Vacation

We arrived at our vacation rental in the evening, and we were finally ready for bed around midnight.  We had spent some time getting familiar with our new surroundings, but I still wasn’t sure what supplies were provided and where they were stored.  I noticed that the toilet paper roll was almost empty.  But there was no replacement roll in the bathroom.  Maybe I could find one in the basement.  Or the pantry. But I was too tired to look.  I noticed the box of tissues that would be my backup plan, mentally put ‘toilet paper’ on my shopping list, and climbed into bed. 

In the morning, I stumbled into the bathroom, bleary-eyed, remembering a little too late that I needed to look for another roll.  I looked to the left, expecting an empty cardboard tube… or maybe a single square.  And there, mounted on the wall, was a brand new roll of toilet paper.  The old one was in the trash can, a few feet away.  I walked into the kitchen and thanked Jack for replacing it. “Where did you find the extra toilet paper?”  He looked at me blankly.  

It dawned on me slowly.  It wasn’t him.  It had to have been… a TEENAGE BOY?  One of my offspring took that initiative?  Looked in ANOTHER ROOM for a replacement?  When there was a box of tissues right there in the bathroom?  PRAISE JESUS.  

*****

In the morning, we grabbed a few bottles of water and slipped into our bathing suits. We were on the boat by 9am.  Nobody complained about the early wake-up as we pulled away from the dock.  I sat in my favorite seat in the bow of the boat.  Lee took the coveted spot next to me.  As we skimmed over the water, I glanced to my left.  His eyes were closed.  His hair was blowing in the wind.  The smile plastered on his face reminded me of afternoons at the playground; him pumping harder on the swings to see if he could get his toes to touch the trees.  God, I love that smile. 

This kid has been practicing the art of surliness for over a year.  He’s a master.  But every once in a while, he forgets that he’s trying to project coolness and misery.   I was busy cherishing that moment, when Jack decided he wanted to play.  He increased the speed and took a hard left.  This boat can practically do donuts in the water, and he was testing its limits.  Lee’s eyes popped wide open.  He glanced at me, wide-eyed.  But that look wasn’t fear.  It was pure joy.  He held on to the nearest handle, and his smile was replaced by the biggest grin I had ever seen.  He laughed out loud, and when the boat straightened out again, I could hear him singing along to the radio.  Bliss. 

*****

Jack and I wanted to do another cruise after lunch.  The kids wanted to hang back and watch a movie and make root beer floats.  So they stayed behind.  The adults threw a few drinks in the cooler and pushed away from the dock.  We putted around and admired the houses on the shoreline. We found the party cove and did some people watching.  The dark clouds started rolling in, and Jack opened up the throttle.  When we hit a wave and went airborne for a moment, I squealed with delight, like a little kid on an amusement park ride.  We docked the boat as the first raindrops started to fall. 

When we got back to the cabin, I hung my towel in the bathroom.  Right next to… wait.  What was that?  On the towel rod?  Lee’s bathing suit?  He remembered to hang it up?  Oh, my goodness.  After all these years.  It’s finally sunk in!  I smiled, congratulating myself that this kid might someday be a functioning adult.  

I checked in with Cal.  “Where’s your bathing suit?”  I fully expected to find it on the floor.  He looked up from his iPad, quizzically.  “Ummm… it’s in the laundry.  I did a load while you were gone.”  WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN?  

*****

But really, who are they?  It’s not a ridiculous question.  They’re growing and changing so fast.  Sometimes I notice Lee’s dry humor and perfect comedic timing and I think back to bungled punch lines and bad knock-knock jokes.  Or Cam offers to carry the groceries and I remember carrying all the bags AND him on my hip as I climbed the stairs to our old apartment. 

But the daily grind is a constant distraction.  At home, I remind them to do their laundry and walk the dogs and take their medicine.  I drive them to the mall and to football practice and to their friends’ houses.  I serve them dinner at the dining room table and they groan because I won’t just let them eat in their bedrooms.  They ask me for money and I dole out chores and more often than not, I forget to notice who they’re becoming. 

*****

So far, this vacation has been exactly what we all need.  With only one screen to look at, we all crowd together in the small living room.  The kids want to watch a horror movie.  I hate scary movies.  We tease each other back and forth for a bit, but they actually ask good questions.  They want to know what scares me. Psychological thriller type stuff freaks me out.  I can’t handle zombies or humanoid alien creatures.  I hate creepy-ness.  Dolls that come to life.  Child murderers.  You get the picture.  But I can handle suspense.  I can close my eyes for the gore.  So they choose something gory and suspenseful, and I agree to give it a try.  They agree to turn it off if I hate it.  

As it turns out, I didn’t hate it.  And I learned a few things I might not have otherwise noticed.  Lee gives a great teaser without sharing spoilers. He is stoic and observant and also incredibly funny.  He doesn’t mind the scary parts, but he warns me to close my eyes during the sex scenes.  Cal notices everything and asks really good questions.  He closes his eyes for the gory parts.  He wants to be fearless, but after the movie, he asks me to watch a little bit of a Disney cartoon “to get those images out of my head” and then he sleeps with the light on.  

*****

Our summertime vacations usually consist of camping trips with a group of friends.  Or a borrowed lake house with a few other families.  Or trips to visit family out of state.  Renting a place for just us is a new luxury.  Prompted by Covid and financed by newly terminated child support payments, it feels like a hard-earned reward.  I’m realizing that a vacation feels different when it’s just our little family.  

Don’t get me wrong.  I love those crazy, huge get-togethers with family and friends.  I love the loud, raucous camping trips and cramming too many people on a pontoon boat.  I love the late night laughter and guitars around a fire pit.  

But this year, the pace of this small family vacation feels just right.  Three of our five kids are technically adults, and I’m realizing that the clock is ticking on the time that I have with these last two. I’m grateful for the chance to peek in on them as they sleep in.  To hear their laughter on the water.  To sit quietly by the dock or roast marshmallows in the fire pit.  To watch stupid slasher movies and play cards and notice who they’re becoming.  

Because I won’t have unlimited chances, and I won’t get this time back.  Someday, they’ll be ignoring my texts from their own apartments.  They’ll be paying their own bills and managing their own schedules and securing their own transportation.  They’ll be hanging up their wet clothes and replacing the toilet paper roll and doing their laundry, and I won’t even be there to notice. 

And I want that for them.  OF COURSE I do.  After all, isn’t that the point? And I can just pray that I am able to keep knowing them… to keep learning about who they will become. 

Starting today. 

Grateful

I woke up before the rest of the family this morning.  I fed the dogs, let them out, watered the plants… my usual morning routine.  And it was so quiet and peaceful that I took a moment to sit in my comfy chair and just breathe.  I thought about yesterday and I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  It had been a great day.  We took some friends out on the boat.  We enjoyed the sunshine and the water and some laughs.  We came home early to host a small family get-together to celebrate Jack’s birthday.  All the kids were there.  That, in and of itself, was a blessing.  We had a delicious meal and birthday cake and some more laughs.  Be a spent the night.  Lee had a couple friends sleep over.  So I sat there, breathing deeply, smiling at the fact that my house is full of sleeping teenagers.  Bliss. 

This evening, we’re headed to a concert with some friends.  And the plan for today is simply to relax.  Read.  Write. Crochet.  Maybe make a big breakfast.  Oooh.  Breakfast.  That’s a good idea.  Let me go downstairs to the big freezer and see if we have some bacon for these kids.  So I took my bare feet and my gratitude into the basement.  

Squish.  My naked right foot met a splashy sponge of carpet at the bottom of the stairs.  Dammit. My blissful moment of gratitude was interrupted.  

I took stock of the situation.  The laundry room was flooded.  The water was seeping into the garage.  Half of the carpet in the finished basement was soaked.  I didn’t even make it to the freezer to check for bacon. 

And then, like the self-sufficient, independent woman I am, I walked right back up the stairs.  

“Jack?  Honey?  We’ve got a problem.”

He pulled himself out of bed and we both went to assess the damage.    I slipped into my rain boots and rubber gloves and broke out the mop and the wet vac.  He checked the washing machine and then the sink and finally, the main drain from the house.  Bingo.  That main drain clogged once before… five years ago.  The guy told us we’d probably have to do it again in about five years.  I should have marked my calendar.  

The good news is we know what the problem is.  The bad news is that this isn’t clean water.  It’s really gross, dirty water.  

Jack went out to his truck for his tools.  He blasted the drain and had me run the water again.  Problem solved.  For now.  We know it’s a temporary solution, but at least we can run the water again.  

And then, as the two of us bleached and vacuumed and mopped and scrubbed, I told him how the morning had started.  

All of that gratitude and peace.  And yeah, maybe it didn’t turn out to be the peaceful, quiet morning that I expected. 

But that gratitude?  That just got magnified.  I’m so grateful for a husband who knows how to blast a pipe.  I’m grateful to be married to a man who can handle literal crap without losing his crap.  I’m so thankful to love a man who will roll out of bed, roll up his sleeves, and face the hard stuff with me.   And I’m grateful that we can still manage to laugh together through the yucky stuff.  

Turns out, we did have bacon in the freezer.  And I’m grateful for that, too.    

Motorcycling

I’ve had a motorcycle for over 20 years now.  God, that makes me feel old.  But thinking about that first bike brings me back, too.  It helps me remember who I used to be, back when I thought of myself as a badass. Over the past few years, I got away from riding.  I was too busy parenting and teaching and cooking and cleaning.  And riding just felt so selfish.  

How could I deliberately make a choice to participate in something so dangerous?  My children depend on me.  My husband depends on me.  How could I put myself in harm’s way, knowing how much I was needed? 

Guilt is a tricky, terrible thing. It can make us ignore our instincts.  It can make us suppress our needs.  It can make us contort ourselves to fit in a box defined by someone else’s expectations.  It pushed me to stop doing something that I deeply loved. 

*************

This past spring, one of our amazing guidance counselors invited me to be a guest on her school-wide talk show. She interviews teachers in the building, adds some music and bitmojis and a laugh track, and then shares it with the kids.  It’s creative and fun and I was excited to be a part of it.  

There was one part of this interview that really struck me as I watched.  She asked me to tell the audience something that would surprise them about me, and I talked about riding a motorcycle.  I’m not what most people picture when they picture a biker.  I’m a teacher and a mom.  I’m in a book club.  I crochet.  I ring in the church bell choir.  When you look at me, you might predict those things.  They’re not surprising.  But a motorcycle?  Well, that’s interesting.  Good answer.  Surprise the kids.  Check.

But then, my guidance counselor friend pushed me a little bit more.  She asked me WHY I love riding.  I was surprised at the question.  I paused for a moment, and took a breath.

And then something really cool happened.  I watched myself on the screen; my face lit up.  My eyes opened wide.  I swayed my body as I described leaning into a turn.  I smiled as I talked about the smells and the sensations and the focus of riding.  I explained that I can’t think about anything else while I’m on my bike.  The simple act of riding takes ALL of me.  I’m scanning for obstacles.  I’m using both hands and both feet and my core to control the ride.  I’m hyper aware of my surroundings.  I can’t worry about what I need at the store, or what papers I should be grading.  I can’t think about my to-do list.  I need to be entirely immersed in the present moment. 

It’s a weird sort of meditation.  Block out everything else.  Focus on the present.  Use all of your senses.  Badass meditation, if you will.  

That very day, after the interview, I got on my bike.  I had reminded myself how healing it is.  How restorative it feels.  I leaned a little further into my turns.  I breathed a little deeper when I smelled the fresh cut grass.  I promised myself to get the bike tuned up and ride more often. 

You might think that’s ridiculous. That’s fine.  Most of my family and friends think it’s crazy, too.  They think it’s too risky.  Too dangerous.  Irresponsible.  Some of them laugh at the idea of me on a motorcycle. They really just don’t get it. 

But whether you find your solace in a saddle, like me, or whether your passion lies elsewhere, I hope you do have something in your life that makes you light up like that.  I hope you have something that makes you feel whole and rejuvenated and just a little bit badass.