Renewed

I don't quite know what took me to the Desert this time. Maybe I was trying to put to test the saying "the third time's the charm." Because this was Desert trip number 3 for the month of March. I've mentioned once before that I always feel the threat of running away. It's often a tempting thought lurking in my consciousness, seducing me with it's freedom. Running away from what, exactly? I'm not quite sure. Maybe just life and it's everyday pressures. It's the mirage that something better awaits on the other side of responsibility and accountability and love. But it's a lie. And I know that.  So I don't run. I stay put and do my best in real life with my real family and my real friends and my real home. Anyway, to completely contradict everything I just said, this weekend I had the urge to runaway. And I did.  The catch? With all four kids. Which sounded like quite an undertaking but I wanted to try it. Yosh was out of town and I was chasing an extra 20 degrees and selfish time where I could just be mom and no one else. Last week death was on my mind. Through Facebook and other ways, I learned of two families that had suffered the death of a second child in their family that week. And to be honest, it kind of made me a little mad. And for lack of a better word, I'm going to use one of my most not favorite words, but it made it seem like life wasn't fair. And sometimes I get this feeling in my heart. I don't know if it's simply fear that something like that could happen to me, or if it's foreshadowing that something like this is going to happen to me, or if it's simply a reminder of reality- that life is fragile and just as easily of having years and years ahead of us with our loved ones, we might only have today-, but I had that one feeling in my heart and I just wanted to hold my kids close and give them my all. And I don't always do that, the giving them my all part. I often feel spread thin and distracted with my heads in the clouds or I feel exhausted or I have an out with a husband and nanny to help. I didn't want any outs- not a backyard, TV, Wii, or nanny.
So we went, and the high moments were pretty amazing. The lows were pretty conclusive as well- I would be a crappy single mom. I'm so proud of all of you that do it alone. Thank you for not giving up, for not running away. You are awesome. But the high moments trumped and prevailed. And they were so simple. Dallin and Porter's favorite part of the trip? Playing tennis. All five of us went to a court and hit the ball. Deeter was the ball boy, Kaia was a destructor, and us other three tried to strike up some rallies. We did that both nights. And those boys independently said each night, more than once, "Mom, this is so much fun." That's all I had to do to satisfy the kids and create awesomeness for them. Needless to say, I'm going to make more of an effort to go play tennis with them. We snuck off and played cards while the babies napped, we did lots of swimming, we rode the Aerial Tram to the top of the mountain where we absolutely froze for the 30 seconds we were outside. We ate food at McDonalds and poolside. The weekend was all about them and doing things that catered to them. No forced adult meals or TV shows or anything else. It was special. I'm coming back with a clearer vision and a renewed energy to be the kind of mom I want to be. I hope I can keep it up for a bit. If not, I guess the good news is I can always run away again to remember...with all 4 kids by my side.

Where You'll Find the Most Audacious Women all in One Place

A girls weekend {and Wyclef to boot} was calling my name last year, and before I could stop the plans...I was absent for Kaia's first birthday. We made it up this year by hooking the sis up with solid 80 degree weather and the best swimming her little self has ever encountered.
And this is how we found ourselves in Palm Desert, California this MLK weekend.  Where the sun was shining something wicked and there wasn't a cloud in the sky to crash our party. That, in and of itself, is the best gift ever. And there's something magical about day one of vacation. Where we're all taking care of each other, and somehow our patience capacity- kids and parents alike- has found a new high. It may be short lived, but even so, those brief moments seem to sing from the top of their lungs, "PERFECT FAMILY!" And I, for one, was eating it up. 
So was my stream of thoughts- of how well-bahaved my children were and what great parents Yosh and I were- as I was taking the steps two at a time to retrieve a forgotten item in the hotel room. To my dismay, the key machine was barring my entrance like a disgruntled bouncer. But not to fret, because within 2 minutes a staff member was by my side asking if, by chance, there was something he could help me with. Like a knight in shining armor.
After opening the door and before he was on this way, I stated the obvious- that I couldn't believe the perfect timing of this whole situation. This is when the awkward throat clearing happened, and his next sentence started with, "Well, actually...." which is an ambiguous type of beginning. Well actually I've been hunting you down because I wanted to ask you out but didn't realize you had four kids or it could be going more in the direction of Well actually I was coming up here- to your room number- to respond to a noise complaint. Talk about blind siding a girl. A girl who, none the less, was five minutes prior, congratulating herself on the impeccable state of her family. Tainted reality.  Of course, I could neither confirm nor deny the accusations being thrown my way, I could only promise that tomorrow morning would be filled with an increased effort of improving our tip-toeing techniques and inside voice skills. Now, had some type of time machine been in place and this same scenario could have taken place an hour later, it would have been the perfect opportunity to bring up my one complaint of this resort. And that would be the subject of the excessive amounts of goose poop found on our make-shift football field, even intruding on our big ole jumping rocks. One might be under the impression that goose poop is not bothersome enough to require some sort of confrontation slash intervention. But let me tell you, when you are mistaking goose poop for dog poop, there in lays the problem. Who knew that geese were large poopers? And when I discovered these massive amounts of large poop, I wondered how we could possibly get this issue brought up in the next Rancho Las Palmas committee meeting. Which is when my mind reverted back to my knight in shining armor and how that was the obvious time- which I obviously missed- to shed light on this issue and get it resolved once and for all.

But it wasn't meant to be, with the timing being off and all. And who has time to resolve goose poop issues anyways when families are being loud {at a family-targeted resort...} I can only assume that our imperfect family of 6 was ratted out by one of the hundreds of audacious women laying out poolside with their orange bronzed skin, chasing after just one more shade of tan. And let me tell you what I like about this scene- it's at the pool and beach scene alike. There is confidence exuding from these women. We got old and young, big and skinny, all rocking every cut of bikinis with no shame in their game. It. does. not. matter. if they look good in them or not, they are owning it. And can't nobody hate on that. There are fake boobies and real boobies hanging out in every direction you look, and the women....they could care less. Exuding confidence. And that, my friends, is something I can respect. 
Which leaves absolutely no room for me to even entertain the thought of getting upset for whoever the old hag was that reported us loud and unruly. For all I know, she was probably out late the night before enjoying the live music on property and stayed up just a tad past my 9:30 bedtime. And had that been me, I, too, might have considered running footsteps at 8 am loud and unruly. Good for her for getting out and being young and wild and free.
And here- in all this twisting and turning and neither here nor there- I can't help but identify with one of the best movies ever, Dirty Dancing. The Kellerman's vs Ranchos Las Palmas. You know, a little bit of drama, a lot of noise, a little bit of dirtiness, and a lot of women to give it The Feel. If I didn't know any better, I would've been looking around every corner for Patrick Swayze to try to sneak in a quick dance lesson. Then again, maybe I should stick to the Ghost set if I'm looking to see Mr. Swayze, bless his resting heart.
All in all, I'm a huge fan of resort vacationing. Every part of it. The 80 degree weather and the crankies phoning in noise complaints.

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