keep on holding tight

This time of year, as I wrote about last year (and the year before) is all wonderful and summery, but with an undercurrent of dread.  For the last several years, I've let the kids fly on their own to go visit Grandmom and Granddad in North Carolina before our annual summer vacation.  Even though summer is off and running and we're enjoying it to its fullest extent, occasionally my mind goes to the fact that in a few short weeks, I'll be putting a subset of my kids on a plane.  That will fly in the sky.  Without me on it.

And this year is different.  For the first time, it's not a subset, but a full set.  The three most precious little people in my world will look back and wave, board a plane and happily take off into the wild blue yonder.  Fearless and filled with a spirit for adventure, they'll speed away.

I already know this will be the worst two hours of my life and I'm already thanking my lucky stars that it's only two hours.  For someone who likes to hold the reigns, this is the epitome of letting go.  Once they're there, I'll be fine.  I love that they're going.  That they have these memories with their grandparents who live far away.  That they don't even entertain hesitation - they just fly.

Even though he waivered a bit in the begining, I'm sure Finn is ready.  However, I see something in his eyes when we talk about going, the logistics, what it will be like.  He looks at me as if to say, "Will you be okay?"  Even if I've said nothing at all, this little old man of mine knows how I'm feeling.

Last week, while walking around the Naperville Riverwalk, Finn grabbed my hand as usual.  Whenever my grip loosened, he repeated, "Hold on tight.  I like it when you keep on holding tight."  And since then, anytime we're near each other, he grabs my hand and says the same thing.

While watching a movie on Friday night, he took my hand and placed it on his chubby, dirty, boy foot.  He pressed down.  "Hold tight.  I like it when you keep on holding tight."

Either he's going to miss me or he knows I'm going to miss him.  I suppose both are true and he's easing us both through by reminding us to keep on holding tight.  I so love this little dude.

go get scared

"Do one thing every day that scares you." - Eleanor Roosevelt

I love a good quote.  In days that I can barely remember my own name in the midst of a merciless schedule, a good quote sticks, moves me and keeps me focused.  I'm sure that has something to do with how important the written word is in my life; when I see a few strung together in a particularly striking way, they have an affect, period.  The one above is a personal favorite.

Let's face it, in average days of carpooling, schedule maintenance, appointment remembering, home management and for many of us, work life, there are too few opportunities to really challenge our limits.  Days melt together, with sore butts from bleacher seating and lots of mind-wracking to get us and our loved ones to the right places at the right times.  There's little time to stand on the proverbial edge and freak ourselves out.

But last Sunday, we did.  Well, Mike actually loved every minute; I'm not sure this qualifies as a "scare" for him.  I, on the other hand, screamed and swore like a truck driver for nearly two straight hours as we rode the Tail of the Dragon through the Smoky Mountains.  Top down and flying at high speed, we experienced what I can only describe as the longest, most thrilling roller coaster ride imaginable.  Only eleven miles in length, the lead up and tail end made it feel much longer.  I was white-knuckled from beginning to end, wondering what I might look like in the professional photographs being taken all along the 11-mile stretch and if the actual explicative I was emitting would be visible on camera. 

This is the same stretch of road that my father-in-law, an expert motorcyclist, drove a few years ago.  He had an accident and miraculously only broke ribs and some pieces off his Harley.  So we knew it was dangerous territory that lied ahead.  We saw crazy wrecks, took corners at top speeds with absolutely no vision of what existed beyond the bend.  We turned 318 times, abruptly.  We flew through the most beautiful mountain forests.  We stopped three times at scenic overlooks to let a terrified minivan driver get further out in front of us, so that we could obtain the FULL EXPERIENCE. And although it might be the most irresponsible thing we could do as parents, we are considering driving home this way from North Carolina in August.  Our youth-filled, fearless kids would probably think the Tail of the Dragon is the coolest thing ever.

Imagine this at 50 mph!

Once we hit rock bottom, the metaphor of the whole experience hit home.  I was thrilled that we survived.  (Mike was just thrilled!)  I placed total trust in my Mario Andretti husband and he delivered (as if there were any doubt.)  We accomplished something totally amazing and out-of-the-box and had an experience like never before.  Even though thoroughly freaked out, we emerged victorious.

(Thanks to www.killboy.com for this awesome image!)

We must remember this feeling.  This free, we-can-do-anything-and-create-our-own-experience-in-this-life-of-ours feeling.  No one else is responsible for what we do, how we grow and what we take away.  Scaring ourselves, catapulting ourselves forward in every way, surviving our fears and then thriving?  We all need just a little bit of that.  Every day.

vacation evaporation

I swear that we were just on a gorgeous mountainside in Asheville, North Carolina in the amazing-in-every-way Grove Park Inn.  I'm sure that we were wandering the stone halls of the Biltmore Estate, drinking indescribably delicious rosemary peach lemonade at the Tupelo Honey Cafe (more on this soon - and yes, I will write a whole post about this lemonade) and taking pictures of things like wild bamboo and winding country roads.  I'm positive that we ate really late dinners and even woke around 9 AM once (oh, the joy of seeing those numbers when I opened my eyes!)  I know all this is true with my rational mind, but the feeling of it is gone, evaporated into memory, where barely any remnants remain.

That's the case with vacations I guess.  Especially coming home to the dreaded end of May, where schedules new and old collide in some kind of laughable matrix of confusion. I don't know why I expected the vacation vibe to continue.  But I did.  And it didn't.

I was so ready to come home and see the kids.  I loved every second as they ran into my arms at school and the bus stop; but reality bites at times, and within moments, life was right back to normal, with all it's ups and downs in tow.  Just the way we love it, I suppose.

We may only have the chance to exchange this reality for the other in brief snippets every few years, so even though it has evaporated, I'll keep my mental stronghold focused tight on the 80+ hours Mike and I had to be grown ups, eat amazing food, talk, dream, live off the grid and the strangling schedules we keep, and reconnect.  And the next time someone pukes in the middle of the night or talks back in that oh-so-wonderful-way, I'll return to that one tiny spot in my mind where the vacation vapors still linger, to keep me going until next time.

Thanks to the best extended family on the planet for making this much needed trip our reality.  We love you beyond words!

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