Cluck, Cluck, Cluck

26 September 2008

My Very Own Mcdream Come True...

Last Thursday, after I picked her up from a coffee bar at 8am, Daughter and I went on a road trip. We rocked out to some B-I-N-G-O and a lot of Bruce Springsteen. We ate salad bar and "Neemeneeems*" (!!!) in the car.

We were staying at a lodge in Homer, where my dad had been all week for work. We wound up having the whole beautiful seaside place to ourselves.

We went to the deep water dock and Daughter got a tour of "Papa's Tug Bot", including the buckets of freshly baked cookies in the galley. She decided she needed one for herself and 'Oh! Wait! My Paaaaapa needs a cookie too..."

We had a "fancy dinner" at the "special" restaurant and we sat at a table in the (gasp. hide. shame.) bar, because it was empty, smoke-free, and the tables are elevated which is exponentially easier for my father.

Daughter ran around in the beautiful yard overlooking the ocean for the better part of an hour after we got back to the lodge. She cawed at the ravens that were perched on the roof next door. She flapped her arms and flew around the yard CawCawCAAAAAWing away. She chased off a sea gull. She wanted to go down to the beach, but we put it off until the morning.

We had a bath in the huge tub, red books, curled up in the huge! great! bed! and come eight o'clock she was still wide awake. Huh. Didn't see that one coming. Damn.

She wanted to watch a movie. No movies. She wanted to jump up and down. NO jumping. She wanted to run around exploring the house up and down the stairs, over and over and over again. NO Exploring.

I on the other hand wanted to watch the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy. Like basically everyone else in the world, I have a thing for medical shows. The fake ones, not the Discovery Channel variety. I'm pretty out of touch with ER, but I'm a loyal Grey's fan. I actually watch it on tv on a regular basis, which is saying a lot for me. I've been watching Grey's since before EVERYONE was watching. Since the winter of 2005 when it appeared out of nowhere to make me want to move to Seattle. I was working on an ill-fated campaign that kicked my ass for months on end. I was swimming with a Master's team at 5:30 in the morning on Monday/Wednesday/Friday and it was an 8pm show. My ex-husband was in grad school and pretty consumed upstairs.

I watched it when it premiered for the full season the next fall. When I was pregnant and we were moving and staying at my parents' house while we remodeled the new place and I frantically finished college before the baby was born. And I watched it through the winter while I was home with a new baby. And I watched it the next fall in random places with cable when I was separated and miserable and having my ass kicked daily by life and a awful campaign. Then that winter I would go to the gym and run while it was on and listen on headphones. Last fall I watched on boyfriend's computer on Saturdays because I was in school when it was on in real time. I watch. I'm a fan. Its a train wreck and I like that too.

So. What the hell? She'll probably get bored and fall asleep. She won't be to scared by blood and the guts. I can just turn it on, she won't even pay attention.

But she did. She demanded to snuggle on the other side of the bed, closer to the television so she could see better. "Look! Mommy! Those are his brains and his guts!" She stayed up for an hour and a half. And spent most of the drive home the next day operating on her bears and dinosaurs in the backseat.

There have been a thousand moments (or days and weeks and months) in the past three and a half years when watching Grey's Anatomy in a the most comfortable bed ever curled up with my daughter and her two favorite bears seemed like an impossible fantasy. I am well aware of how ridiculous a thing it is to say, but if I could have frozen that moment in time and just relived it every day from here until forever, I would. It was one of the most hard won and cherished memories I will ever have. So, thank you Meredeth and Derek. Thank you, Christina and stapled ass army guy. Thank you, Bernadette Peters and Kathy Baker. I'll never forget it.

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