I think I'm back in it. The groove, I mean. The kids long beat me to it. They hit the ground running when school and other activities began, and aside from a brief e-mail from someone's teacher about someone's excessive chattiness during work cycles (guess who), September and the school year got off to a relatively smooth start.
I just realized that a couple posts ago I mentioned a river tubing trip with no other details other than the scorching case of poison ivy I received as a parting gift. Oh, and hubs got it too. The trip itself, while I wouldn't say was a total bust was well. . . eventful. I think I can laugh about it now. Only a little.
The weekend before school started we decided to take a day trip to the mountains to tube down the Green River. For 8 bucks a pop, you get to leisurely float down the gently flowing water on your own little innertube-thingy while enjoying the breathtaking views. The website failed to mention the razor-sharp rocks, the fact that you're helpless against the current with no paddle and the weedy banks of the river which seem to have a magnetic pull with the ability to draw 41-yr-old Moms away from the group.
Mercifully, cameras and cellphones weren't allowed on the river, so there are no images of me getting caught in the weeds 49 times and requiring Mark to paddle back and rescue me, pulling my little tube-raft back into the current.
And me, stepping out of my raft to join everyone on the bank for a break only to step right into a hidden 20-foot drop-off and plunge into the water, finally emerging after what seemed like a year only to flail around, grab my blessed tube, sunglasses and desperately try to fight the current to get to shore. I remember seeing the kids out of the corner of my eye, pointing and yelling. Mark had to come help me then too.
Oh, and there was also me getting caught in some swirly part of the water in the middle of the river that didn't allow my raft to budge. I kept going around in a little circle, desperately trying to paddle my way out of it with my hands. Finally, one of the kids noticed that Mom was lagging behind (again) and once again my hero (although a sighing, eye-rolling hero), lugged his own raft over and pulled me back into the proper current.
Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I apologized for being a tubing spaz. He gave my knee a little patronizing pat and assured me it was OK. Normally I would've called him on the little pat, but I was so happy to be alive and sitting on my couch and watching a Law and Order from 1999 that I just patted him back.
This month I made it to age 42. No thanks to that dadgum river.