A couple of months ago, Ben and I decided that after our summer school classes, we really needed a break. Like a beach-trip break. So, I scheduled it for the second week in August and we booked a 1-room condo on the beach. We talked it out and decided to stay only Monday-Friday, so that we had a weekend to get our life together before the following Monday. We figured we needed at least 1 bedroom, so that after Darcy went to bed at 7:00pm, we would be able to enjoy time together and watch movies, etc. So, the magical Monday comes and off we go to the beach! No work, no school, no extra stress.
We stopped to get a few groceries once we got into town, so that we wouldn’t have to come back to the store after we checked in and got settled. Darcy was pretty good on the way, but was pretty over it by the time we got to the condo. We decided to just eat a frozen pizza the first night because putting Darcy back in the car to go out to eat was going to be miz for everyone, other restaurant patrons included. That night, we put her to bed, made cookies (I brought homemade cookie dough—it’s the best, I’ll post a recipe later) and sat on the balcony listening to the waves.
Then we went to bed. Not sleep. Bed. Oh and it’s not what you’re thinking. Get your head out of the gutter. It’s because sharing a room with Darcy is something I have not done since she was 2 weeks old with very good reason. I kind of remembered it was awful, but I was also knee-deep in postpartum blues/overwhelming “omg”-ness, so I didn’t REALLY remember. My memory has now been refreshed. She is so freaking loud when she sleeps, and is pretty much the crappiest roommate ever. I swear. See, she sleeps all soundly, but MY GOD she moves constantly. You know what movement in a pack-and-play sounds like? Do you? Allow me to enlighten you if you don’t know. It’s like this. Swish, swish, swish. SWISH, SWISH, SWISH. Scratch Scratch. SWISH SCRATCH SWISH. On top of that we have typical Darcy noise. So to mix it up a little it was: Swish, Cough, cough, sniffle, Scratch, SWISH, ALL THE NIGHT LONG. Oy vey.
The following morning, she woke up laughing at 5:20am, ready to tackle the day. Thank god for Ben. He grabbed her and took her away, so I could sleep until 6:00am. Sleeping didn’t improve (for us), but luckily Darcy really did enjoy the beach. She got worn out after about 2 hours and needed an indoor break, but did well overall. Except the following night at the restaurant when she ran away. Yes. My 16-month old hit the deck and speed-crawled under 4 tables stopping only under some random lady’s chair. She then screamed as Ben pulled her out from under the chair. It was very special, and we totally flew under the radar at that restaurant *snort *.
We got loads of people-watching in from our balcony, which is awesome and my favorite. Ben and I mostly made fun of all the families that dressed in all white for beach pictures with their kids. They were trying SO hard, and the children wouldn’t look at the photographer, threw sand at each other, cried, etc. It was hilarious. I’ve already written of my disdain for constant photography, and I just feel like beach pictures for the annual Christmas cards are so DONE. I also don’t send Christmas cards. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you either. Sorry, not sorry. Don’t take it personally if you love white beach pictures. Most people throughout the South think they’re adorable and totally get you because they do the SAME thing. I don’t get you at all, but I’m just a person with weird thoughts and a blog to discuss them. Ignore me and carry on with your white-linen ways. You see, Ben and I love to make fun of ourselves, because we have more fun like that. We totally want to be uncool and Griswoldy. So, as a part of a new vacation tradition, we had custom airbrush T-shirts made for our family. Oh yeah. Complete with a sunset background, palm trees, and dolphins. Hell. Yes. We got baby Darcy a matching airbrushed onesie, and it is just hysterical.
Here are the rules to the family T-shirt:
- It must have “Rayner Family Vacation” written on it.
- It must be tacky and scream, “I am absolutely a tourist in this city!”
- It must include the name of the city in which it was bought.
- It must be worn proudly all day. Even to restaurants.
- You must not tell anyone that it is a joke, so if someone says, “Nice shirts,” In a total, “That’s a lame shirt,” kind of way, you have to brightly respond, “Thank you!” Refer to #4.
I guarantee you our family beach pic in our airbrush shirts are way cooler than the white linen crew. Also, there was a gorgeous rainbow that appeared just before we took pictures, so I’m fairly certain that Jesus loved those bad boys, too. I’m so proud, I may have to do a Christmas card after all just to show them off. Love to all. Even all you classy linen people 😉