When we last spoke we were exploring the depths to which children's behavior can fall when they have been ripped from their normal routine for seven days, then awakened at three o'clock in the morning and stuffed into a plane for five hours. I am here to tell you that it is indeed a bottomless well of suck, as evidenced by the fact that all four children were in bed for the night at 6:30 yesterday evening. Or the fact that I made Ryan pull the car over two-hundred yards from the church parking lot because I had. to. get. out. couldn't. take. the. screaming. anymore.
This morning started out promisingly, with Wes and James (aka Hatfield and McCoy) happily playing with something together in James's room. But by the time I left to get some work done at Corner Bakery, one kid had just stomped up the stairs and slammed his door because his friendship bracelet project was not going according to plan (totally get it).
So! Let's continue looking at vacation pictures and wishing we were still there, shall we?
To continue the theme of "it's only fun if you could be seriously injured," we have s'mores!
Ryan built this fire on the rocks and we invited the neighbor kids over for some s'mores fun.
This is the real reason there are flame retardant pajamas.
Miraculously, this was the only sixty-minute period of the entire trip when no one tripped and maimed himself on those rocks, which is good because there was a fire there.
The kids smelled like s'mores when they woke up the next morning. Maine: the way life should be.
Cuteness interlude: We gave Mary a bath in the metal baby bathtub. She is the fourth generation to use the baby bathtub! This is also the only Maine activity she actually enjoyed, rather than endured.
Charley and Wes found wetsuits in the barn which allowed them to spend EVEN MORE TIME in the freezing water. Their daily schedule looked like this: 1) Wake up at dawn, 2) Reluctantly eat breakfast, 3) Put on wetsuit and get in the water.
They swam with boogie boards all the way from our dock to the boat ramp, then back to the dock, then all the way to the town float. This is a very long open water swim. Ryan followed them in the rowboat. The next day, they swam all the way from the dock to the boat ramp and back and then Charley made Wes get out and struck off on his own, which is totally against the rules. Ryan caught up with him in the dinghy and made him come home. Always swim with a buddy!
Me: Who wants to walk to the store to get donuts?
Wes (with exasperation): MOM, it's HIGH TIDE.
Swimming to the boatramp like it's their job. And like it's 1965, when it was normal to need binoculars to watch your five and seven year old go swimming.
Swinging back by the dock on their way to the public float.
Thursday morning was rainy so we hopped in the car and drove to Freeport to buy Wes a backpack for kindergarten. Despite complaining for the last thirty minutes of the drive about how bad he needed to go potty, he stopped dead in his tracks as we passed the backpack display. He reverently tried on a nice navy blue one and delicately fingered the straps of a few others before zeroing in on one exactly like Charley's. He tried it on and exclaimed "NOW WE CAN BE BACKPACK TWINS!!" I was concerned about this being confusing, but then his eyes locked on the orange cammo one and he was in love.
We asked them to stand together nicely for a picture. I think this is the moment when we lost control of the children for good.
We left for home after some emergency hot dogs from a street vendor and lots of quibbling about holding hands on the way back to the car. Apparently, kids who are allowed to swim half a mile "alone" are too grown up to be scared of cars and large crowds of tourists.
Then it was time for mandatory family photo on the steps torture. This is the best one.
(Everyone in this picture is annoyed about something)
Next time: Tubing! Pirate Treasure Hunts! Pitchers of Beer! James eating Steamed Clams! Now: worky time. Boo.