Two weekends ago, The Chef and I put in a 50 hour work weekend. We. Were. Dead. Three events, back to back, is not something I recommend, nor prefer. To this day, I still don’t know how we made it through. Every hour we were counting the minutes, getting us to the next hour, next task, next day, next event. We dreamed of collapsing into our lack-of-time-unmade bed. On Sunday, we could see the light. We got through, packed up, and started to come home at about 11pm (which was the earliest by a long shot we had been coming home). Then I got the call.
The Child was throwing up.
What?! No! I get to go to sleep now! That was the plan! Parenthood. Always throwing you curveballs and making you, once again, an AMC late night special of the Walking Dead. Curse you for making me so unbearably exhausted but still love it enough to give me the energy for cleaning yam-yam at midnight, while going on 3 hours of sleep and an 18 hour workday.
We needed to get out of dodge. We packed our bags and headed north!
We camped out at Oma’s (the wife’s mom) lake house, to soak up as much freaking tranquility that the good Lord could muster. And other than the mishap of The Dog running through the tent, leaving a lab/Shepard size hole in the screen, due to fireworks being set off, it was heaven. The Child fished and played with cousins, The Chef played pyrotechnic, and I lounged on an oversized floating island from Costco.
We may or may not have thrown a tantrum when we had to leave on Monday to go back to work. We’re not proud of it… Yes we are.
We are now counting down until the next time we get to go back up. Good thing we love what we do! Work’s not work when you’re having fun!
-The Everyday Chef and Wife