Mommy ... where are you?

There are pivotal moments in life when one is faced with a challenge. His response to that challeng defines him and demonstrates the man that he has become. Last week was one such moment for me. When Jessica left me to parent our children alone for a week, I knew it was gut-check time. I pushed forward without flinching. There was no hesitation ... no second-guessing. I immediately picked up the phone and called my mommy. I packed the family van with the bare necessities which included some bottled water, the last meager remnants of snack food adorning our cupboards and my sister Brooke with her kids. And without even waiting for Jessica to drive out of the driveway, we headed off to California ... land of sun, palm-trees and Grandma Nutt (nickname that has stuck with my mom due to her mad skills at Candy Land). My mom and my sister watched my kids while I holed up at work. And then I came home in the evenings to relieve them of their duties.

So my mom was a total saint. She took the kids to parks and museums and 7-eleven for slurpies. She saved my bacon yet again.

I felt like a slob though, because I had planned a fun week with just me and my kids, but as girls-camp drew near my work was reaching a feverish pace. In fact, I have a group of old mission companions who I usually email daily. It is usually hilarious and a great way to sound off on subjects that we know our wives would either be bored listening to or flat-out not agree with us on. So we find solace in our likeminded brotherhood. Anyway, I have been so slammed that I have barely been able to read their rants, let alone provide any of my usually deep and philosophical responses. In fact, I fear that my membership is currently in question. Thus my hopes of taking a week off to play and camp and basically dupe my children by any means necessary into the believing that Dad is actually a party bus that is only inhibited from rolling by the serious business of that "mom lady" who runs the day to day Romney affairs.

So my small parenting contribution for the week was to be the pool coordinator for our evening swims. I organized floaty races (pictured above) with the whole squad. I offered rides around the pool on my back and I instituted the "Seal Training School." That was a favorite addition to pool-time. After telling Emma, Gabe and Jane about how cool navy seals are I gave them their own commando covers; Emma was Razortail, Gabe was Lockblade, and Jane was Sharkfin. I can't remember my name. I had them do breath control drills under the water. Then we did combat training with this game that my brother and I played sometimes where you see who can grab their opponents foot first without letting their own foot be taken first. We ran recon missions retrieving objects from the bottom of the pool. We practiced mine avoidance by having them maneuver in and around various obstacles in the pool. If a mine was touched, I provided realism by pounding explosions into the water overhead my would-be seals.

So our trip was fun and I am even further indebted to my mom.