Less emotional trip report

This is the bare-bones report.

On the way up we had a little cloud inside the car. No, literally: a little gaseous cloud making mist on the windshield.  We both commented on how odd it was, the weather inside the car.  Of course once we got there we noticed a little pool of fluid at the front of the car on the passenger side.  After some discussion Carl assured me that it was the A/C and not connected to the engine coolant…

… you see where this is going. Apparently in Volvos…

… it’s the same thing, or something, and anyway this morning ten minutes away from the resort I have come to consider my winter residence, the ENGINE OVERHEATING light came on, just after a massive cloud of coolant was released leaving me frantically opening everything to get it out away from MY BABY.  And we were stranded at the side of the road. Of course in ancient times we would have put water in, or something, but we are modern yuppie folk and so we whipped out our cell phones. Carl called CAA and our Plus membership (free tow to 200k!) came in handy and I called my parents to come get us at the dealership. CAA kindly sent a flatbed double-cab truck so that the carseat would fit, and Noah was AWED! at the awesome truck! with mummy’s car on it!

Got to Volvo 15 min to close, so they determined that it will be a big (probably $1,xxx) repair and they will not start ’til Monday. But at least we stopped driving, although there was some snickering that we had, you know, laid down newspaper over the Leaked Coolant. We are bad. My lungs hurt, but it is probably psychosomatic.

Today is the day Emily died, you know. Oh wait this was the unemotional version. But even so I have to say I felt like a) we were bound to die at the side of the road and b) that there should be a rule that forever after nothing even inconvenient can happen to us. But you know, it is real life, and no one hit us, and we are all fine. Except my lungs, *cough cough*.

~~~

Travelling with Noah turns out to be like travelling with a drunk guy.  He slept on the way up (through the first cloud). Then we got to our room and he was like WOW! A CHAIR! I will climb on it! WOW! a couch! I will climb on it! WOW! A mirror! This is great! Happy! Everything is great! Wow! Flagstone covered walkway! Wow!

Until meals, when he turned into the nasty drunk guy slurring and spilling stuff and howling in rage at being confined in some horrid highchair! We were kept on our toes trying to keep him occupied at meals. I wished I’d caved to consumeristic impulses and bought him a dozen new toys. But out of the four nights we made it through three dinners with only a bit of fuss.  The fourth night, I had Carl bring my dinner up after and left with Noah. 

Breakfasts and lunches, being buffets, were at least a bit faster. We were seated around other families with similarly-aged kids and no one was disturbed, if anyone was wondering. :)

Also, Noah apparently finds the following acceptable in any venue: milk, any fruit he would normally eat and some he wouldn’t, broccoli (he ate reams of broccoli, as if I had been keeping it from him forever), carrots, cauliflower, beans, crackers, and some forms of bread.  He also condescended to eat some mushroom risotto with duck, and a little bit of chicken with rice. Mostly, however, he eschewed protein altogether (except milk and breast milk).  He would not eat grilled cheese, pizza, meatballs, any normal stuff like roast chicken or steak, or any pasta. A tiny bit of tofu, but only because he was distracted at the time. I am as confused as you are, but hey. He didn’t starve. He also discovered chips and chocolate in small quantities.*

And Elmo. I turned the TV on a few times so if he gets ADHD or autism now, it will be my fault. I do not like the preschool programming I saw, but Elmo had an episode on babies and Noah was awed that someone else shares his obsession with BABIES.  Oh and bananas.

But mostly our days were spent walking everywhere. The house and grounds were cosy enough that we could walk around easily; we never took the stroller out of the car.  And Noah walked everywhere, all the time. Up stairs and down stairs. And we swam at least once every day, although he asked to swim about eleven times every day.  The many levels of the place provided hours of toddler entertainment as long as one of us didn’t mind riding herd, and when that failed he could watch the big kids playing ping pong or just watch the birds and squirrels out of the window.

It was great that way; hugely relaxing.

And sleep? He did pretty well; he took to their portacrib thing fine, although he had a bit of trouble falling asleep every night.  And usually around 5 am he came into our bed, but that’s usual for him.

Of course vacationing en toddler is totally different from the way it used to be. I did experience the odd twinge of nostalgia for when I used to be able to say, leave my room after 8 pm and go down to the bar and have a drink.  But I read some books (gasp! I finally made it to The Virgin Suicides only a few years after everyone else) and slept as much as possible at night, which I needed to do.  And as a family we had a good time, at least, as good as we could given the reason for the retreat. 

I also broke the spa barrier and had my first professional manicure (I know, I know, but it’s never been my priority), which was – ok, but not something I would do all the time, and I/Lyr had our first professional massage which I would do every day if I could. :) The massage really helped with that “touched out” feeling we sometimes have with Noah, which was interesting. Although I got totally lectured on the state of my back; we really need to hit yoga.

There was a lot of stuff around Emily that I think I will chew over posting; it seems a bit repetitive, but that is how it is, grief; it circles itself. I cried in public only twice, and not embarassingly so.  But oh, the lack of her. And because of the towing we didn’t get to the cemetary today (it was closing as we left the dealership) and that is odd – usually we go on the way up, which we did, and on the way back, which we didn’t.  But she was definitely present in our thoughts and hearts today.

* Yes, I’m a little horrified this happened at 18 months. The chocolate was completely accidental – he found a dropped M&M – but the chip (a low-fat plain Pringles, as if it matters) was completely my doing. I handed him one. He loved it. He’s clearly my kid. My excuse is that hotel rooms don’t count. :)