Winning the Big One.

That was the best forth of July since I was a little girl rolling down the lawn at my rich uncle's house. Me and Joey met the boys, my parents, and a whole crew of extended family and friends up at Graeagle. We spent the day at the millpond, relaxing in the hot sun,getting out legs wet up to our knees in the the icy water to cool off, and floating around in circles on floaties. We played my favorite game of all times: water wiffle ball. If you want to have a good time, and forget about what your rear looks like in your bather (ok, that never is going to happen but it at least takes your mind off of it for a bit) and actually get it in the water like you used to before the mascara/hair/wussieness set in from growing up, wrap a wiffle bat with duct tape. Grab some tennis balls and  get at least three people. Batter stands in the water up to their ankles, pitcher is up to their knees or so, and the outfielder gets ready to swim for balls. I love this game, hearing the balls pop as I  whack them  high the air,  watching them splash into the water, and then eventually having to swim out to help retrieve them. It's the only thing that makes me get in the water and swim and I love it.
The boys were fantastic, and by that I mean the day seemed normal: not crazy, not messed up, not frustrating. It went like you think a fourth of July should go. I think that has to do with two things mostly: numero uno, my kids are growing up. Ethan is very self sufficient and I don't have to worry about him killing himself if I lose track of him for two minutes. And although I still have to worry about that with Noah, he's still old enough to enjoy the water. Plus with all the help from everyone who thinks the little guy is just too cute to resist (or they are just being merciful to me), the day went incredibly smoothly. **note to self: when you're old and have nothing better to do feed some poor frazzled mama's two year old dinner for her so she can sit and talk and drink a beer, and maybe even eat a hot hamburger. I love gracious souls who do this for me. I feel indebted to them with my life, and would, in fact, step in front of a bullet for them if it came down to that.
I think the best part of all of this, besides my children not have meltdowns, besides spending the day with Daelynn and her family, besides just being in Graeagle with it's tall dark trees against the sky melting into dusk, was having Joey there with me.
We've spent so many holidays and family gatherings apart that having him there with me is like the difference going on a week long tropical vacation with your favorite person or going alone; or it's like winning the lottery or going bankrupt. With him there I feel like I've won something big, like the World Series. Without him there I feel like I've lost.
We were told that his job would do this. That it would be "hard on the family". When you're young, or at least when I was young, I took so much for granted, especially time. Saturdays, Sundays, evenings, weekends. I thought it would be no big deal to give those up for other times together (why should it matter?) but for whatever reason that I can't explain it does. It matters to have Joey there when everyone else is celebrating.
And yesterday he was (ironically it wasn't even the forth but in Graeagle they celebrate early, which worked out fabulous for us because in real life Joey works tonight and tomorrow).
So yesterday, due to a stroke of luck, Graeagle deciding they celebrate the fourth on the second, and grace, we won big.
Happy  (pre) Fourth.