Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A Florida Weekend

First, let me get this out of the way: flying with a toddler is hell. Pure hell. It is stressful and awful in every way imaginable. When the toddler companion is coupled with an inability to take Dramamine because of pregnancy—and, because of said pregnancy, an increase in the intensity and length of motion sickness—flying becomes…a nightmare. For everyone involved. Especially me, as I teeter on the verge of vomiting pretty much from takeoff through landing; and for Andrew, who must bear the brunt of an overstimulated Lucia as I try my hardest to not get sick. Fortunately, we don’t have to do it too often. Unfortunately, we can’t swear off flying entirely since Andrew’s family is in Florida. For Katherine’s October wedding—already dicey for me flight-wise, as it’s six weeks before my due date—I’m tempted to drive regardless of what the doctor tells me. And now on to more pleasant topics.

The good thing about the horrendous flying portion of the trip is that it got us to Florida for a decidedly non-horrendous weekend. We had a wonderful time—we prepared and cooked for Katherine’s shower on Saturday while Lucia enjoyed the company of her grandparents. She spent much of each day in the little pool they got for her, swimming and filling buckets and watering cans, sometimes in her bathing suit but usually in her clothes. The shower went splendidly, with delicious food and a prettily set up room. Sunday, Andrew and I took her to the beach, which she loved. She was fearless—running into the surf, scream-laughing as waves knocked into her, not even crying when she occasionally got a faceful of water. She filled her little bucket again and again, ran around on the sand, played with shells. Few things are cuter than a baby on a beach. Then we met up with everyone for lunch at a restaurant nearby.

As always, being in a house for a few days fueled our yearning for a house of our own. It is just amazing to be able to open the door and be out in a yard, a quiet, private place where Lucia can run and splash in the pool and point to ants and study leaves. Sunday night she even ran around the yard naked, giggling and squealing, as Andrew’s dad sprayed her with the hose—she loved it. You just can’t do that in an apartment.

With pregnancy as my (valid) excuse for not joining in the bar outings at night, and with Andrew’s mom valiantly rising with Lucia early each morning, I came away from the weekend quite well-rested. That’s the beauty, the true beauty, of grandparent visits: someone else to answer the dawn cry from the crib of “MOM-EEEEEE! MOM-EEEEE!”

Sadly, the weekend (though a long one) came to an end, though we were happy to find cool, pleasant temperatures here in NYC—much better than the sweltering inferno we’d left behind when we flew out on Friday. Now we just have to recover from the flight.

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