The Perfect Long Weekend

Last summer, we didn't go anywhere.  This situation was the result of a combined situation.  John had been laid off in December of 2009 and didn't get a permanent job until July 2010.  So first there was no money, and second, he had no time to take off.  We made it work, though, by buying a little pool for the backyard.  The kids, who are part fish, swam multiple times daily.  Last summer, we also booked our trip to Disney for this summer so we had something to look forward to.  We were pretty content.


This summer, we got the pool up again.  And again, multiple daily swims are being had.  We are looking forward to our vacation to Disney which is only 22 days away (not that we're counting).  But John had a couple of days to "use or lose," so we packed up the kids and went to Wellfleet.


John has a friend who lives in Wellfleet and who has a small apartment over his large garage.  To show his appreciation for John's weekly help during racing season, he offers the apartment to us whenever we'd like it.  We don't use it that often, actually.  If we did, I would pack the kids up the day school ended and wouldn't bring them home again until the day I had to be at work again.


The apartment is nice--nothing to write home about, but nice.  The entry is up a hill behind the garage and faces away from the front of the property.  There's a little yard where we park and Bob stores his truck and plows for the winter season.  The door opens into a small galley kitchen with plenty of storage space, an ancient fridge, and a teeny-tiny four-burner electric stove.  There's a dining table and then a good sized living area with couch, recliner, coffee table and big wooden entertainment center.  The TV doesn't really work and there's no cable, so we don't do a lot of TV watching.  In years past, when the kids were smaller, they would climb all over the entertainment center, but now they're too big.  We used it to store clothes.  There is a good sized bedroom with a double bed, dresser and a large closet.  The bathroom is on the other side of the kitchen.  It's just a simple bathroom with a small shower.


When we sleep there, John and I sleep in the living room and the kids sleep in the bed.  We have an ancient futon mattress.  This year, we tried sleeping on a futon mattress on the floor, but it hurt both of us so badly that I switched out the mattress on the bed for the futon mattress.  With the box spring, the kids were fine.  On the mattress, we were fine.


So we drove down on Friday morning.  Traffic wasn't too bad and by the time we had screwed around and done what needed to get done, we were on the Cape by noon.  There was a quick stop at the Stop n' Shop in Orleans.  YouTube this one, actually.  Right before the Fourth, the employees pulled off a patriotic marching band flash mob.  It was pretty cool.  And that is the only time that I have ever liked that Stop n' Shop.


It's your typical Stop n' Shop--probably a bit bigger.  It's the last decent sized grocery store on the Cape before you hit P-town.  It's expensive, but again, it's the last decent sized grocery store on the Cape...The problem here is that it is lousy with tourists.  I have never once been there (except once in March one year) when I haven't been elbow to elbow with tourists.  I have very little patience with people to begin with, but when you throw in an elitist attitude, then it throws me over the edge.  People walking slowly and then stopping in the middle of a crowded aisle so no one (i.e. me) can go around them.  Parking their carts in the middle of aisles to read labels rather pushing off to the side so people can get around.  It's the utter lack of consideration for people around them that just makes my skin crawl.  The crowd also makes John's skin crawl.  Now throw in a four year old who is also overwhelmed by the crowd and a six year old who wants to use the scanner thingy, not realizing how much extra time that takes and how that means we'll be in the store longer...It's a recipe for disaster--or at least a whole lot of tension.


When we were expelled from the belly of hell, despite the fact that it was in the mid-90's, we were all relieved.  We loaded the car and gladly climbed in after our stuff into the now sweltering metal box.


It's always cathartic to drive down route 6 through Orleans and Eastham and then into Wellfleet.  We always have the same conversation about the church that does the clam chowder dinners every Thursday.  "We should make it there some time."  "But we're never around on a Thursday at dinner time."  "It would be nice."  "We should see if we can get the kids baptized before the chowder dinner and then stick around for chowder."  It's nice to see what's playing at the Wellfleet drive-in.  This year the double feature was Cars 2 and Harry Potter.  That would have been good, but we didn't make it.  I always wonder what vendors will be at the flea market held in the parking lot of the drive-in on the weekends.  This ritual takes the stress and the tension down a few thousand levels.


Then we get to what Jack has called his "vacation house" for the past four years.  We are all relaxed now.  Every single one of us.  There's a flurry of unpacking and unloading and then we try to figure out what to do next.  For John that would be to find Bob and help him work on his race car.  For the kids and me, it's finding the nearest beach and heading for it.


This year, the big thing was "Angry Birds."  Because we have no TV at Jack's vacation house, we usually bring my computer and watch movies on it.  My laptop has died, so we brought John's laptop.  Unfortunately, John's laptop couldn't play any movies, so the only form of electronic entertainment was "Angry Birds."

Angry Birds en masse.  Anna's on my nook, John is on his iPad, and Jack is on my iPhone

All three of them were at it the second we'd unloaded everything. 

Once I pried them away from the birds and those little green pigs, we went to Mayo Beach.  Mayo Beach is the public beach in Wellfleet.  It's on the bay side, so the waves a small.  It's usually not all that crowded, to be honest, but it's one of my favorite places in the world.  We stayed for a couple of hours.  The kids and I were good for more, but John was done.  He doesn't love the beach as much as we do.

Jack, John and Anna in our beach tent on Mayo Beach

After we left Mayo, we went to PJ's which is on the corner of Cahoon Hallow Road and Route 6.  John got an order of fries for the kids to share, the fried clam plate, and a lobster roll for me.  I do so love me some lobster roll.  When we got home, we cooked some hot dogs on the grill for the kids and then shared fries, clams and lobster.  Then, we made s'mores on our little grill.  The kids went to bed without too much fuss and so did John and I.

A friend of mine, Elise, was also on the Cape last weekend.  Her parents rent a cottage in Truro and I invited the kids and me over for Saturday.  John went racing with Bob.  They left around 11 a.m. or so.  The kids and I went to play at the play ground across from Mayo Beach.  It's a pretty nice play ground, but we were chased out pretty quickly by a thunder storm.  Once the thunder cleared out, we headed out to see Elise and her gracious parents.  While it was a little cool when we started out on the private beach behind their cottage, the sun came out and it turned out to be a perfect day for the beach.

Anna fell asleep on the drive over (all of 10 mins)

Anna goofing around

Jack burying Elise's feet

When we left Elise, we were all exhausted.  We took showers, ate dinner (left over French fries) and played "Angry Birds."  The kids jumped around, played cars and "baby dog."  This is when I switched the bed mattress for the futon mattress and was immediately happy.  Everyone went to bed early and fell asleep pretty much right off the bat.  John came in at 2 a.m.

John's sister and her family came in on Saturday.  We got together with them on Sunday.  We made a trip to the Wellfleet Flea Market, which I would have found way more exciting had I not been attached to a four year old.  We bought the kids each the opportunity to make sand art--their pretty designs were reduced to a multicolored mess by the next morning.  We also got some incredibly touristy (and relatively cheap) t-shirts.

We escaped the Flea and had lunch at Marie's cottage.  Then we headed out to Newcomb Hollow--an ocean beach.  The water was cold and a little too rough for my little ones, but there was plenty of room for sandcastles and for playing Frisbee and catch.  It was absolutely lovely.  Once we'd had enough of the beach, we packed up and then headed out.

John, the kids and I headed across the street to see our friend Dee.  Dee used to "date" Bob, and that's how we met her, but she lives in Wellfleet from May until the end of October in a cottage pretty much right on the water.  She is lovely.  She made a big deal over the kids, and begged us never to go to Mayo Beach, but to come to her house and use the private beach behind her house (which you can actually see from Mayo Beach and is also directly across from Marie's cottage) any time we wanted to.  She wanted to feed us and ply us with alcohol, but we had plans!

We went back to Jack's vacation house and grabbed our super cheap hot dogs (I bought about about a million), made a tomato salad with cucumbers, wrapped up our corn on the cob in tinfoil, packed up water and juice boxes, our flashlight and met up with Marie, her husband John and their son Evan back at Newcomb Hollow.  We were having a beach bonfire!

Their friends met us there and we picked a prime location for building a fire.  The kids started building sandcastles and "digging to China."  Evan and I set up the chairs.  The men prepared the fire.  We realized that we didn't have any matches so we sent Evan and Jack to find other people who where there to borrow some.  Marie had an amazing spread of hors' d'oeuvres.  She had chips with dip, guacamole, melon and thinly sliced prosciutto, thin pretzels with herbs, cheese and crackers.  And as always, Marie had good beverages.  Her husband is currently on a ginger kick with a ginger beer spiked with ginger liquor.  There was Blue Moon in cans (who knew?) and a pink sparkling wine that we drank over ice. 

The kids played.  The men threw around a baseball.  We sat and talked.  Eventually we roasted our hot dogs on sticks, tried to cook the corn in the fire--eventually we gave up and threw it in the fire to listen to it pop.  The kids played in the lifeguard stand and then the guys played Frisbee in the dark.  That was really cool.  I had bought the kids glow-in-the-dark bracelets, and those were distributed out among the players.  And then the Frisbee itself had a light on it.  From where I was sitting, I could only see the bracelets and the Frisbee.  I guess that's all the players could see, too. 

We did s'mores.  The kids played a little bit more and then Anna announced that she wanted to go home and go to bed.  She crawled up in my lap.  We packed up because she was headed for meltdown.  John and I dragged the kids and our chairs up to the car.  When we turned the car on, we noticed that it was 10:30 p.m.  No wonder Anna was ready to go home and go to bed!

The following day, Monday, was our last day.  We planned to go to Provencetown with Marie, John and Evan.  Unfortunately, when we woke up we found my car had a flat!  Fortunately, John had bought some "Fix-a-Flat" foamy stuff during one of the last times we were at Odd Lots! (That's the store's exclamation, not mine). There was a screw in the tire, but this stuff made it so that we could drive on it.  It's still in pretty good shape three days later.  I won't drive on it forever, but...

We decided to go to P-town in separate cars, which was wise because Anna was tired out by the walking.  All she wanted was a balloon hat because she had seen someone with one.  Once she had that, she was done.  We bid farewell to Marie and her family and then headed back to Jack's vacation house.  We loaded up, scrubbed the place down, vacuumed and then headed home.

It rained on the way home.  That was kind of symbolic because I didn't want to go home.  I would have stayed for a little while longer.

The Reality of Moving On

I’m sitting at the computer in the dining room while the kids are meant to be playing in the living room.  Jack is playing Super Mario Brothers on the Wii.  Anna is watching him while she eats a butterfly sandwich.  A butterfly sandwich is one piece of bread with peanut butter spread on it.  She then takes it and folds it.  I’m not sure where “butterfly” came from, but it works.

I have to bring Anna to the eye doctor tomorrow morning.  Not really looking forward to it.  Those of you who have been reading for a while know that one of the last times we were there was not a great moment in time for me or Anna.  The last time we were there, she was much better behaved, but the doc referred to her as a “cute terrorist.”  I think there’s actually some improvement with her eye usage, so I’m hoping for a fairly painless appointment.

Then on Wednesday, we have the dentist for both kids.  I have postponed this one longer than I should have.  This postponement stems mainly from what’s going on with Anna.  Last year I went to make appointments for the kids, but then found out that we didn’t have dental insurance for them.  So this year, we do have dental insurance.  I’m a little concerned about Anna.  Jack seems to be looking forward to it now that he’s lost 3 teeth (all in about a week’s worth of time.  Freakin’ Tooth Fairy is going to be broke if this keeps up).  I’m wondering if I should tell them at the dentist what the eye doctor recommended.  At that horrible appointment months ago he told me, “You should look into sedation dentistry for her.” We shall see.  I’ve been wondering if they do sedation eye appointments for mamas.

On Thursday we’re headed for the Cape.  John has a friend who lives out in Wellfleet.  This friend has a little apartment over his garage.  He lets us stay there often.  We didn’t go out last year because John really didn’t have the time with the new job or the finances because of the time without the job.  We’ll leave Thursday night, after John gets home from work and we’ve loaded the car.  We’ve found that we miss all kinds of traffic if we leave at night—even on a Thursday.  We’ll have time on Friday to spend at the beach, I’m sure.  On Saturday, John will go racing with his friend.  The kids and I will head back to the beach.  On Sunday we’ll probably head out to the beach again because the kids really cannot get enough of water and sand.  John’s sister and her family will be in town later on Sunday.  Then on Monday, John is taking his nephew and brother-in-law fishing with the friend we’re staying with.  My sister-in-law will probably go, too.  So the kids and I will go to the beach again.  We’ll come home Monday night because John will go to work on Tuesday.

I find it kind of surrealistic to be carrying on with life after Brian’s passing.  The day after the funeral, I went and got a pedicure.  I was in desperate need (if one can be in desperate need of a pedicure), but had held off.  After the funeral, I needed time on my own to think and sort through things, so when John came home from work, I ran out the door to Zara’s Nail and Spa in Abington.  They do an amazing job, but it’s so peaceful and relaxing there that I was able to just be in my own head.  It was nice to have someone wait on me while I did nothing but think.  Once I got in the car to go home, though, I got nervous.  I felt horrifically guilty about going and doing something just for me.  It didn’t seem right in light of what was happening to my friends.

One of the things that I needed to sort through was my impression to the funeral.  I really wanted to document the event in some way.  It was beautiful.  The police department, the army, and the family did such an amazing job at saying farewell.  I wrote it all down.  I described my reaction to the wake and funeral and how Jack handled the wake, and I sent it to my friend John.  I wanted to share with him (because we had recently discussed his father’s funeral and the fire department’s participation in it) how beautiful and how the police department had stepped up to thoughtfully.  He has been encouraging me to put it in the blog, but I’m not quite sure I’m ready to do that.  First of all, it really isn’t one of my better written pieces and I would have to edit it in order to make it “presentable.”  I cannot look at it without sobbing.  Secondly, it really is one-sided.  It really is all about me and how I responded to the event.  I find it to be a little selfish.  If there was one thing Brian wasn’t, it was selfish. 

I also wanted to come to grips with how life was moving on without Brian.  I didn’t think that was fair.  I still don’t.  And yet, life is moving on.  People get pedicures.  Children play in pools.  People make it to doctors' appointments.  Dishes pile up in the sink and need to get done.

And people plan vacations.

We are at just about a month until our epic trip to Disney.  Anna is so excited about the trip it’s getting difficult to contain.  Since she needs visual queues to help her deal with various stimuli, I’ve been showing her pictures of various pictures from reports people have put on the internet about their trips to Disney.  This morning, after looking at pics of people with characters, she demanded to get dressed.  She put her hat and shoes on and then stomped her foot.  She was ready to go to Disney NOW!!!  I had to explain to her that we had to wait 32 more days.  I don’t think I really got her to understand the wait, but she did get distracted. 

Jack is still playing his game, but he’s got only a few minutes of his allotted time left.  Anna is now eating a little bowl of “Krunch Heads” (fake Capt’n Crunch).  I’ve got to go do the dishes and take care of the recycling.  I was thinking of then throwing the kids in the pool, but it looks like it may rain sooner than Jeremy Reiner (local weather guy) said it would.  Maybe we can beat the storms!

It's Not Fair

I've tried to write this before, but got only so far.  I'm not sure how far this will get because Jack is sick and Anna (having been woken up by his crying) is in full brat mode.  And honestly, it's difficult to type through tears.

When John and I moved into this house 10 years ago, we met our friends Judy and Darryl and their children, Kay and Brian.  Kay was in high school, had a boyfriend, a job, a car.  We never saw her.  Brian was another story.  When Darryl started racing with John and his brother, Brian would tag along.  Brian was no more than 14 and was at our house, in the garage at least 4 times a week.

He was a goofy kid.  Tall, skinny.  One big gangly growth spurt after the other.  He would do anything the grown-ups (and I use that term lightly) told him to do.  Roll that tire into the garage.  Roll it out.  Get them beers from the fridge.  Take tire temperatures.  He was their garage slave.  When I gave them hell for it, he told me he liked it.  And he did everything they told him with a big goofy grin.

John and I got our third dog, and John wanted to name it Brian after the dog in Family Guy.  It became confusing because we had two Brians.  Brian-the-boy and Brian-the-dog.  Over time, the dog was called Brain and the boy was, simply, The Boy.  Again, when I gave the men hell for taking away the kid's name, he told me it was fine.  He actually kind of liked it.

As a teenager, he had his typical moments and his not so typical moments.  Case in point.  While they were at my house once, he and Darryl got into a fight.  Darryl was trying to assert his right as a parent and Brian was trying to assert his independence.  It got ugly.  Both of them were very angry.  The fight was over--those kinds of fights always end.  Brian called me up and apologized for his behavior.  No one made him do it.  He just did it.

In his late teens, he was given an inheritance when one of his paternal grandparents passed away.  Instead of taking the money and doing whatever it is a teenager would do with a big chunk of change, he gave Judy and Daryl a hefty sum for everything they had done for him. 

He went to a "technical" high school, thinking that he would like to become a chef.  He liked it well-enough, but it wasn't truly his passion.  He, like many people, wouldn't put in the effort unless it was what he really wanted.  So after graduation, he flitted from cooking job to cooking job not able to find the "right fit."
He tried welding and fabricating.  He went so far as to take the firefighters' exam.  He then decided that he wanted to join the army.  Unfortunately, he didn't score high enough on the entrance exam to get into what he wanted--cooking.  He went into the National Guard and was able to get trained in what he wanted.  He planned on seeing if he could go in full time after he had been trained.

Basic was hard work for him, but he pushed himself and excelled.  He was then sent off to Kuwait.  I addressed my letters to him "Dear The Boy."  But a funny thing happened:  The Boy became a man.

He worked for a couple of years as a cook, here and there.  He trained and drilled.  He remained immensely close to his parents and sister.  He doted on his mother, truly grateful for her.  He was kind.  He was funny.  He absolutely adored his nephew. 

It was amazing to watch him grow. 

Last summer, an opportunity came for him to go to the police academy.  He was one of only two cadets from our city.  He went and trained.  He studied.  He passed everything they put in front of him--both physical and "academic."  He flourished. 

When he was a police officer, he loved it.  He loved every minute of it.  His facebook status updates were mainly about how much he loved his life and the people in it. 

His love of life and of people was not limited to the ones he knew personally.  In the spring of this year, he ran a half marathon to raise money for injured veterans.  He participated in other community service fundraising events, too.  He understood that people needed help, and he did what he could to help them.

I actually had the opportunity to see him at work a couple of times.  I was driving the kids to his mom's house one morning and he had someone pulled over on the side of the road.  I was so proud of him that I wanted to pull over to the side of the road, give him a big hug and then take his picture.  I refrained, barely, because I didn't want to mess with his "rep" as a policeman.

Another time, John and I were driving home from somewhere and Brian was standing on the side of the road, his cruiser near by.  He was directing traffic around an accident or something, but both John and I could tell it was him from kind of far away because of the way he was standing, with his head forward as always.  I wanted to stop that time, too.

On Wednesday, Bri was in court.  A suspect took off and Brian and some colleagues chased him--through the court house, across the street, and through a parking garage.  Brian took a long time to calm down after that.  It took him about three hours to recover.  After work, he had a 2 mile run and then went to the gym. 

When Darryl went to wake him up on Thursday, Brian didn't wake up.  It turns out that not only was his heart big figuratively, it was big literally.  He had an enlarged heart.  After all the excitement and physical activity on Wednesday, it was so large it blocked off one of his valves preventing his heart from doing its job.

I nearly died on Thursday when Judy called and told me.  John was home when she called and he went over right away to see Judy and Darryl.  When he came home he cried.  I think I can honestly say that while I've seen his eyes get watery a few times over the past 15 years, this is the first time I've seen him cry.   

People have been writing on his facebook page and on their own pages that his death has broken their hearts.  Mine is broken, too.

The loss for what I had--we had--in Brian is overwhelming right now, but the loss for what could have been with this man is worse, I think.

Brian gave a trophe to Lucic

Running at his charity half marathon

Officer Brian Mc Sharry