A serious case of The Pregnant Summers, interspersed with photos to lighten the mood

First things first: I would like to apologize to the gentlemen in the rest stop men’s room in Eagle, Colorado. I saw nothing but your backs. Thanks for not turning around when you heard me say that bad word. It wasn’t the king of bad words, but it was filthy enough to make me slap my hand over my mouth as I ran to the WOMEN’S room just 3 feet away. I took extra long so you’d have a chance to clear out.

We’ve been away. I didn’t look at my blog for 9 days. I didn’t look at yours, either. I didn’t post at Facebook or Twitter and I lost track of what was going on in the world, unless it was in the happy, humble valley where I grew up.

Last week, I drove 250 miles to my parents’ house in Grand Junction with the kids for a little getaway. We spent the week doing summer things, eating summer food, soaking in the high desert sun, and attempting to relax. My husband stayed behind and worked until Friday, when he made the drive with the dog to join us for the 4th of July weekend.

More than once during our week away, I wondered what I was thinking. I drove 250 miles with 7 children while hugely pregnant. My parents were a tremendous help and allowed me to be lazy on the couch or patio chairs. I didn’t cook or contribute much to the daily household needs.

There were many times I was beyond uncomfortable. I couldn’t walk long on our outings without having to find a place to sit and be lame. Playgrounds were chosen based on if they had bathrooms. Our plan to stroll around the downtown shops and boutiques one day deteriorated into visiting a toy shop and a restaurant.

Some time, remind me to tell you about the meltdown I had at a Motherhood Maternity store at the local mall.

The kids had a blast, though. While I was being a slug, my parents showered them with all sorts of fun activities at home and away. I was present at every activity, but more as a spectator. It was great watching the kids have a wonderful time. I was reminded again and again that it was worth every ache and swollen ankle.

Plus, my husband and I got to go on a very rare date Saturday night.

We returned home yesterday. The drive was horrendous. Apparently, every citizen of the Denver metro area drove to their parents’ homes in faraway cities for their own getaways. Then, in a moment of imbecilic groupthink, all 500,000 households thought it would be smart to return on Monday afternoon via I-70 East. What was supposed to be a 4 hour drive turned into eight hours of stop and go torture, heavy on the stop.

I can’t blame heavy traffic for all 8 hours spent piloting The Brick while my husband, the dog, and rotating children followed in our non-behemouth vehicle. I had to stop a few times to walk and visit various rest stops along the way. One was in Eagle, Colorado.

The men’s room is on the right.