Reunited...and it feels so good.

At long sweet last, estamos de vacaciones. We are on vacation.

Every day for the last three days, I’ve napped with one of the kiddos, gone to either the beach or the pool (or both), been on a nice walk, fallen asleep right next to Miss P with her baby’s breath in my face, and had some ridiculously long snuggle time with both kiddos upon waking up—no hurry to have breakfast, no hurry to get out the door. One of the days I had Dunkin’ Donuts. One of the days I slept in (8:30!). One of the days we went to Barnes and Noble and had nothing but time to look around. I’ve only showered once. My hubby and I have even had some lengthy conversations. This is like a real slice of heaven on earth for me.

But my favoritest part about vacation so far has been reuniting with my sweet Joe.

Sometime around the beginning of the year, Jack and I decided that I would be the designated P putter-to-bedder, and he would do the nighttime routine with Joe. Up until then, we would each do a week with Joe, then a week with P (which included middle of the night feedings and wake-ups), Joe, then P. Since I was no longer nursing, there was nothing preventing Jack from getting up to do the middle of the night duties with P—and plus, Joe is at his sweetest and most tender during bedtime, and I didn’t want to miss that.

Well, Joe began to act up for me at bedtime (i.e., bedtime would carry on for forty minutes after prayers and kisses, with his many visits to our room just to make sure we were still there) and P turned in to Miss FussButt for Jack (i.e., grumped her way into sleep and then would wake up soon after he put her down). Though neither of us was keen on giving up bedtime with the other kiddo permanently, it did seem to make the most sense (and get our kiddos the most sleep) if Jack and Joe teamed up and if Miss P and I teamed up.

This little arrangement has left Miss P and I with some good quality time together, especially during the many evenings she wakes up just to say hello, play peek a boo, and refuse to go back to sleep. It’s also left me pretty much of a crab during the day—and, naturally, a less patient Mommy. Two and a half year old testing-his-limits and not listening well Joe + low on sleep Mommy=many contentious moments between the two of us. “Joseph Anthony, be gentle with your sister.” “Joseph, take the spatula out of your mouth.” “Joe, sit right on your chair and face forward.” All likely to be contested with either a flat-out “No!” or a non-response as he eeeeever soo slooowly works on repeating the exact same action that I’ve asked him to stop—he knows I am watching him out of the corner of my eye and he keeps on doing what he’s doing anyway, which just adds fuel to the fire. Boogers. It’s a lose-lose for us both. I praise him often, truly I do, and I always tell him that I love him—many times in a day—but his typical toddler tantrums on top of my little sleep are a recipe for, yup, disaster.

We both needed a break from the grind, and thankfully we’ve gotten it.

Who could say no to this face?

Saturday we woke up to bright sunshine and warmth in St. Pete Beach. Since Jack isn’t the biggest fan of hanging out in the sun and I love it, I lathered Joe and I up with some sunscreen while Joe packed up his bucket and beach gear and I packed up the backpack with plenty of liquids, and out we set for the beach. On our walk there, Joe asked, “Where we goin’, Mom?” (yes, he’s taken to calling us Mom and Dad a lot recently, also part of his recent two-going-on puberty stage) I told him we were going to the beach and he said, “Can we look for lizards on our way there?” “Of course,” I said. And I knew we were on the road to healing. 

A man on a serious mission: to the beach

The beach was a big old time. We dug in the sand, buried our toes, looked for shells, and watched sea gulls prance and dance on the shore. Joe led me by the hand to the rocks from which fishers cast their lines and asked a million questions: “Why are the rocks hot, Momma?” Why is this one rough?” “Is this one smooth?” “What are under the rocks, Mom?” I did my best to play teacher and give my little curious student answers. Then I asked him if he wanted to get in the ocean with me, to which he replied no. I knew he’d just need time to warm up to the idea so we went back to the sand and tinkered around some more. Finally, he dropped his shovel and walked up to the water, let the foam reach his toes, and scurried back to our towels. Then he went back to the water again, this time let the water cover his feet, and giggled the whole way back to our towels. I asked him if he wanted me to hold his hand and walk into the water. He said yes, and in doing so he made my heart burst. A simple little gesture, but it meant the world to me. He put all of his trust back in me—or, more likely, he never lost his trust in me, I just lost trust in myself as his mom. We walked into the water, hand in hand, and jumped around in the ocean. He thought it was hilarious that our feet kept sinking in the sand. And he thought it was the coolest that the water was so clear we could see little fishies swimming through our legs. There was no camera to capture our moment, so I took a mental snapshot instead, and added that feeling to the many that I wish I could bottle up and store in my closet for the days that are not so idyllic.

Oh, to capture his innocence. And curiousity! 

After our beach outing, it was time to put the kids down for a nap. It is one of my most favorite pastimes to nap with Joe on the weekends, but due to a pretty hectic recent weekend schedule, I’ve forfeited my naps with him to work. So naturally I jumped on the opportunity to snuggle with Joe and sleep. We both nodded off half-way in to our first book, and woke up three hours later. As he stirred awake, I asked, “How was your nap, buddy?” “Good,” he whispered. “I’m ready for a chocolate covered banana,” he said, referencing the Curious George book we fell asleep reading.

Later that night as we were heading out the door to dinner, Jack, P and Joe were waiting for me outside the front door. I overheard Jack say to Joe, “What do you think, should we leave without Mommy?” He was quick to defend me, “No, Daddy, no, we are NOT going to leave without Mommy!” My little man coming to my rescue, God love him. Another smile.

Since our first day, we’ve had our moments—warm and fuzzy ones, and also some less-than-stellar ones—but we are both learning. There are some moments when I am teacher, but most of the time I am student. Joe teaches me patience. Joe teaches me forgiveness. Joe teaches me unconditional love. All things I thought I knew, but never knew like I know them now. Thank you, my little man, for helping me find, de nuevo, my way.

As for Jack and P—they are reconnecting, too. She is all about her Daddy since being on vacation. She wants him to parade her around the pool. She wants to climb all over him on the floor. She wants him to feed her bottles. She wants to snuggle with him whenever she wakes up from a nap or for the day. Jack, like I am with Joe, is taking it all in, enjoying it while it lasts, and not asking any questions. It warms my heart to see those two back in the fold. One of my favorite scents in the whole wide world is Jack—he always smells so good, no matter how much he has been sweating or how long it’s been since his last shower (it’s not fair!)—but the one scent I love more than Jack is Jack on P or Joe. Daddy’s love and cuddles on my kids is the best, the kind of smell that I could fall asleep or wake up to any day.

Joe, acting like a flamingo while on my shoulders, and Mom, happy to oblige

Yesterday all four of us were down at the pool and we ran into a couple that we see here periodically. The last time we saw them was almost a year ago, when we were pregnant with P. They asked us if we were ready for our third. We gave our typical answer: maybe once we start getting some sleep! They have two children of their own who are now pre-teens, and thus gave a knowing nod and empathetic smile. Then the mother said, “I wish I had the chance to be a mother all over again, knowing what I know now: I’d complain less, and enjoy it more.” At that, she invited her 11 year old boy on her lap and gave him big hugs and kisses. He didn’t shy away. I looked at Joe in that moment, who was, of course, begging me to catch him for the hundredth time as he jumped in to the pool. “Again, Momma, again!”

“You got it, kiddo,” I said, very happy to oblige.