Great Dismal Holiday
Well, never mind Ryan getting that surfing scholarship to the University of Hawaii.
Giving the Ford Escape a break from driving up and down the eastern seaboard every weekend, I stayed in No'fo'k to await my lovely wife and robust son for a couple days away from the house and critters. Although the other two guys in my hoochnanny were going to be gone, the bed here isn't much bigger than a wide-esque single, and I just didn't think the two of them would be comfortable here. Fortunately, we received a gracious offer from the Parkers, who live nearby in the town of Chesapeake (next to the Great Dismal Swamp), to shack up at their place while they were out of town. And frankly, they owed us after their son tried to turn my boy into a Ryan Kebab.
The first night was a little rough for Ryan, since he was in a strange place with a strange man pretending to be his occasional Daddy, and even though I tried the usual 'walk-up-and-down-the-stairs' technique to sea-sick him to sleep, he kept looking around him in shock and horror, crying as if to say, "What stairs are THESE? Are you taking me to HELL? I HATE YOU! MOMMMMMMMAA!!"
Still wish I had the magic touch to get him to calm down, unlike the Midas Mammaries of Mama-san, but I still think it's cool that he's so attached to her* (not literally). It's like an on and off switch, passing him between the two of us.
*not literally.**
** well, sometimes.
Saturday we drove east until we could drive east no longer, with a sand dune sitting in front of us in the parking lot on Dam Neck Naval Air Station. The JFSC social events lady had told us students about this relatively secluded military beach, so I thought it would be worth a shot, rather than cramming into an ultra-crowded spot with ultra-expensive parking on Virginia Beach a few miles up the coast.
We found a choice spot twenty yards from the surf, lathered each other up with sunscreen, and I carefully tip-toed into the waves with Ryan in my arms.
71-degree water my Aunt Patricia.
It was cold.
Very un-Tampa like.
Ainsley suggested we just let him step in some wet sand first, which he found rather odd and curious, but suddenly an evil wave rushed in and crashed through his ankles.
Well, hello, World War III siren.
His legs turned into armadillos as he curled his toes and feet as far away from the beach as possible, screaming at whoever was holding him that he was NOT pleased with the going concern.
So he hung out on Mommy's lap or the beach towel the rest of the morning, while I took a few dips in the surf, the weightlessness of it all feeling nice on my back, the heatlessness of it not.
Still, a relaxing day, not too hot in mostly overcast skies, and Ainsley even spotted a small school of dolphins bounding their way down the coastline, so that was pretty cool.
We packed everything up around lunch and drove up to Virginia Beach to find a place to eat and souvenier shop; the strip one block west of the beach looking like every other stretch of beachfront Americana I've ever been to. Having seen the mushroom-patch of umbrellas, we were doubly glad to have spent the morning in relative Naval seclusion.
Sunday we drove back up to Norfolk and checked out the Nauticus, a naval musuem that lets folks tour the decks of the USS Wisconsin, a battleship built for WWII but also used in Desert Storm (and still kept in tip-top 'reserve' condition should it be needed for military service today).
The two of them left around 5 to get home, running into some terrible I-95 traffic along the way. Not fun for a single parent to drive with a screaming child through all that. So we're looking at picking up hitchikers for the ride up next time.
Giving the Ford Escape a break from driving up and down the eastern seaboard every weekend, I stayed in No'fo'k to await my lovely wife and robust son for a couple days away from the house and critters. Although the other two guys in my hoochnanny were going to be gone, the bed here isn't much bigger than a wide-esque single, and I just didn't think the two of them would be comfortable here. Fortunately, we received a gracious offer from the Parkers, who live nearby in the town of Chesapeake (next to the Great Dismal Swamp), to shack up at their place while they were out of town. And frankly, they owed us after their son tried to turn my boy into a Ryan Kebab.
The first night was a little rough for Ryan, since he was in a strange place with a strange man pretending to be his occasional Daddy, and even though I tried the usual 'walk-up-and-down-the-stairs' technique to sea-sick him to sleep, he kept looking around him in shock and horror, crying as if to say, "What stairs are THESE? Are you taking me to HELL? I HATE YOU! MOMMMMMMMAA!!"
Still wish I had the magic touch to get him to calm down, unlike the Midas Mammaries of Mama-san, but I still think it's cool that he's so attached to her* (not literally). It's like an on and off switch, passing him between the two of us.
*not literally.**
** well, sometimes.
Saturday we drove east until we could drive east no longer, with a sand dune sitting in front of us in the parking lot on Dam Neck Naval Air Station. The JFSC social events lady had told us students about this relatively secluded military beach, so I thought it would be worth a shot, rather than cramming into an ultra-crowded spot with ultra-expensive parking on Virginia Beach a few miles up the coast.
We found a choice spot twenty yards from the surf, lathered each other up with sunscreen, and I carefully tip-toed into the waves with Ryan in my arms.
71-degree water my Aunt Patricia.
It was cold.
Very un-Tampa like.
Ainsley suggested we just let him step in some wet sand first, which he found rather odd and curious, but suddenly an evil wave rushed in and crashed through his ankles.
Well, hello, World War III siren.
His legs turned into armadillos as he curled his toes and feet as far away from the beach as possible, screaming at whoever was holding him that he was NOT pleased with the going concern.
So he hung out on Mommy's lap or the beach towel the rest of the morning, while I took a few dips in the surf, the weightlessness of it all feeling nice on my back, the heatlessness of it not.
Still, a relaxing day, not too hot in mostly overcast skies, and Ainsley even spotted a small school of dolphins bounding their way down the coastline, so that was pretty cool.
We packed everything up around lunch and drove up to Virginia Beach to find a place to eat and souvenier shop; the strip one block west of the beach looking like every other stretch of beachfront Americana I've ever been to. Having seen the mushroom-patch of umbrellas, we were doubly glad to have spent the morning in relative Naval seclusion.
Sunday we drove back up to Norfolk and checked out the Nauticus, a naval musuem that lets folks tour the decks of the USS Wisconsin, a battleship built for WWII but also used in Desert Storm (and still kept in tip-top 'reserve' condition should it be needed for military service today).
The two of them left around 5 to get home, running into some terrible I-95 traffic along the way. Not fun for a single parent to drive with a screaming child through all that. So we're looking at picking up hitchikers for the ride up next time.
posted by Dan at 1:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home