celebration getaway

My new recipe for love and health and happy marriage and happy mama: get the heck outta town. We've been in a wacky, whiny little loop around these parts lately. Nothing terrible, but nothing stellar. Jef'f's dubbed me, "Captain Van Buren" and rightfully soon. I've been a little extra bossy, a little extra uptight about stuff that usually doesn't bug me. Like how he never closes the kitchen cabinets. But don't get me started.

So this weekend when our friend Bri invited us on her sailboat on Flathead Lake, it was a sign from above that we needed to get the heck out. Without much of a plan and a shoddily packed vehicle, we hit the highway. There was a funky, disheveled, disorganization about the whole thing. We had a tent, but no toothbrush, sleeping bags but no headlamps. But the plan beyond the boat seemed irrelevant. There was talk of wanting to go up to Glacier, maybe hang in Bigfork where we got married. We celebrate our five year wedding and ten year love affair this coming Friday. That combined with Eliana's bday should be cause for any haphazard road trip.

The boat was perfect. Eliana loved it and wore her captain pants just so, I might add. She didn't get antsy and kept her vest on without complaint. She even went digging in the cabin and found some kickin' topsiders to match her sailor dress. Funny, funny stuff.



We left the boat relaxed and giddy and decided to head north. Els hadn't slept yet, so she promptly passed out, giving us the red light to high tail it up to the park. Which, of course by then, had no campsites. And that, mis amigos, is where the joy of credit cards comes in! Because this was a celebration trip. And god knows we had to have a place to sleep. And greasy spoon diner breakfasts. And smoothies for dinner. The motel outside of the park was overpriced and little and perfect. We all slept together in the king size bed like it was just us against the world.


Our Sunday in Glacier was everything a day in that heavenly park is supposed to be. Crystal, opalescent waters. Private little beaches for throwing rocks and swimming. A gorgeous hike in the snow. Eliana happily finding every single mountain goat within any absurdly huge radius. The day had a sort of halo of perfection around it. Jeff and I treated each other kindly. We didn't snap. I didn't boss. Elie didn't complain. Even when she blew out a ridiculous amount of huckleberry poop on Going-to-the-Sun Road and we had to pull over and wipe out the car seat with wipes (which, thank the good lord, we had remembered to bring) and Jeff almost hit the blow out panic button and the port a potty was locked and we had to bag up all that horrific shit, well, we just sorta handled it. With much more grace than we seem to handle most seemingly mundane things on any normal old day around the house.


Which brings me back to the vacation halo. Maybe it's that whole living in the moment thing. Or remembering to take everything as it comes because you have to. Or maybe it's because Jeff and I had a pretty major talk the night before we left about how much we take each other for granted and how often we forget to be appreciative. About how Captain Van Buren needs to chill and let her beautiful husband just be the man she fell in love with ten years ago.



We decided to celebrate our anniversary early by staying at the hotel where we stayed the night before we got married. It's this funky little place on Flathead Lake called the Islander, each room (all seven or so of them) named after some remote island locale and decorated accordingly. The owner remembered us and gave us the rockin' Zanzibar jacuzzi sweet for almost half price. Eliana had her own, enormous pull out bed in almost another room. And it felt right, on our second night away, to let her sleep on her own, and us together.



We ate dinner on the lake at the Raven where we had our rehearsal dinner. It was perfect. We sipped our drinks and watched Eliana examine rocks, working on her overhand pebble pitch. We told her the story of how we canoed to the dinner from the other side of the bay and made a grand entrance at the party. We told her how her Nana and PopPop threw a big bash at that very restaurant to celebrate the love between her parents. Jeff's never looked as handsome as he did sitting across from me on Sunday evening. Eliana, again, was so present in every move, more complacent and compliant than expected, rolling with each moment, just being there in true vacation mode.

I woke up before sunrise with this profound sense of peace. I couldn't fall back asleep but didn't care. I just wanted to take in all in. Hold on to it all. My almost two year old girl in her huge sofa bed surrounded by cushions, lying horizontally, splayed out like a long, little nut. My husband sleeping soundly, so relaxed, so soft. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.


A huge summer storm blew our way that morning pushing us to move on. The power was out, the wind whipping, just the race to the car left us soaked and giddy. We decided to take the long way home and Jeff found the mountain along the Swan range that we were married beneath. What a reminder to really celebrate. To really remember. These precious memories can get so hazy and befuddled in the ridiculousness of the day to day.

So I hear by declare a new celebration in our family. The birthday/anniversary getaway. The few days devoted to being together, being present, throwing caution to the wind and holding on fast and furious to each other. Because at the end of the day, that's all there is.