The Funny Thing About Me...

I am leaving (very, very soon) for a weekend away. Girls only. No kids, no boys, no strollers, no diaper bags. I can plan only for myself. I can read books on the plane - and not the sturdy, board variety. We're talking novels, people. Plural. I can pack snacks that I won't need to share. I can do my own thing for four whole days.

But here's the funny thing about me: when left to my own devices, I pack as though I have the appetite of a sumo wrestler and the attention span of a four-year-old. I load up with salty snacks, chocolate snacks, books, magazines, journals, and notecards.

So, in the end, I don't travel much lighter.

Even still, I'm on my own.

See you soon, folks. This mommy is leaving town.

Ciao.

p.s. If you see my husband around town, thank him again for me. A daddy who is willing to fly solo and give his wife the retreat she needs: Major Points in the Love Bank.

Let the Record Show.

Let the record show:

At age 3 1/2, Tucker placed himself in the path of danger, stepping between his little brother and another child whom Tuck perceived to be a bully.

At the McDonald's Playland (shortly before the mishap with vomit), a little guy approached Tyler. He was Tyler's size, and they had precisely the same hair color. He looked more like Tyler's brother than Tucker does. He was interested in something on Tyler's shirt, so he took Tyler by the shoulders to get a closer look.

Let me clarify: I was standing very nearby. I was watching. Nobody was in danger. But Tucker was not convinced. He would have none of this. Without whining, complaining, hitting, biting, or yelling, he simply stepped in. A few inches taller than this other little boy, Tucker simply made his presence known.

The little guy moved on, and my children went back to playing. No harm, no foul.

A few minutes later, Tyler was seated at the bottom of the slide. Tucker, in his aged awareness, saw a crowd of children rushing to the bottom of the slide. Quickly and gently, he scooped Tyler off the slide and placed him carefully on the ground. And just in time - he would have gotten plowed, for sure.

Tucker was so gentle about it, and Tyler didn't even realize he had intervened. Because, bless his heart, Tyler never wishes to be rescued.

Let the record show, ladies and gentlemen. I think I am raising two little buddies.

(And please remind me of this blog post, when they are no longer interested in search and rescue, when kindness loses to selfishness. At least this time, on that day, Tucker was the hero.)

Way to go, Tuck.

Of All Places

Look whose son threw up at the top of the McDonald's Playland. Mine. So I slithered my way to the top,

with my wet wipes in hand,

and I cleaned up Tucker...

and the Playland.

(My mom is the photographer. Quick on the draw with the camera phone, she is.)

(I'm so Ridiculous.)

As we finished up our lunch at Subway today, Robb alerted me to food in my teeth. In my typical silly-and-up-for-anything attitude, I made this ridiculous face like the Cheshire Cat, showing all my teeth. I may have also been sticking out my tongue. It's possible. And probable.

And in that moment, I heard, "Hi, do you remember me? I was your nurse once."

Sure enough, standing right there beside me is the nurse who cared for me when Tyler was born.

Now, could I just say, I deeply love all the people who have cared for me and my newborn(s) in those very early, traumatic, gory, post-partem days. If you are one who holds on to modesty with a tight fist (...I am not one of those girls...), then you have to simply choose to leave your dignity at home and instead pack some boldness and indiscretion in your overnight bag. Childbirth is an intensely personal - yet simultaneously very public - event. There is protocol in the hospital that is called for and acceptable, and I seek tremendous trust and rapport with those who complete the necessary tasks.

Like I said, I am thankful. And Nurse Rebecca was by and far the very best I've ever had at my bedside. And at my everything else.

It's just that I often hope to leave those friendly faces locked up in the hospital, where they can choose to remember or forget what parts of me they have seen.

But here she was, friendly as ever, at Subway. Hello, Rebecca. And here are all of my teeth.

I regained my composure and re-introduced her to nearly-two Tyler, whom she welcomed right alongside us for those first few blessed days. And in charming response, Tyler showed her his mouthful of pizza, and Tucker threw all his apples on the floor. This is my family.

I'm not really that embarrassed... a girl who will make such faces in public has to realize the risk of being seen by someone other than her spouse. I don't (typically) fall prey to the fear of what others are thinking. Still, it was Rebecca. Nurse Rebecca.

But she has seen me in worse condition. At least I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

You know, not a gaping gown. Or less.

(I'm so ridiculous.)