Welcome, Summah!

We just returned from our short but oh so sweet getaway to Bar Harbor. Every time we go, I fall just a little bit more in love with the place. This charming coastal village is accessible, exciting, and chock full of activities to fit almost any taste. Of course the fact that it sits on the outskirt of Acadia National Park isn't too shabby either.


This was our third trip with Garrett in tow. Hard to believe we've managed to go every summer since he was born, but that’s how much we love it. Next year we hope to resume our camping tradition with him. Won’t that be an adventure!


This year was the first that we actually stayed within walking distance from all the happenings in town. While the Anchorage Motel offered no frills lodging (read: no hair dryer!), the easy access to Main Street, the park, and our favorite restaurants was awesome.

When we left Friday morning, the car was slightly stuffed with three humans, a dog, and all the accoutrements that accompany us.  We tried to pack light, really we did.  But seriously, when you have a kid that insists on bringing at least 57 books and 12 stuffies, things can get a little crowded.  Even Gabs has her own backpack.  But off we went under cloudy, drizzly skies that threatened to dampen the grass but not our mood.  As we headed north, the brighter it got, until we were assaulted with full on sunshine and the promise of steamy, humid temps.  One of my most favorite summer games to play on a summer road trip is the license plate game.  You know, how many out of staters can I spot within a few days?  At a national park destination like Acadia, my final number was pretty awesome.

Our first real stop as always is the Big Chicken Barn.  I love going there with a list of authors and hope to find a few treasures.  This time did not disappoint as I found two books that have been on my ‘to read’ list for a while. This is also the perfect place for the two G’s to stretch their legs and take a break.  It’s also great knowing that once we hit the BCB, we’re only about half an hour away from our final destination.

And so it goes…we sail into Bar Harbor, delighted that our room was ready two hours before the normal check-in time, get unpacked, and go for lunch at a favorite watering hole, The Thirsty Whale.  Once fortified, we stroll into town, meandering down the hill to water’s edge.  An eager Garrett proclaiming “Water, water, water, water” over and over and louder and louder, clearly meant that he was anxious to dip his toes. Bar Harbor, like Portland, is a stopover for many a cruise ship.  This one was docked not far off, but ready to leave that evening.

The center of town has a beautiful park, complete with benches, a gazebo, and tree adorned sidewalks.  It’s the perfect spot for a toddler to roam and run.  We got some rainbow sherbet and found a spot to share the cool treat as we people watched.  

Back to the hotel for an attempt to get this kid to nap. Didn’t happen.  Despite having been up since nearly 6am and only allowing himself about half an hour in the car, Garrett was not to miss any of the fun he thought we might be having if he napped.  No nap on a hot summer day makes for a very cantankerous Boo.  And possibly cranky Mommy. 

An early dinner at the most delicious Rosalie’s (best pizza EVER) and then it was back to pick up the Gabs and walk around town.  As usual, Gabs captures most of the attention, mostly by people who have also owned or do own a Rottweiler and those who simply think she’s a gorgeous dog.  She and Garrett splish splash in the fountain.  It’s hard to tell who loves the water more.  After a while, we decide to catch the sunset atop Cadillac Mountain.

Five minutes into the ride there, and we have a passed out kid. Finally, the exhaustion won out.  Driving up the mountain is a gorgeous and for the heights enthusiast, breath-taking experience. I admit, there are times when the narrow, windy curves have me clenching the door handle.  Because there was a storm coming, the clouds were dancing rapidly across the mountain. It felt like we were driving straight into them.  Once atop, the temps dropped, the gusts became gales, and we still had a sleeping kid in the backseat.  T stayed behind while I darted across the rocks, feeling a little like Dorothy in the tornado…and hoping that I didn't  airlift into lands unknown.  It was a sight and experience we hadn’t seen before, and worth capturing.

We did indeed get the storms.  The toddler long in dreamland, I set out with Gabs to do one last jaunt around town but the zig zag lightening had me turning right around and heading back to the motel for some shuteye.  After all, Saturday was going to be a big day. 

We awoke to another sunny, steamy day, and the first thing to do was grab a good breakfast.  Two Cats it was, for their fresh, melt-in-your-mouth biscuits slathered in strawberry butter. Divine.  Fueled and ready, we set out to the park for our hike to the Bowl.  Gabs seemed to know the way and led our charge through the hot forest.  And man was it hot.  I had the pleasure of having the 30+ lb urchin on my back, climbing up hill for 45 minutes until I pretty much wanted to just pass out in the water.  I didn’t.  Gabs, however, flung herself off the boarded ledge once we reached the Bowl, and happily retrieved the ball over and over. 

Back down on stable ground, we head to Sand Beach.  The waves are fast and furious and the water is a bone-chilling, spine-tingling freezing.  Actually, freezing is an understatement.  Someone apparently did not seem to mind.  

A failed attempt at Jordan Pond house for popovers as the crowd was just too massive.  After nap time, it was back in town for us.  An impromptu trip to the nearby library proved a welcome distraction.  Onto get a snack and some iced coffee...then into the park for some play time. 

So typically, Garrett is always around other boys.  His daycare is all boys.  His friends are mostly all boys. It’s not often that he finds himself with any girls.  Here at the park, there were two very adorable little girls who seemed quite taken with our blond Boo.  One even went as far as to attempt to hold his hand, but typical boy, he ran away and barely even noticed her.

The Gazebo and park were alive with live music from a community brass band. It was delightful to sit and listen play some favorite familiar tunes. By the time we had dinner, eating al fresco at a local Italian joint, we could hear the thumping beats to John Williams’ Star Wars classics. 

More ice cream in the evening, along with people watching, grass flopping, boat admiring.  Another trip to Cadillac to catch the 8:22 pm sunset…this time with an awake kid, lovely views, and a beautiful moon. 

Sunday…a failed attempt at yet another crowded restaurant led us to a diner called Jordan’s… the blueberry pancakes did not disappoint.  Back to Sand Beach for some water play, and another failed try at popovers.  I’ve never seen a crowd like this standing in line before the restaurant had even opened.  So there you have it.  We never made it to have those airy delights. Disappointing but not quite worth standing in line in 85+ degrees with a 2 year old.  Besides, he had already passed out again in the car after is romp at the beach…what they say about never waking a sleeping baby is certainly true for a sleeping toddler.  

So how many licenses plates did I actually end up recording? 41 plus the District of Columbia.  Not too bad for a weekend in Maine.  Can’t wait to do it again in the fall.

June Bugs.

Summer has barely started and yet already I feel it zipping by.  The spring was a whirlwind of birthdays, packing, and of course, the big move, thrown in with several rainy days and chilly temps.  But now it’s officially summer! In a few days, we’ll be at our special Maine spot; hiking the Bowl, partaking in buttery popovers and strolling the Main Street with you and Gabs in tow.

Speaking of Gabs, a few weekends ago, I took the two of you to one of our favorite watery oasis’.  The rocky beach at Mitchell Field in Harpswell. Here, you waded in, unafraid, the cold water lapping at your ankles as you eagerly tossed the ball to Gabby over and over again.  I love how you two play.

Next up was Father’s Day weekend. Daddy had the whole weekend off! You brought home this lovely piece, made at daycare, especially for Dad. We tried to get you a haircut. Twice. Epic fail.  But we did manage to have gelato a few times and run around the Brunswick park.  Loved your flowing golden locks, our little surfer boy.  We took Daddy to breakfast.  You were a rascal.  We took Daddy to lunch.  You discovered, and so did we, that you love calamari.  Who would have thought?



 

 
    

 

 
Then one night, on the ride home from work, I said, tonight we’re getting our haircut! And I bribed you, for the first time ever, with the promise of ice cream, if you sat like a good boy and let them chop your strands.  You were so good! You got your ice cream, but then got forlorn when the bowl was soon empty. Your big boy haircut is sweet and makes you even more delicious.  You’re still my little peach even though you look so grown up.

  

 

This past weekend was hot hot hot.  Daddy got you a water table because we know how much you love to play with the one at daycare.  Gabs enjoyed checking it out too. She approves. That same day, Grammie and Grampie came over.  You were so funny, splishing and splashing,  then bolting through the yard.  A storm was coming so we had to cut playtime short. Not before, however, you stripped out of your shorts and ran with just your diap. You’re kinda like a little Huck Finn.
  
 

  

 
  









 


 
Inside, you expertly put pennies into the giant piggy bank from G & G. You read books, played silly games, and overall had a grand time showing them your new house and all your toys.

 
  

 
On Sunday, we went to Popham Beach.  The key for Popham this time of year is to get there early and preferably at low tide.  We managed to do both.  It was a glorious day.  Sparkling, crystal waters, shimmery soft sand.   This is what Maine is about.

You are such a fish.  I think you'd stay in the water all day if we let you.  You have no fear and we love hearing you squeal as you run in and out of the waves.  You're hilarious! Can't wait for more days like this, stretched out ahead of us throughout the summer.  I hope it slows down, so we can savor every minute.


 

 


 

 

 

Movin' on.

Tonight is the last night.  Tomorrow we move to a lovely home, where you will have the biggest yard to play in and woods to frolic and explore with the dog. Where you will have a huge room to play, and live in, conspire with your friends in.  And while I cannot wait until we’re finally there, I find myself a teeny bit sad about leaving this place—your first home.

When I put you to bed tonight, we sat together in the rocker, and sang our silly songs. I remembered a baby just two years ago that I nursed every few hours in those early days, sitting in the same rocker, trying not to fall asleep and counting the minutes until I could go back to bed, all the while marveling at your perfect little face, your perfect little self.I remembered rocking you, listening to our favorite lullaby cd, and me, in those early postpartum days, crying every time because I couldn't believe you were here, with me, after waiting for you for so long. 

It was in this room that you took your first naps, learned to sleep so well from month 1 in your crib, and where we read our stories.  It was in this room, this tiny closet of a room, that we cuddled and were silly, or where I comforted you when you were upset and you just wanted to be held.  It was in this room that I watched you sleep, serene and cherubic, in your sweet little zipper gowns, arms flat back on either side. It was in this room that I watched you pull yourself up in your crib for the first time; where you talk to your stuffies, and make all sorts of plans for the days ahead. It was in this room that I’ve changed no less than a zillion diapers. 

Yet I know you’ll love our new home.  You’ve been there so much already—you’ve staked out your space.  But, no matter how much we can’t wait to leave this place, it will always be your first home.  Where you learned to crawl and took your first steps.  Where you danced to music and went running down the hall, playing peekaboo around the corner.  Where you took your first bath.  Where you went for your first walk with Gabby. Where you had your first play dates. 

My goal tomorrow is to have yours be the room that is the last one we move and the first one we set up.  I want you to go to bed tomorrow night with the same sense of security and safety that you’ve always had, knowing that I’ll be just right down the hall. You’re growing up, and I know you’ll do just fine.  But you're still just little.  And change is hard.

 I know your long term memory has yet to even develop, so you may never even remember this place.  But I’ll remember.  And I’ll show you pictures.  Because, we’re movin’ on.  

Exploring the new place.  Good for somersaults.

On the Night You Were Born.

…Ok so you were born at 2:08pm, but it took just about two nights for you to get here, so…

This title, of course, refers to the beloved book by Nancy Tillman.  On the eve of your big day, my sweet Boo, I reflect on the happenings leading up to your impending and miraculous arrival.  For some reason, I neglected to do this last year. I blame it on the total emotional reality that I now had a one year old. Better late than never.

On the week you were born…

…you were such a good listener. My plan was to work until the very end, Friday, 30 April, Daddy’s birthday.  You were due 1 May.  And I did.  I remember someone telling me that they hoped I’d have the weekend to relax.  As much as I wanted to meet you, I kinda hoped that too.

On the week you were born…

…you let me have that weekend.  I remember taking Gabby for a walk around the neighborhood on Saturday because I needed something to do. My bag was already packed. I was ready.  I do remember getting half way around the neighborhood circle thinking all I wanted to do was just keel over on the grass because I didn’t think I could make it back home.  Wouldn’t that have made for an interesting headline.

On the week you were born…

…on Sunday, Daddy and I decided to have one last meal out because who knew when we’d do so again? We drove to beautiful Bailey Island for some delish seafood at Cook’s Lobster House. Daddy was silly trying on the lobstah hats. The hostess, eyeing my ginormous belly, asked when I was due.  “Yesterday!” I exclaimed proudly. She politely smiled with a nervous laugh.  Maybe visions of delivering amongst mussel shells and lobster tanks were swimming in her head.  Here I am, commemorating the event.

On the night you were born…

…I felt fine.  I had been reading so much about how to anticipate and detect signs of looming labor.  Nope, I felt normal.  I took the dog out, went to bed around 10pm.  Nothing unusual.  At 12:15am, I wet the bed. Since that never happened before I had to assume it was time.  I went to the downstairs bathroom.  To this day, I will never understand why, when clearly that was my water breaking, I chose to go down a flight of stairs when there’s a perfectly good bathroom next to our bedroom, How was I, without screaming my lungs out, going to make it back upstairs to awaken Daddy and let him know “it’s time”? I didn’t scream my lungs out, and somehow made it back upstairs.  

On the night you were born…

…Gabby was confused and could sense our urgency and panic. Why were we up and awake in the middle of the night? I kissed her goodbye, crying softly, knowing that everything was about to change and that the next time we’d see her, a new little life would be there to greet her and be greeted.

On the night you were born…

…it felt like the longest ride in eternity to get to the, really only 12 minutes away, hospital.  I kinda wished we’d made arrangements with our neighbor, the cop, to get a police escort when the time had come. Ah well, hindsight.

On the night you were born…

…it was a lonnnng wait for your arrival.  It’s hard to explain but when you’re waiting for something to happen and it seems like nothing is, and your body feels like it’s being crushed under 5 Mack trucks…well, it’s just a little bit tortuous.  Monday came and went. 

On the day you were born…

...suddenly it was Tuesday. We waited all morning for things to progress. Did you not want to meet me?  I wanted so badly to meet you.  And then finally, there you were…38 hours later, Herculean feats of strength by yours truly…and Daddy updating the Facebook family on our progress.

On the day you were born…

…I watched Daddy absolutely fall in love with you.

On the day you were born…

Grammie and Grampie held their first grandson.

On the day you were born…

…I counted your fingers, I counted your toes.  I tickled your belly and kissed your nose. I recognized you the moment you arrived.  I don’t think I’d realized it until then, but I’d been waiting for you my whole life.  

On the day you were born…

…I instantly knew I’d love you forever.  Your birthday falls just one day before mine.  You were the most precious of gifts.  You joined our family…the only boy amongst so many girls.  You are our prince.

Happy 2^nd Birthday, my sweet boy! 

"On the night you were born,
the moon shone with such wonder
that the stars peeked in
to see you
and the night wind whispered,
'Life will never be the same.'

Because there had never been
anyone like you...
ever in the world."