How
We Spent Our Summer Vacation
or
Take The Long Way Home
It’s hard to believe that a simple summer vacation can turn into an
unexpected thrill ride but that just seems to be a part of Rose’s impact
on our lives. But I’m
getting ahead of myself; what’s important is that everybody’s OK now.
Nobody got seriously hurt in the car accident and Rose was, for
reasons completely unrelated to the accident, in and out of the hospital,
with only a brief, less than 24 hour stay in the PICU.
Rose bounced back from this illness faster than we’ve ever seen
her recover from any of her medical challenges.
She really seems stronger and sharper now than she ever has.
I think that, along with the wonderful support we had from our
special friends in the PICU has gone along way to healing the pain we feel
in our own hearts when Rose is faced with these impossible challenges.
There is kindness and support that comes from the most unexpected places
to help carry us through our darkest days.
This
wild adventure started out all quiet and innocent as our long anticipated,
once a year, big family summer vacation.
We had already done one weekend camping trip to the Connecticut
shore. That had gone well but
we were really looking forward to traveling to distant, exotic lands of
New Jersey. We chose New
Jersey as our vacation destination because of its warm ocean beach that we
could reach in reasonable amount of car travel time and the possibility of
near by interesting sights. Erin
and Katie do alright in the car on long trips, usually zoning out with
their music or books but Rose is a different story, after a short while
she gets bored and, much like any little sister, she starts torturing her
sisters for attention, she really seems to enjoy the reaction she gets
from pulling on Katie’s pony tails.
We
tried to carefully make our plans for the least stressful vacation
possible, just drive to the Northern New Jersey Atlantic Shore, keep the
total drive time to a little more than three hours, go Monday through
Friday to miss the big weekend crowds and go see things that could
interest all five of us. We
were planning on swimming in some warm ocean surf, not the chilly waves
that are typical of New England, and we were hoping to see the near by
Statue of Liberty and take in our first sites of New York City as a
family.
Monday
– Going On Vacation
It
was a hot August morning when we headed out in the late morning after we
finished packing the van full of camping gear.
We were all a little more tired than usual. We had just been through several days of another one of this
summer’s oppressively hot, oppressively humid heat waves.
Rose in particular seemed to be dragging a bit more than usual.
For a week or so Rose seemed to be showing little signs of
increasing fatigue, and, of course, it’s easier to see in hindsight now.
She had started taking afternoon naps again, something she had
stopped doing last spring when she made the big jump from her crib to a
“big girl” bed. I tried
to rationalize to Cheryl that maybe Rose was finally getting used to her
new bed and so now she was comfortable enough in her new bed to nap again
but Cheryl wasn’t buying it. She
felt something was different, not quite right, but couldn’t quite put
her finger on it.
Rose’s
summer schoolteacher, Mrs. H., had commented to Cheryl that Rose had
unexpectantly shown an act of defiance.
During the last days of summer school just before our vacation,
Mrs. H had offered to help Rose go the toilet.
It had become a fairly regular part of the school routine as she
worked with us on Rose’s toilet training.
Most times Rose would accept the offer, sometimes she would
politely decline, but this time Rose had an uncharacteristically harsh
reaction, shouting our a firm, “No!” and snapping off a hard defiant
‘No’ hand sign in Mrs. H’s face.
Mrs.
H had reported this when Cheryl picked Rose up on her last day of summer
school, more in the sense that she was impressed with the firmness in
Rose’s stance, and not that she was concerned about Rose’s behavior.
Mrs. H and Rose had enjoyed each other’s company for four
wonderful weeks of summer school.
Cheryl
and I shared these observations as we drove out of Connecticut.
We thought maybe Rose was off her game a little bit but not a lot.
Maybe she had a mild virus of some kind; maybe she was run down
from this last of the many summer heat waves.
We hoped for a break in the weather, maybe that would help; maybe
she’d get her energy back. Rose
seemed OK, she really didn’t seem all that different, but somehow still
not quite herself. We hoped it would pass but we both had the vague
feeling that something was eluding us.
The
ride down to New Jersey was uneventfully pleasant. Last year our big summer camping trip to Cape Cod had pushed
the limit of our family’s car-riding endurance, the three plus hour ride
each way had really strained our nerves.
It was pretty tight fit in our van with the third, way-back bench
pulled out so we could fit in a week’s worth of camping gear.
The three girls were a bit crowded in the remaining bench seat with
Rose’s car seat squeezed in the middle with Erin and Katie on either
side. Cheryl and I were
sitting in relative parental comfort in the front seats.
Erin, twelve at the time, was smart enough to position herself just
out of a bored Rose’s grabbing reach.
Eight year old Katie, however couldn’t quiet figure out how to
get comfortable and still avoid Rose’s reach.
I think Katie ended up getting her ponytails pulled every 30
seconds. OK, I’m
exaggerating but eventually Cheryl would end up sitting in the back
switching seats with Erin and settling 2 ½ year old Rose down.
We made it, we survived, but it definitely left a memory that was
part of decision-making process when we were making plans for this
vacation.
But
the ride down this summer went OK, we didn’t get lost, we didn’t hit
any traffic and we didn’t have to break up any arguments between cranky,
cramped kids, a major accomplishment for our family.
Of course, the reason for this is obvious. Our 3 ½ year old, all-through-with-napping Rose, did sleep,
quite a bit. Uncharacteristically,
Rose did take one long nap before our lunch break and another short one
afterwards. We all did notice
this as something different but, again, not that different.
We rarely go on long trips as a family, last summer in the car to
Cape Cod and last November by plane to Florida were very unusual
experiences for us. Usually,
our longest car rides are a 30-minute rides once a month or so, just one
or two towns over to visit relatives.
Maybe Rose had changed since lat year, maybe now she was going to
sleep on long car rides.
We
started unpacking all our gear out of the van and setting up camp in some
of the hottest, most humid weather I can ever remember. We were staying at
The Cheesequake State Forest, a small state campground in Northern New
Jersey. It was a short 20
minutes drive to both New York City and the Northern New Jersey Atlantic
shoreline. It definitely
helped that Erin and Katie are getting older and much more experienced.
They’re both a big help with setting up our two tents, one for
the two older girls, one for Cheryl, Rose and me, and the canopy for the
picnic table as well as setting out all the bedding, and getting their
tent arranged. Rose has even
started pitching in a little bit on the last camping trip in June or
playfully running away when she felt like a good game of chase.
But this day Rose was a little more subdued than normal.
She seemed to want to just sit in one place, actually stay wherever
we put her; she hadn’t done that in years.
Still, we were thinking, she’s probably tired from the long car
ride or from the hot humid weather.
We
were all pretty tired, too, after setting up camp and decided to keep the
rest of the day low key and as simple as possible.
All five of us headed down to the pond at the other far end of the
campground. The water was
warm but still refreshing and the beach sand was clean and smooth.
As we’ve found in the past, a warm, clean shallow beach with no
surf is the ideal play area for Rose, and this day was no different.
She seemed to perk up and take an interest in playing on the beach
at water’s edge.
After
our refreshing swim we headed back to the campsite for a late dinner.
Later, we all spent the evening sitting around the campfire, a
relaxing enjoyable experience that comes with camping.
Rose fell asleep in my lap at about 8:30.
This is about her normal bedtime at home but early for the first
night of camping. Normally, all the kids, including Rose, are excited to be
camping and have a hard time getting to sleep that first night, staying up
hours past their normal bedtime. That
didn’t seem to have the usual effect on Rose this time.
After I put Rose to bed in her hand-me-down Lion King sleeping bag
(no port-a-crib this year) I joined Cheryl and the older girls back at the
campfire ring. We talked
about our plans for the next day and for the rest of the week, what to do
first, what to hold off for later. Cheryl
and I tried to take into account how Rose was feeling; we talked about her
low energy level and how much she had been sleeping.
She had seemed to bounce back a little bit when we were swimming at
the pond but she was still not herself.
We decided to do the vacation’s physically least taxing activity
first; the next day we would go to the Six Flags Safari Adventure.
We’d be able to stay out of the sun in our air-conditioned van
the whole day while we toured the animal park.
That
night, as we all slept, we woke to the sound of heavy rain hitting our
tents, winds blowing and whipping and an occasional loud thunderclap
booming in the distance. The heat and humidity was finally breaking, a
cold front was rolling through.
Tuesday – Crazy Baboons
We
woke the next day to some the best summer weather we’ve ever had, a
clear blue sky, dry air and comfortable temperatures.
It felt like a turn for the better and we would be fortunate to
have this weather for the rest of our vacation. The campground was
mid-week quiet and we had all slept late.
We had been concerned the day before when we saw signs in the
bath-house stating that it would be closed for cleaning from 7:00 to 8:00
am (alright, I wasn’t concerned for myself) but we were all a little
incredulous. “How can they
be closed then? That’s when
everybody’s waking up!” Well,
not us, we all slept pass 8:00. Rose
woke us up. She enjoyed
crawling out of her sleeping bag and climbing on top of mom and dad.
Eventually
we all got up and got going, even Erin managed to drag her teenage self
out of her sleeping bag, and we enjoyed a lazy camping breakfast.
Cheryl made lunches for everybody and packed a cooler and by late
morning we were heading down NJ State Rt. 9 for about a 30-minute drive to
the Safari Park.
We
spent about an hour and a half slowly driving through, taking in all the
animal sites. We all enjoyed
ourselves very much. There’s
something very impressive about seeing an elephant standing fifteen feet
away from your car balancing on three legs so he can scratch his hind leg,
or giraffes leaning down to look in your car window, or nervously watching
European brown bears stroll past your car, or seeing a pack of antelopes
turn their backsides towards you and defecate in unison.
This last one, in particular, caused a near hysteric reaction from
Erin and Katie.
But
the grand finale was driving through the baboon compound.
The park does make an effort to warn you before you pull into the
baboon area, and there was a bypass road available but nobody was taking
it. We followed the line of
cars in through the large chain link fence gates.
Initially, we could see a crowd of baboons climbing all over a sub
compact full of twenty-something year olds. They were enticing the animals
with potato chops pressed against the inside of the windows.
Foolishly, we almost envied them and all the attention the baboons
were lavishing on their car.
Within
a few minutes, the baboons worked their way along and atop the slow moving
line of cars and we had our chance. Erin
and Katie again were laughing hysterically as first one baboon, then two
and then, finally three baboons were climbing all our van. One sat on the hood of our car, directly in front of me,
munching on something. I
didn’t know what it was up to until it moved off to snack on the other
wiper spray nozzle. As soon
as I realized what was happening, I hit the wiper spray button to spray
the baboon away, but it was too late, the damage was done.
It didn’t help that Erin attempted to entice him back by
spreading out her own potato chips buffet on our dashboard. She, of
course, thought all this was incredibly funny.
Another
baboon climbed along the side window.
It was either Erin or Katie’s manic hysterics or it was just the
sight of a baboon on the window where Rose had never seen one before, but
either way, she was not happy about how things were going.
Rose had a panicked look on her face as she hopped up and down in
her car seat, signing ‘off’ over and over again.
We tried to tell her it was OK but she wasn’t convinced.
At
one point we lost track of the third baboon, it was the smaller cute baby
baboon according to Katie. We
had a moment when all the baboons were quiet and out of site until Katie
spotted a small tail hanging down over our rear window.
We all turned to look just in time to see a small steady yellow
stream running down the window. This
is, again, really funny stuff if you are nine or thirteen or any age over
three and a half years old.
Soon
we made our way to the end of the baboon compound. A park attendant holding a large bullwhip managed to scare
the baboons off our car and send them scurrying back to the entrance
looking for fresh cars to feed on.
We
were back at our campsite by mid-afternoon.
Cheryl thought Rose still looked a little tired despite the lazy
afternoon car ride and thought she might want a nap. I took Rose for a twenty-minute stroller ride around the
paved loop that ran through the campground.
She was asleep before I got back to our site. Cheryl took Rose and laid her into her Lion King sleeping
bag. We talked for a few
minutes about our plans for the evening.
Cheryl thought Rose might nap for a while so she agreed to sit at
the campsite to keep Rose company while I took Erin and Katie to the pond
for a swim. After that, we thought we’d find somewhere to eat.
So
Erin, Katie and I headed off to the camp pond.
We had fun playing an underwater chase game that combined
hide-and-seek and tag although I always seemed to be ‘it’.
We played for about an hour but it felt strange.
Normally, it seems like the five of us are always doing everything
together, especially on vacation. It
wasn’t that unusual for Erin and Katie and I to swim in deep water
without Rose but it was odd to not check back on the beach and see her
playing in the sand or in the shallow water with her mom.
Now that Rose was napping again, we were splitting up and going in
two different directions, at a time when we normally make a special effort
to be together.
We
got back to our campsite at the agreed upon rendezvous time.
Rose had just woken up and she seemed refreshed, and in good mood.
We decided to do a little more sightseeing and get our first look
at the New Jersey Atlantic Shore while we searched out a place for dinner.
We drove about 30 minutes east on Route 36.
The road had a familiar strip mall, stop and go feel to it but just
as we got close to the shore we crested a hill and headed across a bridge
into the town of Highlands. It
opened up a sweeping view of the five-mile long Sandy Hook Beach peninsula
to the north with the New York City sky line stretched across the horizon
and directly in front of us, to the east, were more long runs of beaches
and the Atlantic ocean. It
was an impressive, quick glimpse of what we were hoping to explore over
the next two days. We were all excited as the view dropped out of site and we
pulled onto the shoreline road.
We
quickly spotted Gaitor’s, a family friendly looking restaurant, and
pulled into take a chance on dinner.
The food was pretty typical family fare and everybody was able to
find something to eat, including our finicky kids; Erin’s not eating red
meat anymore, Katie, despite her threats to be adventurous sometime in the
not too distant future, only eats variations of chicken McNuggets, and
Rose has a wide range of two possible food items that are going to be a
sure thing; either hotdogs or pasta and meat balls.
Drinks are the same, Erin and Katie we try to steer away from and
kind of caffinated drink, believe me, they don’t need any extra energy.
This usually limits them to a Sprite or 7-up, or, if they are
feeling especially daring, an occasional Shirley Temple.
Rose prefers milk and we prefer that it came in a covered cup with
a straw. She still drinks
mostly through a straw and the covered cup buys us a generous amount of
recovery time should she knock her drink over.
Although, I always find it amazing how much milk is still left in a
cup that’s been knocked over if you stand it back up quickly enough.
It helps to be quick, that way there’s less spilled milk to cry
over, or cleanup. I guess
I’ve done this a few too many times.
Anyway, dinner was relaxing; the restaurant was quiet, the waitress
was attentive so we were able to have a comfortable dinner will within the
combined range of all our attention spans.
As
we were finishing up, the waitress offered us the use of the
restaurant’s beach just across the road.
We talked about being interested in getting a view of the New York
City skyline and she encouraged us to take a quick walk on the beach.
The sun was starting to set as we left Gaitor’s and made our way
across the busy beach road. On the shoreline side of the road ran an
impressive sea wall, made from large boulders piled over twenty feet high. We pushed through the gate with the ‘Private Property –
No Trespassing’ sign and climbed the wooden steps to the top of the
wall. The five of us squeezed
onto the small wooden deck, our impromptu observation deck.
The wind was picking up, whipping down the beach out of the north,
Cheryl and the girl’s long hair was blowing about. It was exhilarating for all us.
Katie and Rose laughed at the thrill of it. Our short climb up the stairs had given us a beautiful view
of the shoreline with the narrow beach running south towards the horizon;
the Atlantic waves were pounding on the beach almost at the foot of the
beach side of our wooden stairway. We
turned to face into the steady wind looked across the grasslands of Sandy
Hook to a wonderfully clear view of New York City just a dozen miles to
the north. The cool break in
the weather had brought in clean crisp air and excellent visibility.
The skyline stood out, and with that, we could clearly see the
tallest building, the Empire State Building standing sharply above all the
others. It was a bit sobering
to get our first, in-person glimpses of this great city’s skyline and to
know how much was missing. Still,
to stand on the shore of an ocean, with the sky lit by the setting sun,
the wind blowing your hair back and the sound of the surf crashing in your
ears is to have your spirit lifted. The
feeling of wellness of having your senses immersed in nature is an
undeniable healing force and we could all feel it.
There
was an American flag on the back of the small deck and the wind had it
standing straight out, it seemed like the perfect back drop for pictures
of loved ones. The deck was
small and only three of us could squeeze into the camera frame at a time,
Cheryl was holding Rose, Erin and Katie each jumped in for a picture.
Later, I looked back on these pictures, from all of our vacation
photo’s, and realized that these are the last one’s that Rose showed a
comfortable, happy smile.
We
made it back to our campsite after dark.
With Erin and Katie’s help we set about the night time routine;
first a trip to the bath house and then attempts to get the campfire lit.
A campfire is an essential part of the evening entertainment out
under the stars, and to many gifted campers, the lighting and caring for a
campfire comes easily, but sadly we are not one of those families.
Cheryl and I, as the adults in the family have struggled with this
responsibility over the many years of our camping trips.
And this has always been a minor point of contention between. I’ve always been in the lighter-fluid-camp, maybe it’s a
little heavy-handed but it’s dependable.
Cheryl has moved into the more patient, natural approach she’d
learned through her Girl Scout leader’s training during her years of
working with Erin’s troop. On
this camping trip, the lighter fluid had been banished, so Cheryl, with
some help from Erin and Katie, struggled to get a fire going.
I sat and watched with Rose sitting on my lap trying to remember if
there were any stores open down the road that might have some kind of
flammable liquid for sale. Again,
Rose dosed off early, by about 8:30.
I let her sleep for ten or fifteen minutes, enjoying the forgotten
feeling of having a small child sleeping on my chest.
Eventually, convinced Rose was asleep for the night, I brought her
into our tent and laid her into her sleeping bag.
I rejoined Cheryl, Erin and Katie at the fire ring.
We
sat up for a few more hours, tending the struggling fire and talking about
plans for the next day. We
earlier, had picked up some maps of Liberty Park, New Jersey, at the camp
store. Now, we looked them over. Ferries ran frequently from Liberty Park
to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.
It looked to be just a shore ride from our campground, back onto
the Garden State Parkway, north
to the New Jersey Turnpike, past Newark, off the connector and into
Liberty Park. It looked manageable. Over
the last few days, we had started to become familiar with this part of
Northern New Jersey. This
trip looked like it was just a short hop off from the roads we’d been
driving on the last few days. It
may seem like an insignificant thing but just getting ourselves, all five
of us, to new places is no small task.
It seems like, these days, as parents, we are in a constant state
of distraction dealing with Erin’s thirteen year old issues and attitude
swings, watching nine year old Katie, following Erin’s lead, determined
to grow up even faster and three year old Rose with all her nuances and
issues. I guess, when you add
it all up, it’s pretty much like having three kids and we’re pretty
much dealing with as many distractions as any other parents with three
kids. But still, the haze of
distractions is there, to attempt to go someplace new is a brave
undertaking, to think we can actually make it there with ease requires
serious planning and bold confidence and to actually arrive, all in one
piece, with minimal hassle, is justified cause for celebration.
Wednesday
– The Big Girl
We
all woke the next day to another lazy tent camping morning.
Rose was up first again and happily crawled out of her sleeping bag
so she could climb on top of Mom and Day.
She was definitely enjoying this new routine.
Rose climbed into the middle of our queen sized sleeping bag and we
all cuddled for a while, talking about what we had done yesterday and what
we were planning to do today. Eventually,
we climbed out of our tent and got started on a simple breakfast.
Katie soon followed. Erin,
with a teenager’s ability to sleep long into the morning, didn’t join
us for quite a while.
That
morning Rose signed ‘toilet’ so I took Rose for a walk over to the
bathhouse. It wasn’t far,
just past one other campsite, and then past the small camp playground.
This was a walk that Rose should have had no problem with,
especially combined with her insatiable curiosity about exploring new
places. But she seemed to
take forever to cover the short distance.
Anyway,
we made it, she sat on the toilet for a few minutes and then signed,
‘all-done’, it was a false alarm.
In
my best supportive parent’s voice, I ask Rose, “OK, are you sure
you’re all-done, there’s no hurry”.
Again
Rose signed ‘all-done’ and said “Dah”.
I
reassured her as I helped her get down, “OK, good try. That
was a good try”.
On
the way back, I tried to entice Rose in playing on the playscape.
It was about the right degree of difficulty for a three year old
and Rose usually loves exploring new playscapes.
She’s all over the two playscapes at our neighbor hood park, both
the little kids Tot-Lot and the big kids playscapes, even repeatedly
attempting the big kids high steep slide even though she’s crashed hard
twice on it. She still wants
to go down it but lately I’ve been talking her out of it.
My nerves can only take so much.
She may be a little thrill seeker but she needs to get bigger and
stronger before I let her try that one again.
But
the camp playscape was low degree of difficulty, well within Rose’s
climbing and sliding abilities. I
would have expected her to be all over it.
I tried to talk her into climbing up a few stairs on the platform
but she showed no interest. After
a few attempts to persuade Rose, I tried to help her, I lifted her over
the stairs and put her on the platform, but she just stood there, no
interest in moving around at all. I
tried to talk Rose into. After
a minute I picked her back up and carried her to our campsite.
I
relayed the story to Cheryl and she commented on how she had noticed the
same thing. Rose seemed to
have lost interest in moving around, instead of wandering around exploring
or chasing after her big sisters, she seemed to more and more just stay
where she was. We both knew
this was out of character for Rose, but didn’t quite know what to make
of it. Her appetite was off a
little, but not a lot, she’s certainly had many swings in her appetite
from one extreme to another as she’s gone through various minor
illnesses. She was sleeping
OK, actually maybe too well, the extra napping and early bedtimes were out
of character. But we
couldn’t tell if this added up to anything to be concerned about.
She didn’t show any signs of having a fever.
Rose’s mood and attitude was still fairly good, despite being a
little slowed down by something, she seemed to be enjoying all the new
sights and all the concentrated family time.
We were stumped. We
didn’t know what to make of it. Rose
wasn’t herself and yet she didn’t seem to be that sick.
In fact, we really couldn’t tell if she was sick at all.
Finally,
we got ourselves organized and headed out on the road a little before noon
time. We drove about twenty
minutes up the New Jersey Turnpike and made our way to Liberty State Park,
only making one small wrong turn, and generally accomplished the trip with
minimal aggravation, another little victory for the family with three
kids. We actually had a
wonderful day.
First
we took a short walk through the south end of Liberty State Park and took
in our first view of all the sites, across the wide New York Harbor we
could see the Verazano-Narrows Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis
Island, the south end of the Manhattan skyline and the Brooklyn Bridge.
We
drove to the north end of the park and bought our tickets for our ferry
rides to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty.
Rose was in her umbrella stroller.
Hopefully, between stroller rides and ferry rides, Rose would have
a low energy day and maybe be able to recover from whatever was bothering
her. We boarded the first
ferry to Ellis Island. We sat
downstairs, close to the onboard refreshment stand so could grab a quick
lunch of hotdogs and soda and water, except Erin, who had a non-red meat
lunch item, otherwise known as a muffin.
We
got off on Ellis Island and began to look for evidence of our own
family’s passage to this country. Like
many Americans, Cheryl and I are just two generations removed from a life
in another country. Both of
us grew up listening to stories of our grandparent’s journeys to a new
country and the start of a new life here.
We took some time exploring the exhibits on immigration set up in
the main hall. Erin logged
into the Ellis Island database through one of the available computer
terminals and found a record of my father’s father immigration from
Ireland from over a hundred years ago.
We
walked around, exploring the grounds. On the north end of the island we
found a park area with a lower encircling copper wall.
On the wall, we found the engraved names of Cheryl’s mother’s
parents, immigrants from Poland from over 90 years ago.
It was a reminder that we were standing, with our children, where
our grandparents had passed through when they first set foot into this
country almost a century ago.
We
found another nice picnic area with a spectacular view of the Statue of
Liberty. We composed a
picture with Erin, Katie and Cheryl with the Statue and an open place for
me to hold Rose as I set the camera for a timed shutter release.
I pushed the shutter, scooped up Rose and stepped into the picture.
The shutter clicked. Everybody
hit their smile, except for Rose. We
didn’t know it at this time, but she was out of smiles.
We
caught the next ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty. This time we all sat up on the open top deck with our backs
towards the stern. We were treated to an impressive view of the New York
Harbor all around us. As we
climbed off the ferry and onto the island, we walked down a pathway
between two granite block buildings.
Ahead of us, framed by an archway we could see an American flag
flying atop a tall flag pole in the center of a large brick plaza, it’s
colors showing bright and strong on this beautiful August day.
Our stop on Ellis Island had been about tracing our own family’s
first steps into America but here, in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty,
walking on the brick pathways crowded with people from all over the world,
we could feel that we were part of an American experience that includes
the diverse influence from so many of the world’s cultures.
Listening to the voices and hearing our language spoken with so
many different accents, I was reminded how our grandparents with their
Irish brogue and Polish accents were drawn to this country by American
possibilities and accepted into the American culture to start a new life
and raise their new families. Looking
at our own children, and ourselves, with Cheryl’s Polish-ness and my
Irish-ness mixed together we are very much a part of that American culture
today. Our ability and our
willingness to openly accept people form diverse cultures will help
welcome them and their future children and grandchildren.
Our open acceptance of people that we perceive to be different from
us is our most positive contribution to our unique American culture.
Looking
at Erin and Katie growing up in out small Connecticut town, with friends
and classmates from a wide array of world cultures, I see today’s
American girls. Seeing their
natural open acceptance of a world much different than the one Cheryl and
I grew up in, I see the promise for a better future. Looking at Rose,
so much like her older sisters plus one more chromosome, living in
a world that amazes her and is amazed by her, that challenges her and
accepts her, I see that promise being fulfilled and I see tomorrow’s
American girl.
As
we walked around the island’s perimeter pathways, we were very much
taken in by the immenseness of the Statue of Liberty.
We struggled to frame pictures of our family with the close
towering statue in the background. Much
to the girl’s amusement, I laid down on the walkway to get a picture
looking up at them standing with their mom and Liberty’s torch held high
above them. Rose, was
conflicted by this, she had to fight her strong urge to mimic.
If the photographer stands, sits, kneels or crouches, Rose
instantly copies and assumes the same pose.
Only with enthusiastic and persistent persuasion from Cheryl, Erin
and Katie did Rose agree to stand up even though I was laying flat on the
brick walkway at her feet. Cheryl
took a more dignified approaching, kneeling to get a picture of myself
with the three girls in front of the statue.
As
we were getting ready to leave the Statue end of the island Cheryl turned
to Rose, “So, Rose, what do you think?
The Statue of Liberty is pretty big, yes?”
Rose
looked at her mom in agreement, her eyes wide in her excited “O” face.
Her hands swung out flat, thumbs tucked into her palms – Big.
Her left hand closed and came up to her face, the tip of her thumb
swept the side of her face – girl.
“That’s
right, Rose,” Cheryl answered, “She is a big girl.”
Later, while Cheryl took Erin and Katie to the gift shop, Rose and I sat on the edge of the large circular flag plaza. After a few minutes, Rose struck up a quick play session with a little boy that happened by. His mom told that they were from Germany, they were in the United States for a few months on a work visa. Rose and the little boy played for a while, the fact that he didn’t speak English obviously didn’t get in the way, they were using the universal language of little kids at play. For me, it was great to see Rose on her feet running around, ok not running, but walking fast and doing her best to imitate running. It was an encouraging sign, it was the most energetic I had seen her play in over a week.
One
more ferry ride across the New York Harbor and then a short drive back
down the Garden State Parkway to Manhattan and we were back at our
campsite bye late afternoon. Again,
Rose took to our tent for a nap. Staying
with this week’s routine, Cheryl
stayed at our campsite to watch over Rose and I took Erin and Katie down
to the pond for a swim and a quick hike.
The three of us were getting used to spending afternoons together.
After about two hours, we met back at the tents, Rose was just
waking up, refreshed from her nap.
We
all talked about plans for dinner and decided to head back onto Rte. 36
east and look for some place to eat in one the northern shore towns.
As I drove, Cheryl studied the maps and picked Keannesburg as a
potential dinner site. After
a few minutes we pulled off Rte. 36 and drove down along the Keannesburg
shore road past the largest, most sprawling, ramshackle, summer time,
beach town amusement park we’d ever seen. Never ones to pass up an opportunity to Erin and Katie were
immediately sold on the place. We
decided to park and search out a family type place to eat, no easy task on
a quiet Wednesday night in a small beach town in mid August.
Eventually, after some walking for us and strolling for Rose, we
ended up sitting in a sidewalk café across the street from the amusement
park. Erin and Katie could
barely contain themselves as they listened to the clatter of the roller
coaster and the screams of thrills that went with it. They were already having a great vacation and this was an
unexpected bonus. We finished
dinner and headed across the street for an evening of searching out fun
and excitement on bumper cars and roller coasters.
But this was mostly an evening of fun for her older sisters.
Rose didn’t seem happy about all the shrieks and clattering from
the different rides. She was
almost inconsolable as she watched Erin and Mom ride the big roller
coaster, no amount of reassurance could quiet her fears.
Only when Mom and Erin were safe back in Rose’s arms did she
finally settle down.
Rose
herself almost made it on to one ride, but not quite. This was more of a large scale beach-town amusement park
probably aimed at teenagers on a summer night.
Rose had done well at our town’s summer carnival last summer
riding a few kiddie rides but those were about the right size, or right
thrill level for her. This
time, Rose came close to climbing on to a full size merry-go-round but
backed off at the last second.
It
was a relatively late night for us, after ten o’clock, when we finally
pulled back into our dark campsite. Surprisingly,
Rose was still awake and pretty alert.
After the kids were all in their sleeping bags, Cheryl and I talked
about the day’s adventures. In particular, we both thought she seemed a little more
energetic, a little more herself. We
hoped these were the first signs of Rose getting over whatever had been
lingering on with her all we. We
thought we had paced our vacation week just right so far, and that the
next day we’d be ready for a day under the sun and on the beach at Sandy
Hook.
Thursday
– A Warm Ocean Swim
We
all woke late again the next morning and took a few hours to go through
our lazy morning camping routine before we started preparations for a day
at the beach. Late morning
Cheryl packed the cooler with lunches and snacks.
Camp chairs and beach towels and sand toys were loaded into the
van. We all changed into our
bathing suits and climbed in for the half hour car ride east the now
familiar route 36. It was
another quiet, amiable ride. On
a vacation filled with daily car rides back and forth to our place of
amusement for the day and most evenings searching our restaurants in new
places we had racked up an unusually high number of hours with all five of
us squeezed into the van. But
what was even more unusual was how well we had all been getting along,
none of the normal sibling squabbling, none of the normal parental fraid
nerves. Maybe we were all
feeling some of the effects of a fun, relaxing adventurous (for us)
vacation.
We
pulled into the beach parking lot and unloaded all our gear.
With Erin and Katie’s help we made the short walk down the path
through the dunes, struggling with armloads of blankets and chairs and one
full cooler. We were greeted
with the site of a near ideal beach, clean sand with not too many rocks, a
3 to 4 foot rolling breakers perfect for body surfing, a not too crowded
Thursday in August beach crowd and a bath house just off to our left
within easy walking distance. We
set up our chairs and spread out our beach towels.
After a liberal application of sunscreen goop we all headed for the
water’s edge and we were greeted with the warm waters of the Gulf Stream
for the first time in our family’s life.
This was not the bone-chilling mid-50’s ocean water we had swam
in off Cape Cod National Sea Shore last summer or off the beaches in
southern Maine. This was
comfortable, mid-70, swim-all-day ocean water.
Erin and Katie were especially thrilled with the warm waters, and
the slow breaking 3 to 4 foot waves.
They started on along afternoon of working on their body surfing
technique and a constant search for the perfect waves.
Cheryl and I took turns alternating between playing with Rose on
the water’s edge and swimming with Erin and Kate.
Rose enjoyed the splash of the waves sliding out to the edge of the
sand.
The
afternoon was getting on. I
had just enjoyed one selfishly long body surfing session with Erin and
Kate. As I stood up after a
surfing run and realized that in our quest for that elusive better wave we
had worked our way about a hundred yards down the beach.
Katie was standing along side me, Erin was about 10 yards closer to
the beach, having just out distanced us again.
“Erin,
Katie,” I called, “We’re pretty far down the beach. Let’s try to get back closer to our towels.”
They
both looked back up the beach, trying to locate our spot on the beach.
They could see we were further apart, more spread our then we’d
been all day. “OK, Dad,”
they answered as we headed back.
As
we waded and swam our way back up the beach through the ocean surf, I
could see that Cheryl and Rose were no longer playing on the edge of the
surf. As we got closer I
could see Cheryl sitting in one of our camping chairs near our beach
towels. “Erin, Kate,” I said, “You can see our towels? You can
see Mom?”
“Yeah,”
they answered
“OK,
make sure you swim right here. Don’t
let yourself go down the beach. Erin,
stay with Kate. OK?
“Sure
Dad,” she answered with her confident girl in charge voice.
I took the short walk up the beach slope to where Cheryl sat with Rose cuddled on her lap, a beach towel thrown over her for shade. As I approached Cheryl gave me our old silent hand signal, a hand modeling sleepy eyes closing. Cheryl lifted the towel to show Rose curled on her chest, fast asleep.
“She’s
been sleeping for a little while,” Cheryl whispered, “She’s wiped
out.” She put the towel
back down to shield Rose from the sun.
“I think she’s dehydrated.
She threw up before.”
“She
threw up?”
“Yeah,
I took her to the bathroom before, she said she wanted to drink some water
as the water fountain but I don’t think she drank that much.
She hasn’t really been drinking that much all day.
I couldn’t get her to drink much of her juice at lunch time
either.’
“Well,
what do you think we should do? Pack
up? Head back?” The beach
was starting to change. Stretching
out our stay to steal a few more surfing runs was starting to feel a bit
frivolous, a bit selfish. The
hot August sun reflecting off the beach sand was starting to feel a little
less friendly a little more than Rose could endure.
“Yeah,
I think we should,” Cheryl answered.
Rose
perked up a little on the ride back to our campsite but she still crashed
for one more late afternoon nap with Mom in the tent. Erin, Kate and I visited the camp pond for our now routine
swim and a quick hike. Back
at camp, we met up with Cheryl and a waking up Rose.
After
a brief discussion, we decided on a quick dinner at the Papa Gino’s just
down the road from our campground. We
were hoping to get back early for a quiet, low-key evening around the
campfire. Dinner felt
familiar with the five of us squeezed into the booth, Rose sat on the
bench seat between Mom and Erin, Katie and I sat across from them.
3-year-old inquisitiveness had started to out-quick our ability to
keep breakable and spill able things out of her reach.
Rose ended up at the end of the table sitting in the standard
restaurant issue wooden high chair, just before the food arrived, just
like almost always happens.
The
waitress greeted us quickly and we each ordered our dinners in turn,
we’ve learned that a successful dinner out requires us to have food in
front of us as soon possible, the less downtime, the less time available
for some kind of imaginative behavior from one of the girls and the less
Cheryl and I have to dig into our, at times somewhat limited supply of
parental patience. Cheryl and
Erin ordered a cheese pizza, Katie ordered the same thing she always does,
“Chicken McNuggets.” Even
though we hardly ever eat at McDonald’s this title has stuck with her
and she uses it regardless of the restaurant we’re actually eating at.
Cheryl had checked the kid’s menu and spotted two of Rose’s
favorite meals, “Rose, what do you want to eat?
Hot dog or pasta and meat balls?”
Rose
thought about it for a second and then answered with her hands, left hand
pinching the skin between her right hand’s thumb and index finger.
“Meat”,
we echoed nearly in unison.
Next
Rose’s two hands formed a ball shape in front of her. “Ball.” Then
Rose’s two thumbs, not pinkies, pointed together and then swept apart.
“Pasta”
“Pasta
and meat balls?” Cheryl
repeated.
“Yeah!”
Rose answered in her sweet voice.
“OK,
Rose, what do you want to drink? Tell
the waitress.”
Rose’s
left hand reached out in front of her, squeezing open and closed, she
turned to look up and watch the waitress’s reaction.
“Milk”
we echoed.
The
waitress nodded and scribbled another entry on her pad.
In
an aside, Cheryl asked, “Do you have a covered cup with a straw for the
milk?”
“Oh
yeah,” the waitress answered, “The drinks come like that with the kids
meals.”
This
is a pretty comfortable routine for the five of us have developed during
our almost weekly dinners out. Usually
its Friday night at Giovanni’s the local Italian family-style
restaurant. Often, we’ll
have the same waiter or waitress for several visits in a now and like
waiters and waitresses with regular customers everywhere they’ll quickly
pick up on our routine and habits, from Katie always ordering “Chicken
McNuggets” to Rose’s unique way of communicating.
We’ve never had a negative experience.
I don’t believe this is because we’ve had a lucky run, I
believe this is because people are basically open and accepting.
Often, after a few weeks of the same waitperson, they’ll start to
focus more on Rose’s responses, asking her themselves, relying les on
our prompts and echoed answers. And
then they’d leave with our orders and a few casual words for Rose,
“OK, Rose. I’ll go put your dinner orders in now.” Rose would touch her left hand’s fingertips to her chin and
then wave her hand down and out, ‘Thanks.’
This
dinner went well, too. The
food arrived warm and quick and we were all hungry from our day at the
beach. Rose, too, seemed to
have bounced back from whatever had been bothering her.
Her on-again off-again appetite was definitely on.
She ate most of her meatballs and pasta and took several long
drinks of her cold milk. We
were a little relieved to see Rose getting her appetite back after her
rough afternoon at the beach. We
are always looking at Rose, trying to judge her moods, whether she’s
starting to come down with something or whether she’s starting to show
the first signs of recovering. In
many ways, I’m sure it’s similar to the monitoring we did and still do
with Erin and Katie, it’s the normal parental process of trying to make
constant minor adjustments to aid the child’s development.
But admittedly, with Rose, and with all her aspects that are very
much like any other child, there can a be a different spin on things
brought on by her unique expression of that extra chromosome.
That can be had to interpret and sometimes misinterpreted by her
parents.
Back
at the campsite we settled into another evening of watching the campfire
or, in our family’s case, struggling to produce a campfire that we could
watch. We pulled our camp
chairs, four full size adult chairs and one child size chair, into a
circle around the loosely positioned stones of the fire ring.
I sat with Rose in my lap, both of us more that a little fried from
the long vacation day. We
watched as Cheryl and Erin and Katie worked to bring our fire to life. Cheryl had stacked the logs in the center of the fire ring.
Her initial attempts at ignition had met with only a smoldering
success. Erin and Katie were
scavenging the woods around our camp for fallen dead wood to use as
kindling.
My
love contribution was to shout warnings, “Do you kids know what poison
ivy looks like?”
“Yes,
Dad,” came back the answer, more than a little patronizing.
“Well,
it’s getting dark. It’s
hard to see. You need to be
careful.”
This
last piece of wisdom was quietly ignored as they searched for more fallen
twigs. Erin came back to the
fire ring with the first pile of kindling.
“Mom let me do that. I
can get it started.”
Rose
and I left for the bathhouse as Erin and Cheryl debated fire-starting
strategies. It was my normal
responsibility to help Rose through her getting ready for bed routine,
just as it had been with her two older sisters.
The bathroom, hand and face washing and tooth brushing routine took
about ten minutes. By the
time we got back to the campsite we were greeted with an almost roaring
campfire.
“Dad!”
Katie called with pride “Erin did it!”
I
looked into the fire ring, flames were climbing over the logs and a bed of
red-hot coals was starting to collect at the bottom of the blaze.
I could tell that this was a serious, well-established campfire.
Erin crouched next to the fire, patiently feeding in more dried
sticks.
“Wow,
Erin,” I said with genuine surprise “Nice job.
That looks great. How’d
you learn to do that?”
“We
made campfires every night at camp this year.
We had to do them ourselves so by the end of the week we were
getting pretty good.”
I
can’t emphasize enough the importance of a good campfire, it’s the
source of the evening’s entertainment, and it provides everything from
the basic source of light, to the heat necessary to melt marsh mallows.
The firelights relaxing out of our ordinary routine beauty also
provides the inspiration for many casual conversations.
There is something about a sitting around campfire that insulates
you from the normal distractions of everyday life and allows for relaxed
conversations to start to flow. Rose
also has shown her appreciation for the beauty of a campfire.
She saw her first camp fire about two years ago when she was just
16 months old and on her first camping trip and we could tell it made
quite an impression on her. Last
summer, with Rose’s expanding signing abilities, together with more
exciting camping trips, provided her with the incentive to learn and
express herself. Even days or
weeks after those camping trips Rose would be recalling the fun to us.
She would excitedly sign to us, ‘tent-more’ and
‘fire-more’.
And
we’d answer, “Yeah, the camping was fun.
You liked the fire, Yeah, we’re going to be going again, Rose.”
Saying all of the words and signing the ones we knew.
This camping trip, Rose was enjoying more evening campfires.
She might have been feeling a little sick and not up to her usual
energy level but she was still excited.
Rose sat on her mom’s lap as she took in the sight, at first
leaning back into her mom to enjoy a nurturing healing cuddle as she did
for hours on the beach in the afternoon.
Now,
with the cool evening air and the benefit of her afternoon naps, Rose
seemed to get some of her energy back.
Rose sat up straight leaned forward and rested her elbows on her
mom’s knees. Her two hands
came together, palms up, fingers pointing up and wiggling like flames – fire.
Rose leaned down, looked through her wiggling fingers at the fire.
The flames from the fire lit her happy, excited face.
Rose started to doze off early again. There would be no repeat of
yesterday’s late night. I
carried her back to our tent and tucked the soundly sleeping Rose into her sleeping bag.
I met Cheryl on
the short walk back. We
started to talk as Erin and Katie continued to hover over and tend the
fire. We were struggling to understand Rose and her behavior over
the last few days. On many
evenings, Cheryl and I will fall into discussions on our children’s
lives, trying to understand what was happening, trying to determine
what’s the best thing we, as their parents need to do or can do.
Sometimes it’s about Erin and her teenager issues, sometimes
it’s about Katie and her manic artist personality but more times than
not, it’s about Rose and her sometimes ordinary, sometimes unique
nuances. Over the last few
days, it was clear that Erin and Katie were enjoying a dream vacation.
Tonight’s discussion was all about Rose.
“How
do you think Rose is doing?”
“I
don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“What
was with that throwing up on the beach?”
“I
don’t know, maybe she was dehydrated.
She seemed to be better tonight.”
“Yeah,
she did but she still doesn’t seem to be over whatever she’s got.”
“She’s
just not moving around much. I
mean she just stays where we put her.
On our other camping trips she was always off exploring or chasing
after the other kids. I mean,
you know, I can remember spending a lot of time chasing after her.
She used to wear me out.”
“Well,
maybe she’s changing. Kids
change. Maybe she’s
changing. Maybe she’s just
not interested in playing anymore.”
“Do
you think so.”
“I
don’t know.”
“Yeah,
I’m not sure either.”
We
hesitated, considered the two possibilities.
“It
just seems like a big change if it’s just her personality.”
“Yeah,
I don’t think so. It seems
like there’s been a few other times we thought it was behavioral and it
always turned out to be a health issue.”
“Yeah,
I guess so.”
“Yeah,
I don’t know.”
“Did
you notice anything funny about her breathing today?”
“Breathing?”
“Yeah,
it sounded like she was taking really short, rapid breaths with kind of a
huh-huh sound.”
“Yeah,
I did. It has to be pretty
quiet to hear it. I heard her
doing that when she was sitting at the campfire.”
“She
was doing it on the beach today too.”
“That’s
new. Do you know what that
is?”
“I
don’t know.”
“I
don’t know either. I
don’t know.”
“When
did that start? Is that just
today?”
“Yeah,
I just heard her doing it today.”
“I
don’t know what that is.”
“It
just seems like, whatever it is, she’s not getting over it.
If anything, it seems like she might be getting a little worse.”
“Do
you think we should call the doctor’s office?
Try to get an appointment for tomorrow afternoon?
Is this the kind of thing we call about?
It still seems pretty vague.”
We
both thought about it for a second. It’s
a decision we’ve had to weigh many times. Does Rose really need to go to the doctor’s office?
Is she going to wake up tomorrow and feel fine?
Is this just something new that we weren’t aware of that she’d
just have to live with? Are
we being a nuisance? Or is
this something that’s easily treated?
Something that the doctor can spot quickly and provide immediate
relief? If we delay do we
prolong Rose’s discomfort? We considered the question and decided.
“Yeah,
I really think we should. Tomorrow’s
Friday, we might as well go in tomorrow.
Let’s not wait until Monday and worry about it over the whole
weekend.”
“Well,
we have to pack everything up tomorrow morning. That’ll take about an hour or more. If we can wake up at a reasonable hour and get moving we
should be able to get on the road by eleven.”
“We
should be past New York well before rush hour.
That should be no problem.”
“OK,
we’ll be back in Connecticut by mid-afternoon.
That should work out. We
can call on the cell phone when we get close and try to get an
appointment. They’re open
till five. We should be able
to make it.”
Cheryl
and I headed back to join Erin and Katie around the campfire.
We were feeling a little relieved with our discussion and our
decision. With Erin and
Katie, when they were sick at three years old, it was much more obvious.
When they were sick, we knew it.
When they got better, they jumped right back into running and
playing. It was a fast
dramatic change. It seems
with Rose, we spend a great deal more time in a wide gray fuzzy zone of
parental uncertainty. We feel
our way along. Has some minor
illness dragged on too long or is Rose just getting a little cranky? Are we seeing Rose’s true personality or are her actions
influenced by something that’s making her physically uncomfortable.
I think back to the last winter and Rose’s long series of colds
and sinus infections. I can
remember Cheryl and I having countless discussions then like this one just
outside the campfire light. As
much as the signing has helped, as expressive as Rose is both verbally and
with her body language, like with any young child and maybe more so with
Rose, it can be very difficult at times to discern her true feelings.
But what’s carried us through, before and now, is just a basic
belief in the goodness of Rose’s true self.
As Rose’s parents, we have a view of her life that stretches over
the daily ups and downs across the few years of her young life.
Rose has shown us again and again the goodness at the core of
herself and her strong urge to thrive.
Her spirit is strong and good and we are learning to listen to her.
This night, we needed to be reminded of that and let the memory of
the goodness of Rose influenced our decision, and gave us a small nudge we
needed to make the right decision at the right time. It
was the touch we needed and it came from Rose and it left us feeling
better for it.
Cheryl
and I sat up with Erin and Katie until the last log had been loaded on the
fire. We started to reminisce
about all we had seen and done, the Safari Park, the Statue of
Liberty, the amusement park at Keannesburg, the day at Sandy Hook Beach,
and even the campfires. We
had seen a lot of new sights, and had a lot of new experiences.
As a family, we had traveled down new roads and shared these
experiences and it had gone well. None of the normal petty squabbles, no over-riding
distractions had gotten in the way. A
family peace had extended, uninterrupted throughout our vacation week.
We had honesty enjoyed ourselves and each other’s company very
much.
Friday - Starting Home
We woke the next morning to the pitter patter of Rose’s little feet or, more accurately, the digs from her sharp elbows and knees as she climbed over Cheryl and me to snuggle between us in our sleeping bag. Rose was refreshed from other deep night’s sleep and was in a playful mood. Sharing a tent with Mom and Dad was still a special treat for her.
The
day was more of the same beautiful dry perfect August weather we had
enjoyed since the thunder storms had rolled through on Monday night.
It was maybe a few degrees warmer that Thursday but nothing like
the heat and humidity we had fought through as we set up camp on Monday.
We worked together well as we packed up all our gear and loaded the
van. Erin and Katie alternated between watching Rose and helping
to pack. Rose was still more
sedentary than normal but seemed to be in a good mood.
After the last sleeping bag had been rolled up, the tents taken
down and all sorts of camping peripheral gear had been stowed in the van.
I stopped to take in one last view of our campsite.
Much of this story I have pointed with much more fore boding then
we were feeling ourselves at the time.
Something was bothering Rose, we knew it, but we had talked about
and come to terms with it, like we had many other times, or at least we
thought so. Parental talks
like that are as much of our lives as late night discussions about whether
Katie should play another year of violin or not, how to best handle
Erin’s passage into teen hood. It
fits into our lives as just another part of being parents to three girls.
Sometimes it comes easy to us, sometimes it’s a struggle but
it’s just part of our daily lives.
I felt it was important to openly recognize how well the vacation
had gone, how much we had enjoyed each others company.
I’ve learned in the last few years to really appreciate and
acknowledge the good life experiences when you have them.
They are not to be taken for granted, they are to be celebrated.
To
know one in particular, and to everyone I announced, “You know, this has
been our best camping vacation ever!”
Katie and Erin stopped to stare at me.
Cheryl was helping Rose into the car seat. She stopped to look up.
“Really,”
I went on, “This has been a lot of fun.”
“Dad!”
Katie cut in. “Stop it
you’re going to jinx us!”
“Oh,
come on, seriously,” I said.
“The
weather was great. We did a
lot of neat stuff. This had
to be our best camping trip ever!”
“Dad!
Come on, cut it out.” Erin
chimed in. “We’re not home yet, you know.”
“Yeah,
Dad,” Katie, the actress
was starting to enjoy herself. “Don’t
say that you don’t know what could happen.”
We
were laughing and enjoying our little drama as we climbed into the van.
Cheryl was shaking her head at our play-acting.
But now, I don’t know, maybe the girls just have a better sense of
the unexpected than I do.
We
did make good time on the drive back.
Traffic was light on the Garden State Parkway as we headed North.
Rose soon dozed off in her car seat for what was becoming another
one of her regular naps. The
car was quiet, Cheryl sat in the front passenger seat reading Marvin
Levin’s “One Mind at a Time.” I
was driving over the now familiar roads, no need for direction assistance.
The three girls were crowded into the bench seat behind us again.
Erin sat behind Cheryl reading a book.
Rose was in the middle sleeping in her car seat.
And Katie sat behind me, listening to music on her CD player
through her head phones. Behind
them, where the third bench seat had been, all our camping gear was packed
again, piled almost high enough to block the view out the rear window.
The car was quiet and we did what all families returning from
vacation do when the car is quiet. We
drove, just put our heads down and drove, trying to gain as many miles as
we could on the journey home. The
desire for the simple satisfaction of returning home was starting to grow
strong.
We
were late for lunch and long overdue for a bathroom break when we finally
pulled into the rest stop off of I-84 in Danbury. New Jersey and New York were behind us and we were back in
Connecticut. Rose had woken
from her car seat nap about a half an hour earlier.
She seemed uncomfortable and restless.
Erin had communicated to us a more specific discomfort, we had been
in the car for over two hours and she needed a bathroom break.
We had been disappointed when we had driven past one closed rest
stop just over the border in New York.
Rose was getting restless, she seemed uncomfortable and was
fidgeting in her car seat. Erin was getting almost equally uncomfortable, feeling the
pressure build in her bladder. We
had driven another twenty minutes before we pulled into the rest stop in
Danbury. We parked under some
trees near a small picnic area. Cheryl
took Erin and Katie to find the bathrooms.
Rose and I sat at a shaded table and started on the lunch that
Cheryl had packed that morning. I
had carried Rose from the car to the picnic table bench, Rose had shown no
interest in making the short walk on her own.
She showed the same lack of interest in her lunch, hardly touching
the juice and yogurt I offered her. She
wasn’t interested in eating a big lunch.
Rose
held her right arm up and touched her left hand to her right elbow, even
as tired as she was it was still a quick fluid motion, fish.
“Cracker,”
I said.
Rose
waved her left hand across in her in a swimming motion, cracker.
“Fish,”
I answered, “You want gold fish cracker.”
Rose
looked at me with a tired, resigned expression on her face.
She may have just signed ‘cracker-fish’ but she meant a lot
more than that. She meant
stop bothering her with food that she had no interest in.
She wanted her comfort food, Pepperidge Farms Gold Fish cracker.
I could see how tired she was and I didn’t have the heart to push
her.
I
sighed as I pulled out the foil bag and poured out a small handful of
crackers, “OK, Rose. Here
you go.” Rose was quietly
munching on a gold fish cracker when Cheryl came walking back with Erin
and Katie. It was my turn for
a bathroom break but first Cheryl and I shared a quick report.
“How’s
Rose doing? Did she eat any
of her lunch?”