Entrenched.

Before we had kids, "getting away" meant far away. Like, on a plane. To a beach. With drinks and sand and books and guacamole.

Guacamole is definitely one of my love languages.

When you're in the trenches of parenthood, "getting away" takes on a broader definition. Like a trip to Target alone. Or a root canal.

Seriously. Some days a root canal would honestly be preferable to one more minute in my house with bickering children. At least I'd be alone and the only one screaming.

Nate and I are definitely in the trenches. And it's not fun. Filled with beautiful, joyful, precious moments with our sweet kids that we will surely miss someday? Yes. But fun for us as a couple? Eh. Honestly, right now it's a lot of work just getting from point A to point B every day without biting each other's head off. Turns out when you spend 15 hours a day giving everything you have to your children and job, there is very little left to give your spouse. These days the bulk of our conversation takes place on the couch from 9-10pm and is usually a combination of the following statements:

"Should we water the flowers?" (Yes. Ugh. Be back in a minute.)
"What do you want to watch tonight?" (Arrested Development.)
"Do we have any ice cream?" (Silly question.)
"Will you get up and get it while I switch the laundry?" (Sure.)
"Did you remember to give the dog her pill?" (Yes, Abby. I always do.)
"Don't forget we have to take more diapers to daycare." (Run upstairs for diapers.)
"I'm exhausted, let's go to bed." (Finally.)
"Ugh, the sheets are in the washer. Let's just sleep on the mattress pad." (Too tired to care.)
"Will you let the dog out while I get us some water?" (Sure.)
"ARGHHHH, the outside light is still on!" (I'll go back down.)

Riveting, right? I just can't understand why we're not having more fun!

Thank the good Lord for grandparents. For our anniversary this year, Nate's parents gave us a gift card to a hotel in downtown Minneapolis. It graciously included free childcare, which was a good thing because my feelings on staying in a hotel with small children lie somewhere between "NO" and "HECK TO THE NO."

Saturday morning we shipped our kids off to grandma and grandpa's, traded our minivan for my mother-in-law's convertible, and headed downtown for 24-hours of much-needed fun.

It's amazing what 24 hours can do for a relationship. 

Look, I got dressed and put on makeup! On a weekend!

Hot dogs at the Walker. Enormous.

Cute hubs.

So close.

Game faces. (He beat me by 2 points.)

Amazing.

Sorry, I'm one of those annoying people who take pictures of my food.

Bacon confit. If you insist.

Well-rested and well-fed.

Wind in our my hair.

We may not have gotten away away, but we did get far enough to remember just how happy we are to be in the trenches together.

F.

F is for family reunion, which we planned to attend this weekend. A day up north on the lake with Nate's extended family, who we rarely get to see.

F is for four hours, the length of drive we had ahead of us Saturday morning. Which is why we planned to leave as close to 7am as possible.

F is for frustration, which is what I felt when Nate called me on Saturday morning to inform me that the dog boarding place does not open at 7am, but 9am — putting us two hours behind schedule.

F is for the many four letter words I could have uttered (but didn't) when we discovered, an hour later, that our car had been broken into overnight, our window shattered, and our GPS stolen.

F is the letter grade I give myself for assuming I knew what time the boarding place opened, and for leaving the GPS on the dashboard when I should have put it away (since when am I new to city living??).

F is for FAIL, which is what Progressive gets for saying they'd have someone call us to set up our repair by end of day Monday. For a claim filed early on Saturday. Gee, thanks.

F is for fixed, which is what our window is after a very nice man from Safelite came to replace it on Saturday afternoon. Don't worry, Progressive. We took care of it. Still anxiously awaiting your call, however!

F is for fun, which we still managed to have this weekend despite a busted window, a missed trip, severe weather, and a child who refused to sleep for about four hours in the middle of the night last night.

F is for my very fabulous husband, who makes life's adventures bearable...and even a little funny.

Something tells me Nate did not find the shattered window as photo-worthy as I did.


Say what? What do you mean we're not going??


Man, I was really looking forward to that long car ride. Guess I'll just simulate as best I can from inside the house.


Luckily, we still had access to our Civic. Our very roomy two-door Civic. The perfect choice for an active family!


It was no day at the lake, but we still manged to get in a $12, 45 minute trip to the pool before Calvin had a total meltdown and the storms rolled in.





Mom, do you realize you're only wearing spf 30? Have you already forgotten about Mexico?


Enjoying a post-nap snack from his favorite perch.


Calvin was not the only one delighted by the prospect of bedtime Saturday night. He went to bed at 7:20. We went to bed at 7:20:05.


Sunday we went on a picnic, which Calvin found a little strange. He looked at me like "Where is my high chair? Where is that bib you always force me to wear?" He didn't let a little confusion deter him from eating his weight in food, however.




And then we forced him to ride the wheel of terror.


The only way to unwind after a wild ride like that? Footed pjs and crocs.


An ice cold beer from the cooler (all packed up for our non-trip... please note, we do not condone alcohol consumption by one year olds).


And one last swim.

The next best thing.

Nate and I have spent the last week of January in Mexico for the past five years. But now we have a baby and no money, so this year we spent it in Minnesota.

I don't like Minnesota the last week of January. It makes me crabby.

Since we couldn't go there, we decided to bring a little Mazatlan here. Saturday night we had a fiesta with our beach buddies Jon and Mary — complete with fajitas, salsa, guacamole, nacho platter, Pacifico, margaritas, my Mexican tablecloth and dishes, Mary's beach hat, sand, shells, and some very interesting candles purchased at our neighborhood mercado.

We ate, we drank, we played a few ridiculous hands of the card game 500. It has to be said: my friend Margarita gave me some very poor card playing advice. Nate and Jon ended up winning, although at one point Mary and I were, and the boys were not impressed. I distinctly recall Nate saying to Jon "THIS is what we're losing to?" while gesturing toward Mary, who was giggling under her beach hat and asking "what's trump again?," and me, giggling so hard I snorted after realizing I'd just played an entire hand with two extra cards.

She may not do much for my card game, but that Margarita sure is funny.