Well, we had an eventful weekend, yet again — and eventful weekend leading up to an even more eventful week.
Jameson’s 9-1-1 trick? Remember? Well, that was just the warning shot. The heads-up to let me know he’s on the rampage. More on that later.
Friday mid-afternoon, Ryan IM’d me.
Ryan: Wanna throw some bags together and drive up to Napa for the weekend?
Me: (long pause, as is typical when someone slow to embrace change is confronted by a spontaneous proposition) Umm–mm–mm, uh, lemme see, uh (you get the idea)… sure!
And so in a flurry I picked up a ridiculously cluttered house (because I had not been tidying-as-I-went that day), scrounged up what constituted outfits from what we had clean, and was smiling and ready to leave when Ryan came home from work.
And after much traffic, a bit of hysteria from the back seat, and a spilled coke, we arrived at our hotel in Napa.
Several thing worth noting:
I’ve grown up in the back corner of Rural USA. All my life, I’ve heard people say things like, “We’re 2.5 hours from the nearest interstate! How awful!”, and, “Ugh — Route 11! What an awful drive that is!” But I would like to say this: I would much rather, any day, drive for an hour and a half on a 2-lane road in a long line of cars driving stubbornly at 57 miles per hour than be on a series of interstates, crawling and creeping and suffocating on a stretch of road that should take 15 minutes to traverse — and instead, takes 45. At least.
Also, back to that 9-1-1 thing. Jameson began crying bloody murder about 2/3 of the way through the trip, and so we decided maybe it would be a good time to grab dinner. He very happily played with us and smiled at the waiter (er, server), and was his angelic self. And then, in a split second, when the eyes in the back of my head were turned away, he took a swipe at the glass of soda on the table and landed it all over me. Not himself, just me. My jeans, my sandals and feet, my sweater — all soaked in icky sticky soda. Oh, I was put out, and perhaps more than I should have been, but for some reason, I just couldn’t get past the fact that my jeans were now stuck to my legs. I could feel the Dad-genes rising and stopped myself just before I was about to outlaw all carbonated beverages in the Dunphey family. Because, after all, I’m just the mom, and only the dad is allowed to say things like No Gum Ever, or Soda Banned Forever.
So anyway, that was the next thing Jameson did as he continued down the path of mischief.
The last thing worth noting is that although hotel rooms are rather pricey in the town of Napa, I’m not sure why, because Napa itself is really just, well, not all that. If you’re going to stay somewhere, try Yountville, or Sonoma.
Anyway, we arrived at our hotel room, and feeling all spontaneous, took off in search of ice cream. You know you only have one baby when at 10:00 you can be seen traipsing up and down a strip mall, acting like bedtime doesn’t exist.
The next morning, as Ryan was thinking about getting in the shower, and I was putting on my makeup, I made The Mistake.
I gave what had heretofore been an innocent infant a bottle of nailpolish to play with while I applied mascara. About halfway through, something made me realize there was a problem — and sure enough, I turned to see my baby with a very puzzled look on his face, sitting in a puddle of hot pink nail polish. Tile, grout, carpet, and baby — covered. Soon, mama and daddy joined in the fun, as our attempts at washing the baby turned our hands and even feet hot pink. Showers ensued, and then google searches on stain removal, and a trip to T@rget for every cleaning solution we could imagine. An hour later, the stain was barely visible (I’m proud to say), Jameson was clean but for his cuticles, and housekeeping and declared us good to go. Phew. But as I told Ryan, we left the hotel room markedly more stupid after having inhaled all of those fumes.
We managed to pull our frazzled nerves together and even managed a few feeble laughs at the whole situation, and did our best to move on to vacation mode.
That’s what we had come in search of. After weeks of living here, I was getting a bit twitchy for an open field, and bumpy road, maybe even a tractor or two. Just space.
And we got it.
Really, truly beautiful Napa Valley.
After driving around and stopping at a prime vantage point, we drove over the mountains to the neighboring valley, Sonoma. (That drive over the mountains? Wow. An experience, for sure. I’m quite positive we were simply driving on paved mule paths.) Sonoma had its own beauty to offer. A bit less touristy, with towns and houses quite a bit more humble, but somehow that humility was just what I needed to see. Our last stop was the town of Sonoma (which we will definitely have to go to, Mom. The shopping is too fun!). Then homeward bound.
We drove over the Golden Gate, into San Fran on the way home, just as the sun was setting. Oh.my.goodness. I just don’t know what else to say. Neither of us had ever driven in from that side, and definitely not as dusk was falling and the lights of the city beginning to glow. Ryan said it looked like some exotic island city in Greece that you see on Giana’s shows (you know. Food Network?) I was too busy taking it in to even compare. It was just awesome. San Francisco definitely deserves its ranking as one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
(more pics here.)
Sunday, our friend Tim came to visit. It was short and sweet — he met us after church and flew out of town that evening — but we packed each minute full of baby fun, laughter, honest conversation, and food. It was wonderful.
We like Tim.
And today? Well, right now I’m awaiting the good doctor’s arrival. See? I’m all ready.