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"Alert the media (if they&amp;#039;re not too busy covering Michael Jackson&amp;#039;s memorial) I made it back from camping alive. Rex sustained a sprained ankle (incurred as we were leaving, thank God, as opposed to on Day 1), I found out that the sound of the ocean as I drift off to sleep is a better sedative than any glass of wine, and I saw first hand how five families can really get along when everyone uses their best gifts to make things work. I, for example, can&amp;#039;t light a camp fire to save my life. But I&amp;#039;m great at cleaning dishes. One mom wasn&amp;#039;t a hiker, but we took her child while she made the best beans this side of Mexico. Rex is not one to worry about ticks in kids&amp;#039; nether regions or applying sunscreen on a wiggly five year old&amp;#039;s knee cap, but he&amp;#039;s the master of hooking up a generator and serving fresh margaritas the moment tents are erected. Speaking of things getting erected, there wasn&amp;#039;t a lot of hanky panky going on. Blame sleeping on hard ground for keeping other hard things away, or chalk it up to three kids sleeping in our tent like little sardines. But something equally as powerful exploded: We put into physical action what we&amp;#039;ve been mentally working on for the past few months. He trusted me to take ownership of the areas I&amp;#039;m great at, and I trusted him to do the same. All this said, it wasn&amp;#039;t a perfect camping trip. My anxiety has been at an all time high. The old Andrea would say it was because I&amp;#039;m a bad mom, or Rex isn&amp;#039;t fulfilling me. (Just look at older posts - you&amp;#039;ll find it!) I might even get really extreme and claim, &amp;quot;Oh no! I&amp;#039;m bi-polar and going to end up in a mental ward unavailable for my children and life will never be worth living again!&amp;quot; All that drama is great for writing, but not so helpul with very real emotions that are in my pee brain. The truth is, I&amp;#039;m not crazy. Not at all. Rex is an amazing father, and my kids are fabulous. I have zero regrets in the motherhood/wife department. But, as I approach 40, I am recognizing some very real pressures I&amp;#039;ve faced in the past few years, from my father dying and my mom getting older, to some health concerns with one child, working full time, mothering full time and not taking enough time for me. There&amp;#039;s also the fact that I don&amp;#039;t work out as well as I used to, don&amp;#039;t sleep or eat as well as I once did, and am quite possibly hitting perimenopause. I say all this not to be a downer, but to hang onto the hope that it&amp;#039;s not all lost. I can start taking time for myself. I can begin taking care of myself the way I nourish my family. I can work on not being so perfectionistic. And I can certainly begin taking more vitamins and minerals to balance out some of my crazy hormones. On that note, I&amp;#039;m starting a new women&amp;#039;s support program that should hopefully balance me out. I don&amp;#039;t want to link it now, because I want to wait until I see it working. But if any of you are interested in how the mind and body plays into our relationships, including our husbands and sex lives, let me know and I&amp;#039;ll keep you abreast of my progress. Speaking of a breast, Rex just walked in and gave one a little squeeze. Either he has personal space issues, or it&amp;#039;s a sign I get off the computer and head off to bed. I&amp;#039;m going with the second one. Until next time.... * Photo of our campsite that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. I can&amp;#039;t wait to go back with a calmer attitude. A few less hot flashes would be nice also! "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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