Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

And our vacation is for us all that we expect it to be. Relaxation. Recreation. Restoration. The kids get along great. We make scrumptious meals. We play board games on the porch. We do enormous puzzles as a family. We sing along to the radio. We laugh a lot. We take long walks. Even the cat enjoys herself. Most importantly, we do not fight. Not me and Scott. Not any of the kids. There are no bathroom crowds, finicky eaters, decisions that need to be made by coin toss, outrageous compromises or anyone stomping off in a huff.

Our day at the lake is filled with adventure. Trapeze swing belly flops.  Front and back flips from the high dive. Even Pat dares to jump from it.  Innertube follies.  Commraderie out on the piers. At least until the clouds roll in and the sky opens up and douses us all. Sun gives way to torrential rain and suddenly it is like standing in the shower. We are all completely soaked, running for the car, howling with laughter, hair matted to our heads, carrying towels and beach chairs and clothes that are all now totally drenched and weigh 1,000 pounds.  We while away the afternoon drying out and doing puzzles and noshing on comfort food. Not a bad ending.

Later when the sky has cleared and glorious weather has returnd, we celebrate Hil's birthday with Scott's family by heading out to the biker bar/outdoor restaraunt we have come to love. Scott and I have come here on every trip. He has made it a place that erases the more hideous experiences with J. from the record for me. Hidden away in the woods, we take seats at a large table under umbrellas and white twinkling lights. Scott is joking with each of the kids and it is clear that he enjoys each of them for who they are. He's a serious dad with a light-hearted approach to kids. It is a winning combination. He tells the waitress to pay special attention to Hil. We are celebrating her birthday.  She is the one who needs to be doted upon. Hil is beaming.

And then, as appetizers and drinks are served, she makes a wish out loud.  "I wish Dad's personality were more like Scott's."

It's a No-Shit-Sherlock moment for me, but also painfully sad to hear.  Half my kids' lives are spent with someone who needs lots of alterations. It is clear that this, what we are doing right now, is what she envisions to be life as it should be. The disappointment is palpable.

To end the deafening silence, I cheerfully say, "Me, too, sweetheart! Me, too," intending to suggest that my whacky post divorce life would be a whole lot more enjoyable if Dad were just a little more like Scott. Maybe half as reasonable. And half as agreeable. A little more generous. And maybe a little easier to look at.  Would that be too much to ask?

Scott makes a joke of the whole thing. "Well I don't! I'd be sitting here by myself!"

True. Perhaps. If Lars were like Scott, we might still be married. And I for one...no, I guess, for two...am happy to have docked where I have. No seller's remorse. No pining away for what might have been. Scott's gravitational pull was always there. It just took 30 years to pull us completely together.

Dinner is fabulous, and we retire, fat and happy, to the cottage for presents and homemade, mousse filled cupcakes and more celebrating. The kids go out to the porch to play some souped up version of Uno that makes them all laugh uncontrollably, and Scott and I have a drink in the hammock swings and watch them. All is right with the world. The twinkling, star-lit, warm and breezy world.

The next day is sunny and warm and we decide to take a walk to the lake to take the canoes out for a spin. The first canoe is inhabited by a family of frogs that Scott gets the pleasure of forcibly evicting. He picks each one up in his massive hands and places them delicately in the tall grass. Then as a precaution, he sweeps away the daddy-long-legs spiders living in each canoe that Hil is sure to believe are predatory and man-eating. Last year we'd missed one and she chose to dive into the lake to avoid it. I wonder if she knows what lives in the lake?

We launch. We race from one end of the lake to the other. We splash each other. We trap each other in low hanging branches.  We find turtles and fish and frogs and other amazing things.We laugh until our sides hurt. We run aground in the mud. And we stop for milkshakes on the way back.

It has been a great vacation so far, but Scott and his family have to return home. Jobs and dogs await and won't wait long.

We have dinner on the porch and then quietly pack bags. Scott packs the car and checks the house for missed shoes, towels, phone chargers, retainers, makeup bags, other stuff. And they are on the road before dark.

And though I am happy to have my little family unit back to myself and not have to worry about being a hostess, I am blue. Scott and I get so little time together. And time like we've just shared makes me crave for a simpler, easier life filled with more dinners and downtime than chaos and commuting.

One day. At least there is the dream of it.