Walkin' in Memphis

We are spoiled. Last weekend Oma and Pop Pop, exhausted from a week of hard work and recovering from a back injury, came in to take care of the Js, while Peter and I flew down to Memphis, TN for Clare Burson's (long anticipated) wedding.

The night before we left Peter clung to me in the kitchen while I finished making dinner and the kids spun around like battery operated toys, and complained, "I want some of your attention, too!" We rarely have a conversation these days. If we do manage to sit down together at dinner we are usually too shell shocked and exhausted to come up with a coherent thought. If the kids catch us paying attention to one another (asking questions, for example) they increase their volume until we have no choice but to engage with them instead. With all of his contract work, Peter is usually up past midnight and I am in bed by ten, making pillow talk a distant memory.

As soon as we pulled out of the driveway on Friday, it was as if we had entered a different universe. We began to talk about something other than food and diaper needs. We knew the kids were well taken care of (if not entirely spoiled). We had two small carry on bags. We glided through airport security in three airports, and slept on every leg of the flight. Most importantly, we paid attention to each other.

The rest of the weekend was beyond luxurious. Great hotel room, three gourmet southern buffet meals, open bars, late nights on Beacon Street, sleeping in (me until 7, peter until 10). We walked the streets of Memphis in search of history (civil rights and rock n' roll), caught up with old friends and made some new ones. The wedding itself was lovely and evocative. Two days that seemed like many, many more.

When we returned we were immediately thrown back into reality. The kids fussed and cried all morning (mourning the loss of their grandparents' undivided attention). Peter left for a three day hitch up in the mountains. I am completely unprepared for school. But at least my husband and I had a moment to talk (and dance, among other things), and to be reminded that marriage is a very, very good thing.

Now back to the battery operated daily grind. (With great thanks to OmaandPopPop for the brief repose.)