5-9

I read a while back about a small movement that is starting to focus on 5-9. In our society we focus so hard on 9-5, that often the 5-9 is forced to serve it, when in fact there are twice as many hours there. So what can you do with 16 hours? The idea behind the movement is to have mini adventures, even during the week. I think that's a cool idea that I would like to explore, but often life gets in the way. Take last night for example:

Trinity and I took a trip over to Boise this evening. We started taking her over for speech therapy a few times a month. One of the times that we take her is Wednesday evening and today it was my turn. I picked her up at 3 from daycare and we hit the road. Autumn had packed us a bunch of food for snacks and dinner, so we were set!I should have guessed that it wasn't going to be a normal trip when we had to stop less than 20 miles in for a roadside potty break. For those of you who know, it was the Durkee exit.

Trinity took care of business quickly and I had us back on the road in no time. But that didn't last long. In my haste to get us back on the road, I had forgotten to put the shade up on Trinity's window. The sun was shining right in her window, which made it very bright for her.Once again we were on the road very quickly, but it was a little strange to have two stops so early. Usually we wait until Ontario or thereabouts to stop for potty, etc. The other unusual thing was that Trinity had started to say that she didn't feel good and that she was tired. So, being the good, attentive father that I am, I ignored her and kept driving. She nibbled at dinner and acted like she has going to try and sleep, so I figured that she would sleep for a bit and then be ready to go for speech. I figured wrong. She laid her head down but never slept. By the time we rolled into Meridian, she had perked up enough to eat a few blueberries and some cheese. So we stopped by Trinity' favorite park for another potty break and to stretch our legs. I thought for sure that the playground would energize her legs, because she usually rallies well for stuff like that. Wrong again.

We headed over to the play structure, with me hoping that the sight of the slide would inject a little zip into Trinity. But all she wanted to do was sit in my lap. So she did, and we sat and watched the other kids play. It was nice in a way because I don't really get the cuddle time anymore, but not really that good because she was doing it because she felt bad. It was a little heart breaking and I was starting to realize that I really should not have brought her all this way. I still question it a little, since it really didn't seem that bad in the car. But we were in Boise, so I figured that we might as well go to speech. I mentioned to Trinity that is was time to go. Ironically, it was the thought of leaving that gave her the biggest boost of energy. So she ended up going down the slide a couple of times before we left.

It was a little sad to go since she was smiling and laughing for the first time all trip. I think I take that for granted about her, that she really is a happy little girl who likes to laugh. But we forged on and managed to get through speech therapy, but certainly not the most effective session we've had. But Sydney is a great sport and even painted Trinity's fingernails and toenails, which was a big hit!

It also happens that my dad lives very close to where we take Trinity for therapy. So I figured that we would swing by there and say hi before we hit the road. And, oh yeah, I had promised a certain little girl some ice cream. No, they don't really get desert that often, but I thought that she had earned it. Spending 3+ hours in a car when you are miserable can't be fun. So we swung by, hit the potty again (yep, our most-visited room of any building we visit!) and then hit the road after a quick hello to my dad and Sue.

The ice cream seemed to perk her up and she was a little more talkative, but mostly happy to play games on
the ipad. She was pretty engaged in that, so the miles flew by as we drove home. It's about 130 from Baker to Boise, but it's always hard to know if it's going to be a long or short trip. This return trip certainly went by pretty quickly. But at the same time it was a very interesting trip for me as I watched Trinity in the rear view mirror. All sorts of emotions came and went as I was so proud of her for being such a good sport when she was so obviously sick. I was a little worried about here still too, and a felt a little bad for dragging her so far after an already-full day.

But it got more interesting as I looked ahead and saw a grass fire on a hill in the distance. I saw sirens too. Then I saw the road signs and cones. Detour. They closed the freeway and diverted us through Huntington. Now I have visited twice! It's not a detour worth mentioning really, since it only cost us about 10 minutes, except that I was able to notice the sunset. Sure, I likely would have noticed it from the freeway, but something about meandering on back roads through a small town made it all the more significant. Pictures couldn't capture it but I tried anyway, with my phone's camera of all things. Oh well. But that sunset burned on my horizon for the next 20 miles. It was intense.

But that too passed as the miles and minutes strung out behind us. Trinity started to sing to me. She sang me the ABCs. It was lovely, and when it was over she asked me if I wanted her to sing it again. I said I would really like that. So she did. Over and over, I learned all 26 letters of the alphabet. You're never to old to learn. Then, about 20 miles from home, we finally ran out of natural light. Trinity couldn't pretend anymore that she wasn't tired, so she stopped pretending and closed her bright blue eyes. It was a good end to an evening full of experience, full of life in a way that is really not that memorable. I suppose that's why I am writing this down. In all it's mundane nature, this evening turned significant. It was an adventure in some small way. I want to remember how we can let ordinary events hide special experiences.