My dear friend Debby was in town from Norfolk with her two young rambunctious boys, Collin and Chase. So I brought my young rambunctious boy, Sam, to meet up with them at the Children’s Museum, a haven for young rambunctious boys. We sure hit the jackpot since CMoR was gloriously empty, and it was a sunny afternoon to boot. The boys got their pick of toys and the chance to burn off some steam both inside and out. Plus there were lots of new exhibits at CMoR, definitely worth checking out.
The Debster and I go way, way, wayyyyyy back to those swinging single days (daze?) of pounding the pavement in Seattle and Tacoma trying to find “Mr. Right” — or just settling for j “Mr. Right Now.” We both worked on post at Fort Lewis, Washington — Debby as an engineer and myself as a JAG Officer, which is Army speak for lawyer. **However, all this reminiscing would not be complete without mentioning our third partner-in-crime, Jamie, formerly known as “The General,” who has since settled down with her hubby in CT with two little girls of their own. Unfortunately the Mommy Formerly Known the General was not around for our antics at CMoR, but we sure wished she was!
While we watched our sons run around like Mexican jumping beans pinging from one end of CMoR to the other, we just had to laugh. How long had it been since we saw Pearl Jam live in Seattle on a Monday night after work? A few lifetimes, several deliveries, lots of moves, a couple of weddings, and that’s just for starters! We used to share pints of frosty Pacific Northwest beer and nachos, and there we were swapping off diapers and exchanging potty training woes.
As attractive as that carefree single life seems now, this is what we wanted. This is what we were searching for in Pioneer Square traipsing around on Saturday nights. We’re both so fortunate to have great husbands, a sense of home and stability, and kiddos who are happy and healthy, at least most of the time. This is our happily ever after, but nothing on Earth is ever perfect. Just like single-hood has some lonely nights to endure, parenthood has its many poopy diapers. If only “happily ever after” included a Monday night out hearing Pearl Jam live. No, that would be called Nirvana.
LibbY