We're back and now it's December. I'm glad there aren't any more holidays any time soon. Oh, wait…

So we snuck off and went to the woods for Thanksgiving. I had to be a tad sneaky about where we were going. People kept emailing me asking what all the mystery was for. Well let me tell you people, Scott has a theory about the internet: The internet and blogging specifically are a construct created by hackers and identity thieves to steal your shit. That’s his theory. He didn’t like it that I said we were going out of town but look how cagey I was about where and when exactly we were going. Ha! Take that internet thieves.

We spent the long weekend in a cabin on a mountain river. We did all sorts of mountainy cabiny things. We roasted marshmallows and went for canoe rides and walked in the woods. Tempel got the DT’s being away from her Nintendo DS for so long but we managed to talk her down. We weren’t *gasp* camping or anything. The cabin was new and nice and sported a hot tub. Every time Scott would get the girls in the hot tub I would say, “And now they’ve contracted gonorrhea.” He doesn’t think that’s funny. But hot tubs? Ewww. And now they’ve contracted chlamydia.

There’s nothing like being trapped in th’ hollar with your children for DAYS to make you non-thankful for the Thanksgiving holiday. On Friday morning I realized my Blackberry had fallen out of my pocket. Somewhere out there under the leaves. The ten thousand acres of dropped leaves of the Blue Ridge mountains. Or perhaps the Appalachian I’m not entirely sure. That sucker was gone. And I couldn’t just call it and listen for the ring to locate the phone because there was no cell reception in th’ hollar.

After an hour of scooting leaves around with our feet Scott managed to find the one guy in the mountain range with a leaf blower. So he set off to disrupt the peaceful mountain river with the most annoying sound on earth – the leaf blower – but it was a cellular emergency people. It couldn’t be helped. I was being the dutiful mommy and ferrying the girls across the river in the canoe to play on the rock outcroppings with these other two boys who were busy fishing. And the canoe was not cooperating with the wiggly girls. And I finally managed to get them both up on the rock. And then Parker lost her balance and fell in the river getting her FAVORITE SHOES wet and it was all my fault and now she’s demanding to go back to the cabin to be tended to. So I get her ferried across and back up the steep bank and just then I hear Tempel scream. While navigating a fallen tree between two rocks she has managed to hook the seat of her pants to the boys fishing rod. So I glide the canoe back to the other side of the river and manage to anchor it and climb ungracefully out onto the rock and after several minutes of pulling and tearing and balancing and soaking my feet I extricate Tempel from the hook and I can hear Parker screaming at me from the deck of the cabin standing in her robe demanding that I make her shoes dry NOW. Brat! Then the loud leaf blower goes off and Voila! Scott has found the Blackberry which is a mountain miracle and I’m heading back over there to check it and hug it and hold it over my head to see if I can get a signal in this god forsaken hollar. And then Tempel screams again because now she’s gotten her shoes muddy and wet and there the only ones she has and come get her NOW.

We were finally all on the same bank together and I just snapped at Scott, “Why did you bring us here?!” And that’s when the hysterical manic laughter set in and we both just had to sit down and laugh until tears were streaming down and we could breath again.

*****************
On Saturday, in the cabin, I wrote the following sentimental non-Carolyn blatherings out on my Blackberry. I couldn’t post it then because you know, no cell reception in th’ hollar but I’m putting on here now as I wrote it so I can remember this one moment of Thankfulness. Otherwise the whole weekend will be forgotten and morphed into a memory of hot tub communicated venereal diseases and Tempel catching her own ass with a fishing rod.

*****************

I am always digesting, amusing, reminiscing, rewriting in my head. Distilling. Retelling. On this blog.

But right now. I’m sitting here right now. This moment and if I don’t write it down as it is it will get lost in the rest of the weekend. The squabbles, the scenery, the marshmallows, the canoe.

Now.

Scott has left the cabin. It’s raining. The girls watched two movies in a row. They fought over the blanket, the chair, the remote. Done. I’m just done. I’m cooking and cleaning and refereeing. Same shit different location.

I snuck up to the loft during the last stand off and made a fort. Quietly. With blankets and sheets. It’s not much to look at but to small children it’s their magic world.

I turn the tv off. Moooommmmmm! Look. Mommy made a fort. They fight over their positions in said fort. Their state. I offer lunch. They hate all the food in the cabin. Bicker. Whine.

I make a picnic lunch quietly and take it to the entrance of the fort. Ring the bell and walk away. And finally the magic of the fort sets in. The paper plates magically contain their favorite selection of foods. Ever. I am the best mommy ever. Thankyouverymuch.

So now. Right now. My girls are in their magic fort eating the best lunch ever discussing how the lava flows past their settlement and U2’s Bad is playing on the iPod and it’s raining and right now I can see the Thankful. I am thankful.

Ding! The bell indicates that they have finished their lunch and I navigate the lava flow to retrieve the empties. I hand them paper plates and coffee filters and ball point pens because it’s what I can find. Make art I command. They are enchanted. Busy.

It’s Scott’s dad’s birthday. His first since his last. Scott has gone to visit the cemetery and meet his sister for lunch. It’s hard. He’s sad. He feels bad about leaving me in this desolate place all day in the rain with two cranky kids. I can’t tell him that this is my day everyday and it’s fine because it’s what I do all the time everyday anyway because it would make him feel bad. Like he’s not here enough or he should be doing more or doing better. Which is all nonsense. Because he is the best father these two girls could possibly have and he’s with them constantly. Maybe he’ll realize that one of these days.

I hope the lave flows for a good long time and the paper plates hold out because this is a good moment and I’m thankful for it.

.