Marco

A good weekend is followed by a burst of fresh new energy, a clean house and one big project checked off our list. A great weekend is followed by two duffle bags filled with dirty laundry, sandy car mats and sea shells crammed into little pockets.

We had a great weekend.

Sometimes my aim is a little off when taking self portraits with a passenger.

We took a three hour car ride (plus two stops for gas, one stop to pee, and two more stops to change diapers, resulting in four hours to destination, but who's counting?) down to Marco Island. Beautiful, sunny, white sandy beaches with clear blue waters lured us from our daily grind of work and school.

All the way down, we played an alternating shouting game of Marco Polo with Jack, a game Uncle Jem taught him so we could find him if he went astray. A brilliant game to teach a little who loves to hide. Another great game I learned (well, always knew, but not for this benefit) was Red Light, Green Light. If he runs, shout Red Light and he will freeze in his spot. When life is a fun game and full of play, it's a good life. Jack taught me this.

How did I stray so far off topic? Marco?

Polo. The whole island greeted us. Crossing the bridge over bright blue waters with beautiful sailboats lined with green palm trees and cracking our windows to feel the warm, salty breeze told us we were on vacation. My casual, laid-back husband met my obsessive, uptight planning needs by booking a fabulous hotel and printing a list of the top twenty places to eat on the island. A list that I read through very carefully before choosing our first stop: Simply Cupcakes. Let me assure you that this location was strategically chosen, utilizing all of my best investigative techniques and applying my education of theories and research and the scientific method. There was evidence of decadent chocolate and sweet butter cream. Obviously, this was the best option.

Upon further inquiry, I was able to conclude the subject in question is to be a certain first stop for all travelers of this destination. I am confident in my research (be sure to say research with an English accent, placing emphasis on the second syllable rather than the first) as a professor of decadence (be sure to roll the first r when say professor).

Judy, the owner, was the sweetest woman, for lack of a better pun. She told us about Marco, half convincing us to move in. Her whole cupcake bakery looks like a cupcake with bright pink walls and white icing trim. Everything had been touched with a little bit of fancy.

She stockpiled a hundred cupcake aprons on one hook, barely blocking an entryway. Apparently, all of her friends and relatives found her the perfect unique gift at a cute little shop that would represent her cupcake charm. She now names the apparels of that hook her heap of rags and was therefore happy to donate to a baker lover such as me.

Do not presume my family fills up with sweets prior to ingesting appropriate nutrients. Second on my list was the absolute best lunch I have had in a long time. Lee Be Fish is a hole-in-the-wall joint where Lee serves fresh fish on the days that he is not on his boat reeling them in. He fries up fresh fish and chips and whips up some fantastic curry tartar sauce. And if he likes you, he'll throw in some raw tuna.

After we checked into the Marriott, we did a whole lotta lounging by the great big pool.

We taught Jack how to act like a drunk in the hallway at night so the other guests would get aggravated.

And we drank in the view from the tenth story.

Everybody Is Fine

I need to blog. It has been a stressful week with too many moments where I find my heart in my throat and I stop breathing. So I need a release. It is dark in my house and Jose has taken my computer in for brain work. It needs more memory. My computer, my buddy, has been logging my thoughts and feelings, nursing papers and community research for too long. Today, my buddy gets a massage and a boost.

That's what I need: a massage and a boost. The brain forgets what it doesn't need. It does this to reduce stress on the body. It does it to protect itself. My brain has been very protective lately.

Therefore I blog on paper, releasing my thoughts and memories in ceremony. My venue is the front porch where I have clumsily dragged my living room chair and jack's mini-chair. I bring with me the finest blues music and I am accompanied by the best escort, a sleeping baby on my chest. I am sipping on gourmet rich coffee, courtesy of my new Keurig Mini. And I realign the chi. Now life feels easy. Easy like Sunday morning... which The Commodores just so happen to be singing in my background.

Life's perfect bliss is returning.

Let me start with everybody is fine. And I am so grateful. I am lucky. I always remind Jose this when he foresees a potential trauma or other unfortunate incident approaching. His forehead scrunches into a million wrinkles and he squints his eye and I say, "Don't worry. Did I ever tell you I was lucky?"

He knows.

Lucius fell off the changing table. The newborn who can't roll over, grab hold or scoot managed to inch his way over the edge of the table in the mere seconds our eldest stole Daddy's attention. Seconds. He cried right away. A good sign. But it was a cry that overwhelms us with guilt and regret. The kind of cry that comes after that three seconds of stunned silence as the shocked victim registers what just happened. They let me fall.

How did that happen? We have a guard there. We keep the changing pad bordered. He can't even roll over. But he can kick and little man gave a kick so hard it sent him backward, head first down the side that is three times his height. He suffered a bruise to his knee and a scrape to his head, otherwise all limbs intact.

And we are so sorry. We performed a thousand assessments, checked every reflex we could remember, thoroughly palpating his bony structures and his fontanels. We slept lightly that night, frequently jumping up at his change in breathing patterns and occasional coos.

And just as we recovered from one traumatic event, Jack comes skipping over with a white capsule in between his teeth, a big smile on his face. I yank it out, inspecting it to assure it hadn't been punctured to release its' contents. A no-name capsule. White. Found on our foyer. Were there others? Could he have swallowed one? Two? More? What was it and where the f*** did it come from? We keep Children's Liquid Tylenol so high in our closet that the average grown adult requires a step stool to reach it. Jose and I never take medicine, so how did this get here?

Well, the mystery is solved and apparently an unsuspecting pill can hop out of Grandmom's purse, hail a cab over to our house and mosey it's way into a two-year-old's mouth when it feels like it. Parents beware.

And like every cake that gets icing, it also deserves a cherry. Jose calls from work to tell me a patient vomited in his eye. Protocol requires permission for HIV testing and Hepatitis Panel by the patient. Thankfully it was granted and the patient proved his innocence from spending his nights on the corner of the red light district paying for service. But the wait was scary.

Lessons have been learned. We are fortunate to have lost nothing and gained something new: appreciation. I don't think we are missing appreciation here, as evidenced by my blog. Yet, we added some into the bank. It is a great asset to have on a rainy day when you get a speeding ticket and someone steals your wallet. This is when we withdraw from our appreciation bank and recognize what we still have and how lucky we are. I am lucky and everybody is fine.