Sam travels a lot for his job. This has been a fact of our entire relationship, and we work with it. He has times away and times at home, but for the most part he is gone about half the year altogether. We’ve built our life around that routine, riding the highs and lows of exits and entrances for the last six years.
But now we have a baby. (this one, in the cowgirl boots.) And things feel different.
It’s no longer easy to live separate lives every other week when he’s gone. Because his life exists at home with us. And our life exists wherever he is. It’s pretty killer, actually. So when he called and asked us to come stay with him for a few nights, it was hard to say no.
But I definitely wanted to say no.
It’s not like the guy works in Tahiti, you know what I’m saying? He works for Idaho Power, in the worst parts of Idaho.
Like eastern Idaho.
And this week’s particular destination? Burley, Idaho. I mean, there’s really no reason to go to Burley, Idaho.
(Unless, for instance, you’re in high school, on a roadtrip with your friend Cassidy to see some friends from summer camp, friends who happen to be an attractive pair of brothers who live in Burley, brothers who you and Cassidy plan on divvying up and getting to know on a more ahem personable basis in their backyard all weekend…maybe getting your first kiss…otherwise there is truly NO reason to go to Burley.)
It’s a 2 1/2 hour drive through the desert into nowhere. And have I mentioned that my kid hates her carseat? She screams so hard her round face turns pink and I swear I’ve seen CPS workers tailing me during errands while she wails in the backseat.
It’s a nightmare.
I had a million reasons to tell Sam no. The car trip alone with the baby. Our house that needs cleaned. Groceries that need bought. Nieces who need a babysitter on Friday night. But there’s been a shift somewhere in the universe, and all of those other reasons for “no” are now trumped by one tiny reason for “yes.” (See tiny boots above).
It’s silly to drive to Burley for one night with Sam. And I wanted to say no. But suddenly, lately, we became a family. It’s not just us anymore, making things ‘work.’ It’s us and her, making things wonderful.
Which means I packed up the car. I loaded the bunny bouncy seat. I drove for 2 hours, stopped to nurse in a Subway parking lot, drove for 30 more minutes, and got to see the look on my husband’s face as we all walked towards each other on the hotel lawn.
It might be silly, but it’s worth it. Because in the end, all we’re really guaranteed is today, right? The “no” starts to shrink when you see the “yes” for what it’s worth.
So put on your cowgirl boots. Get on the freeway. And drive to Burley.
2 thoughts on “Priorities, or "have bunny chair will travel"”
you will never know how very very very proud i am of you right this minute! watching you grow up as a parent will be a wonderful thing to see
you have no idea how much that just helped me.