I have to admit that I have a love-hate relationship with my own life and marriage. I love that Russ and I feel like we can do anything, go anywhere, that our kids will roll with just about anything, that slim odds or challenging logistics are never deal-breakers; I hate that we are so f*cking disorganized that we eitiher do WAAY too much at once or we miss every good opportunity because we’re still chasing down a stupid slim odd.
In late March we agreed to have Olivia play in a tournament hockey league. We figured it was just 3 weekends, we could handle it. But ooops, we neglected to ask WHERE the tournments would be held. We’re so stupidly new to the world of travel hockey, that it also didn’t occur to us that it would involve three-day weekends in Canada!
But, okay, we made our bed, we’ll lay in it!
So when the first tournament rolled around, were we ready with our valid passports? Nnnoo. The last time we crossed the border was last summer’s trip to Prince Edward Island and that was with passports we discovered were expired just minutes before reaching the border station. I still get all jittery when I think of those border crossings. Russ didn’t seem at all anxious about crossing the border AGAIN with an expired passport, but I did, so I backed out, citing what appeared to be a borderline concave-bed team hotel.
This put me in the smug not-my-problem position. I thought.
On the day before Russ and Olivia were to travel to Montreal, I started looking up the web pages for US-Canada border crossings and could no longer find the web page that indicated it was ok to cross with an expired passport. I positively freaked out. I could not find Russ’ birth certificate. I went in the maternal mental express-lane straight to the worst-case scenario of Russ and Olivia barred from crossing the border and Olivia sad and mad that her PARENTS had screwed up her life with vague images of her in therapy fifteen years later recounting her crazy life with her parents.
Okay. So the therapy piece might happen anyway. Whatever.
Russ is still pretty cool-headed while his wife is going freakishly twitchy on him. I leave the house to drive my girls to a birthday party and to buy soccer cleats. I don’t want to be there when he gets home to “solve the problem”.
Cool-headed Russ calls Senator Leahy’s office where they tell him he’ll be fine crossing the border w/an expired passport, although the US border might hassle him. He calls the Canadian border agency and they say, sure, c’mon in!
What-ever. I’m still twitchy.
Cool-headed Russ gets through w/o a blink of the eye. He doesn’t even show his expired passport. On the US side, the border guard asked if he had a passport and said he didn’t care if it was expired, he could still swipe it and that was easier than typing in all the characters of his drivers license!
See what 10 years does to our post 9/11 world?
Last week I also had an introductory meeting with a financial advisor who was recommended to me by our accountant. After a full hour of revealing our financial life, of answering question after question that might help this woman understand if our financial disarray was intentional or accidental, I assured her it was not intentional. After all, we are a train-wreck! I didn’t say that out loud, just to me!
I’m thinking how most days it feels like we’re lucky to make it through each day. And then she, as warmly as a stranger who has just seen your messy bedroom might, suggests that Russ and I might start talking to each other about what we envision for retirement.
I laughed out loud.
We can’t figure out how we’re spending Memorial Day weekend! Or Spring Break before it happens! We can’t possibly come up with an image of retirement fifteen (or is it 20?) years ahead! Oh my.
I really do feel like we’re on a train track and that we will either collide with our crazy, happy, disconnected, disorganized selves somewhere down the line or we’ll just derail one day.