You know those cheesy couples who celebrate weird anniversaries? “It’s our six week anniversary of our first date, so we want to do something special,” or, “It’s our one hour anniversary of when we first said ‘I Love You’. Let’s celebrate!” Then again, I went to BYU so it was mostly stuff like, “Hey, we’ve been together for TWO WHOLE MONTHS! We should commemorate it at the temple FOR TIME AND ALL ETERNITY. I don’t usually fall prey to these kinds of gimmicks, except did I mention that today is the one week anniversary of when we left for California? True story. I believe I will celebrate, and somehow I feel guacamole will need to be involved.
It is hard to describe exactly what our Southern Cali sojourn did for me, but the word that comes closest to accurately summing it all up is “therapeutic”. It felt good to be home, to spend time with family that I don’t get to see very often, to feel the moist breeze against my face, to see ships sail and palm trees sway. Prior to this trip I had been cooped up in my house for a solid three weeks, leaving only twice for follow up doctor’s appointments so it’s entirely possible that my euphoria was fueled by a hearty dose of cabin fever. Still, I have to say that La Jolla Cove followed by a visit to the corner Haagen Dazs was better than Percocet. I had to do four flights of stairs to get to the cove which was a bit painful, but when I reached the edge and felt the salty spray against my skin I realized that John Cougar Mellencamp was right – sometimes it “hurts so good.” In our absence our hometown in Colorado was slammed with three feet of snow, but by the time we got home we didn’t even have to shovel our driveway because it had melted off. Boo-yah! I felt bad for our neighbors who were nursing sore backs from all the shoveling, but not bad enough to wish I had been here to help!
The only major disappointment from our trip was that Cory and the kids had to do Disneyland without me. Like all mothers are prone to do, I worried about who would be responsible for the actual children if I wasn’t there to keep an eye on things. My husband is a dependable father, but I can also depend on him to walk fast while taking for granted that the kids are somewhere behind him, and I can’t depend on him to recall child abduction stories to motivate him to do any differently. That’s usually where I come in. So instead we put Cory in a bright, green shirt and I pulled my kids aside to counsel them, “If you lose your father, look for another mom with kids and she can help you,” to which Samantha inquired, “Can’t I just call him from my cell phone?” Right. So I stayed home and shelled pomegranates from a tree in my parent’s front yard while my sister-in-law taught me to crochet pumpkin beanies (I wasn’t good at it), and the rest of my life got in a car and headed to the happiest place on earth. Cory and Drew had a moment where they were completely in their element:
So, after celebrating my brother’s birthday, eating pomegranates, going to Disneyland, having taquitos at my favorite Mexican joint, going to the beach twice, visiting a photography gallery, roasting marshmallows in the backyard, riding a surrey around Coronado island, and downing a dose of Trader Joe’s pumpkin pancakes, I wouldn’t say we were ready to go home, but it was time. We’re back, and life is good.
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