I have to say, there are certain things that are nowhere near as fun as I remember them being.
Yesterday my husband and I actually had the majority of the day off together, which is about as rare as finding matching socks in my laundry basket. I work Monday through Thursday, with Thursday being my work-from-home day and the other three requiring roughly an hour-long commute. My husband works Thursday through Sunday, so our schedules don’t exactly scream “quality couple time.”
To be fair, this arrangement works out really well for the kids because one of us is almost always available unless life decides to throw a curveball. The downside is that my husband and I don’t get many days together, so when we do, we usually try to make the most of them.
Yesterday’s adventure? Boating.
The kids have been begging to go tubing for weeks, and since we actually had the time, we loaded everything up and headed to the river. Now, if you’re picturing one of those shiny ski boats you see cruising around on Instagram, let me stop you right there. We own an old 1980s ski boat that I’m sure turned heads in its prime… somewhere around the Reagan administration. These days it’s held together by determination, a little luck, and whatever magic keeps old engines running. It still has enough power to pull a tube – barely.
One of the best parts of the day was that my two little nuggets were genuinely getting along. Not the fake “Mom’s watching, better act civilized” kind of getting along, but the real deal. They were laughing, teasing each other, and actually having fun together, which felt like witnessing a rare wildlife event.
In the spirit of trying to be more active and present, I agreed to go tubing with each of them.
I’ve been tubing before… just not in at least twenty years. In my memory, it was one of the greatest summer activities ever invented. Apparently my memory forgot to mention the part where you’re bounced around like a rag doll while hanging on for dear life, wondering if this next wave is going to launch you into low Earth orbit.
Somewhere along the way, tubing changed from “Woo! This is awesome!” to “How much longer do I have to hold on before my arms detach from my body?”
Maybe that’s what happens when you turn forty.
The one thing I absolutely loved, though, was hearing my kids laugh. They thought it was hilarious watching Mom get whipped around the lake while trying to maintain what little dignity she had left. Seeing those huge smiles and hearing those uncontrollable giggles made every sore muscle worth it.
Will I volunteer to go tubing again anytime soon?
Let’s not get carried away.
I was more than happy to spend the rest of the afternoon floating in the water. Considering the weather has been hotter than the underside of Satan’s ballsack, jumping into the river felt like the greatest decision I’ve made all week.
Today we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming. My husband is at work, and I’m home with the monkeys. So far I’ve managed to squeeze in a run, mow the yard, and pay the bills. None of it is particularly glamorous, but unfortunately adulthood doesn’t seem to care about glamour.
The plan now is to get this post published, head to our local bowling alley for the kids’ free summer bowling program, and then take them fishing.
If you could all cross your fingers for my son, he’d appreciate it. He currently has a very serious competition going with my husband over who can catch the most fish this summer, and at the moment he’s losing by six. Based on how competitive the two of them are, I’m pretty sure this has become less about fishing and more about family bragging rights.
I’ll keep you posted on whether he manages to close the gap—or whether my husband spends the rest of the summer reminding him who’s the better fisherman.