How do the kids know when I am weak and vulnerable? How do they know when I have spread myself too thin and they can sneak in and take over the show? Today I went on a Monster Hike with one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jorie. It involved two cars, many miles and, between the two of us, five dogs. It was divine and absolutely gorgeous. For four hours we walked through the mountains and chatted about our ever mounting mother issues. Jor lives with her mother from time to time and can empathize with my current living situation in a way that few can.
On the way home from our outing, Jorie and I saw one of the most amazing sights I have ever seen. At first we thought it was a cow running across the road, but upon further inspection we realized it was a huge mama bear followed by two cubs. They were gallumping across the road a mere 30 feet from our car. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. The mother was enormous and so muscular and fluid as she moved. The cubs were adorable. At first we screamed and batted at one another’s arms when we realized what we were watching. Then we were silent with awe for a few minutes. Then we both started crying at the shear magic of it. We agreed that it was the perfect end to a perfect hike. Definitely one to put in the memory book.
Tonight Devon kicked my ass in that special way that only he can. That needy/cute/toddler way that simultaneously pulls on your heartstrings and makes you want to scream at the same time. Tucking him into his crib was a gift from the heavens and now I think I will find solace upon my pillow.