No reservations.

Of all the things I wanted to do in life. I started scanning over my list a few years behind schedule. I consider myself a pretty ambitious person. I will try anything once, sometimes twice if you bet me a beer.

So the Tiffee tribe has made a new life plan for 2012. If it sounds good, you are over 42 inches tall, and it’s legal let’s do it. It takes a lot for the husband to take off work. To just walk away leave it at the office or whatever under ground vault that has simultaneously shut down electricity for all of down town OKC.

I kid. Really.

The intensity of my soul searching began last year when my Mama had her second brush with death due to an unexpected health problem. The first night she was in the hospital I spent it with my Daddy in the cafeteria and after 4 pots of coffee, hearing of his and her adventures in life, and watching the sun rise I realized I don’t have any stories of my own to share with Tuck.

To clarify my parents both were free spirited. I mean it was the era maybe that prompted their independence from society, but they had a goal and they just went for it. Both have seen every continent, my mother back packed & hitch hiked through most of them, while my father was enlisted at the time and got paid to do so. While my mother was dancing in the rain with strangers under the Eiffel Tower, my Daddy was getting a sun burn in Guam.

I can dance! I want to see Guam… minus the sun burn.

They both had one goal. To really live before life began. And they succeeded.

By the time that opinionated hippie broad and the conservative Marine met in a bar one fateful day 40 years ago, they had the ants out of their pants already. I on the other hand, still have ants.

So on my drive back home from the hospital that morning, my mind was made up. I will have stories for Tuck. For my grandkids. I want to see things, do things. Although SOME may have to wait till Tuck is off somewhere at college or over seas should he decide to serve our country, but for the most part I can release my ants WITH Tuck making memories together. At a red light at Tecumseh & Porter, I started jotting things down on a napkin. I started out small. I’m all about let ‘er rip, I just want a tight grip on the horn straight out of the chute.

1. Learn to sew a button. Seriously. I am the only person on the planet who had never ever never lost a button in over 30 + years of life. I never needed to know how to do that. It had never happened to me. Until one night my HUSBAND had to sew a busted button onto a dress for me.

2. Learn to swim. Don’t judge me. It’s scary. BUT a work in progress I might add. Thanks to my best tossing me into a lake during one of our adventure races of death. “Sink or swim!” As she drug me by my razor back sports bra across it. To this day, she’s my hero.

3. Repel the Grand Canyon. I’ve seen it. Just not from the “hanging from the side of it” angle.

4. Follow the same route through Europe my Mama trekked and take pics in front of the same places she did. Come on. How ridiculously cool would THAT be 40 years later.

5. Pee in every ocean. Tell no one.

The list ranges from cross country skiing through the Alps, jumping into a New York cab and yelling, “Follow that car!”, qualifying for one of the major marathons up north, to sharing a drink with whichever current president would give me the time of day. Just a chat. No polo-ticky nonsense, just a “How’s your weekend?” conversation, maybe about fishing. Or golf. Don’t they all play golf?

As the list continues and trust me the amount of napkins I went through was enough to make mother earth audibly shudder at my horrible recycling habits, I began to understand some of the things I can do AND do them WITH Tuck in tow.

6. Spend an entire week ice fishing in New Mexico. The kid would be all in.

7. Learn fluent sign language. I’m almost positive Tuck knows it better than me.

8. Find Bigfoot. It’s a stretch. A goal, but a stretch.

9. Write a book. Starring Super Tuck & Kinzie.

I CAN in fact have stories. Not a “Bucket list” but real stories that just happened. Because I went out and allowed them to happen. I had to learn to let go of the ridiculous scheduling, let go of what I have led myself to believe is the constant, the worry that comes with parenting of what if I’m doing this all wrong, let it go. And just go. When someone asks “Do you wanna?” Or more importantly, “Are you a God?” You say YES! (Ghosterbusters 1987)

I have had this invisible strangle hold of control on my life and in reality THAT itself is nice to have souly from the outside looking in. It’s kinda like the Cleavers. Everything is perfect, everyone says Golly Gee, shows up for supper on time, they talk happily about their minuscule non suspecting routine day. When in fact June is about to go batt shit crazy, tear off her pretty little apron and go streaking down the street. I would totally not do that. Maybe.

Over breakfast one morning an adventure was discussed and agreed upon. We’re going on a trail camp trip. It’s not Europe BUT it’s us. Creating our stories, leave our technology in the junk drawer. Pack on our backs what we can carry, and leave the rest to nature. And a field dressing knife. But mainly nature.

Because of parent/teacher conferences that we are again rebelliously skipping, we’ve got an extended weekend. We are in like flynn for some uninterrupted togetherness time. Who knows we may be joining the husband on his week long trek through the Rockies this spring. Should he let us live through THIS excursion.

Tuck’s only request while fitting him for a “pack pack”, “Don’t forget my crackers or da dog.”