Yay!!!!!! Vacation!!!!! Last week, me and the girls had the week off from work and went on vacation to spend some time with family and friends. Here was the plan: leave Saturday early afternoon and head up to Narragansett to spend some time with some of my oldest and dearest friends. Then, on Wednesday, head up to Maine to spend time with Nicole's family. To prepare for our trip, I typed up packing lists on the computer for each member of the family, prepared the dogs's bags for their vacations (thanks, Mom and Dad, and AnnaMaria and Chris for watching those girls!!), got all of my clothes laid out, and took RM and Ella down to Danbury on Friday night while Nicole was going to stay home and pack in a child free/dog free home. Sounds like a great plan, right? Well, when I got to Danbury, I called Nicole to let her know I was going to have dinner with the folks and she let me know that she was not feeling well and had not done any packing because she had been sick (she even sent me a text message of her reincarnated dinner as proof...yeah...gross). So, when I got home, nothing had been packed and we were further away from being ready for the trip now because there was all the disarray that comes with someone who is sick.
So, Saturday morning, I get up early and start collecting up RM's things and getting the things out of the garage we are going to need for the trip: beach umbrellas (2), beach chairs (3 - yes, 3), cooler, beach blanket, beach toys...holy crap that's a lot of stuff. Anyway, I get that all squared away and I prepare to take RM to a birthday party for one of her friends from daycare. The party was at a public park with a little water sprinkler area that was very cute. I thought, "Oh! She's going to love this!"...Not so much. She liked the idea of looking at the water and running around areas where water could potentially land (perhaps if we were experiencing hurricane gusts), but not so much getting wet. It was a nice time there anyway and she really enjoyed playing with her friends. "She's so cute playing with her friends. She's going to love playing at the beach...wait...what time is it?!?! Crap!" Yes. That's what happened in my head. I was now about an hour behind schedule...the schedule I set up for myself...the schedule that no one else cared about, but me...and now I was behind. DAMN! Strike One. Ok, no problem. Let's go get Nicole and we'll be on our way. So, we say our goodbyes and head home to get Nicole and load up the car.
Now, for those of you with small children who have ever been brave enough to venture out on a trip with them, you know that they have more luggage than all the Kardashians put together. It's no wonder that so many people with kids have minivans. You need a freaking tractor trailer just to cart the kids's crap around. I swear I'm going to go to one of those tractor trailer training programs they advertise on t.v. just to make sure we have enough room for all of our crap on our next trip. Let me give you a brief list of the crap that we had to bring because of our beautiful daughter: pack and play (we all need her to have her own area to sleep in order that we may preserve our sanity), stroller, beach chair (because she confiscates mine, so I decided to get her her own chair so the little punk won't relegate me to sitting in the sand...I hate sitting in the sand...it gets everywhere...You know what I mean....EVERYWHERE! It doesn't matter if it's dry or wet or whatever. However, it does matter if it's dry or wet when it burns the layers of skin off the bottom of your feet and then, for extra enjoyment, the grains of sand stick to the newly exposed and extremely painful flesh on the bottom of your feet. Especially the little bits of skin right under your toes...And it always feels like there are little bugs in the sand waiting to bite you or crawl up your suit and bite you square in the ass and you can't really scratch it because of what you'll look like to other people on the beach even though those other people would probably be thinking, "That poor woman had to sit in the sand. She should have brought a chair for herself".......Good thing we're going to the beach for a week...), beach toys (to help facilitate the placement of sand everywhere on both her and me), diapers, swimmy diapers (which, by the way, apparently only become fully functional after they have gotten wet), beach towels, hats, sunglasses (yes. She needs her own pair of these also...please don't get me started), and at least two changes of clothes each day. Now, that's just some of her stuff. However, I also need to bring extra clothes for myself because if she gets sick, and I'm anywhere within vomit range, I'm going to need to change. That lesson, again, I learned the hard way and I was a slooooowwww learner...but now I've got it.
Sorry, I got a little lost in that last paragraph. So, we finally got the car packed up and got on the road (later than I wanted, but still ok). We needed to make a pit stop at Nicole's parents's house, but that was not bad either. Finally, on our way to Narragansett. One reason I was so excited to go and really wanted to get an early start was because I was going to be spending the next few days with friends that I hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with now, but had spent almost every day of my drinking years in Danbury with (and some were friends well before that). In particular, my oldest and dearest friend, Cristina, was here from New Zealand with her family and I was very, very excited to be able to spend some time. Needless to say, I was excited. Did I mention that? We got to our friend's house, unpacked and spent the next few days hanging out. There were about 11 adults and 8 kids at one time and it was a pretty good party. The kids had fun at the beach, RM again liked the idea of the water, but not really the idea of getting wet. She was perfectly content to have me dig a hole and let that fill with water and sit in that...damn sand. At the beginning of the trip, everything was great. We were all so happy to see each other and hang out that the little annoying things that people did, didn't really matter...but, as the days went on, you could feel the tension building. By the time we left to head up to Maine on Wednesday, I was sad to say goodbye to my friends, but I was also pretty sure that I was about to miss a heavyweight title fight reminiscent of Tyson v. Holyfield...damn. I'd gladly sit on the sand to watch that one.
Ok, pack up the car and head north! Vacation part deux. Now, when we left Narragansett, RM was particularly tired and needy. I chalked it up to her being out of her routine and being around a lot of people that she's not used to spending time with (which is an idea that makes me a bit sad inside), but I looked on the bright side and figured she would sleep in the car on the way up and that would make the ride go a bit more smoothly. Well, I was mostly right in that she did sleep on the car ride up, but her demeanor did not improve. In fact, she started to have a fever, was quite cranky, and was a drooling mess. So, if you do the math: low grade fever + drooling + cranky = teething. No problem. We got this. Next day...more cranky + higher fever + no food + no playing at the beach = misery...for all and for none a good night. By dinner time on Thursday, RM was not doing anything other than screaming incessantly. After a bit of discussion and some ibuprofen for her and drinks for us, we decided we needed to find a doctor. Nicole walked down to the management office and asked where we could find a walk in clinic. The response, "We don't have one around here. We tried the Quick Quack thing and it didn't work out. You need to head a few towns over to the hospital and they have an urgent care clinic at the emergency room". (Quick Quack. Classic). And so it was that RM had her second trip to the ER in her lifetime.
Now, I know that plenty of you out there have had somewhat less than pleasant experiences in ER waiting rooms and I was fully prepared to spend the majority of my remaining vacation sitting and waiting for a higher order Quick Quack. We get there, walk in, and a plump, jovial security guard greets us at the door and takes down some basic info (name, phone number) and then directs us to a waiting room. We get there and before we can even sit, we get called in to triage. Have you ever tried to get an oxygen reading on a screaming 18 month old who is clearly not feeling well? No? Yeah. There's a reason for that...Sick kids don't like it. Long story short, her lungs were working very, very well. Essentially, the nurse gave up trying to get a read and sent us to another waiting room. Again, before we could get comfortable, we got called to another desk to get intake information (i.e. Show me the money...and your insurance card). A few minutes later, we get called in to an exam room and the doc comes in within a few minutes.
Doc: "What's the problem?"
Me: "Well, my money's on an ear infection in the right ear"
Doc: "Ok, let's take a look (you know, like they say in the GE commercials)". Looks in left ear and says, "Well, that one's irritated. That could be the problem". Looks in the right ear and..."Oooohhhh. Yeah. That one's pretty bad. Looks like they're both infected". (Really? That's awesome. Thanks for playing.) He gives her some meds and sends us on our way.
We went back home, put her to bed, and hoped for the best. Yeah. That hope would be what I would call Strike Two. And here's why: At about 1:30 am, RM starts screaming...and screaming...and screaming...and...screaming. Nicole and I took turns walking her around, taking her out on the patio, reading books to her...screaming. Finally, at 3:30 I turn to Nicole and say, "That's it! I'm taking her for a drive!" Now, while I love my wife dearly, she does not function well on a lack of sleep. Her response was, "You're not going anywhere! The only people on the road at this time of night are drunk from being out at bars! " Pace, pace, pace. Scream, scream, scream. "Nicole, let me try to take her for a drive". "No. We should just go home." So, that's the part where I started to do that kind of screaming that you do while still whispering. Do you know what I mean? You are yelling, but in a whisper. You know you are trying to do it right now while you're reading this. Ok, now that you have it, that's what I was doing. Me (in a whisper yell): "ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO DRIVE DOWN THE STREET BUT YOU WOULD DRIVE BACK TO CT RIGHT NOW?!?!?!?" Now, something must have snapped for her then because she started to get ready to come with me (without our luggage) and, wouldn't it figure that as soon as I started to walk down the stairs, RM stopped screaming. As we got outside, she actually looked content. I strapped her in her car seat and, by the time I made it to the driver's seat, she was asleep. Yes....that's what I said. Asleep. So, Nicole and I slept in the car and of all the crap we packed, we did not pack anything that could possibly have made that night's sleep (or lack thereof) pleasant. Like I said before...Strike Two.
So, that brings us to Friday. Last day at the beach. Can you guess what happened? Yes. That's right. It rained. Now, I know what you're thinking...Strike Three. Really? You're a glass half empty kind of person? Really? Come on. Yeah, it rained, but it was still vacation which meant I wasn't at work. And that, my friends, is at least making it to first after being hit by the pitch.
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