Yesterday was one of those days that in retrospect was splendid and torture at the same time. I took Juni to the Neptune Festival - a 45 minute drive down to the Virginia Beach boardwalk. It took 45 minutes to get there, and another 45 minutes to find a parking spot. We ended at 33rd street, where the festival ended.
We watched the parade, played in the sand and surf, ate hot dogs and kettle corn. He ran around and squealed at dogs, and around 20th street we bought a John Deere chair he's had his eye on for some time.
We both planned to see the sand sculptures. These people are not playing around with this sand. They use (literally) tons of sand and creative supplies. It's amazing.
It also began at 12th street. We walked the boardwalk until we hit the sand sculpture. The hike took about 2 hours, but we were lallygagging half the way. He saw a few castles, and then decided to hit the park on the beach. I knew we were flirting with danger ... by this time it was nearly 2 p.m. Time for toddler tantrums and over tiredness. Of course younger child ripped out a huge handful of Juni's hair, and he cried for 30 minutes both from the pain and embarrassment. I don't know where this kid's parents were, but if I ever find them they should run. Fast.
That was the end of the fun. We came off the boardwalk and onto the street at 8th street. Our car was on 33rd street. You do the math. That's a long way, especially after walking from 8th to 33rd (13 blocks with a wooden JD chair in tow).
It's offseason at the beach now. This means no taxis. No trolley. And apparently, none of those guys with bikes that tow you around. So we began to walk.
We made it to 12th street before we suffered our first tantrum. I had one arm to hoist him onto my hip. We'd also acquired a kite, reel and half-full bag of kettle corn to tote around.
The second tantrum began at 13th street and pretty much ended at the car. It sucked. I made the executive decision to make the hike one street off of the main drag so his tantrums wouldn't be quite to horrible without toy stores in sight.
My only option was the scoop and run. I carried this kid from 13st street to 33rd street. Let's do the math again. That a really friggin long way with a chair, kite, reel of string, kettle corn, purse and 38 lb dead-weight toddler. I switched arms as much as possible, and we took breaks.
Desperation began to take over. We were tired. Sweaty. And the Tech game started in 30 minutes. Each block seemed like a mile. I began to fantasize about hitching a ride with a nice, non-homicidal-looking elderly couple, or bribing some kids to carry him part of the way, or hitching a ride in someone else's stroller.
A marine, his wife and daughter were in the same situation. The man had a hurt foot, and hobbled behind his wife who toted their daughter. We'd pass them, they'd pass us, we'd pass them. And we were all three bitching the whole way.
When I saw our car it was like a mirage. That pool of water in the desert. My patience was shot. So were my arms, knees, neck and back. I drove home, listening to Tech whip Miami while Juni napped in the back.
The last time my body felt this sore was when Jasen and I rafted down the upper Gauley river in W. Va. I pretty much feel like I've ran a marathon.
But I'm glad I did it. Juni and I are a team. We have our great kettle corn moments, and then our disastrous tantrums on the corner of Atlantic and 17th. But it's worth it. Life is good.
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