phases

it's been about a week and i think i'm ready to discuss last weekend's events. (i think.) let me start by saying last saturday at 10am i was one bloody mary deep, floating around a lake in a kayak (in my pajamas, mind you) with a beer between my legs...this saturday at 10am i was at a pumpkin patch slash petting zoo birthday party with my two kids. i was feeding a goat. so you see, sometimes parenting is about perspective. would i rather be paddling around a (quiet) lake in the early morning hours...rather than smelling goat shit? sure. however, watching my two children have fun makes the goat shit option almost more appealing. (almost.) moreover, when you do actually get a break from the madness...you go through a coupla phases. (at least i do.) the first phase is what i call the freedom phase. it happens when you actually drive away towards your destination and your children are safely clothed in the care of someone else. you have a moment (at least butch and i did) of acting like mel gibson in braveheart. we rolled down the windows of the car, turned the music up and i swear on the tip of both of our tongues was, "they can take our lives, but they'll never take...OUR FREEDOM!!!" ok, so it's not that dramatic, but almost. when you don't have to provide 24 hour care (for the whole weekend) for the people you call your offspring...it's pretty awesome. (at first.) my dad was in charge of the kids when we left and they were both sleeping. he asked me what the chances were of carrie waking up with shit in her pants. (i told him pretty high.) he told me he was going to hose her down if that happened. i knew that wasn't true, but i would be lying if i said i wasn't praying for poop. (please!)

after a friday night of campfires and fun filled events, all participants of chet's place weekend extravaganza woke up ready to indulge in the hair of the dog the next day. (hence, the bloody mary's aforementioned.) there were 7 long time friends (i'm talking, since kindergarten some of them), and 3 of their significant others. (10 assholes, total.) i often wonder how some of us have remained friends for so long, but as one of my compadre's puts it...no one else can stand us. (true.) i am lucky to have married "one of the group," because lord knows i would hold my breath if i had to bring a person of interest into the melee. at one point one of these 'outsiders' turned to me and said (over a game of shuffleboard, beers in hand), "so is this what we are going to do all weekend?!" well...if you are referring to drinking, laughing, games and nonsense...yes. (sorry to disappoint.) growing up in a small town, we are all no stranger to simply enjoying each other's company. give us a campfire, a case of beer and each other...and we are good to go. however, if you happen to throw in a rocking chair...the boys will perform stunts late night, such as sitting (and rocking) in the chair over a live fire. (impressive.) the next cabin over was another group of friends, that were exactly like us...but about 20 years older. (fun, fun people.) they joined us for most of our "activities." however, after one night of mayhem, i moved into phase two of operation no kids for the weekend. phase two includes me actually starting to miss my children. when i woke up that morning my inner mel gibson was no longer yelling, i rolled over and said to butch, "i kinda miss them." he said, "i'm sorry, but i can't share that sentiment just yet." (ok then.)

saturday included throwing our group out into the general population. by general population i mean attending an event called "frontier days" at a local bar. this bar was so far out of the way that we all just hopped in the back of a pickup truck and took several dirt roads to get there. (yeehaw.) when we arrived, it felt like we went back in time a few (hundred) years. there were bands, flags, and hillbillies a plenty. (it was glorious.) the beer was cheap, the bands were bangin', and the ambiance was beautiful. now when we arrived, please keep in mind that we had been boozin' since the early morning bloody mary's. most of us were dressed in flannel and boots...except for my husband who thought a penn state jersey was much more appropriate. let's just say he really "stood out"...people started referring to him as the "penn state guy" and when he started busting (several) moves on the dancefloor (grass), he drew some (a lot of) attention. i'm not sure where some of these moves came from, as i have known him since 6th grade (and attended several dances with him) and have never seen them. my guess is the beer and lake breeze had a lot to do with it, but he looked like a drunk puppet...with god pulling the strings. his arms and legs were flailing about in an unnatural fashion and he seemed to have no control over his extremities. people thought this was hilarious. (as did i.) i guess he can check "dancing like a drunk puppet to country music" off of his bucket list. (score!)

chet's place.

right before we all climbed back in the pickup truck to come back to the cabin, butch spotted a mechanical bull nearby. (oh boy.) the guy was just setting up and warren wandered over and asked him for a ride. the operator had a waiver he had to sign. now remember, motor skills were compromised at this point. one of our group members was nearby and witnessed him grab the waiver, put a large check mark over the fine print and then "sign" (using that loosely) his name. on the line where he was supposed to put the date, he wrote..."TODAY." then turned and laughed like a hyena. pretty sure if he broke his back or something on that ride, the waiver would not hold up in court. that's probably a good thing, as he was in no shape to be riding a goddamn bull. (mechanical or otherwise) i was not witness to the ride, but i'm sure it was shortlived and painful to watch. he also threw his phone in the grass nearby in an attempt to not break it. (more about that later.) as most of us waited in the back of the pickup, we wondered what the hell was taking the rest of the group so long. i had no idea that my husband choosing to ride a mechanical bull was holding everyone up. however, when he hopped into the truck and told us the story...i was not surprised in the least. truth be told, none of us really remember the ride back to the cabin down that long dirt road. at that point, we were feeling no pain. i do remember, however, that i was moving into phase three of operation no kids for the weekend. phase three is where your heart starts to ache and shitty diapers don't seem so bad. (i call this the wtf phase.)

sunday morning i woke up and i shit you not, i felt like i had been through a war. instead of fighting with weapons, i was under an attack with alcohol. now i know, it is no secret that i enjoy a cocktail or five every now and again. i happen to enjoy a glass (bottle) of wine during girls night with fen or a bunch of beers accompanied by a wings and a football game. i mean, i'm no stranger to the sauce. i will say, though...i am not good as i once was. (thank you, toby keith.) when i tell you that my internal organs (namely my liver and kidneys) were screaming that morning, i am being serious. (it was not good.) warren was complaining of his whole body hurting (bull riding was a bad idea), and also mentioned that he may have "lost" his phone. phase four was setting in and i just wanted to get the hell home to my kids. we left pretty early in the morning and the ride back to reality was daunting. my parents mentioned via phone that they had purchased tickets to a fall festival at a local tree farm. since we weren't around all weekend, we felt that we should go. as fen put it, "your parents are sadists! why would they get those tickets knowing you are nursing a major hangover?!" (i don't know.) so before packing up the car to head back to our home state...we had to deal with slides, train rides, and a ball pit. i was happy to be back with my kids, but organ failure was eminent and i really didn't want to die. moreover, the three hour car ride that followed is three hours of my life i would like back. both kids wanted to punish us for leaving them for the weekend (naturally), so neither of them slept. they took turns crying, laughing, yelling, and fighting. (fun!) in the middle of all this, butch turned to me and said, "....and you missed them." (i did!)

anyway, i guess the moral of the story is this (and always boils down to this): the experience of parenting is a far cry from what i thought it would be. i believe that when you have your first child, you lose a part of yourself, but as your children grow and become more independent you slowly get that part of yourself back. (like pieces of a puzzle coming back together.) some of those pieces were resurrected at chet's place, because breaks from parenting madness are very necessary. however, hightailing it to the woods for a weekend bender more than once a year is not recommended ever. (my organs agree.) kids can have you quoting braveheart...and make your heart ache all in one weekend. parenting is not for the fainthearted. this all being said, i very much prefer floating on a quiet pond with a beverage between my legs rather than feeding a goat on a saturday morning. however, hearing ella and carrie laugh their heads off as the smelly creature licked their hands was pretty awesome. pretty sure the fact that parenting can almost make you prefer farm animals to lazy mornings kayaking around a lake is pretty powerful stuff. although i still could've done without the smell of goat shit, because that's not good for anyone involved.