I plan on painting the living room soon.

“I’m not going to hug you because T-Rex will bite your face off.” Oh my. That’s sorta disturbing.

“I’m just going to use my strainer as a tennis racquet and we’ll be able to play golf just fine.” Watch out Tiger Woods.

“Did you see how far that went? I didn’t know your baby could fly.” Thank God we’ve finally decided on not having any more kids.

“And then I karate chop the soup and you can have it for dinner.” That is precisely how Julia Childs would do it – she’d just karate chop the hell out of it.

We have an old house with creaky hardwood floors so most of these moments are followed by children scampering about and crawling on their knees – creaking away. The moments are gone in the blink of an eye, but some will always stick with me…Such as, “Smell my finger.” Seconds later when I looked in, there were no children in the room other than the one with the stink finger, and I decided it best to just not ask any questions…

Your Character Speaks Leaps & Bounds

A good friend recently told me that I needed to get down the story of my husband & I for my kids. I pondered. I guess I sometimes take for granted the specialness of the bond that he and I have. I sometimes fail to see what outsiders find amazing and beautiful. And sometimes, I completely revel in the fact that I married the best person I know. I guess that is our secret.

One of my favorite stories to retell about him is from when we were merely friends. In fact, I was, at the time – dating one of his buddies (that being how we met). He did something so small, as a friend, that has stuck with me all these years. It was a single act of kindness that spoke leaps and bounds about who he is – inside and out…as he would have done it for anyone.

Let’s flash back to 1997. I was a college student. We both were. Difference being, I was a poor and scared college student. My mother for reasons I’ll not go into didn’t approve of my going to “the lady doctor”. I found a way for my own health to see someone. I saved my small paychecks and drove myself to Planned Parenthood. They provided me with healthcare at a reasonable price when I wasn’t allowed to use her insurance to care for myself.

About a week after a routine visit, I received a phone call. Something was wrong. They needed to see me right away. That day; tomorrow wouldn’t do. I was terrified. It was a 40+ min. trip home to see the doctor. I was frightened and didn’t want to make it on my own. My roommates were working and wouldn’t call in to go with me. My boyfriend at the time had classes. I was beside myself. I had decided not to go. I was too afraid to – sounds completely stupid, I know, but I was 19 and 19 year olds are not known for their intelligent decision making.

I did the only thing I thought reasonable. I showed up at BJ’s apartment. I just needed to talk it out to someone, and everyone I had called prior didn’t have the time to listen to the blathering ramblings of their scared friend. BJ was there, as always. Running late to his class - a shocker. Rather than brushing me off, he sat down and listened earnestly. Then he took my hand and told me it was dangerous to avoid something I needed to do for myself just because I was fearful. He asked if he could go with me to keep me company on that long drive home.

Through my tears, I accepted his greatest gift – his offer of unquestioning friendship. [Forgive me, I get a little teary recalling how special that moment was]...OK, I'm alright.

In one of the most worrisome times in my short life, the people who should have been by my side were too busy with their own lives to help, but this guy, a friend of my boyfriend spoke volumes in his quiet presence about who he was.

Unassumingly, he sat beside me the whole car ride, listening to me ramble and snort and choke back sobs as I blew my nose and thought of all the doomsday what-ifs. He never called my fears silly or unreasonable. He just listened and was there without strings, because that is what friends do.

Upon arrival, he helped my inconsolable self check in. He held my hand in the lobby and patiently waited there while I was called back to be seen. And when I walked out, with results, nearly an hour later, he hugged me while I cried with relief that it wasn’t as bad as they had thought (and no where near what my over-imaginative mind had conjured up).

When we left, he actually thanked me for letting him be there for me. Can you believe that? He. Thanked. Me.

At the time, we were never more than friends, but I when I think back on things, I think that might have been the moment when I first fell in love with him.

One day when my kids are old enough to understand, the best piece of advice I’ll ever be able to give to them is: Marry the best person you know. That’s what I did. To date, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. And he’s still – 15 years later, the best person I know.