Mother's Day at Mohonk.

I had been daydreaming about Mohonk ever since a gorgeous trail run up to Skytop when I was in school last year. I was working my way through a hand-me-down "Best Hikes in the Hudson Valley" book from Mom, and the trail description hadn't prepared me for rounding a corner and seeing this stunning castle carved out of rock on the shores of an emerald green lake studded with, no kidding, gondolas. It had looked like paradise.

It was also notoriously expensive, exclusive, and hard to get a reservation.

For my birthday/ Mother's Day, we finally got to go. It was a major bucketlist dream come true for me, and an absolute nightmare for Seth. One of the old throwback mountain lodges people like me really do daydream about, it also had no TVs and abysmal ADA access. I know he's tired of everything being hard and terrible in a wheelchair. Seth's acquiescence to a Mohonk trip anyway was the nicest Mother's Day present, even if he at one point told me his favorite part was the room service and a movie on his phone.

Plus he can't not have enjoyed the food, which was farm-to-table fabulous, complete with chefs who let three year olds come up with their own orders. 

While Ford and I went nuts for risotto and potatoes and croissants that melted in your mouth (oh my!) (carbs!) (I also loved the salad), the daughter after Seth's own heart gnawed on rare wagyu beef in her finest Grandma-gifted occasion dress

and everyone was taken in by the design-your-own cupcake bar.

 The kids went nuts for the stunning and largely empty pool,

and the rest of the golf and hiking and horseback riding and just take-your-breath-away family fun, despite crummy weather, are pictured here.

It was a Mother's Day/ birthday getaway for the ages. Even if tonight we're under tornado warnings and almost out of chocolate covered strawberries, so it seems we're back to reality.

The stunning memories of this one, though, remain, and I couldn't feel luckier to get to explore incredible places with our kids at this imperfectly perfect age. The extraordinary views, punctuated by peals of laughter and bouts of tears and shrieks of "not NICE, Finley!" but also whispered "I'll help you, Ford" will never be forgotten. Time really does fly, and it was a tremendous reminder that these seconds are endlessly precious.

And a shoutout to my Mom, and Seth's Mom, who both remind us that these are "the best of times." 

I'm repeating that under my breath as I do post-getaway laundry at midnight. Thanks to you both for making me believe it.

And to my incredible sister Sara, who makes it look fun; and my sister-in-law Lisa, who makes it seem effortless. (It is in reality only sometimes the first and almost never the second.) You are both my heroes. Cheers across the miles.

39.

Nine years ago, with a deployment date postponed and no birthday plans, I signed up for a North Face 50 miler at Bear Mountain, grabbed a last-minute ticket from RDU to JFK, and spent my 30th birthday running my first 50. I celebrated after an incredibly long day with a beer in an ice bath before I passed out in the Suffern Marriott around 9pm.

Hard to believe it's been that long, or how much life has changed in less than a decade. I ran a slower, less painful, and way more fun 50 on the same (crazy tough) course Saturday with Tommy Ryan, a 260 pound friend of Seth's whose finish was nothing short of a mind-over-matter miracle. Other than the Hogeye Marathon a few weeks ago, I myself haven't run more than 6 miles in over a year, and I haven't done an ultra in four. It was good to get one under my belt, although the ol' joints are a tad rusty. It was awesome, though, to run across the finish line with kids yelling "Go Mom!" (Or, in the case of Mikayla the jerk, "I can run faster than you!")

I definitely passed out at 9pm after one beer again, though.

Seth was an absolute trooper and brought F+F out to the course twice (this is the Nieman + Ryan kids terrorizing the aid station at mile 41)

and I was so grateful I took them off his hands so he could get papers graded Sunday. Which meant that the post-race pedicure I had promised myself had to be shared. F+F had such a good time I'm probably never going to be able to sneak a solo foot massage again.

We've spent all week celebrating (and I've spent it limping about and feeling those nine years), mostly because Finley loves any occasion for a party.

Seth ordered every dessert imaginable for my birthday/ post-run blowout, and who can blame the kid for enjoying chocolate covered strawberries for breakfast?

We cruised the aisles in style

and hit up Chili's, a family fave for the table games and 2 for 1 wine.

And when the ever-thoughtful Seth planned a date night and hired a babysitter on the big day, I cancelled and we took the kids, their friends, and said babysitter to the Captain's Table (biker bar with a giant sandbox) instead. It was an absolutely perfect celebration of another trip around the sun with the fun, funny, sand-and-chocolate covered people I love.

I wouldn't trade a second of the last nine years; and if being fatter, slower, more sleep-deprived, and way less glamorous is the price one pays for waking up to these little bed-stealing faces... well, cheers.

Turkeys and tennis dresses.

It's been a weird week. Seth got out of the hospital just in time for me to have to leave for a quick 24 hour trip to DC for the Regimental Ball. I couldn't get out of it and was worried sick about leaving him alone with both kids so soon after surgery. I lined up lots of friends to come help, but it seems he sent them all away and did just fine on his own. I am grateful, and impressed. When I got home, Finley was in the yard in her ballet recital dress, covered in chocolate. Both kids were happy as clams and the house was still standing.

I, on the other hand, got all the way to DC and realized I didn't have the (for no good reason detachable) buttons from my mess dress shirt and the military clothing store was already closed. So I went to the freaking ball in a tennis dress. I looked ridiculous and it was about as much fun as those things usually are. For obvious reasons, I did not take pictures.

I came back to still-wintry weather, and dragged the kids to Grasshopper Grove in their snow jackets.

By Tuesday, though, it was 80 degrees and sunny. Finley's back to terrorizing the neighbor kids with the hose, and we're hoping this means the long, gray winter is finally over.

Tuesday was also the opening day of turkey season, and Seth and Finley killed one. I don't even want to know how they got it back to the truck, but we ate it for dinner last night and it was delicious. (Although Seth neglected to take any hunting pictures, so instead I have this absurd one of Finley playing dressup in an atrocious outfit at the Ryans'.)

 Ford got to hang out with his favorite cadets, and practice his football skills with the pros.

I survived the Corbin Conference, an unbelievable- but insanely work-intensive- celebration of women in the military with this awesome crew.

And Finley celebrated her second-to-last ballet class before the big recital by acting terrible with her friends, as per usual. These have to be the photos of the week.

At any rate, we're chugging along, and somewhere in there trying to find a house in North Carolina and schedule movers and prep for graduation week, which is- crazily enough- right around the corner!