It’s hard to tell, because I was busy launching a silly blog over the weekend, but for the past eight days I’ve been languishing in the wilderness of Northern Michigan where I try to spend a significant part of each summer with my family. Otherwise known as the place where we all inevitably regress about 15 years. Sara! Your room is a mess, clean it up! Mom! Stop bothering me!
Good times. But, it is.
I always get excited to leave the city for an extended period of time, but almost as soon as I hit the lake, the beach and the quiet that euphoria ends and I start missing the sirens, the bustle, and MY CAR almost immediately. It’s lame. And this year, my husband told me as much.
“Just live in the moment,” he said as I tried to come up with 27 reasons why I should rush through my last 6 days up here, why I can’t possibly relax.
Hi, LAME if I can’t relax with this view.
But then my parents left for the night to tend to matters at home, and when left up here, in the quiet wildnerness alone, but for my son, I realized that I can live without planning and plotting and errands and noise. Well, if the constant chatting of a three-year-old doesn’t count as noise.
I don’t have to be so organized and anal all the time. I can chill. Of course, this meant that once we parked our butts on the beach I immediately forgot that I didn’t pack us lunch, but no matter. That’s why g-d invented pizza joints.
So we ate our pizza and then sat and played, and played and sat. And played some more until I think we had more sand in our ears and feet than in the sand pail. We called it quits, went home and lounged.
“Nothing! I want to do nothing!” My son shouted emphatically. “No dinner, no shower, no bed! Just play!”
It sounded nice, but I can’t rid myself of routine and planning altogether so we compromised, showered, and went out to eat. A date with a three-year-old can be very charming.
And as the day fades to night, a glorious night of cool breeze and calm waters, I realize I CAN live in the moment. I may not be able to turn off my computer entirely, but I’m not worried about tomorrow’s plan or agenda.
No, I can relax and enjoy.
But if that f**ker next door wakes up my kid with those firecrackers he’s launching, I’m gonna get medieval on his ass.
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This blog post was very enlightening that we all rush to much.