Day Two – Getting Into The Vacation Mode
The forecast called for a 50% chance of rain. Since tomorrow's weather looked pretty good, we planned to go to the beach then.
Today, we packed up lunch and took an excursion into North Conway. First, we hit up the Children’s Museum. It was a cute little place that exceeding our expectations.
Understand that when we are at Pep’s house, someone has to constantly hover around Gus because he can fall down a set of stairs in almost every room. Basically, we construct makeshift barriers to keep him contained in a safe space. After a couple days of this routine, Gus was understandably beginning to grow restless at the constricted amount of room to roam.
The museum is comprised of about eight or nine rooms on one floor. Once we got inside, Gus was a man on a mission. He was just walking around everywhere non-stop. We let him get into anything he wanted. Greta was a little reserved at first but gradually warmed up and embraced the surroundings. We spent about an hour and a half in there. Let me summarize the kids’ opinion by asking Gus his thoughts on the museum.
ME: Gus, did you like the museum?
There you have it.
After the museum, we went to a park with a playground in the center of town. It was only about 12:30 but Gus was sleep walking his way through swings and teeter totters. The wheels started coming off for all three kids, so we banged out lunch in the hopes it would energize them.
After we ate, there was a little concrete platform with water blasting up from the ground at various heights and widths. A bunch of kids were running through the streams to cool off. We let Greta and Gus check it out for themselves. It was a comedy show watching them.
Greta approached it like a timid cat, tip toeing her way up to the edge while holding my hand for dear life. Gus, on the other hand, went full speed drunken sailoring into the abyss. He didn’t want to leave.
ME: Gus, are you having fun?
There you have it.
We gathered up our crew into the minivan and headed for home. Gus passed out immediately. Once we were home, THE WIFE manned the fort with the Tills while Gigi and I headed down to the pond.
The only other excursion worth mention was our trip to Smitty’s for ice cream after dinner. A thunderstorm (with a flash flood warning, no less) occurred in the two minutes it takes to drive there. Again, the Chantilly’s pinball machine crept back into my brain. (See the entry from Day Zero if you don’t know what I’m talking about.)
We made it safely and took over the ice cream shop. (We had the joint to ourselves.) Greta hammered back a Dino Crunch cone (basically vanilla ice cream colored blue.) G-man wanted a cup of chocolate, at least according to Greta who ordered for her little brother. THE WIFE went with a cup and a cone of coffee ice cream with the non-PC chocolate “Jimmy’s.” I got a cone of the Maine Tracks, which was something awesome because it was overflowing with peanut butter cups.
About halfway through his dessert, Gus started dancing like a tripping hippy at a Phish concert. Seriously. Picture a shirtless dreadhead smelling of patchouli with his head rotating in a figure eight while the arms flow like an octopus or Olive Oyl doing the wave. I think the massive amount of chocolate and sugar suddenly overwhelmed whatever glands are responsible for production of endorphins. Eventually, I acted as Gus’ trip guide so we went outside to stomp in puddles and work off some of the buzz.
It was a good day.
Day Three – Sixth Month Old For Rent
I’m not sure what the qualifications are to qualify as a so-called “colicky” baby. The term “colicky” itself makes me think (inaccurately I presume) of an infant whose bowel movements are more painful and frequent than someone who won a hot wings eating competition the day before. Naturally, I can understand how a truly colicky baby would be legitimately unhappy.
If Tilly does not qualify for colicky status when it comes to assessing how unpredictable her mood can be from one moment to the next, then I feel genuinely remorseful that I’ve never extended the appropriate amount of sympathy to a parent with an actual colicky baby. The frequency of Tilly’s unpredictable bad moods are enough to make me know I am definitely getting a vasectomy. (Tilly, if you’re reading this many years from now, I still love you with all of my heart. You were just a high maintenance baby.)
For the sake of staying true to recording our family vacations, today’s events were as follows: family beach day until nap time; Greta and THE WIFE got their shop on during siesta hours; I tried unsuccessfully to lull Tilly into sleep while we hung on the couch; THE WIFE returned and took all three kids to a playground while I cooked; we ate dinner; bath time; books and bed.
“Peach Pork.” Combine fresh sliced peaches and red or white onions into saucepan with olive oil, salt, and black pepper over medium-low heat. Get this going first because you want the peaches to absorb as much of the onion and salt as possible. When ready, throw some pork cutlets (or chops if you prefer) onto the grill over medium heat. I lightly buttered these babies for the sake of a little flavor, but my focus was primarily on not overcooking the pork. Once the pork is done, throw them into the pan containing the peaches and onions until serving.
I posted this recipe because it was such a hit at dinner time. Greta said she hated peaches, Gus threw his pork in several directions, and Tilly cried throughout the entire duration of the meal. THE WIFE didn’t even take a bite of her food until about twenty minutes into the meal. I can’t even remember if it tasted good or not, but I’ll try again several months from now.
Here’s hoping that the easy version of Tilly shows up tomorrow.