Summer@Home: The Bliss of NOT Being at Home

We went on vacation this summer.

To many people, that's not a monumental statement. However, we don't actually go on vacation very often. We visit family at their homes. Or we visit family homes when the owners are not there. But I can only count three real vacations we've been on since Herb and I were married just over 10 years ago. This year was one of them.

Our oldest, Ian, is going to college in the fall. So honestly, we don't know how many more of these "everyone is here together at the same time" vacations we're going to have. So we splurged and went to Hilton Head Island for a week. It was my favorite vacation spot when I was growing up. I had so many fond memories of Hilton Head that I wanted to share it with my kids.

One of the things I didn't really expect was how freeing it was for me to be on vacation with the family. Other than the drive up and back — which Herb had to do on his own — it was easy for me to forget that I couldn't drive. For the most part, when we went anywhere, we were all going together. No disappointments for the kids from hearing, "I'd love to take you, but I can't because Dad's not here."

And we were bicycling distance from the grocery store.  Hallelujah and pass the peanuts! I could go to the grocery store. By. My. Self. I'm not sure that I ever actually did. But just knowing that I could was enough.

And it was a Piggly Wiggly, no less! You can't beat that with a stick.

[Piggly Wiggly ... yet another amazing memory from my childhood! But I'll write about that another time.] 

There were two particularly memorable events from our vacation that I'd like to share.

Summer@Home Day 26 — Can Lightning Strike Twice?

Day 26
Words should be measured carefully before they are spoken. Frequently you do not know their import until it is too late. Once said, they cannot be unspoken, no matter how much we wish it were so.

Let me explain...

When I was pregnant with my now seven-year-old, we went to a Braves game. Now, you must understand that I am a huge Braves fan. Obsessive, some would say. Given the opportunity I would rather be at Turner Field than just about anywhere else. 

However, in this particular instance it was a day game in late June. I was six months pregnant, and I was ready to go home. We were on the right side of a 4-0 shutout going into the eighth, so it looked good for an on-time departure. 

Until the Orioles scored in the top of the 8th. And then three more times in the top of the 9th. By the bottom of the 9th, our four-run lead had disintegrated into a tie ballgame. 

Late June in Atlanta when you're very pregnant is enough to make even the most die-hard baseball fan weary.
 

Andruw Jones

Andruw Jones led off the inning, and the fans in the stadium rose as one. He was still in his prime and a force to be reckoned with at the plate. He and the longball were well acquainted. Exactly the person you wanted at bat at a time like this.

At that moment I spoke words that live with me to this day. 

"Andruw Jones, If you hit a home run right now, I'll name my baby after you!"

I screamed. I chopped. I prayed.