Tim, Kellan and I took a long weekend.
In the mountains.
And it was glorious.
If anyone has any ideas as to how we can make a living in a small mountain town, I’m all ears.
On Friday, we drove over to Breckenridge from our condo in Keystone (about 25 minutes) to watch the beginning of Stage 5 of the US Pro Cycling Challenge. I LOVE cycling. Admittedly, I don’t really know *that* much about it but I love watching (and I’d love to learn more). My bucket list includes going to France one day and following the Tour (de France) through each stage – mostly to see the small French towns they ride to/from. GORGEOUS. Also, the drama that ensues during the race.
This is Kellan, waiting for the cyclists he never even saw (see below):
Granted, I never actually *saw* the riders because about fifteen minutes before they came through (Tim and I had a primo spot, too), Kellan melted down. I mean MELTED. DOWN. High pitched screaming all, “GET ME OUTTA HERE. NOOOOOOW.” He had already napped once in the Ergo and we had been there for almost two hours and, understandably, he was done with all of the commotion and noise and stuff. There was A LOT of stuff going on. People. Cowbells. Dogs. Cowbells. People dressed up like grapes. Cowbells. Cars. Screaming kids. Cowbells. Loudspeakers. Cowbells. Music. Announcers. MOAR. COWBELLS.
Suffice it to say I ended up behind the scenes, behind the buildings, behind everything except a small stream that cut through the backside of the town, hanging out with Kellan, walking him back and forth, back and forth, while the cyclists rode down Main Street. I’m pretty sure one of the dudes in a black security jacket was slightly confused as to what I was doing and why because he kept staring at me funny.
The sacrifices a mother makes.
Tim got a few really great pictures, though.
As much as Tim and I needed time to just get away from every day life, it wasn’t as relaxing as I thought it would be. I mean, it was relaxing and awesome to be surrounded by the mountains and the brilliant silence that comes with them, but I didn’t really get any downtime or chill out time or just lounge time. Before, when Tim and I would take mini-vacays like this, there would be LOTS of lounging. To the point I would get restless and bored and cabin feverish.
This particular trip?
Every second was consumed with something. We were driving somewhere. We were looking at something. I was literally shoveling food down my throat because I only had somuchtime before Kellan needed a change of environment. I think I told Tim that I had not actually sat down and enjoyed a meal since Kellan had been born. Whenever that day comes, someone will have to physically force me to eat at a reasonable pace because I’m in such a habit of doing it as quickly as possible because if I try to eat slowly, I probably won’t get to eat at all.
Again, I digress.
After doing “stuff” for probably a little bit too long, Kellan decided he was done and we were driving back to the condo, full on melt down mode. The crying made me flustered and frustrated. My attitude made Tim flustered and frustrated.
Kellan was crying. Screaming.
MAKE IT STOP.
I really don’t know how to explain it to anyone unless you’re a mom. And then you already understand that when your baby is crying, you do not hear anything, see anything, DO. ANYTHING. unless it is what will cease the crying. Everything is dropped, unheard, forgotten, until the crying STOPS and the needs of your child are met. There are no “extra” things you want to do, like bring something in from the car. There are no questions you want to answer. You really don’t want to do anything, nor can you focus on anything, until that screaming ends – both inside and outside of your head. Internally, your brain literally gets fuzzy because your entire being is ignoring everything and everyone, unless either are involved in what is needed to end the tears.
It makes no sense…unless, of course, you already have a child, and then you probably know exactly the buzzing, static-y feeling I’m talking about.
This whole scenario puts undue stress on one certain married couple who are trying to achieve exactly the opposite. So, it is hard to be back home, feeling refreshed, when each day there felt like any other day. I mean, minus visiting Breckenridge and some of the other neat things we did in our small blocks of time where Kellan was rested and happy. That part was fun. But there was never a total “break” from normalcy. Which, I guess, is to be expected with a baby. It’s just another adjustment we have to make…*I* have to make…because that flustered/frustrated feeling happened a lot over the weekend because Kellan was out of his comfort zone and we probably kept him out juuust long enough for him to decide that he wanted to be somewhere quiet and familiar. Both, obviously, hard to come by when you’re not home.
I’m sure this gets easier when he gets older and I am able to actually reason with him. However, there is no reasoning with a six month old. There is only a need that must be met. He doesn’t understand ‘five minutes’ or ‘almost there’ or ‘right after we [fill in the blank].’
He understands I NEED IT AND I NEED IT NOW.
It probably doesn’t help that he’s been extra (and by extra I still mean spider monkey status) clingy – to the point he doesn’t want to play on the floor by himself, like he did just a week ago, with no complaint. He wants to be held. He wants to play…but only on a bed that I AM SITTING/LAYING on. He doesn’t want you to go very far away – as in six inches may as well be the distance of an entire ocean.
I’m ok with this because I know he isn’t doing it to be spiteful. He’s doing it because there is something he needs in the comfort arena of his emotional development and I’m not going to deny him that.
Is it hard?
YES. A resounding YES.
Will it end?
Do I miss my mostly easygoing baby from a week ago?
This hard part means that he’s growing and developing…and you’ve got to take the easy with the hard, right?
Until the storm quiets again, there will be plenty of pictures like this where I’m trying to convince Kellan that I’m righthere and he can smile…
And instead, when I try to walk two steps away, get this: