It Was Perfect, Except For The Spotlights And The Dead Body

I've been scarce. I freaking love being scarce. I was busy being scarce at the beach again. Again! I know. But this time it was different because I was sans children.

I get a break approximately twice a year. Once in January for our anniversary, and then once in summer. Jeff handles hospitals along the Texas Gulf Coast so while he works I play. It is massive awesome. We were gone for Three Entire Nights. I think we've only done two before - so that was really really really really cool.

Camille went to a friend's house and she has 9 kids so I don't even think she knew she was babysitting...I probably could have dropped Jasper there, too. What's one more? But Jasper went to his friend's house a couple of times during the three days to give the teenagers a break. Ellie told me that she doesn't think Joel/Jules went to bed the entire time we were gone (and by the way they looked I pretty much believe her). And both Camille and Jasper were sick by the time we returned, the house was trashed...but yeah...so totally worth it.

We stay in a hotel that is on the beach. It has an outdoor bar right on the beach, as well, and we like to sit behind it and watch the moon rise over the surf. On the first night, we were sitting there on the concrete wall, kind of sneaking our own cocktails, waiting for the moon to come up. Glorious night...warm...not too windy. We noticed that there was a lot of traffic on the beach, cars driving up and down, and then we were totally illuminated with our illegal cocktails by a Police Spotlight. Then we noticed the firetruck in the parking lot. And all of the uniformed people on the boardwalk. And then we heard a frazzled guy saying, "We don't know where he is..." to a police officer and we were like Wow What Is Going On? And Jeff says casually, "Maybe that guy has lost his kid."

WHAT? I became totally fixated on a Missing Child Scenario and I was ready to go all Baywatch and begin swimming out into the surf because I tend to assume the worst right off the bat. I was a mess. I kept wringing my hands, watching all the uniforms and spotlights and just generally becoming very undone in wanting to know what was going on and if somebody's child was missing. Because if a child was missing we all needed to be running around with our hair on fire. Seriously.

"Go ask the cops what's up," I said to Jeff. He didn't want to. "They've got it all under control," he said. Then he appeared to become RELAXED. With a possible missing child situation. At which point I told him it was going to be very hard for me to, shall we say, become romantic, if there is a missing child. He sighed. "Fine," he said. Then he sauntered off to play the part of Nosy Bystander.

He came back looking very relieved. Jubilant, actually. "No missing kid!" he said as he sat back down next to me. "Somebody just called into the hotel saying they'd seen a dead body in the surf and so now they're looking for it." He took a swig of beer. "Want to take a walk on the beach?"

You know, the one the cops were combing for a DEAD BLOATED BODY. Uh, no thanks.

Missing Child Fixation transferred easily into the Dead Body Fixation. Jeff, figuring out pretty quickly that the Dead Body was somewhat of a major buzz-kill for me, found it necessary to make a second inquiry as to the progress of the search. He came back telling me that it was a suspected prank call. (I'm still not sure if he made that up, or not...but the excitement died down pretty quickly among the searchers, who eventually left.)

But the excitement didn't end there for us. No siree. Just as the national guard quit shining spotlights in my face, Jeff stood up to wipe the sand off his rear. We were on a concrete wall-thing, that had like 3 steps leading down to the sand. There were a bunch of chairs stacked up on the sand, against the last step, that was about three feet up. Jeff's foot slipped. It was total slow-mo. He had time to say, "Oh my god, I'm effing falling..." before he went down to the first step. He bounced a total of three times, allowing for the guttural expulsion of three separate F-Bombs, before landing face down in a push up position between the last step and the stacked chairs. Later he excitedly recounted (because for him, the fall was a bigger deal than the missing body)"I was like in the forward dog position!" He thought he was all Rambo with it. In his mind, I know he was like a hollywood stunt man. I'm not going to tell him any differently. (And by the way, it is the downward dog position but who would correct yoga lingo at a time like that?)

He was scraped up pretty good but managed to re-perch himself on the wall, resume his pale ale consumption, and enjoy the rising of the moon amid the glory of the fall.

The next morning (and the following 2) he got up super early for work, and before dressing, ran down to the beach to set up my umbrella and chair. He even packed a little ice chest for me and charged up my IPod. But before you think he is 100% Sweetness, let me just say that on the 3rd day he looked at the surf and yelled, "Look! Oh my god, a human head!" I totally flipped out. I looked out onto the surf and guess what? A human head. If you haven't seen me get excited...let me just say that I once completely disrobed on our front porch (to the horror of my sons) because Joel told me I had a grasshopper on my back. He's never done that again, by the way. So anyway - a human head floating in the surf - I was a little worked up. Also? In the surf. With the human head. Before I actually drowned FOR REAL, Jeff came clean by shouting, "It's just a coconut! Jesus, calm down!" Ugh. I could have killed him. I spawned children with this man and everything. And that explains the behavior of at least a couple of them.

Anyway - great time. I'd like to say I'm re energized but nah.

We have a lazy Labor Day weekend planned. Jeff made Palak Paneer for dinner tonight - don't know what he has planned for the rest of the weekend, but I'm sure it will be good. I'm a lucky girl most of the time.

Signing Off as a Laborless Sardine Mama