Not so tough after all

I sent these two away today. 

They went camping with my sister so Brice and I have a whole week to ourselves. The longest time we have ever had together alone in the ten years since being married. I have known about this impending trip for months. Long before we packed up our lives into boxes with the promise of a better life. Long before that promise melted into homelessness. Long before the heartache and stress resulted into the miracle of finding our dream home. It was a beacon in the night. It was the promise that if we could hold on for just a little bit longer we would be rewarded with sleeping in and eating ice cream for dinner. As life always seems to do time ticked along and this morning I found myself no longer holding on for a few weeks longer but for a few hours as I over packed my boys just in case they had a chance encounter with a bear and needed the twenty seven pairs of underwear I packed to turn not only into a tourniquet but also a gurney to carry the injured out of the woods.

I realized that Thing one somehow became a boy which really is the politically correct way to say he is gross.  I of course have evidence to back up this claim. This is the conversation I had with him.

I packed flushable kandoo wipes- you know the ones with a grotesque picture of a frog wiping his proverbial can. This elicits a lot of questions that I will never have answers to.  Really, think about it, a frog delicately placing a wipe over his slimy fingers to protect them because apparently amphibians have an aversion to the poo finger, Kermit the frog damn sure never sang about that one. But I digress.  Thing one asked why I was packing them and I delicately answered so he could wipe his can. But lets be honest I probably was a whole lot more crass about it. He accepted this answer then saw me packing soap to which he asked what I was packing that for. I again answered to wash his can. He looked at me and without a hint of sarcasm asked do I have to do both? I mean can’t I just choose between the two? Yep that is my super hygienic 9 year old. Needless to say suddenly the idea of escaping from him for a whole week got even better and I added to my growing list that I wouldn’t have to make comments about stench or why gas clouds at the dinner table are not acceptable.

The boys were super naughty and by the time we got to the drop off point Brice and I were practically dizzy with the prospect of all the things that we were going to do. We patiently waited while the truck took forever to pack. We diligently loaded alongside in hopes of speeding up the process and I even sped across town to pick up pizza to feed to the campers to expedite the departure. And then life as it so often does stopped me dead in my tracks and taught me I am not ready for reality.

We said our good byes, kissed our tow headed children and cheerily packed ourselves into the car. I was doing the typical one last thing and don’t forget we love you out the window as Brice was cranking the steering wheel to drive us to freedom. I told thing one to have fun and he flopped his half eaten pizza slice around in one hand and went to lift his other fist in triumph when all of a sudden his boy face turned into a grimace and he started to cry in the middle of his war cry. My mom heart immediately broke and I to began to cry. Luckily my future is so bright I wear shades and thus my secret was not exposed. I tried to sound confident as I began to list why he was going to have fun and my oversized man child climbed into my lap and continued to sob. I am sure we looked ridiculous. He started listing logical explanation as to why he couldn’t go the top being that a whole week away from home, even if they are dotted with pocket knife use and swimming was much too long to be away. Eventually I got him to believe me when I said it would be fine and we tried the departure again.  As soon as we pulled away I turned to Myers for comfort and that is when I realized that he too was crying. It is funny how your heart can simultaneously break and soar at the same time. In the middle of my torment I was reminded how lucky I am to have a giant man who loves his boys so much that to see them ache makes his heart ache equally.  

For the record I did have ice cream for dinner but ironically it was more for comfort than for celebration. Who knows maybe I do have a shot of mother of the year after all.