A hall pass

Our men are bike riders.

It doesn't matter if it be road or mountain bike riding.

It is their "thing"

Their exercise, their sanity time, their "me" time, their pack time.

My hubby has his tribe.

A few blokes who ride together a couple of times a week

and head off for secret men's business a couple of times a year.

We are the bike riders' wives who don't think of ourselves as needing a tribe.

But we certainly wont knock back a chance to grab a hall pass
and get away and just be girls
for a weekend.

We adore our kids (mostly)

and adore our partners (mostly)

but the chance to get away for a little while

is, it has to be said, liberating and relaxing.

No forced meal times, no defined get up times, no set bed times;

no sanitised conversations;

no mobile phone reception

(now that is liberating);

no telly, no internet.
No stress about excessive calories.

We tossed our "mummy" and "wife" badges

onto the table as we headed out the door.

Our weekend was spent at the spectacular Deep Creek Conservation Park.

We walked over 20 kilometres
and, while we notched up one twisted ankle and one humungous blister,
(owning up to the blister here)
at least we old girls didn't break any hips.

Trekking up and down hills
made the indulgence of good fine and wine
at the end of the day so much more enjoyable.

We came home with a renewed appreciation for the stunning natural beauty
so close to our back doors.

I have a tendency to embrace solitude unless I am given a kick up the backside
so I am grateful to these girls
who expect my participation.

(I did take my knitting, of course)

At the end of it all,
we came home rested and ready to face the chaos
that is the end of school term and the start of the Christmas holidays.

We came home with those good aches in our bodies from a good amount of exercise
and those red patches where we forgot to sunscreen properly.

We came home,
sated from conversations about
pink bits, celebrities,
religion, tummy tucks and boob jobs,
perineal piercings (I kid you not),
boyfriends from our youth,
book recommendations,
the pros and cons of blogging and other social networking,
the basics of knitting
and lots of other interesting topics in between.

We also came home with an appreciation that, as mums, we didn't have pouches
and that we didn't have stretch marks associated with a gangly adolescent
refusing to leave "home".