Family

So, I was on this great trip which I had every intention of blogging about just to process, but of course did not (yet?). While I was there, my partner heroically planned a camping trip, which he NEVER does, by his own admission. Not the camping trip, specifically, but vacations in general. But he swore to all that was holy about six months ago that he would plan a camping trip for us, and when his original location didn't work out he even punted and figured out somewhere else for us to go.

We got there last night, after much anticipation, four hours of packing, and an hour and a half drive on terribly curvy roads. Our son woke up and promptly started crying that his stomach hurt, which started off all sorts of jangly warning bells in my mama-gut and also my emetophobe self, and an hour later my greatest fears were realized as he did, indeed, start to barf all over the campsite (now with tent pitched and fire started).

We waited for it to stop. We debated (over beers, a painfully beautiful view, and the gourmet version of those camping packets). We ate smores and took turns holding sour-stomach boy, and he did not get better.

So, we went home. We were nearly in tears, partner especially, for his work and the fact of pitching and un-pitching a tent in the space of four hours. We drove home silently, and both kids fell asleep. We mourned having to be the grown-ups.

And in the middle of being so very sad about our lost vacation, I found myself being oddly grateful for strange things. They bubbled up, un-asked for, but helpful. I was grateful that he didn't get sick in the middle of the night in the tent. I was grateful for the daughter, who chirped and skipped and was absolutely healthy and helpful to the point of being pollyanna-ish...this, my usually stubbornly forceful girl, who doesn't like change like her mama. She helped with putting up AND taking down the tent, and only cried once when she realized that we really were going home. I was grateful that we had gas in our car to go home, that we had a few hours in such an amazing place. That our family was together, and if this was the biggest of our troubles, we were really doing just fine.

I keep seeing this phrase in different places, and it's so true: "It isn't enough, and it is."