Much like Miss Zoot, we also took a mini-vacation to Chattanooga last week. Well, most of us did. Bryan actually worked quite a bit on the trip, but he joined us for the occasional meal.
Not enough naps were had.
I’m going to cover the majority of our trip over at Rocket City Mom a little bit later, so I don’t want to exactly spill the beans just yet, but I did want to tell you some of my super-awesome happy memories that I came back with.
For the actual Fourth of July, we did nothing. Not a single thing. Well, I ran a 5K that morning (and set a new PR for a mile – so that was awesome! then I melted.) but after THAT, we did nothing. I had picked up a lot of produce because, DUH, we’re southern and that’s what we do. So I made a berry crisp that night for dessert and although Bryan turned his nose up at the fresh berries (BECAUSE HE ENJOYS KILLING MY SOUL), he has had berry crisp every night since.
We stayed in a .. kind of .. special hotel. Bryan said I should not call it “crappy”, because apparently MY idea of crappy is not nearly as awful as Bryan’s. Bryan just calls it .. “efficient”. So we stayed in anefficient hotel.
It did not matter to the boys that the bathroom had no ACTUAL door and instead you slid out a pocket-type-door that had NO SOUNDPROOFING AT ALL, but it was a nightmare for me. Of the bowel persuasion. Also, I so look forward to utilizing a real bathtub at hotels, and this did not have one. So I was put off.
ANYWAY, the boys cared not for my plight. We split up into the two full sized beds, with the hot sleepers (Tony and I) taking the bed nearest the a/c unit.
Bryan is very anti-cosleeping, and while I don’t have a strong opinion either way on the subject, I do feel like I may have missed out on some sweet baby moments by diligently putting Tony down before he fell asleep. So sleeping in the same bed at the hotel? A favorite memory. Tony was so wired about the mere excitement of HOTEL that he couldn’t sleep, so he rubbed my arm and played with my hair until he could relax. A couple of times I cracked an eye open at him and he’d say, “It’s okay, Momma. Just go to sleep.” AND THEN MY HEART EXPLODED ALL OVER MY OVARIES.
Also, Tony talks in his sleep. Animatedly. Don’t know where he gets that.
Jack is now 12, and if you are unware, 12 means you are now A Grown Up. You are no longer permitted to enjoy childish things because, dude, you’re TWELVE. I didn’t know this magic line in the sand exists, but it apparently does. So it tickled me so much that Jack would voluntarily sit out of “kid” stuff. And then he’d twitch. And dance. And generally look like he was going to implode. Finally, he’d declare that he was going to play in the water/touch the sturgeon/go play in the play-yard “to look after Tony”.
Go be young, I’d tell him. You have your whole life to be old.
Overheard, in the backseat:
“Jack, can I count your freckles? You have, like, a MILLION.”
“Jack, one day I want to grow up to be like you. A ninja.”
“Jack, is that book scary? So is my book, see? Because it has a skeleton on it. Well, it doesn’t, but I think horses can be scary too.”
When we made our way back home, Tony went to a Parent Survival Night at our local The Little Gym, which I was worried would be too much for him after a couple of days without naps. We picked him up earlier than the posted time because I was worried that he was overtired. I got him in the car, and Bryan and I were whispering about how to handle bedtime, when Tony pipes up:
MOM, DAD, YOU CAN STOP WHISPERING BECAUSE I CAN HEAR YOU. AND YES, I DID NOT GET DESSERT, BUT I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE A MILKSHAKE. ALSO, SEND MR. BILL A MESSAGE AND TELL HIM HI. MOM, CAN I STAY WITH YOU FOREVER?
Oh, my child. Of course. I expect nothing less than forever from you.