We're back from vacay in South Carolina . It was lovely there. I had always suspected that the reason it was so uncrowded and blissful was that we always went in the off season. Now for the first time, I've learned that no– it's ALWAYS uncrowded and blissful. Because they don't let anyone build anything taller than two stories, and so the population density on the beach just can't be packed in like sardines. And the water was very warm, with just the right amount of waviness. And my numerous secret fears about slimy or threatening ocean type critters — your jellyfish, sting rays, giant squid, etc.– proved to be unfounded.
Isaac had expressed reservations about possible sharks himself, but forgot them all upon arrival. I bought him a little floating jumpsuit thing to wear and he took to the water in fishlike fashion. At times we had to bodily drag him in for meals and rehydration. Ben. too, was in his element and I think pleased to have a little buddy who also wanted to stand in the ocean 12 hours a day.
I swam or at least bobbed up and down whenever I got too hot, but also had time to reread that classic "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." It's a wonderful book that everyone should read at least once. I worked hard at maintaining my native pallor, having been yelled at by many a dermatologist in my day. I sat under a large hat, under and umbrella, wearing SPF 1 million. And still, I did manage to get sunburned around the edges and now confess to being somewhat tan.
Elias focussed on several important projects: eating sand, growing teeth, and learning to walk.
He took a few steps from beach chair to umbrella pole, and we got some old-fashioned home movie footage of him toddling around on the beach holding someone's finger. Since we got home, he's suddenly sprouted even more teeth– now has four on top and two on the bottom! What a clever boy.
On the way down and back we drove in our sumptuous new van. It really felt like a living room at times– Junior watched a DVD, baby chewed on his toys, mom talked on the phone, and Dad, well, Dad drove… but other than that there was hardly a sense that it was a car. Okay, I'll admit that spooning peas and rice into a squirming baby, in a moving car, in the pitch dark was surely varsity mom-ing at its best. (The sequel to mom my ride: mom my clothes.) ANd kneeling between the back seats doing poor-man's yoga in order to nurse the screaming one was very challenging. But really it could not have been more comfortable. We made a lot of progress in our barbecue research and also saw several important revolutionary war battle sites. Isaac got a wooden toy musket.
One mishap: Isaac managed to lock the keys in the car, just as I was on the phone with the mortgage guy, who was upsetting the apple cart by suggesting that we take the old house off the market during the refinancing process, just as the realtor was setting up an open house, and only had fifteen minutes to pull the ad and stop it, and I was standing next to the car with the door open while talking to both of them at once on the phone. We were at the North Carolina Welcome Center. Ben and Elias were inside using the bathroom and Isaac was prancing around when all the sudden he slammed the door and I realized that the keys were on the driver's seat and all the doors were locked. But at a busy rest stop in broad daylight, this was not all that big a deal. We had a locksmith there within an hour and all was well. … although I did want to strangle Isaac when, during the long wait in the heat for said locksmith, he began to whine, "I'm hungry. I'm bored. Let's go somewhere!" Arrrg.
Speaking of wanting to strangle him… lately he's been insufferable sometimes for hours on end. Seems he's suffering from acute 4-year-old-boy syndrome. Yesterday I spoke openly of giving him up for adoption, or at least putting him in boarding school until he's 18. Preferably the cold showers and root canal British variety… My friend Martha confirmed that age four is one of the two points (the other being four months) when people actually DO surrender their children, having decided that no more could be tolerated. At times like those, it helps to remember the priceless gems of speech and thought that Isaac brings to my life…
For example the other day he was showing me this pouch he made at school last year. He made several of them at the time– a basic folded over piece of felt with the sides sewed up and a button sewn on by his non-idle little hands. I was admiring it when he mention off-handedly, "That's where I keep my dwarf."
"Your–?" I said, rather stunned. (My son has a pet dwarf! How nice.)
"My dwarf!" He opened the pouch to reveal a troll doll hiding in there. I struggled not to just lie down on the floor and laugh.
"Um, we don't call that a dwarf dear… we call that a troll…" I tried to gently explain. (Oh, sure, he's going to go up to a lady in the grocery store and say, "I have my own dwarf! And I keep it in a pouch!")
"No!" he yelled. "It's a dwarf and it's MY dwarf and I keep it in a pouch!"
I give up. But at least "That's where I keep my dwarf" is a remark I can cling to when the going gets rough.
Now we're back in the stacks of boxes and the hopeless housekeeping conundrums… like, the only time I can possibly vacuum is when the baby is asleep. But if I vacuum when he's asleep, the vacuum will wake him up. But it's safe to say now that when we say "back home" we mean home in our new house. It's really starting to feel like we live here, and that's a very good thing.