A hurricane, a teething toddler and a beach trip. Sounds like the perfect storm of a miserable vacation, huh?
It actually turned out all right.
Last week, as a 5.8-magnitude earthquake rattled the East Coast, Ray and I were discussing whether to cancel our long-planned beach trip because of the impending Hurricane Irene, which was still churning in the Caribbean.
Nearly 90 percent packed, Ray called to tell me we should probably not go, as the storm was tracking more westerly and was likely to hit Myrtle Beach, where we were headed the next day. Something about being a responsible parent and such.
I knew he was right, but I didn't care. I wanted my beach vacation. I wanted to get away from home, swing on the huge porch overlooking a tranquil pond and see Sawyer splash in the waves. Very bummed, I started looking at other options. Maybe I could find a house in the mountains to rent on short notice.
About two hours later, Ray called back to say he thought we could go, but he wanted to be uber-prepared. Little did I know then that meant a shopping spree in Walmart where he bought some geeky toys (including a weather radio and a headlamp) and a dozen cans of Spaghetti-Os (to eat when we don't have power or if we get stuck in an evacuation for hours ... yum!)
Packing resumed. And after a crazy night at work post-earthquake, we hit the road Wednesday morning for the beach.
The trip itself was nice and somewhat low-key as we mostly stayed close to home, so I'll spare you all the details. We did the beach. We shopped. We rented movies in case the cable went out. We watched hours of weather forecasts (well, Ray did) and worried that we were nuts and should go home (OK, that was me).
We braved the wind and rain on the beach as the storm approached. We marveled in the huge waves pounding the shore, watched surfers hauling their boards up and down the beach and grimaced as sand stung the backs of our legs with every gust of wind. We battened down the hatches (otherwise known as cramming every piece of porch furniture into the living room of our friend's beach house), listened to wind howl and whistle and kept an eye on possible flooding Friday night.
After the storm passed, we braved more winds to survey the beach, collected magnificent shells (filled with itty-bitty, teeny-tiny crabs that I didn't see until I got back to the house) and rode out the rest of our vacation.
Here are the highlights in pictures.
We hit the beach as soon as Sawyer woke up from his nap and ate lunch.
Whoa, mama! Look at the waves! (Lots of pointing commenced)
The biggest sandbox ever!
De plane! De plane!
Hurricane, shmurricane. The weather was lovely!
Besides, we are waaaayyyy too cool for hurricanes.
Yes, indeed. Life IS good.
There was ample riding space.
And all the popsicles you could eat.
We walked back to the pond to see who was doing all that quacking.
Wasn't this guy.
Ahhh, the noisemakers.
Mad 'cause Mama would not let me swim with the ducks.
Daddies are good for towing.
They're also good for taking you in the BIG waves.
After a nap, we fed the turtles and fish at Barefoot Landing.
We rode the carousel.
And stood nose to nose with a giant tiger.
It was little overcast, but Mama still made me do "portraits" on the beach like last year. Only this year, I could run away.
When Mama squatted down, so did I!
How do professional photographers shoot toddlers on the move?
By late afternoon, Irene's wind, waves and rain could definitely be seen.
The waves brought out plenty of crazy daredevils and surfers.
The morning after the storm, it was still very windy. And the beach was mostly empty.
Except for the amazing shells washed up on the beach.
And the shell seekers ... human and otherwise.
A shark shirt for our seafood dinner.
Getting in a last swing before heading home.
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