Not the fun one.

By which I mean: me.
I am not the fun one.
That would be Coffeedoc, Dad, Tom.
He is the fun one.

He is the one who travels the world and gets twitchy when he's been home for more than a few weeks.
He is the one who drives fast, be it boat or car.
He is the one who takes the kids tubing and tries to dunk them with donut circles in the chop of the wake.

He is the one who makes silly voices and tells silly stories during dinner.
He is the one who makes gross out jokes during dinner.
He is the one who will buckle and snap endless coats and ski boots to get the kids on the mountain.
He is the one who will take them to Monkey Joe's so they can run and slide and shriek to their heart's content.
He is the one who will jump out of a plane, or hike up the hilltop to see what is there.

I am the one who could stay home forever.
I am the one who savors the different light of the seasons.
I am the one who stays off the lake while they flip off the tube, to make dinner after they come home wet and cold and laughing.
I am the one who stays with the baby while they see the Imax movie, ostensibly because it's too much for the baby...but really because the swooping bigger than life high definition 3D makes me queasy.  It's too much for me.
I am the one who plays bananagrams and counts it as big fun.
I am the one who makes yogurt in a slow cooker, for pete's sake!

He is the fun one.
He is the fast one.
I am the slow one.
I am the one that holds to bedtimes and routines.

{football at ND, last year}

This weekend, all the girls are with dad at Notre Dame.
They have gone up to see their brothers and a game.

My boys, yesterday on campus.

They will get to bed late, and eat way too much junk food.
They will yell at the pep rally and shout over the band.
They will see the drumline way way after bedtime, staying up until far into the night.
They will roll their eyes at his silliness and bad jokes.
They will alternately giggle and fume over his benign neglect of their girly natures.

{football game last year, ND}

I will fret that the change in routine will throw a few of them off kilter.
I will fret that the lack of sleep will be a catalyst for meltdown by multiple girls.
I will worry about them coming back rather undone, frazzled and unable to recalibrate into the instant return to daily life and requirements.
I will wonder if medicine was taken and how the moods are swinging.
I will brace myself for the impending meltdowns upon re-entry.
I will see the texts to me, complaining and fussing, and deflect them with "be nice, have fun."

But, because after twenty-one years of being a mom, I am learning.....
that they will survive this weekend away without my 'stick in the mud' tending,
that they might even build new memories that will make them laugh til they cry....someday,
that they can live off of some junk food and be happy for my cooking when they get home,
that they can learn to be cranky and out of sorts and still survive,
that getting to bed crazy late is not the end of the world,
that Dad is not Mom.
And that he is the fun one.
And that there is time for that too.
And that their world is better for it.

I am not the fun one.
I am glad that he is.