…..or The Folly of Planning.
I had initially planned to undertake the journey to Tacoma alone with the boy this past weekend. Understanding that it might be tricky, balancing visit time in my mom's house with keeping a toddler happy, I had planned all sorts of nifty things to do with the boy: an Easter egg hunt, the Seattle Children's Museum, the Point Defiance Zoo. Then Jeff decided to come with us, and I thought, "Hey, even better! Jeff can keep Kurt amused while I visit with my mom and then we'll get to do neat stuff as a family…"
Oh, so forget all that. The ferry that runs directly from Victoria to Port Angeles in Washington wasn't taking reservations for the morning of Good Friday (the ironically titled holiday), so instead of risking not making the ferry, we ended up taking a Canadian ferry across the the windiest, rockiest ocean that every passenger around us swore they'd ever seen, which landed us on the Canadian mainland half hour behind, then put us through the main US border crossing at Blaine, which was a THREE HOUR wait. Three hours' wait at the border so that the border patrol officer could ask us, "Oh, you're Americans?" "Yep." "Headed to see family for the holiday?" "Yep." "Have a good one!" So, a drive that is generally a five hour trip became a ten hour trip, and we showed up a bit more weary that we might have anticipated.
Easter Egg hunt? It rained.
Children's Museum? Kurt fell asleep in the car on the way there and stayed asleep for the next two hours.
Nice family Easter dinner? Kurt fell asleep back at the hotel about ten minutes before everyone got to my mom's house and stayed asleep for two hours, then, when Prince Valium did finally awaken and join us, was a screaming, tantrum-y mess. (Later when we got his clothes off for his bath, we saw a rash over his arms and legs. Your guess is as good as mine, and it went away.)
Nice visit with my mom? Kurt, while still mollified with wheel chairs and ceiling fans, is a bit less enamored of my mom's house these days.
But, you take the bad with the good, I guess. We did make to the Point Defiance Zoo, where Kurt giggled at the sharks (oh, he'll learn, don't you worry):
And managed to be sweet with Daddy all over the place:
(Note the looking at the camera. It's getting a little hard to take candid shots of the child because he's figured out that you're supposed to look at the camera, and doesn't grasp "Act natural!")
The Easter bunny was generous, as you can see. The Easter bunny knew Kurt would have to share.
I tried to decorate the cake my brother Rusty made. Halfway through my attempt to make a bunny, we had an Easter Cat cake (it was still yummy, as was the rest of Rusty's Easter dinner):
Some of Rusty's chickens are blue and, they lay blue tinged eggs. Apparently this is a thing with chickens. One of the eggs they laid this weekend came out two toned. We decided it was an Easter miracle:
The family time, controlling for my wild toddler's behavior, was not bad, either. There was hanging with Rusty and Marty and Stephanie, and that is always, always, always good. But in the tradition of our last thirty six years together, my mom and I bickered way too much. This has been on my mind lately, as I'm about to become the mother of a daughter. I don't suppose there's any point in promising myself to not be crazy in my interactions with said future daughter. The best I can hope for is that she comes and visits me occasionally. My mom is actually doing much better than I last saw her, and her ankle is almost all healed up. Did I get a picture of her? No I did not.
Did I get a picture of myself in Amy Rueter's bath tub? Yes, I did. Why? Because it's awesome, and adjacent to a fire place. Seriously, how cool is that? I suppose it's technically also Amy's husband Marc's bath tub. But who are we kidding here.
A few twists and turns aside, we made it home without major incidents this evening. Tired? Yes. Fatter? Oh, almost certainly. Wiser? Nah.