“We’re leaving,” I said to Wade as he lay in bed despondent and in pain from his broken ribs. “I feel this will be best for you to have peace and quiet. Is that okay, or should I stay and take care of you?” I asked.
“No, no…go,” he anxiously replied. As much as he wanted and needed my love he knew that with me came a trail of noise and energy.
The weather forecast called for snow and more snow, Twitter was a buzz with excited locals ready for the powder. But not me, I was exhausted with the idea of being social coordinator for freestyling boys who refuse big mountain skiing.
Once again, my In-Laws saved the day by laying out a momentously admirable plan. I was to bring the boys to them in Littleton and return solo a few days later. They were going to have their own adventure and bring the boys back up on the Denver to Glenwood Springs train.
It looked like I was going to be able to keep my commitment to Stefan after all and experience his Inner Travels Retreat and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I was needing some inner nurturing.
I connected with my online friends for suggestions on what to do in Denver, receiving passes to the IMAX film at the Denver Museum of Science from Colorado Moms and suggestions for hikes and city fun from friends on Facebook and Mile High Mamas. An impressive itinerary was formulated.
We pulled out skateboards and scooters from storage, smothered Wade in kisses and headed for the mile high city where flowers were a bloomin’ and the smell of spring was in the air.
Day 1 we road tripped to the mall, lest I lose my momentum to shop and return home angry with myself for not focusing on breaking the boys habit of wearing over-sized athletic clothes. Before even entering the mall, the boys in all of their excitement, were reprimanded by security for being too rambunctious. “We’re lucky that those security guards don’t follow us around all day or we would get locked up every five minutes,” said Brevitt.
I walked through the mall like a bitch with puppies, the boys tumbling over each other or walking directly in front of me. Swaying and tripping down the hallway we heard, “Oh My GOD,” an exclamation directed toward me. It was Dorian, a young Israeli man. He grabbed my arm, sat me down at his kiosk and began brushing my hair, without explanation. The boys watched with intense curiosity as my curls frizzed into an enormous afro and before I could yell out STOOOPPPP he whisked out his magical ceramic “Hair Styler” iron and began to tame my beast, the thought never occurring to him that I might actually like my hair curly. But the grooming was necessary and we all exhaled a huge sigh of relief when we witnessed my transformation into a polished city mom, aside from the Ostrich feathers in my hair from my latest 911 salon phone call to Jerome. “They’re the latest thing,” Hilarie said convincingly as she clamped the feathers into my hair. The boys, appalled that their mom looked like every girl in their school, set me straight by informing me that I was trendy, not a trendsetter, but who am I to say no. I’m like Jim Carrey in the movie Yes Man, trying everything for a good story.
Back in the mall things were looking good, especially moi, and now it was time for the boys transformation. They dug out their shopping lists beginning with what they needed and ending with what they wanted. As we traveled in and out of stores, we realized that the clothing industry is seriously lacking an important demographic, 9-14 year old boys who aren’t into animal patches or aggressive labeling.
The next day we all went to the Museum and there was so much to see. Overstimulated I signed us up for more than we could handle. Unfortunately, by the time we reached the Real Pirates exhibit, the boys forgot how excited they were to see the first fully authenticated pirate ship ever to be discovered in U.S. waters. They needed fresh air and trees to climb and Grandma, Grandpa and I needed a lounge chair.
That evening we met up with cousins at Romanos, a great Italian family restaurant. As I was being commended for abstaining from societal pressure to give my children sugar or video games when they were little, I noticed that Axel had something in his hand. “AAXXXXEEELLL,” I yelled across the table, and he opened up his hand revealing a handful of sugar. So much for being a role model.
The final plan, before driving back home, was to take the boys to Laser Quest. First round, Tucker proudly came in dead last out of 38 people. When I looked at his hit list I saw that Brevitt and Axel had gotten all of their points by shooting their little brother who was happily tagging behind them. I embarrassed the boys by asking the winner what his mode of operation was. Second round we took no prisoners!
It was time for me to leave and so I said “Good Luck and Sayonara baby,” to Grandma and Grandpa and drove home in a blizzard. Now the break was all mine.