Jul
8
New vistas
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I recently did some tongue-lolling, finger-counting math and realized that when Riley was about the same age Dylan is now—a little older, but not much—I was newly pregnant. I found this so hard to believe I actually had to go back to my own blog to check the dates because surely I was forgetting a year or two in there? I mean, there’s no way in hell I actually got pregnant on purpose when I was already spending my every waking hour chasing a squirrel-cheeked WMD around, right? But it’s true, I DID, and not only that, but it took me several months months to get knocked up, so the even crazier part is that we started gunning for WMD #2 when Riley was, like, barely walking.
I’m not sure why I can barely wrap my head around this concept. Maybe it’s that life with two kids is so much harder than one, or maybe it’s that I know we’re done now and the entire notion of pregnancy has moseyed back into the realm of Oh HELL No, but looking back on that choice from this perspective is like fondly recalling that one time I decided to climb Everest. Without oxygen. Naked.
Which is to say, I can’t believe my husband wasn’t kissing my ass every second of every day during that second pregnancy (theme: No One Gives a Shit About Your Myriad Physical Complaints This Time), because that was some hardcore shit right there. If I think raising a tiny demented toddler is brain-searingly difficult now, I’ve totally blocked out the experience of doing so while my body was also busy, you know, creating an entirely new human being. I never properly appreciated my ability to multi-task, nor did I take the time to congratulate myself for surviving what was surely a near-deadly combination of life’s blessings.
I’m sure there will come a point when I miss having little babies, and maybe even wistfully long for the riotous flatulence of pregnancy, but these days I am leaning closer towards the sweet nature of my boys growing up. I feel like I keep getting a glimpse of what’s to come, and there’s this whole amazing new landscape to be discovered. If it wasn’t exactly the easiest path to get here, I’m still so glad we took it. I’m sure it will always be hard, I’m sure there will be a thousand new challenges in our future. But for every moment thus far that’s shaken me to my core with happiness, I suspect the best times are still to come.
Jul
6
July 4th getaway
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Campfires, salamanders, skip-flat rocks, unwashed hair, musty sleeping bags, fast-melting ice cream bars, cousins-aunts-uncles-grandparents-friends, wet towels, waterbirds, plastic shovels, creaking boat oars, the startle-flop of a hooked fish, smelly lifejackets, crispy molten-centered marshmallows, evening bats, lingering gunpowder smoke. Summer!
On the way to the Vincent Creek/Smith River area last Thursday night. We drove down to the cabin from Seattle, left Dylan with his grandparents, re-packed the truck and headed out another 45 minutes to get to the campsite.
The official campground was full and we were thinking well shit when JB spotted a tiny drivable spot that led down to the water.
It was shallow enough to cross and we—okay, mostly JB—shlepped all our camping gear over to a beautiful stretch of rocks on the other side of the river. (I know, right? Hello beefcake.)
Totally secluded area, gorgeous scenery, child losing his mind with the joy of his first camping trip. My god, what more could a person ask for?
OH THAT’S RIGHT: MARSHMALLOWS.
If you don’t burn your marshmallow to a flaming ball of sugary death, peel off the crispy blackened carcinogenic layer, eat it, then burn the insides at least two more times, I don’t even want to know you.
JB found a bunch of these creepy motherfuckers and proceeded to freak us right the hell out by picking them up with his actual fingers.
Later, Riley and I pretended to be crawdads. PINCH PINCH PINCH OH HO HO I GOT YOU HA HA HA listen it’s funny if you’re three.
I wish Dylan was in this photo, but I don’t wish that hard enough to second-guess our decision not to bring him, because this would have been an entirely different experience had we been chasing a toddler around the rocks/water/open flames the whole time. Next year, little D.
We came back to the cabin on Friday, and that’s where we stayed for the rest of the weekend. JB and his brother carried out their annual Boomapalooza over the river, and it was awesome as always.
Riley stuck it out for the small fireworks . . .
. . . although he wasn’t too happy about them. Once the big ones started, he assumed his usual position inside the cabin with Grandma, who is another member of Team I Hate Loud-Ass Explosions.
The weather was phenomenal all weekend and we spent a lot of time on the water.
It’s hard to tell in this picture but you should be totally impressed and shit because that rock I just jumped off was about fifty seven trillion feet high. I’m pretty badass, especially with my plugged nose and all.
Riley got to hang out with his cousin Brodie and you can just tell they’re going to be friends forever. I love seeing those two playing together.
I feel like I take this exact photo every time we go to the cabin, but what can I say, it’s pretty out there.
Who’s tired from this perfect summer weekend? All of us, man.
Last, I’ll leave you with probably the most patriotic video ever captured in the history of mankind. It’s so goshdarn all-American in its content I will caution that your boss may not appreciate you playing the audio at top volume, so you may want to consider turning down your speakers before enjoying.
Happy Fourth of July, Bald Eagle! from Linda Lee on Vimeo.
Happy fuckin’ 4th of July, friends. Hope you had a good one.
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