Two weeks ago, I turned 32. I never actually remember how old I am anymore, because senility (I usually just ask JK how old he is, then subtract a year), but birthdays should be celebrated nonetheless – and my birthdays are best celebrated in the Teanaway.
My birthday weekend officially began late Thursday night when JK finally felt (and saw!) the baby kicking for the first time! Huzzah! Then I had time to watch the first episode of the new season of Orange is the New Black before we left on Friday afternoon, which meant I had Pulaski at Night stuck in my head all weekend, setting the mood for an excellent trip.
Our tradition is to hike Iron Peak to celebrate the Aging of Ingunn, but since I’m also dealing with the Aging of Fetus this year, I decided it would be too much elevation gain for my rickety pelvis. My new tactic is to pick trails out of the Best Hikes With Kids book, which touted Esmeralda Basin as a good alternative.
We set our sights on Fortune Creek Pass and noticed a little too late that I was overextending myself a bit too much on the muddy and snowy sections of the trail. It finally caught up to me when we were literally minutes away from the pass, and I decided to override my summit fever and call it quits right there. It felt like such a mature, adult decision to make, but then again I am 32 now.
26 weeks and feeling great, except for that damn pelvis.
This time I mean it, no more walking on snow for me until winter.
A slow, uncomfortable waddle later, we were back in camp. I was pretty useless and immobile at this point, but JK claimed he didn’t mind doing the camp chores and cooking. He’s a good one.
The dogs, however, were no help at all.
We spent the rest of the weekend talking, laughing, reading, eating, staring at the fire, cooling off in the creek, sniffing ponderosa pines, playing with the dogs, enjoying the moment.
It was perfect. I think I like 32.