Big Bear

Big Bear Lake, California

March 2012

An anniversary trip, a weekend getaway, a still point in the turning world.

{ Bill spent a lot of time with that map. Clearly. }

As always I wish I'd taken more pictures, and I hope that no matter how long I live I can still hold on to every single memory. Between the hot tub beneath the stars, and air that smelled like Christmas and bacon, I came away absolutely certain that Big Bear should be my home.
We did everything, and we did nothing.
Our first night there we ordered pizza, explored our cabin and navigated the hot tub on the deck outside.  The next day we slid on inner tubes Penguin style down a snowy mountain for hours, We walked all over town, then we laid on the couch watching T.V., before having our final dinner in town at a haunted, 1940's style restaurant. One morning we waited over an hour for the best {and biggest} breakfast I've ever had in my life, and the next we had muffins in bed while we watched the news together.
Whether we were lounging around the cabin in pajamas getting our cuddle on, or exploring every possible inch of Big Bear, playfully pushing each other back and forth as we walked down the curvy mountain roads, nothing else mattered. We were happy, we were in love, and we were blissfully lost in our own world, as if that little 12 mile town was our own personal universe.

For one weekend, I think it actually was.

Take Me With You

We could go to Mexico. Stand waist deep in the ocean and kiss the salt water off each other's lips. Eat camarones al ajillio in a little cantina on the beach with our feet in the sand. Drink tequila on red tile patios and sway together under the moonlight to the distant sound of a mariachi band, with our sunburned noses and your wide smile.

We could go to San Francisco. Drink coffee in the foggy morning air, still lingering in our pajamas over our breakfast on our hotel balcony, talking about how beautiful the hills were, all rolling down toward the coast. We could ride the trolley and see Alcatraz and hold hands as you lead me down the beach.

We could go to New Orleans and wander the streets in the French Quarter, me in my white dress and you in your blue shirt, and we'd quietly adore all the brick buildings and colorful storefronts. We could buy paper flowers from the street vendors, scented with incense and perfume to keep bad spirits away as we wander through the ancient graveyards and feel so mortal beside the crumbling mausoleums.  At night when the streets fill with music we could go out dancing, and we'd laugh and spin and kiss in the blur of the colored lights, full of spicy Cajun food and wonder and love.

We could go to a cabin someplace cold, where we would lose ourselves in the romance and the bliss of being somewhere quiet and still together. We could walk through the snow until my nose was too cold and our cheeks were too pink, and then find our way back to our fire and our thick rug, where we'd share a blanket and let all the sweetness and the tenderness wrap us up, until we were so warm.

We could go to Ohio....and.....be in Ohio.

It doesn't matter where we go, where we end up, or how we get there. 

Just take me with you, wherever you're wandering away to, and it will become a place that belongs to us. That speaks our names whenever we go back there, and greets us with so many sweet memories of the love we felt, and the small moment in time where we escaped, ran away, and found a haven in each other, and adventure in the simplest of places.

To Missouri, Illinois, Michigan, and back again Pt. Two

So, when we last left off, we were all crammed into a car, with four kids under the age of 7 and 3 very tired adults. The Jedi had pooped his pants, and we had been driving for about 4 hours from Kansas City, Missouri to Greenville Illinois.

At this point, the kids (well, my kids anyway) had pretty much settled down in the back, and were doing pretty well. But The Roomie's poor sister was in the middle seat with her 2 year old and her 2 week old, trying as hard as she could to maintain her sanity and keep her kids entertained. She sang them songs, we listened to the radio, and she let all the kids play Angry Birds on her phone. What a saint. I don't think I've ever had 1/4 of the patience she showed on that long long drive.

Finally, at 10:30 that night, we rolled into Greenville and relief filled the van-or at least the hearts of every adult in that van. We were finally there. But, the first day of our trip was gone, and we'd spent it primarily in the car.

We came in, got hugs all around, introduced everyone to my very tired, very shy children, and put all the babies to bed. It had been a long day.

By the next morning when we woke up, The Jedi was being exceptionally crabby, cranky and difficult. Then, he peed his pants. Having accidents is pretty unusual for The Jedi, who has been potty trained for the last year, and at this point, with two accidents under his belt and a very bad attitude, I was getting concerned. When nap time rolled around, he asked to be put down for a nap. Now I know something is wrong. But what? He looked ok....maybe just tired? Maybe just the change of his environment? Maybe....but maybe not.

3 hours later, when he woke up from his nap, he woke up screaming. I mean, balling, screaming, crying his head off, and he had to pee. I took him to the bathroom, and realized his armpits were blazing hot. When he sat down on the potty and started going, he cried and said it hurt. Thats when I noticed how weird his pee smelled. He had a UTI, I just knew it. To be sure, I called Anne Marie, our naturopathic doctor and my preceptor, and she confirmed my suspicion. Lot's of Vitamin C, lots of water, bathroom breaks every half hour, cranberry juice, and baking soda mixed into his water or some ice cream to neutralize the acid in his urine. With any luck, we could get through this without antibiotics.

The next three days, from Friday to Sunday night were filled with a lot of sitting around with a sick, cranky and hurting baby, watching Harry Potter movies, reading, sleeping and keeping him hydrated. You'd think it'd be easy. Just drink this EmergenC all day, which he loves. Eat this ice cream with a tiny dash of baking soda in it. Nope! Any food or drink that you tell a child to eat or drink, even if it's their absolute favorite, you will be met with nothing but stubborn obstinance.

We couldn't go anywhere, and we couldn't do much with him because any physical activity would spike his fever up to 102 or higher, and he had to have constant access to a bathroom within 30 seconds of realizing he had to go. That pretty much rules out the fair in St. Louis, the zoo, hiking, nature walking, lake trips and anything else we had planned. For three days.

Finally by Monday he had turned the corner, and we were able to take him out for the 4th of July celebrations on the park nearby with the rest of The Roomie's family.

At the time, I wasn't much looking forward to going, to be honest. I am not crazy about 4th of July, and I think part of that is because it's my dad's favorite holiday, and he's always forced me to make a huge deal out of it, whether I wanted to or not, and if it didn't go the way he wanted it to, there was emotional hell to pay.

But, alas, there were about 10 other people who overruled me, and the kids wanted to go, so off we went. The park was something out of a movie. Some stereotypical, movie quality American 4th of July celebration. Admission was free, the park was beautiful, and we got a spot right on the edge of the lake, right across from where they shoot fireworks off the bank on the other side. The food was cheap, and delicious. About $10.00 to feed me, the kids and The Roomie. Not bad!

The kids got sparklers, and were so excited they were like horses twitching at the gate, waiting for fireworks. Finally it got dark. Everyone started cheering, and clapping, and they signaled the start of the show. We all lay down on our blanket, and there it was. Right over head, as close as I've ever been to fireworks, they started exploding in beautiful bursts of colorful light. They sparkled, and shimmered. They turned colors, from blue to green to red to gold. They made huge clouds of brilliant light, then faded into dust and smoke, leaving silhouettes of what they once were on the inky black night sky. The kids snuggled close, and I watched each explosion light up their faces. Halfway through the show, I hear Tiny sigh, and whisper, maybe only to herself "I am never going to forget this. I hope I never forget this."

And in that moment, all the flying, the driving, the pooped in pants, the peed on bedsheets, the fevers, the strange beds, the lack of privacy, all of it, was so inexplicably worth it.

I won't ever forget it either.

To Missouri, Illinois, Michigan, and back again Pt. One

We got home today from our incredibly long, brave and ambitious vacation around....well, the entire midwest it seems.

The trip was long, especially for a vacation with two small kids, totaling 11 days.

Eleven days away from our home

Eleven days away from our beds

Eleven days away from the kids normal routine

Eleven days with no privacy

Eleven days with someone else's family who, to put it simply, is nothing like anything I am used to

Eleven days in very. very. very. small towns.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

The trip was good, don't get me wrong, and I am very very glad that we went. The kids don't get out much, and this was an awesome experience for them. They got to see and do a lot of stuff that they have never seen or done before, and I am sure they made many many new happy memories. But their kids. They don't know what went into that awesome time they had. What it took to make that happen.

I do.

So let me tell you....

Our story starts on Wednesday, the 29th of June. We're supposed to leave that night, and since we're flying on The Roomie's flight benefits, we're flying standby, which means we have to pick a flight with the most open seats to try to get on, show up, and hope we do actually get on.

The problem here, is that the flight we were planning to take, the flight we've been watching for a week, the flight that has been wide open, is suddenly full. No, overfull. Overbooked, completely. Well...fuck. So we start looking at other flights. Maybe we can fly into Indiana, or Chicago, or somewhere, anywhere we can get a flight to. It's all full.

There is one flight that looks halfway decent, and it only has 3 open seats. There are 4 of us. It flies into Kansas City, Missouri, where luckily The Roomie's sister lives, so she can pick us up and take us into Greenville the next day. The flights a long shot, but we try anyway. We race to the airport, haul the kids in, get their hopes up, deal with their bubbling over excitement and borderline crack addicted monkey level of hyperness, and run to the gate, hoping we can get a seat for all of us, but knowing we might not.

There we are, standing at the gate, and The Roomie tells us there are three seats. One for me, and my kids. He can't get on this flight, but maybe, (MAYBE?!) he can get on one to St. Louis and meet us in Missouri. Maybe. Ummmmm so you're asking me and the kids to get on a plane without you, fly to Missouri and chill with your family, just hoping you can get a flight out? Awesome. So the kids and I are moving toward the gate, looking back at The Roomie all sad and dejected, while I freak out because I suddenly realize: I am going to be flying alone with two kids. ALONE. Sure, I know it's possible, but I am not very good at traveling. I am sort of travel retarded, and this is a huge step for me...two kids, one airplane, alone. Shit! We get on, and the plane is packed. They put us (of course) in the very back, so we have to bump and shove past a completely full flight of people, me carrying all three bags, and trying to keep my kids from knocking some helpless old lady down or stepping on someone's luggage.

Finally we sit down, and what do you know? There, in the front of the plane, is The Roomie, loading his bag in the overhead compartment, and taking the very last seat in the front of the plane. Hallelujah! Somehow, a friend of his who works the ticket counter got him a freakin seat, and my life is saved. I am literally still in shock that I didn't burst into song, I was so happy and relieved.

Once the plane took off though, I was still sitting there with two kids by myself. The Jedi was beyond excited, and could not resist playing with, pushing on, kicking and banging the back of the seat in front of us, occupied by a poor lady who was trying so hard to sleep and not turn around and smack him. By the time we landed, there were safety pamphlets and magazines all over the floor, 3 empty water bottles, 2 empty juice cups, half a personal pizza and most of my sanity on the floor in front of our seats, and I was in tears.

The next day, we all packed up and got ready to go into Greenville with The Roomie's sister and her two little ones. And when I say little, I mean tiny. Her daughter is two this month and her son....her son was two weeks old. Yeah. One car, four kids between two weeks and seven years old, and 3 adults. Her husband had to stay behind to finish a job he was working repairing a roof.

No problem! I think. We got this! Then The Roomie looks at me and says "It's only a five hour drive to Greenville." ONLY?! Keep in mind, Roomie has no kids of his own, and has never traveled with young kids that weren't his siblings. This should be a real treat for him....

The trip to Greenville wasn't so bad, except that it took more like seven hours, there was lots of crying and tantrum throwing, and when we stopped at a McDonald's in Boonville Missouri, The Jedi shit his pants.

There was a moment, while standing in the Men's room in McDonald's, cleaning my 3 year old sons shit covered ass, underwear and pants, crying and trying to keep him from screaming and throwing a tantrum, where I wondered if this trip was a little too ambitious for us...

Once back on the road, we cranked the music and hit the gas. We were so ready to get there.

Missing Home!

The trip to Greenville has been fun, interesting, educational and full of new experiences for the kids. Plus, it's been a solid week of me looking like Don King because of the humidity. Fun stuff.

The trip is drawing to a close, and we are heading to Michigan tonight for the last leg of this adventure, before coming back home to Phoenix.

I have had a lot of fun, even though traveling with kids is never NOT stressful, and I feel really happy that the kids have had such a good time, but I definitely am pretty ready to come home.

I miss my bed.

I miss the office where Anne Marie and I get to hide from the world and geek out over birthy stuff two days a week.

I miss my fuzzy pink blanket.

I miss my own shower with my own soap, shampoo and conditioner.

I miss my lame little routine, and my lunch date every week with Meghands.

I miss Batman, and Zombie Justin, and time alone.

Traveling is awesome, vacations kick ass, but there really is no place like home.

Off to Michigan we go, then dear condo: here I come!!

P.S. Wish me luck getting through a 12 hour drive with 4 kids.