No Plans

Wes and I stink at making vacation plans. Seeing a long weekend coming up in August, we started tinkering with ideas of what to do with it some time in July. Mostly this would happen too late at night as one or the other of us fell asleep.

Finally we found ourselves on day one of our four-day weekend with no plans. I woke up with dreams of watching my children splash in a shallow swimming hole only a few hundred feet from a quiet lake house in the mountains. The kitchen counter would, of course, be piled high with foods normally forbidden at home- Lucky Charms, Oreos, and Doritos.

Having a family large enough to necessitate two hotel rooms and ridiculous amounts of food has made renting a vacation home with a kitchen a financially sound option for us. So, we spent most of the day clicking around online and making a bajillion phone calls only to confirm the unavailability of any decent, yet affordable, lake house this side of the Mississippi. Turns out most other families make vacation plans in advance. What?

With everything booked, I came up with an alternate list of fun things to do. Go for a hike? Head to the beach? Camp? Maybe take a ferry ride across Puget Sound? Lots of great options.

But somehow by 3 pm that afternoon, yanking out nature's barbed wire (a.k.a. invasive blackberries) made it to the top of the list of "fun" things to do with day one of our vacation.

I'm all for being productive but my forearms look like I got into a cat fight...and lost.

On day two of our vacation, I woke up with determination to get out of Dodge. Just after breakfast Wes and I agreed on a destination and we piled everyone into our Ford Explorer. This is really getting to be a bit of a tight squeeze and sometimes the noise of five loud children crowded into that small space is anything but a vacation. 

But happily the drive out to Whidbey Island was great. Lyla only spent five minutes making us all miserable until she fell fast asleep. Halle conked out about twenty minutes later, leaving the oldest three children to laugh, sing at the top of their lungs, and duck for cover when their Dad pulled up beside an ill-clad teenager, rolled the windows down, and cranked up the rap music. It could only be worse if their mother were raising the roof in the front seat. Wait, that might have happened. Yep, pretty humiliating for the pride under cover in the back seat, but they're good sports. It can't be all that bad to have such rad parents, right? ...Ahem.

We spent the afternoon at Deception Pass where Beau tried fishing in the swirling current.

The kids dipped their toes in the very cold water. Brrrr... Why on earth did we bring swim suits?

We can't go anywhere without adding to our growing rock collection.

Of course, they played in the sand. Apparently Beau dug quite a hole...

Before he got buried in the sand.

When Halle's lips started turning purple and Lyla had gotten enough sand in her eyes, we called it a day and headed for the ferry terminal.

No lake house. No kitchen counter stocked with contraband food. But a great day spent making lasting memories as a family.

An Evening at Alki

I love where we live. I love that we can head 30 minutes in one direction and be in the tops of the most breathtaking mountains. And if we head 30 minutes in the other direction my children can collect shells and poke at jellyfish in Puget Sound.

The weather was cooler than forecasted last week when we arrived at Alki Beach, so we left our swimsuits in the car.

But the kids all had a great time running along the beach and wading knee-deep in the incoming tide.

 They hauled driftwood.

And sticks.

They dug canals in the sand.

And got a little goofy, too.

 I love watching my kids be kids at the beach.

Beach Walk at Linclon Park

Tyjah holds his breath as we enter the second of two tunnels on our way to West Seattle. We barely make it to the end before his eyes widen and he starts slapping at his knees.

 "Pwhooooooh!"

"I totally could have held my breath for longer! It's just that my cheeks burst!"

On the other side of the tunnel are tall buildings. Bridges winding in an out of each other as I-90 ends its cross-continental adventure just before dumping into Puget Sound. And sunshine. Glorious, abundant sunshine.

There is never a happier people than Seattleites in the summer, when nine months of oppressing drizzle quickly evaporates in the much-anticipated sunlight.

Time for a beach walk at Lincoln Park. 

The cool breeze skims over the Puget Sound and weaves its way through the magic of my children's discoveries.

They poke at a dead jellyfish.

Sophia combs her hands through complex tangles of various sea weeds.

And Tyjah scans the horizon for the biggest waves, running to where he thinks they will crash the hardest.

As the waves roll back out they carry with them the clamor of deadlines and impending obligations that crowd my mind until my thoughts are clear. Free. 

 Leaving me to indulge in my children's exploration and laughter. I am enamored, smitten.

I can't help but notice how the sunlight shimmering on the water seems to reflect all that is pure and innocent about childhood. 

For these few hours everything is beautiful. Powerful. 

And absolutely clear.

Finally we are left with only a few minutes more to wade in the cool water before heading home. 

...but not without one last photo with all the kids.

Wait. I can't see Halle's face. Let's try again.

Oh, yes.

Beautiful. Powerful.

 And absolutely clear.

Moclips-Part 2

"I miss Beau."

We all said it at one point or another during our two days at the beach. Beau had opted to stay behind with a friend so as not to miss a special end-of-the-school-year field trip. It was not the decision Wes and I were hoping for, but the one we knew he would make just the same. "I love you guys," he reminded us over and over again as we packed everything into the car.

Fortunately Beau and I have a decent texting relationship and despite the crumby phone service we were able to stay pretty well-connected. Still, we were all anxious to see him again on Monday evening.

In the meantime, the mellow strains of Jon and Roy mingled with the sound of crashing waves on the beach, setting the perfect maritime tone for Wes's yummy surf and turf creations.

These clams capped-off a wretchedly chilly but fun afternoon at the beach. Oh, the biting wind!

And there was time in the hot tub, too- until the neighbors started building a new deck.

Then on Sunday afternoon while the little girls napped, I looked up from my book to find this fuzzy blob peering over me-

"No more photos of us, Mom!" they yelled as they ducked behind the couch.

Clearly they were asking for it.

Setting my book aside, I stealthily leaned over the back of the couch and surveyed the veiled mass of giggles. It was going to be hard to wrest the blanket from them with one hand and aim my camera at them with the other.

But I was eventually somewhat successful at both.

And that's how the little girls woke up an hour later.

The next day we headed to the beach one last time, then shook out as much sand as we could and packed everyone back in the car. It was an hour into the drive home when "I have to go to the bathroom" was closely followed by

"Oh no! I left my shoes at the beach!"

Moclips- Part 1

Sophia had been dutifully freezing and crushing leaf lettuce for the last week. The little tadpole in the open container on her windowsill certainly wouldn't die of starvation. She had watched two legs become four and was anxiously awaiting the day when his tail would fall off. Of course, that was when she was planning to use a lid. 

It was in the rush of packing up for our last-minute trip to the beach that I heard the loud yell.

  

"My tadpole is missing!" He's gone and

I can't find him anywhere!"

Her room quickly crowded with bodies large and small as everyone joined in the search. How far could he have gotten? And why did he have to jump in the middle of our hectic push to get on the road?! We were still asking ourselves these questions two hours later as we piled into the car.

It was a typical road trip for our family. Cries of 

"She's doing it on purpose!"

and

"He's looking at me!"

were quickly interrupted by incoming snacks. No one wanted to miss what Mom was tossing from the front seat. M&Ms maybe? Or some other usually forbidden box of preservative-laden crackers? I was in vacation-mode. Hey man, WHATEVER it takes!

When we arrived at the beach house, the kids all but dropped their stuff and ran for the beach.

Where they spent a LONG time

 digging in the sand

 and basking in the sun.

Eventually, when only their silhouettes danced before me in the sinking sun, we headed back inside.

It was not as nice as the beach house we stayed in last time, but it was also a far cry from the nightmare of 2010 when Wes and I had left the kids with a babysitter and hit the road for two days.

A charming historic hotel in downtown Anacordes welcomed us on the first night of our getaway. The concert just outside our second story window was loud enough to drift through the thin walls and tone down the slightly upscale ambiance.

The next day's agenda included boarding a ferry to Port Townsend and meandering south toward Ocean Shores. It was the height of Twilight mania and we gawked as we drove by the mob of teenage girls clambering around the "Welcome to Forks" sign. Two stoplights later, the tiny logging town with its hosts of vampire groupies was behind us.

The beaches in Lapush, however, were well-worth lingering to watch the setting sun glimmering on the ocean. (I wish I could find those photos.)

It was sometime around 11:00 pm when we finished up a mediocre dinner in Ocean Shores and drove over to- what was it called? Oh yes, the Sand Flea Hotel. Or something like that. Wes checked in and we headed to our room. Wary of the characters drooping over the balcony outside our door, we should have turned right around and handed the key back to the manager. But we didn't. We swallowed hard and unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal something out of the 1960s. And NOT the trendy vintage look, either. Cobwebs draped the extra-furry moose head hanging on the wall. The dim lighting merely shrugged at the darkly paneled walls and brown carpet.

It was while listening to the guests in the neighboring room that I checked out the bathroom. Fantastic! Hair in the tub. Wes feigned getting comfortable with the surroundings. If he didn't say it, I saw him think it: "Okay. We can do this. All these other people around us are doing it. It's just one night and this is the last room in town." I raised my eyebrows as he gingerly sat on the edge of the chair beneath the moose.

"Uhhhhh...you're really going to sit down on that?"

I walked over to the bed and pinched as little fabric as possible between my two fingers. Pulling the covers back revealed scattered grains of sand on a pilled, slightly stained sheet.

"Oh, I'm out."

Wes hastily added a "me, too" and we quickly grabbed our bags.

The manager gave Wes an understanding look as he refunded our money and we hit the road again. We drove halfway home that night before stopping at 2 am in a suburb of Olympia.

So the weathered blue beach house this time around was FINE BY ME.