the pieces of my life

On that note, we had the following conversation last week:

Me: Time to use the potty, Doodles!
Doodles: I don’t have to go.
Me: Are you sure? You haven’t gone at all today.
Doodles: No potty.
Me: Did you know that right now this very second in California, T. Rex is using the potty?
Doodles: Why?
Me: Because it’s potty time!
Doodles: What day is it?
Me: Um, Thursday.
Doodles: Oh. I don’t use the potty on Thursdays.

We’re back. We survived. I have a sore throat and the everyday life is starting to creep back in; Pie is sleeping the sleep of, well, okay, she’s not sleeping; Doodles is oversugared, overexhausted, and overwhelmed; and Adam is already immersed back in work.

Everytime we go back to Miami Beach, I think, “Why don’t we live here?” Our yearly New Year’s trip, complete with baby-friendly New Year’s Eve party at my cousins’ house, is always the worst because back home is dreary and gray. A Miami Beach? Miami Beach is naked children. Ice cream. Playground weather in winter. Family babysitters. Cousins and friends who like to drink. Captains that will boat us around the bay. Stone crabs.

But then reality sets in. We can’t afford the kind of house I grew up in and we’d end up living in a tiny hovel in a great school district or a lovely spacious house in a school district I couldn’t send my kids to. Ice cream is fattening. Naked children get sunburns. Stone crabs can make me sick if I eat too many of them.

And, of course, most of our fun we is with my buddies. My high school friend Rachel (all though that’s misleading–we were definitely not what one could call “friends” in high school, but she is currently a very good friend and I originally knew her in high school. Makes complete sense, right?) and her two kids who are each almost exactly six months younger than Doodles and Pie respectively (let’s call them T. Rex and Pad here). My buddy Tina has a wee little nine-month-old daughter (Elfin Girl) who is no longer at an office job and available for fun. My cousin-in-law is a hoot and can always be counted on to be the punch line of a joke. But Rachel now lives all the way over in “Frinsisisco” (which is sort of how T. Rex would say it) and Tina lives just far enough north that last-minute visits to the park would be unlikely and Jennifer (the CIL) has two nearly grown children with busy schedules and apparently she has to appease their whims before she appeases mine.

So moving back to the Beach really isn’t feasible. But sitting here now, with bags to unpack, a dreaded 4 a.m. wake-up call ahead of us, and absolutely no plans for a dreary day tomorrow, I just want to go back.

So what did we do on our vacation? Sigh:

• Captain Stoney piloted us around Biscayne Bay aboard the Triple Play and I in my foolish hurry forgot to bring a bathing suit, forcing me to don the two-piece swimsuit of my twelve-year-old cousin. Pad was supposed to nap… so Pie drifted off within minutes of, um, lift off? and stayed asleep until I picked her up and carried her off the boat over two hours later, thereby averting her normal naptime, enabling her to fall asleep an hour and a half early that night, and starting the 4 a.m. wake up call. Pad, bless her little heart, stayed determinedly awake, completely skipping her nap.
• T. Rex inspired my son–my toilet-fearing son–to use the potty! Ever since Doodles got a glimpse of T. Rex’s monkey underwear, he’s had true motivation to do the potty deed. My fervent hope is that it progresses without the constant presence of T. Rex and his undies.
• Doodles wanted to go bowling like we did last trip. So we headed to the alley with Rachel and gang. Rachel, her husband, and T. Rex played against me, Adam, and Doodles. Pad and Pie scooted around, with the nonwalking Pad mostly just tentatively heading out and then returning to munch on fries while Pie took full advantage of parental desire to do something other than bodily corral her and tried to wreak as much havoc as possible including a run down the lane that had me chasing her upon an oiled surface, causing me to fall, skid down the lane, topple her, in what could very well have been a Simpsonsesque slide into the pins (but wasn’t).
• Cafe con leches. Cafe con leches. Cafe con leches. Can you say, “WIRED!”
• Doodles joined the polar bear club and he dragged me, kicking and screaming, with him. What is it with those under the age of four that they don’t seem to notice that while they are being carried, with toes barely dipping into the frigid water, that the adults doing that carrying are turning blue.
• I did a twenty-mile long run. Hung over. And now the taste of Gatorade makes me slightly nauseous. And I lost a toe nail.

There’s more to tell, of course–there’s always more to tell–but I like the idea of ending on my toe nail, so there you have it.

Preschooler conversation #1:
T. Rex: Hi.
Doodles: Hi.
T. Rex [holding up a purple matchbox car]: This is my car.
Doodles: Um, um, I have a truck! At home! It’s purple. And has yellow on it. It’s a truck. At home.
T. Rex: This is my car.

Preschooler conversation #2:
Doodles [pointing outside]: Do you know what this is called?
T. Rex: What?
Doodles: Do you know what this is called?
T. Rex: No.
Doodles: It’s called balcony.
T. Rex: Bacony?
Doodles: No, balcony.
T. Rex: Bacony?
Doodles: No, balcony.

After a three-hour plane ride with much turbulence back home, we all made beelines for the bathrooms. Doodles, still feeling inspired by T. Rex, declares his need to go, so Adam takes him in with him. Doodles does manage to do his business and then had to wait for his father. I wasn’t there, obviously, for the conversation, but it was reported back to me that Doodles had many questions, including: Why does your p*enis have so much pee in it? Daddy, why is this taking so long? Daddy, why are you still peeing?

Doodles: Can I go play at T. Rex’s house?
Me: I wish you could. But T. Rex lives far, far away. It would take six hours just to fly there.
Doodles: Oh. Can I go to T. Rex’s birthday party?
Me: Still six hours away. So no.

Back home, during a pizza dinner, apropos of absolutely nothing:
Doodles: I’m growing slowly!
Me: What?
Doodles: I’m growing slowly!
Adam: Yes, growing does take a long time.
Doodles: I’m growing too slowly!
Me: Sweetie, you’re growing at just the right speed. It takes a long time to grow.
Doodles: No, I’m growing too slowly! Look at my body! [He points to his belly.]
Me: It’s a lovely body.
Doodles: I’m growing down!