Adventure Mom

Say it With Me It’s Wednesday night, and the kids and I are holding one of our (now-regular) Family Dance Parties. Chris Brown’s “Say it With Me” blares from my iPod speakers.  Fiona, Finley and I jump in a circle, singing (Fiona and I) and yelling (Finley) the refrain: “Say it With Me, Say it With Me, Baby…” I bounce onto the tile patio and face the ocean across the street: “Say it With Me!” The ocean whooshes and rumbles her reply. I turn up the music. Can anyone coming over the rise above the beach see me? I’m too blissed to care. At that moment, Pete strides into the living room. Dapper in his flight school uniform, with the short-sleeved white shirt (he actually irons them), navy and gold epaulets and navy pants. I want to jump him the way you want to jump someone whose looks, warmth and scent give you nerve-deep shivers – the kind you get during a really good massage when, suddenly, the therapist's hands palpitate your scalp. The only jumping we’ll do for no...