A Little Rant Before Our Regularly Scheduled Blogging of Papa Gigi Camp

I tried to type up a blog post while I was home yesterday, but it just felt too inexcusably superficial to jabber on my intended topics of the kids' week at Papa Gigi Camp, James and my week at home, and some recent shopping successes. Twenty people were killed (now the count is up to 22) and 26 wounded from a mass shooting in my state (and then another soon after in Dayton, Ohio). Forty-six people shot by a domestic terrorist who, hyped up on the white nationalist rhetoric so often gleefully parroted by our current president, drove 9 hours to a Wal-Mart in El Paso to personally combat the "invasion" of Mexicans in America. I spent Saturday night simply drowning in the rage of knowing too many people who have and will continue to support our morally, spiritually, and intellectually bankrupt president and the hopelessness of knowing that because the shooter is just another white male homegrown terrorist, we will do absolutely nothing. Sensible gun reform bills that have already passed the House will continue to not even be brought up for a vote in the Republican-controlled Senate. I don't understand how a party that so loudly pretends to be pro-life can just collectively shrug its shoulders in the face of gun death after gun death. But then I remember that tiny body bags full of shot-riddled Kindergartners didn't move the needle on gun control in a Republican-controlled Congress after Sandy Hook, so after deciding that slaughtered school children were acceptable, what's another few dozen bodies. In a few days there be another Trump rally. Someone will suggest shooting immigrants like they did at his one in Florida a few months ago and our president and his supporters will laugh. Anger and rage and hopelessness don't even come close. But we try to move beyond them. On Sunday we doubled our recurring monthly donation to Moms Demand Action, stepped away from all news and social media, and re-committed to only supporting politicians who actually care about keeping us safe and have ideas and plans on how to do so. And then our day moved on, because it does and it can and it has to. I taught a practice yoga class to my friends who volunteered their time and bodies to my yoga teacher training and then taught a barre class to my sweet Sunday regulars. James took the big kids climbing, Cora worked diligently on her workbook, and I had Greek lamb meatballs simmering on the stove while a bulldog snored regally in the box she recently adopted as her most favorite bed, and while I still couldn't write anything without feeling absurd, I at least didn't feel like I was drowning anymore.

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And so we turn to the intended topics, because this is my journal and life happened last week that I would like to record. The kids spent five fun-filled days at Papa Gigi Camp and I'm so thankful to my parents for the opportunity it afforded the kids to bond with them away from us, and for the opportunity it afforded to James and I to bond away from them.

Not that we could do too much bonding with pesky things like jobs and yoga teacher training occupying much of the schedule, but we went out Sunday night, I made a delicious dinner for a cozy night in on Monday, and on Thursday I skipped my one and only yoga teacher training class (oh the guilt for that one) to soak up one more night that my husband and I had our house all alone to ourselves for the first time in 12 years. It was a very good week.

The kids, not capable of grasping the glory of being alone with your spouse in the house you pay for, are pretty sure they had a better one. And given the adventures they had, who am I to argue?

There was lots of lake time, a trip to Splashtown Water Park, a trip to the movies, a visit to a nearby Wolf Sanctuary (would you like to know anything about wolves? my children can now tell you. did you know your dog is at least 10% wolf? it's true. even Maggie.), the building of a bird house, the feeding of birds and fish, a visit to my brother's house across the lake for swimming and other shenanigans, and a trip to Incredible Pizza with its go-karts and bumper cars and mini golf and bowling and, presumably, incredible pizza.

I'm so glad they all get to enjoy this time together. This was Cora's first year to attend after 3 summers of watching her siblings go. Before the state meet I asked Cora if she was excited about swimming in her first-ever state meet. “No mom," she responded, "I’m really just all the way excited for PapaGigi Camp.” I tried to explain she could be excited about both, but she shook her head regretfully and said, "No mom, I don’t have enough left.”

I have no doubt it lived up to every one of her high expectations.