For those of you dying to know, my favorite holiday is the fourth of July! First, its in the middle of summer. Second, there is ALWAYS watermelon available. Third, I love fireworks like a 15 month old boy loves running around buck naked and driving his mother crazy. So I was determined in all our crazy shaninigans this summer to have an a$$-kicking fourth this year. And it was, somewhat not quite the a$$ I had in mind to kick (mainly mine), but alas, this is why they say be careful what you wish for, I suppose.
After begging and pleading with Brandon and my in-laws, I somehow coerced them into taking a trip out to Ohiopyle to ride bikes on their trail on the Sunday before the holiday. We went a few years ago (just us and his parents) and had such a good time riding the 11 miles to the sweetest little restaurant and then biking back the 11 miles. So I was so excited to get out of the house and take booboo on his first ever bike ride!
The trip out was uneventful (in parent talk that means GOOD) and we rented our bikes and booboo's bike trailer and hit the trail. It was a super busy weekend and there were tons of people. Grey felt unsure about his trailer, but soon took a snooze and all was peaceful and enjoyable. At about the 6 mile mark, we pulled over and took a little walk down to the river to get some snacks and rest.
After a few minutes, it seemed like suddenly out of the bluest, clearest sky, it was trying to rain. So quickly, hurried back up to the trail, strapped a screaming Grey into the trailer and started biking underneath the canopy of trees on the trail. Then the heavens opened up and it was a monsoon...and the tree canopy could do nothing to shield us lowly bikers from the water. So Brandon's bike kicked up mud into Grey's open trailer, so that he looked like this:
And then we couldn't put Grey back into the trailer because a)that is cruel b) he was screaming bloody murder (honestly, bloody freaking murder) so Brandon got his first taste of true "daddy strength*" and CARRIED Grey in one arm and peddled his bike and steered with the other free arm. FOR 6 MILES BACK. IN THE MONSOONING RAIN. Even though he was seriously hurting and having possible shoulder dislocation, he was so proud to finally get his dad muscles.
By the time we all got back to the rental place (6 miles later), we were soaked to the core and emotionally drained. Maybe you're familiar with the emotional rollercoaster that goes with bad weather on a day you've anticipated to be full of fun. First there's the annoyance, then confusion, then the hilarity, then desperation. Plus, my depression hit new lows when I got into the truck and realized the bag that was containing my Nikon camera was s.o.a.k.e.d. and my camera dead.dead.dead. (yes, i tried to put it in rice and took it all apart and let it dry separately. still dead.)
*daddy strength is a superhuman strength men get when they become dads. its what allows dads the strength to always beat their kids in sports no matter how old they get, it allows dads to carry a baby on his shoulders, one on their hip, while dragging another behind him, and allows them to carry a 24lb toddler in one arm and ride a bike with the other for 6 miles.
Luckily, that wasn't our on fourth of July event planned, so we still had time to make up for the bike trip from the land on soggy bottoms. On holiday night, we headed to the Point Stadium to enjoy the Johnstown Orchestra (which was awesome) followed by fireworks. Since we had practiced the night before with Booboo and fireworks - he loved the Point fireworks which were gorgeous and well worth the wait.
happy birthday America. I love you even if you decide to rain down on me for a whole 6 miles of bike trail.
oh, and the reason I could never sing the National Anthem in front of anyone (besides Grey in the backseat) is NOT because I don't know the words (which I do, ahem Christina A.), and is NOT because I am not a professional singer (even though Grey definitely thinks I am). It's because I cannot get through the following lyrics without bursting into tears:
And the rockets red glare
and the bombs bursting in air
gave proof through night
that our flag was still there
because all i can imagine is Francis Scott Key peering out his window so thankful that he could still see his flag and knowing that as long as she stood, there was still hope.