climbers

The best days are the unexpected ones. Days that begin with no plan. A day that could have been a total wash because of too many night wakings, a mama up from twelve to four, a boy who needs to learn to self-soothe, a girl who wants to be snuggled. But instead of succumbing to exhaustion, Jeff suggested yoga. After landing myself on my mat, I found two of my best girls had decided to take class that morning too. So yoga was followed by a spontaneous latte. The latte turned into chilaquiles and huevos rancheros and a blueberry bran muffin.

Then I was home and my husband had the kids all packed and ready to head to a little beach along the Clark Fork. He was scouting out an area where he'll bring his middle schoolers for an overnight next week. I was excited because I have vague but lovely memories of being in this spot years ago, pre-kids, with our good friends when Solan was Elie's age. I remember him getting all harnessed up and heading up the rock while his daddy belayed and Jeff coached. I remember having one of those you-live-in-Montana moments. One of those, maybe one day this will be your kid on belay, on this rock, along this river. It still is surreal to me sometimes. The beauty of this place. The choices we've made. And how fast that person at the base of the climb was me, watching her girl fearlessly head up the granite.


Eliana was so excited to climb. Excited and strong and focused.


She had such grace and strength and flexibility. She had a couple moments where I had to avert my eyes because her body was doing such wild things so close to very solid rock.


She made it about halfway up the climb before she realized how far off the ground she was and asked to come down. I had the exact same moment when I did the same climb after her. Of course I tried not to say anything but felt my heart pound, felt my brain begin it's chitter chatter of what the heck are you doing, and you could fall and the rope could come undone or, if anything, you could bang up your knee or twist your ankle and is it even worth it....all the reasons why I've never seemed to be able to wholly embrace the gnarly sports that interest my loved ones. But I stuck with it and made it down with a bit of grace. Elie was all ready for round two. But we had to let the boys have a go, had to teach her the law of waiting which seems to be as big of a part of rock climbing as all that darn gear.


So we hung and snacked and watched Sol find every single last stick, bough, bend, mud puddle, sand grain.

The boy loves to be outside. He could explore endlessly. Of course, he wanted to do what the big kids were doing. Had a pretty decent run at a few free solos. Jeff said we should wait until he's two. We're gonna be busy with these guys.


So that perfect day. All of a sudden it was dinnertime. We stopped on the way home for burritos, got everybody sand free in the tub (Sol's other favorite activity is the "sandstand" which gives his sun-screened head a perfect, beige halo), and found ourselves with books. I vowed to do the "last nurse" and had my own little ceremony in the quiet dark of their sage and lavender room. Sol's interest is now only habitual and seems to only consistantly come in the middle of the night. I'll be leaving in a few weeks for a work trip alone and want him to be ready to fly solo when he's here with Jeff for four days. He is so snuggly right now, so into books and songs and cuddling that I think we'll be okay.

It may be harder for me to give up. But we found ourselves in the middle of the night singing "Baby Beluga", rocking in the living room. I said those famous words, no nurse....all gone.... and choked a bit inside at the white lie. In a day or so I'll be squeezing my confused breasts out in the shower, milk getting washed away with my tears. It's a big deal for me. But something about the beauty of yesterday made it feel like the right time. The unexpected day of friends and family.


The unexpected strength in us all.