Matt's birthday was this past Tuesday, so his request was for our family to go away for the weekend. One of his clients has a house a few minutes from a resort called Montage Mountain in PA. They have mini tubing hills that are perfect for little kids, so we thought it would be a great time for our family. Sidenote... from previous posts, you may have gathered that I hate snow. I have been skiing a few times before (my dive coaches never really allowed me to) and I was perfectly capable... I just don't enjoy it. I would SO much rather be having fun in the sun... water skiing, wakeboarding, whatever. Matt, on the other hand, was born in Colorado which seems to mean he has an innate love of cold weather sports. I have told him time and again that I would be perfectly fine plopping myself down at the lodge bar while he is out gallivanting on the slopes. With three little ones, that plan doesn't really work. So we hit the road on Friday...
...and didn't pay attention to the route the GPS was taking us. A schmillion hours of traffic later, we finally stopped for food. Our rule of thumb is anywhere that is brewery-related is usually pretty good. Lancaster Brewing Company is where we ended up, and I enjoyed a delicious Strawberry Wheat beer. Matt bought the variety pack so he could enjoy some later. The girls were joyous to be out of the car...
We loaded back up and hit the road again. While the girls were half asleep, I discovered the younger two in a sweet moment...
It reminded me of when I used to cuddle with my sister's foot to go to sleep when I slept on the trundle next to her bed. Melted my heart.
We finally arrived and pretty much went straight to bed. The next day we put on our layers and got to the resort. Conveniently we went the one day that they had this massive tournament taking place at the resort. We finally got our passes, climbed up the hill to the tubing area, and started the fun.
We had a great time. It was absolutely exhausting, but the girls had a blast. By the end, the three of them were going down by themselves in the double tube. Originally, I thought the three-hour pass was going to be short, but pretty sure I thought we had been out there for an eternity and it had only been 30 minutes. We did last for a while, and then went to the resort restaurant for some food and a bev.
The ride back home was quiet...
And we all took at nap when we got home. Dinner was an utter debacle that evening. In a town of like 500 people and one stoplight (Matt's great quote... "Well we must be getting to downtown, they have a CVS"), I'm pretty sure everyone goes to the same restaurant... leaving us with an hour and a half wait. We gave up after a while and ended up at a teeny place right near the house, complete with peeling paint and no alcohol. I repeat, no alcohol. Pepsi products. Only. I got some gross excuse for pasta, and Matt got a dish that resembled chicken with some lovely pieces of foil still stuck in it. The girls nibbled on their food, but we all ate the butter-soaked bread... the only redeeming quality of the place. We got back home and made it another early night. My cuties got in their matching pajamas and wanted to cuddle up...
What you can't see is that I am wearing sweatpants that very nearly match their pj's. Although if I had the opportunity to wear an adult size of those, I would be all over it. All in all, we had a great family weekend. I love creating our own traditions and memories with our little family. I love that Matt wanted that for his birthday. I picked a good one.
Now for a complete change of subject...
One thing I have realized from having a major loss in my life is that I have this looming fear that it will happen again. It's like, I know it can happen and rock your world in an instant. I know that no one is immune from tragedy. I know it is always a possibility... so I am essentially terrified of something happening. When I can't get in touch with Matt and it feels weird, immediately my mind goes to him in a ditch and I start trying to figure out how I am going to be a single mother and go on without the love of my life and the father of my girls. Yes, I go there. I'm scared I will get cancer and die young, without seeing my girls grow up into beautiful women. I'm not even going to mention my thoughts of the girls. I have to consciously distract myself from thinking this way at times because I just can't live like that.
Something happened this week that fully renewed those nightmares. A family friend was killed in a car accident. Just 25 years old. His family is the sweetest, most genuine, loving, adorable, supportive group you can imagine... They are just downright wonderful people. Now they have this massive tragedy that will fully consume them. Their son, brother, cousin, nephew, uncle and friend is gone.
Whenever someone passes away, I feel like I always have an unnaturally sad reaction to it. Even if I barely know them, it just brings me back to the horrible place that I remember so vividly. I can empathize all too well. My heart actually hurts for them.
In light of this tragedy, it puts everything in perspective for me. My stupid annoyances don't seem quite as big of a deal. The difficulty of every day life isn't so hard. The absolutely silly things I worry about just seem trivial in comparison to what this family is now going through. It makes me want to just hold on to the girls so tightly and never let go. I want to put them in a bubble. Thoughts of wishing they were a little bit older so things were easier just leave my mind. I want to enjoy these moments. I want to pay attention to the things they tell me that I half-listened to before. I want to fully relish in the nuzzles and the cuddles. I want to freeze time.
I know it is impossible to be grateful for each and every moment of the day. I know I will get in a bad mood, and get upset over some dumb little thing. I know I will stress about the shower I am hosting, or when Livi melts down in the grocery store. I never want to be one of those people who doesn't allow myself to enjoy things or be upset over things just because others don't have food or have experienced tragedy. But I do want to be more grateful. I remember thinking in college that the girls who were out-of-this-world devastated over not getting into the sorority they wanted to were silly and shallow. My dad was dying. I had something real to be upset over. But everyone has their own struggles and problems that are real to them. Knowing people with an unthinkable tragedy just puts things more in perspective. I have been through hard times, but I am ridiculously blessed. I know it. I just need to remember it every day.
Happy Thursday
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