Sunset, La Jolla Cove, CA

The sun rose, pale pink, behind the San Diego skyline this morning, as if peeking her head above the horizon to wave us good-bye while we waited for the airport shuttle.  I yawned as I reflected that this morning marks the first time in too long that I’ve seen the sun set and then rise in succession.

Last night we stood atop the sandstone cliffs of La Jolla Cove, ocean waves exploding in a shower of salty diamonds on the rocks while sea lions barked and frolicked in the spray, watching the sun set.  It was the perfect end to a perfect day; a perfect week, really, spent in the company of old friends.

Melinda & I

We flew to San Diego to attend a conference, the same software development conference Tony spoke at for the many years that he held a “real job.”  It was a week of reconnecting with amigos and business associates, punctuated with romantic dinners and friends who love us enough to fly with toddlers or find babysitters for big kids to spend a few precious hours catching up.  Sitting at Sea World in the company of a friend I traveled the UK with when I was sixteen and watching the sunset with people who knew us when we only had one black haired baby, I reflected on the preciousness of this life and the overwhelming blessing of the only thing that really matters: who you share it with.

Tony & Shamess

A week to myself is a rare thing indeed.  I think it’s safe to say that I don’t remember what it was like to have no one to take care of but moi.  Of course there was a time when I lived by alone, when laundry was a once a week affair, when breakfast, lunch and dinner were flexible time slots, when I could go a whole morning without hearing another human voice… I just don’t remember it!  I wouldn’t trade my wild and wooly pile of boys and our one pearl of a girl for anything, not even peace and quiet.  In fact, this week I missed the noise and organized chaos that is life with kids… a little.

Poolside office

What does a Mama do in the absence of her herd to while away for a whole week?  Believe it or not, I found ways to fill the hours.  Of course I worked a little, but I also read my book, sat by the pool, visited with old acquaintances; other wives taking a “Mama break” while their husband’s attended the conference.  I napped so I could still be fun after 9:30 p.m. and spent some time walking the wharf.  I rented a kayak one morning and paddled down past the end of Harbor Island, turned right under the bridge and kayaked back into the canal.  Tony was busy with classes all day, which left me plenty of time to breathe slowly, think deeply, and remember all of the things I like to do with my brain that are not related to explaining math problems, enforcing the two rules of our house (kindness, and love) or cooking the next army sized meal.  It was a good week.

Abord the USS Midway, with a Corsair

I missed the kids.  It was impossible not to watching the orca and dolphin shows at Sea World.  Standing on the flight deck of the USS Midway it was impossible not to feel just a teeny bit guilty that the boys were missing it.  They would have loved the flight simulators as much as their Daddy (and all of his big boy friends) did.  Shopping for sailboats was a non stop exercise in considering the children and how to stuff them into a floating bean pod as a possibility for our next “home.”  The little men would like to sail for their teen years and boat shopping has begun, in earnest.  By the end of the week, I needed my kid fix in a serious way.  Happily, our seat mates on Air Canada flight 780 was a young family with twin five months olds.  I got to hold one!  Liam.  If there ever was a ‘bouncing baby boy’ he’s the one.  This kid would have been perfectly happy to have a jolly jumper hung in the aisle and have bounced his way across the continent.  I took the opportunity to interview his Mom for the book on traveling with babies that I’m writing; she taught me a lot about how airline travel with infants has changed in the eight years since I’ve been in her shoes.

Sunset, La Jolla Cove, CA

We’re sitting in the inevitable Friday night gridlock on the 401 express through Toronto.  Tony is wondering what we’ll eat for dinner, even though we only feel ready for lunch.  The GPS says we’ll make the 10 o’clock boat at this rate.  I’m enjoying the last few minutes of silence before the “we’re so excited and we missed you SO MUCH and we have to tell you everything in the first five minutes” wave of childhood breaks over us like the waves in La Jolla Cove at sunset last night.  The take home message from this week away:  I’m so thankful for every breath of this life… and the crazy way we’re choosing to live it.

While kayaking/snorkeling the caves at La Jolla