Cabin Weekend

The cabin has been somewhat of a point of contention between Chris and me since Oliver was born.  Chris grew up going to the cabin and that piece of lakeside property with the house his dad built by himself rightly holds a special place in his heart.  He learned to water ski on the lake, hunted deer on the surrounding land every November and raced turtles in Longville, "The Turtle Race Capital of the World."

Chris's parents have always been gracious about letting friends and family use the cabin and Chris and I spent a lot of weekends up there before the kids were born.  He invited his friends, I mine.  I learned to play Cribbage up there and enjoyed sunbathing on the dock, doing Sudokus or whiling the afternoon away talking with friends.  We'd cook a feast in the evening that sometimes wouldn't get eaten until the sun was beginning to set. 

The summer after Oliver was born, we made the first trip to cabin with our new family of three...and a number of Chris's friends.  Even though I felt that a small cabin full of boisterous adults was not hospitable to a baby on a frequent nap schedule, I will say that Chris's friends were great. They always remembered to close the screen door gently instead of letting it slam and they stayed quiet during nap time and took their evening card games outside. They showed genuine interest in Oliver and never seemed annoyed that cabin weekends had to operate a little differently with a little one among the group.

But I never felt like I was having any fun. Chris went out water skiing and stayed up late with his friends and slept in and I felt like I was on 24/7 kid duty.  Being tied to Oliver's early-rising schedule, I'd often have eaten lunch before some of the guys even rose from bed for the day.  Maybe it'd have been different if my friends had come up, but the invite list always filled up before I had a chance to invite anyone.

I often felt lonely and resentful.  The cabin was supposed to be a place to relax and spend time with friends and family and to me it quickly started to signify work.  Work to pack up myself and Oliver, work to clean up after everyone all weekend, and work to clean the cabin before heading home. 

When the first opportunity this summer came to go to the cabin, I finally refused to go.  I think Chris felt guilty leaving me with the kids, so he offered to take Oliver.  Good decision because once Chris was the one solely responsible for a kid at the cabin, he realized how much work it was.  He had to go to bed early because Oliver was up by 6:30 a.m. and then try to keep him entertained and quiet for hours until his friends stumbled out of bed shortly before lunchtime.  It was unfortunate that there was an infestation of caterpillars, because that clearly didn't go over well with Oliver, but he was also afraid of riding in the boat when they revved the engine for water skiing, so Chris barely got any time on the water.  He came home and declared he'd never bring Oliver to the cabin by himself again and that pretty much put an end to wanting to organize a weekend at the cabin with family and friends at the same time. 

I only agreed to go last weekend when I heard it would just be Chris's parents. It turned out to be a fabulous weekend and I rediscovered the fun in going to the cabin.  And that was all despite a rather tedious drive up there.  Except for a 20-minute period when the kids napped, one or both were crying at some point the rest of the trip.  Three stops, including one at a playground in Royalton, MN and about four and a half hours later, we made it to the cabin.  But once we were there, we had the grandparents on hand to help with the kids and they had a blast.  I in turn had free time to go for walks, cook the dinners I never have time for during the work week, and as a bonus, some baking - two loaves of zucchini bread and a birthday cake for Grandma.  I got pampered as well in that Chris's mom likes doing dishes. 

Someday it'll be easier to mix family and friends at the cabin. Maybe when the kids are older and are more self-reliant and aren't napping anymore.  And just maybe by then, Chris's friends will have kids of their own and it'll be they who will remind us not to slam the door on the way down to the lake.