Scholarly Thoughts (nah, not really)

I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating: WOW, did the first day of school sneak up on us! We (well, "I") bought all of the required supplies last month and tucked them away. (As though ignoring them would help to prolong Summer, right? Eh, wishful thinking...) No one was changing schools this year, so we didn't have the built-in heads-up of new procedures to learn or special Orientation Meetings to attend. Nope, it just...suddenly seemed to be the end of August, leaving us barely recovered from the post-vacation funk of "yearning for the beach", yet abruptly having to scramble back into our academic routine. Like a consistent, set bedtime? What's that all about? No more lying around reading or watching the Os game until 10 p.m. And alarm clocks? Pleaaaaase, noooooo! (That was for Derek, who needs to get up...ahem...earlier than I do, poor baby.) Speaking of the 7th-Grader, he also must bid adios to the long, leisurely, several-course morning meals to which he oh-so-quickly became accustomed in the casual Summertime. Welcome back to "scarf a bagel and hit the bus stop at 7:20" (Ugh--oh wait, that's Husband's gig, not mine...whew! I preside over the "second seating" at the breakfast counter with the 4th-Grader, who gets to amble down the street at the vastly more civilized hour of 8:45.) Then there's the Dinner Hour, which often occurs at 7...or 7:30...or even later during our unscheduled months--but which I had better work on reining back in to a reasonable "post-homework, pre-shower" time slot.

Most of these issues simply fall into the category of "readjusting our agenda"...kind of like when everyone changes the clocks for Daylight Savings Time--we have...let's see, we'll call it Freedom Time (Summer) and Structured Time (School Year). But...there are subtle signals being sent out by the 12-year old that some fundamental changes to our established regimen might be looming in the near future. For instance, a few weeks ago he verrrrrry nonchalantly asked me, "Do you think Dad's going to walk me down to the bus this year?" Uh-oh. I made some sort of noncommittal response, to see where he was going with this, so he mused, "He doesn't have to; I can go by myself." Now, for Derek, this was about as close to an impassioned "for the love of Pete, give me some space, Parental Units!" statement as you're going to get. But he didn't say it particularly strongly, and when he brought it up with Husband--who expressed his own desire to continue sharing their early-morning strolls and "manly chats"--Derek readily agreed that they could go on as usual. (One bullet: dodged.)

Then the first day of school, I waited for Derek to return in the afternoon and tell me all the Middle School News. The normal time for him to walk in the door came...and went...and it got later...and still later. Finally he meandered in a half-hour past his regular time and announced that he'd taken it upon himself, since it was such a sunny, warm day, and the students hadn't gotten go go outside at lunch time, to disembark from the bus 2 stops early, walk a friend home, then make his way to his own house. Oy. (I was stunned that he didn't immediately seize the opportunity to point out the fact that he was unable to call and inform me of his plans...as he still doesn't have a phone. Perhaps he was allowing me to figure it out on my own...but then again, I'm not sure the preteen male brain is capable of that kind of subtle ploy...) Lastly, as I was demanding that both boys leave the television and prepare to turn in, Derek brought up the fact that he frequently finds himself lying in bed these days, unable to fall asleep until he's been there for quite a while. He presented this evidence as a way to lobby for a later bedtime. (In front of his younger brother, which was so NOT what I needed. These items will clearly have to be dealt with...soon...ish....)

So, from what I remember of Derek's 4th-Grade year, Riley's going to study a ton of cool stuff, including the Chesapeake Bay, the Plymouth Colony, and the Wampanoag Indians. (Which incidentally is just so much fun to say as well, yes?) Heck, he gets to start the year by making Terrariums and Aquariums, complete with live plants and fish. And (thank goodness) he seems to be sliding right into school on an even keel. But I have no prior experience with 7th Grade (except my own, which I think we'll agree is ancient and irrelevant history at this juncture), or the whole "adolescent-boy....thing", so for right now, I'm going with the "cross your fingers, buckle up, and hope for the best" approach. Wheeeee!!!!

Summer Winds Down....

Team WestEnders returned from our Mexican escapade exhausted but content...and also a bit stunned when faced with the inescapable reality of having only one more week left until the end of Summer. Yikes! Seven days to fit in...cool, exciting...stuff...we haven't gotten around to yet! So much to accomplish--where to start? Well, actually we began with the very critical "rest up" portion of our agenda. We took a couple of days to recoup, hanging close to home and attempting nothing more strenuous than refilling the refrigerator, laundering the vacation clothing, watching English-language TV (to the boys' great relief), and catching up on some leisure reading. (Even Husband, who somehow ended up with a nasty cold...that didn't rear its ugly head until he was supposed to return to work...hmmm, suspicious? Whatever--he needed the extra downtime just as much as the rest of us!)

Then...boredom hit. Okay, I admit, it was ME--I only have so much tolerance for "sitting around being unproductive" before I become antsy for a To-Do List to occupy my time and attention. Yeah, yeah, it's a Fatal Character Flaw, but what can you do? Well, I'll tell you: you can drag your sons to lovely Seneca Creek Park and force them to hike with you, that's what. While we take Trail Walks on a regular basis, this time the process required an extra Negotiation Step. It seems everyone was tiiiirrrreeed and concerned that we not traipse too far--you know, while "enjoying the cool, shady woods and the gorgeous weather". I proposed 4 miles; they groaned and pantomimed throwing themselves on the ground in agony; they countered with "3 miles"... and we settled on 3 1/2. (Turns out that traumatic discussion was much more difficult than the actual exercise...)

Next there was Open House at Riley's school, to locate your classroom, meet your teacher, drop off your supplies so your backpack isn't bursting on Day 1...etc. But this event really only served to reinforce the fact that the academic year merry-go-round commences spinning on Monday, so we  did kind of a quick-strike: get in, say "hello", get out. (No students were harmed, so we considered the mission a success.) Later that night, all four of us headed to our very last Cultural Event of the Summer: a free performance of Romeo & Juliet at our local theatre. Now, Derek of course did the expected pre-teen boy thing, and protested vigorously about being commanded against his will to sit through a Shakespearean love story. Riley, on the other hand, was psyched. And both of them ultimately enjoyed the show--perhaps aided by the modernized dress and props...including Mr. Capulet dispersing the party invitations via e-mail on his Blackberry! (I'm not sure if Will would be rolling over in his grave...or tweeting his approval from the Beyond...)

A few scant hours later, after sleeping off the Olde English, Derek and I arose on Saturday morning to attend a volunteer opportunity. (I know, the last Saturday morning before school, and soccer--seems almost like Kiddie Torture, right?) A local Nature Center was sponsoring a session of "invasive plant removal"...yeah, that's right, Weed Pulling 101. Well, sign us right the heck up! When we arrived, we were issued gloves, given an orientation into the harmful flora that was overwhelming the "desirable native species", and instructed to pretty much have at it. I've gotta say, it was strangely satisfying to rip those suckers out, clearing the undergrowth for the preferred plants to take back the woods. The only downside was that on this particular day we were targeting Wineberry, which sounds gentle and picturesque...but happens to be covered from one end to the other in sharp prickles. (I proudly wear my scratches like badges of honor in the War on Bad Bushes!) The two naturalists who manage the program kept up a running commentary about the wildlife and vegetation that they're trying to protect--so it was just heavenly for me: supporting the Great Outdoors, getting some fresh air and exercise, and hearing a free lesson on Environmental Biology on top of it all. Nature Geeks, rejoice! (Oh yeah, and Derek chalked up some SSL hours too...that was the original purpose, after all...)

Finally, one last shebang, to celebrate Riley's special day. What better way to say Happy 9th Birthday and also So Long Summer, than with family, friends...and CAKE? We all agree that this was the fastest school break we've ever experienced. It just flew by, without dragging toward the end the way it usually does--as we increasingly annoy each other and become jaded toward the unstructured lifestyle. Usually, the kids eventually come around to actually anticipate the back-to-school festivities. This year, not so much...which is too bad, since August 27th will arrive (tomorrow!) whether we're mentally prepared or not. Backpacks are loaded, lunches are assembled...so for one more day, let us eat (leftover) cake to commemorate our very last day of freedom!

The Last Word on Mexico

Well, we've been re-patriated, having returned safely to the U.S. after our wonderful Mexican holiday. Yesterday's travel, however, was considerably less smooth and simple than our departure, owing mostly to the nightmare that is Cancun Airport. We arrived 2 hours ahead of our flight time, like the obedient and organized travelers that we try to be. Good thing, too, as the check-in line stretched from the counters, through several twists of roped-off lanes...almost back out the door to the curb. Dios mio! We trudged to the end of the queue and began waiting...and continued idling...and--well, you get the picture. The nice couple who had shared our shuttle ride from the resort were parked right in front of us, so at least we had friendly folks to commiserate and chat with while we monitored the clock and slowly began to worry.

Sooooo....after an hour had passed and we weren't even close to the desk, a harried Airport Official rushed over and began herding Baltimore-bound passengers to a different spot, where they'd suddenly scrounged up an additional employee, dedicated solely to registering us and shooing us onto our plane. (Which begs the question: why couldn't they have figured this out a little earlier? Late passengers = delayed takeoff...it's not rocket--or even aeronautic--science, people!) Then when we did finally come face to face with an airline agent, we were slowed yet again by some sort of glitch with Derek's passport. Another 10 minutes or so to stand by while the computer decided he wasn't some 12-year old...Potential Security Threat...or something...and we hustled to toward the terminal at the exact time that they began boarding our flight.

But we weren't in the clear just yet...did we know which gate? Of course not! This information was not revealed to us when checking in, as it was still "to be determined"? Really? When do you suppose would be a good time to decide? I'd suggest "now-ish". Luckily we passed our new fellow Baltimorean friends again on the way, and they let us in on the super-secret Gate Location. So yeah, consider me thoroughly unimpressed with el aeropuerto de Cancun. Adios! (Oh, and lest I forget to mention it--for our patience and perseverance, how were we rewarded? With a shrieking BANSHEE of a child 2 rows behind us on the plane. Ay yi yi.)

Obviously, this would have to count as one of the very few negatives of our vacation, among so many, many pleasant memories. Then I started pondering--I wonder what the kids, having now experienced a foreign country for the first time, think about their trip (if you don't count Canada, which--while a lovely place to visit--somehow seems...I don't know, too similar to us to warrant consideration in this case). So I interviewed them over breakfast this morning, and here are the results, straight from the mouths of my little International Explorers:
Riley--Didn't like: "not being able to communicate". Liked: the plants and animals we don't get to see around here, like palm trees, coatimundis, and iguanas.
Derek--Didn't enjoy: the Marketplace, with "people trying so hard to sell you stuff!" (I will add that he frequently complained about hearing too much "Mexican pop music" while we were there, and would come back to our room to clear his head with some AC/DC on his iPod.) Enjoyed: the activities we can't do at home, like snorkeling and jumping off the platform into the lagoon.

As for me, unlike Derek, I already miss being greeted 75 times a day by a cheery "Hola!", and being able to conduct conversations in Spanish desde la manana a la noche. (I even asked Derek if he'd mind me addressing him in Spanish first, then translating to English right after, since I got so used to doing it this way during the week that it became second nature. He agreed that as long as I didn't forget the all-important "Ingles" part, he'd be okay with it. Bueno!) I also loved eating fresh pineapple and guacamole at least once a day. Mmmm... However, I won't be sorry at all to say hasta la vista to the stifling humidity, or the sweating that accompanies it. (And I considered D.C. to be sticky in the Summer!) Finally, while I adore the beach, I was beginning to think of myself as Our Lady of the Perpetually Sandy Feet, so--free pedicure aside--I'm happy to be grit-less at last.

As we shared our family reminiscing this morning, Riley interrupted to say, "I was going to ask for another bagel...then I remembered it's not all-you-can-eat!" Sigh. That's right, buddy. You're back to the No-Frills Cafe de Mom. But then he brightened as he watched me stir Quik into his glass of milk and remarked, "Oh, you're making leche chocolate!" Hey, there's an idea--sure, 'home' doesn't have all the amenities of an all-inclusive resort, but if we speak Spanish, maybe we can keep the vibe going? Si, vamos!

Swimming with the Fishes*

*fortunately, Mexican style, NOT Sicilian style!

With regards to the beach, I experience a conundrum of sorts. You see, I love love LOVE being by the shore—feet in the warm sand, ears soothed by the crashing waves, eyes feasting on the landscape of endless sea and sky. But here’s the thing: I don’t really want to be IN the ocean.  All that vast open water, with unlimited power…I have a healthy respect…no, let’s just call it what it is, “profound fear” of the briny depths. (Also, I don’t enjoy the all-day sand wedgie…but we don’t have to get into that.) So, today’s tour jaunt challenged me in ways I didn’t anticipate when I weighed the options for our last big Mexican Shebang. I selected the Mayan Adventure, which promised the chance to observe three different ecosystems, up close and personal. There would be snorkeling….there would be underwater-creature sighting…and some other fun stuff!

When we arrived at the first site, our Guide introduced us to an underground cenote (sen-oh-tay), which roughly means “sinkhole”. He explained that we’d see the entrance point from which fresh water flows from an underground river, as well as some interestingly-shaped stalactites and stalagmites. While providing a brief orientation to snorkeling equipment, he kept mentioning how we’d surely find the water to be “refreshing!” He said this repeatedly, with such enthusiasm that the entire group (us and one other family of three women) became suspicious. We queried him more pointedly, and he admitted that the water temperature in the underground cavern—which of course never receives warming from the sun’s rays—would be 77 degrees. Hmm, that didn’t sound so bad….except holy guacamole, Batman, he might have been exaggerating a bit, unless I misunderstood, and “77 degrees” really translates directly to “popsicle toes”. I stood there on the steps, only submerged to my knees, and wondered—with complete sincerity--if I’d even be physically capable of sliding into that water. But here’s where I earned myself a pat on the back: I strapped on my…Big Girl Gear…and did it. In the end, it turns out I’m just too stubborn to consider being left behind.

And although Derek, Riley and I all shivered our way through it, that cave was well worth it. Perfectly clear water, every formation visible, tiny fish darting about—way cool. Then, Luis absolutely made the boys’ day by announcing that at the next stop, there would be…ziplining…and cliff diving. We made our way a short distance to a second cenote (slightly warmer than the first, as it lay completely in the sunlight), where the more daring could ride a zipline and jump into the water, and/or climb up to a 12-foot-high platform and leap off into the pool. Not ashamed to say that in this case my dislike of heights won out, and I played the role of Coward Photographer instead. Naturally, all 3 of the males in the family participated in each of the Tests of Bravery…multiple times. I cheered…and snapped away safely from the ground.

Finally, we drove to the third area, a lagoon where we would snorkel and hopefully spot lots of tropical fish. The water inside this cove was utterly calm and reasonably temperate, so nobody had any trouble navigating amongst the fishies and admiring their bright colors. But then, the group opted to travel maybe 300 yards or so (Husband’s best guess) out to a small reef for a potentially greater number and variety of flora and fauna. Have I mentioned my strong aversion to water that’s over my head? And that whole “fury of the ocean” thing? Suffice it to say, I was…nervous. (Note: We did have life jackets on, else this would have been over for me before it started.) Fortunately, the “pigheaded” trait kicked in once more, and I flippered my way on out there with the rest. On the way, I saw eagle rays and sting rays, a needlefish, many parrotfish, brain coral….and lots of other things I can’t even name, but that were awesome. Every once in a while I paused to recognize “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” before continuing on my way.

When we finished, tired from our snorkel-cross-training workout (kicking those fins is hard work, I’m telling ya!), Team WestEnders all agreed that this definitely qualifies as a Favorite Memory so far in our Family Vacation Chronicles. Husband and I privately marveled at our fairly fearless children (and I made sure to seize the opportunity to point out to those very kids how great their parents are for taking them on these exotic travels). Manana we head home after one last breakfast—exhausted, but loaded with stories, photos, and a few souvenirs of a beautiful semana en Mexico!

Beach...pool...shopping!

One thing I’m liking very much about the part of Mexico we’re visiting is the somewhat quiet, almost neighborhood-like nature of it. Playa del Carmen has narrow, cobblestoned streets (complete with absolutely killer, no-playing-around speed bumps every half-mile or so, which force a car to bounce down/up/down/up at about 10 mph…making good and sure everyone slows down and watches for the many pedestrians). There are maybe a dozen resorts, and a plethora of small houses for rent to vacationers as well. Cars, taxis, and shuttles actually have to pass by a guard checkpoint to enter the area—and the boys recently noticed that those in charge of stopping vehicles…have machine guns at their disposal. There always seem to be people walking, jogging, and bicycling along the tree-lined avenues. It just feels like a safe and non-party-animal kind of place to hang out. (i.e: NOT Cancun!) We’ve noticed quite a variety among our fellow holiday-goers as well: couples (both younger and older), groups of friends, families with children of all ages.

To begin today’s entertainment, we had decided to amble to the Plaza Central in our after-breakfast time. (Because really, what’s better to settle the stomach than…shopping for souvenirs? Eh, we’re tourists, we can act like it, right?) And it was, as expected, a total “take the suckers for all their American dinero” kind of place. But that didn’t stop us from meandering in and out of the stalls and storefronts, picking through the made-in-China junk, in search of something at least a little bit authentic to remind us of our viaje a Mexico. At every turn, we were accosted by (smiling-but-pushy) salespeople trying to rope us into a tour of some kind. We rapidly got very practiced at the friendly wave, accompanied by a firm “no, gracias.” But one guy did make us laugh when he grinned at us, pointed at Riley and asked, “How much for the little one?” (Um…”no…gracias?”) And another man tried to get our attention by calling, “Hey, where you from?” When we declined to respond, he started guessing: “Poland? England? Canada? Russia?” WHAT? I know we’ve been diligent and thorough with the sunscreen in the blazing Mexican sun…but just how pale are we?

Anyway, the boys did eventually choose small mementos to bring home, and we pounded the pavement for several miles in for our first walk of the day. Not bad for a morning’s work—I mean “recreation”!

Mayan Meditation...

Today, as a change of pace from the (albeit delightful) cycle of eat/pool/beach/repeat, I signed us up for an excursion. When arranging our Mexico getaway those many months ago, I had made it clear that we needed to visit some Mayan ruins, or my trip just wouldn’t be complete. As it turns out, the closest site to our resort is called Tulum, which lies less than an hour’s drive away. I met with a Tour Scheduler to figure out if this was something we could do by ourselves, or if we would be better off with a formal-group-kind-of-thing. He explained that if you go on your own, you’d be basically looking at “piles of rocks”, since there aren’t really any explanatory plaques there to tell you the background or describe the significance of what you’re observing. (Which made me realize how very spoiled we are by National Parks in the U.S., where you begin your exploration at a full-service Visitor’s Center, pick up colorfully-printed map and reading material, ask questions of the Rangers, and stop every 10 yards or so to read paragraphs of information on the helpful signs.) At Tulum, the consultant stressed, we would require a guide, in order to get the most well-rounded, meaningful experience. Okey-dokey, then, reserve us 4 seats on that bus!

Of course, this meant that for the first time on our vacation, we had to bounce ourselves out of bed to an alarm (horrors!)…in order to fit in breakfast before leaving (ahhh, motivation). At the appointed time, we settled into the air-conditioned coach to listen to our Orientation during the ride. Our Guide, Roberto, discoursed at length on the Mayan culture—their skill as navigators, their knowledge of plants and cultivation, their class structure and religious beliefs. He made a valiant attempt to teach us a few words in one of the Mayan dialects. (No, I don’t remember any of it—too early for that sort of processing). When we arrived at Tulum, he continued the educational portion of our day by describing the layout of the city and some of the structures we’d see when we entered. One thing I found especially intriguing: 3 walls surrounding Tulum are man-made, using large stones. Since the city is situated along the shoreline, the fourth, natural “wall” is actually a reef. The Mayans paddled their canoes along this barrier and noted where the breaks in the rocks occurred, which allowed them to safely enter and exit the shallower water. They then built their temples directly opposite these environmental landmarks, to mark the “doorways”. However, other sailors—who may or may not be friendly—lacked this important information, and often crashed.  Excellent use of nature’s protection, yeah?

We also spent time at the temple to the Wind God, which happens to be the highest point on the entire Yucatan peninsula. It was crucial to keep this god happy, as this part of Mexico sits firmly in a high-hurricane path. Therefore the Mayans made human sacrifices periodically, to encourage the god’s continued favor. (I know: ewwww. Stay tuned, it gets worse.) Children under 13 were chosen for this “honor”, fitted with a ceremonial cape made of jade-et (a heavy, precious stone, ensuring that the garment weighed more than the child did)…and tossed into a holy well to drown. Simply…charming.  When we all made outraged noises, our guide quickly pointed out that at least they were better than the Aztecs, who sacrificed EVERY DAY, because according to their religious beliefs, the sun actually died when it left the sky. Thus the only way to ensure that it would reappear the next day…was apparently to kill someone and offer them to the Sun God. Yikes. (Which just goes to show you, sometimes learning can be downright frightening!)

After the somewhat gruesome history lesson, we were left with free time to wander around and admire the structures ourselves. At one point Husband suddenly exclaimed, “Wow, look at that awesome cactus!” and peeled off to go examine it more closely…while the rest of us shook our heads. Derek dryly remarked, “Wow, Dad’s sure easily amused, isn’t he?” I’m told that at a slightly later time, when thirst and heat were evidently beginning to take their toll, Derek himself moaned to Husband, “Why can’t we ever take a relaxing vacation….like normal people?” Well, dear, you can blame it on your mother’s inability to sit still, her low tolerance for boredom…and her passion for regularly traveling to new places and seeking out novel experiences. And while he—and everyone else, for that matter--might have been hot and dehydrated and tired at that moment, I thank my lucky stars that my boys agree with me--on the fact that venturing to locales unknown-to-us, and even tiptoeing amidst the remnants of ancient civilizations--are pretty cool things, too.

Martes en Mexico

At this point, I’d say we’re definitely settling comfortably into this South of the Border life-by-the-sea thing. As is fast becoming our custom, we took a leisurely morning stroll to a nearby resort for breakfast. (Why? Because we had to see for ourselves if the grass was truly greener…or the croissants really…flakier…on the other side, I guess.) Derek made the forced march under protest in a mock-surly teenager kind of way. (“Why do we have to waaaaaalk? There’s perfectly good food at our owwwwn hotel.” Then, thank goodness, he was able to take out his ire on the buffet (repeatedly). Meanwhile, I almost forgot to eat, as I had discovered the wondrous contraption known as the “cappuccino machine”—push a button, instantly fill your cup with creamy goodness, what a beautiful concept! After we’d all met our own particular morning meal requirements, it was time for a Family Beach Jaunt. Ahhh: more sand between the toes, more wavelets lapping the ankles, more views of the stunning tropical scenery…more serene and satisfied people.

When afternoon rolled around and we were hungry again from all of our fresh air and activity, we visited the other, other resort, which happens to be called Tequila. Lunch….tequila…that just sounds so wrong. But it does remind me to  mention something Husband and I find incredibly amusing (and just a teensy bit scary as well): at every restaurant, right between the juice dispenser and the soda fountain, sits the Dos Equis tap…and the wine keg. That’s right, you can have a nice alcoholic beverage with your cereal if you so desire. (We do NOT desire, in case you were wondering. But let me tell you what I AM grateful for: Mexico seems to be a Pepsi Nation. I offer up a heartfelt gracias a Dios for all-you-can-drink “Pepsi Light”.) Anyway, we then enjoyed the pool…and a bonus close encounter of the Unfamiliar Animal kind. There are these small mammals scurrying around everywhere you look—they might be anteaters, but we’re really not sure. Mostly they seem completely accustomed to humans and ignore us. But when the boys came out of the café with ice cream cones, they suddenly took special notice. I didn’t happen to be looking at the time, but it was reported to me that one of them approached Husband, sniffing curiously…then stood on its hind legs and begged like a dog! Ah, wildlife.

And, what do you know, another mealtime eventually arrived.  At this one, however, Husband and I got a clear indication that we are effectively wearing the boys out on their vacation. How could we tell? Maybe it was the fact that Derek barely managed to wipe his plate clean (okay, the second time, at least). Or more likely it stood out for us when both of them put their heads down on the table, yawning, unable to keep up the sparkling conversation for one second longer. Yes, we officially seem to have broken the children. Fortunately they rebound quickly, since tomorrow is Mexican Field Trip Wednesday. Arriba!

La Vida Buena

Today, we woke up and greeted the day in unusual circumstances for Team WestEnders: a different  country than los Estados Unidos, a separate time zone than good old Eastern, and—best of all--short stroll away from the ocean rather than several hours’ drive. All of these are delightful things…although Derek gave a teensy clue that he might be feeling a bit of Culture Shock. From the moment we stepped off the airplane in Cancun, we’ve been surrounded by Spanish speakers, as expected. I personally have found it vastly entertaining to point out and translate the signage, while also learning words that are new to me. (For example, I knew ‘ceda’ was ‘yield’, but had to figure out that ‘retorno’ was ‘U-turn’. Happy Nerd!) I also quickly became accustomed to using Spanish as the go-to language when asking questions of the Resort Staff; for me, it’s good practice and I certainly appreciate the Crash Refresher Course, what with Derek starting his Foreign Language education in about two short weeks. But today, Derek lamented the fact that “I haven’t understood one word anyone’s said the whole time we’ve been here!” Even when we turned on the TV last night to catch ESPN’s Sunday Night Baseball broadcast, of course the commentary was in Spanish. I think that in itself would have been fine…but the ticker that runs along the bottom and updates all the scores…was also in Spanish, stymying Derek’s attempt to decipher the crucial stats. He was temporarily confused...and bummed. Who knows, though, maybe this experience is demonstrating to him in a real-world way that becoming fluent in a second language is a valuable endeavor. Perhaps it’ll motivate him to estudiar more diligently in the Fall (one can hope).

Otherwise, our lunes was all about 2 key things: water…and food. To begin with—just because we could, just because that’s the kind of people we are—we meandered over to the resort’s sister property next door for breakfast. That’s right, we’re wild and crazy, I tell ya. And because it amuses me (and him), I’ll now report what Derek ate for his morning meal:  a plate of pancakes (with sprinkles—because you just can’t do that every day….or EVER),  eggs, bacon, home fries, fresh fruit…and a doughnut (just to fill in the corners). I think his new favorite words in English are “All Inclusive” (or “Todo Incluido”—either way, he’s a full and content boy…until 3 hours later, when the buffet calls his name again. As a matter of fact, “All-Inclusive” is a very special concept to ME too, since I’m not involved in any way in feeding Derek this week, with the exception of pointing him to whatever café is currently willing to serve him…) Oh, the rest of us ate something delicious as well, but it wasn’t nearly as interesting—or gigantic—as Derek’s meal, so I won’t bother to mention it further. Thus fortified, we made our way to the beach. Spectacular sun and surf, yada yada…then when the sand began to cause…ahem…”chafing issues”…the boys voted to change scenery…to the pool. And yes, today we actually did test out the other exciting phrase: “Swim-up Bar”.  Riley and I proudly ordered ourselves un batido de platano (banana milkshake) y un bebida de jugos mixtos (mixed fruit juice drink). Both were yum…o! Eventually it got around to dinner time and we discovered that it was apparently “Seafood Night” at the main restaurant. Now Riley gets his Honorable Foodie Mention: as we took a turn around the dining room to scout out all of the options before filling our plates, he spotted pizza and scoffed, “Pizza? Who needs pizza…with all of these exotic choices?” Ah, my little travelers—always up for adventure, be it sporting or culinary!

And, that pretty much sums up our first full day of Riviera Maya: we came, we ate, we swam…we did it all again. I believe this means we’re commencing our transformation into Mexican Beach Bums!

Oh, Mexico...

The day we’d been planning, preparing, and mostly waiting for finally arrived: Mexico Departure…Dia! I had laid out a strict drill to be followed--roust everyone at 7 a.m., dress/brush teeth/grab your car breakfast on the way out the door and GO! This was due to the fact that we were flying internationally, (thus not allowed to check-in online), needed to check a bag (which we usually avoid), and had to leave the Subaru in long-term parking (requiring a shuttle trip to the terminal). All this added up to extra steps that might slow down our escaping the country in a timely fashion.

Amazingly, we piled into the car at our 7:30 target time, and arrived at the long-term lot at 8:05-ish. Although the boys paced the bus stop in barely contained excitement and impatience, the shuttle did arrive quickly, and deposited us at the Air Tran counter by 8:30. We had a minor delay to sign our passports (which I didn’t even know you had to do), then wound our way into the Security line. We had plenty of time standing around to read the new regulations—such as “kids can keep their shoes on” But I still had to unload my laptop, the bags of toiletries, etc. And then, a minor glitch: I set off the metal detector—what? Me? We were momentarily confused…even my Timex is plastic, for crying out loud…until the TSA Officer (luckily a woman) suggested my hair clip. “I’m not going to make you take it off…but it’s either that…or a pat-down.” Whoa, I’ll release the mane, thank you very much! (That’s what it was…memo to me: next time wear a scrunchie!)

After that we breezed through Security, free and clear, by just a little after 9:00. Win! Now, we relax…until our flight leaves…at 10:37! But hold on--naturally, Derek’s hungry again. (Also Husband and I haven’t had our coffee yet either.) Dunkin’ Donuts to the rescue! Then…there was an airplane ride. It was pretty pleasant. We experienced a thrilling time change when we entered Central Zone. Enough said. When we came down, though—Bienvenidos a Mexico! Palm trees! Balmy breeze! Yaaaayyyy!

At our resort, we immediately tested out the “All-Inclusive” designation….because Derek needed to eat…otra vez. And then, a la playa! Warm waves, sand in my toes; yeah, this is my Happy Place.  A nice long walk along the water to soothe away the travel kinks, and all is well. (There was a brief moment of hilarity when we unpacked our luggage and encountered…the hot pink…sequined…size 34DD bra that somehow made it into our checked bag. Um, sooooo very much NOT mine! Wherever you are, lady-missing-her-underwire, I hope you brought backup containment devices. It sure looks like you need them!)

So, to sum up Day 1: we have the ocean, and people to feed us whenever we want…I sense that we could definitely get used to this…

The August Agenda Continues...

We've almost made it...we are mere days away from fleeing the country--I mean "vacationing in Mexico"--and it's time for that final push...to keep from getting on each others' very last nerve before we go. The boys and I do well when presented with entertaining distractions, so I racked my brains for activities that would get us out of the house this week. When discussing possible options, we were suddenly struck with a startling revelation: we've gone all Summer without playing Mini-Golf! Gasp! (Okay, this may not seem all that dramatic an omission in the Grand Scheme of Life, but you're just going to have to trust me when I say that for us, it's a glaring oversight...) So I took them to a county park where you can both golf, and romp in a splash playground. We putted (not well); we bounced into water traps (frequently); we thoroughly enjoyed our own ineptitude. Then the boys ran in and out of fountains and ducked under waterfalls and flung drops at each other to their hearts' content. Several hours worth of maximum fun with minimum arguing: well worth the price of admission.

As our last pre-trip hurrah, I decided to go the Cultural Route...since we'd also managed to get to mid-August without visiting a museum. (What the heck is wrong with us this year? We're way off our game!) I'd seen a writeup of the American Visionary Arts Museum in the kid-section of the Washington Post recently, and it sounded like a really cool place. Even the gift shop got mentioned in the summary, as carrying a collection of offbeat and interesting items--so naturally Riley got on board immediately. ("Souvenir Boy", as he shall be known...) And it's located in downtown Baltimore, near the Inner Harbor...with its multitude of varied and tasty eateries...so Derek readily signed on too. (After I promised him a meal, of course. Yes, I do know how to motivate my little explorers.) And let me just tell you, from the moment we laid eyes on the place, it became instantly clear that this is NOT your typical stuffy paintings-on-the-wall, classic-marble-sculptures kind of experience. As soon as your gaze is dazzled by the glass-mosaic facade and bedecked bus out front, you know you're in for something unique.

Inside, it did not disappoint. Among our favorite sights:
--the Flatulence Post, an interactive display where you "pull the finger" (not making that up) to hear past winners of...Farting Contests. (Nope, not making that up either. Don't ask me for further enlightenment--we were laughing too hard to actually read the informative material...)
--the Bra Ball, which--just like it sounds--comprises a giant mass of brassieres attached one to the other, forming a sphere...of...supportive undergarments. It was truly a jaw-dropping extravaganza of all things padded, petite, push-up, plain, and plus-sized. The artist solicited women to send their "contribution", along with the associated story. Needless to say, many of the notes were not loving odes to underwire...but altogether they did amount to a touching tribute to womanhood...
--a model of the ocean liner Lusitania, impressively constructed from 194,000 toothpicks. This sucker was not your average craft project, being several feet high and 16 feet long.
--a shout-out to San Francisco, also built from toothpicks, which featured--among a vast array of elements--the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, several streetcars, the Ghirardelli factory, Fisherman's Wharf, and the MLB World Series trophy.

This was the kind of place where you just strolled around, alternately giggling, oohing and aahing, and wondering how the HECK anyone conceived some of these ideas, much less brought them to life. At one point Derek, flummoxed by something he was observing, mused, "What is 'art', anyway?" Exactly! Art is: "Mom dragged you to a museum in the Summer and made you think, without your even realizing it!" Win! (Well, I guess to be fair it was a three-way tie, since we all had a good time with the quirky art, followed by tasty sushi at the Harbor Pavilion.) Now we can feel free to exit out of educational mode...and mentally prepare for the beach instead...

Thank you, Gary Larson

Perhaps if you have a male life-partner, or are a mother of boys...or have ever encountered someone of the Male Species at any time in your existence (did I miss anyone?)...you may have noticed a curious phenomenon. Since I've dealt with it quite a lot in a house full of male creatures, I've decided to give it a name: the Y-Chromosome Location Deficiency. Husband demonstrates it--"Do we have any barbeque sauce/laundry detergent/mouthwash (etc.)?" The answer inevitably falls into these categories: 1.) "Yes, and it's right under your nose, if you'd just move your gaze a tiny bit behind or beneath or beside the spot you're currently standing; or 2.) "I don't know, dear, as I'm not at this moment in the exact place where we store whatever-it-is, but I'll bet if you go look there, you'll find out!" (And yes, it does come forth dripping with that much irony when I deliver it...) Tragically, it seems to be a genetic curse, as Derek shows unmistakable signs of the affliction as well. If anything, his is WORSE: "Mom, have you seen my socks?" (I lift one finger and point to them, well within his reach.) "Where did I put the crackers?" (At eye level, on the pantry shelf where snack foods have been residing for the entire dozen years Derek has been alive. Sigh.)

So yesterday when he came to me, an undertone of panic in his voice, and announced that the TV wasn't working properly, I knew better than to rise to the hysteria of the occasion. Apparently I didn't seem concerned enough, since he felt compelled to launch into a detailed explanation of what  wasn't happening when he pushed the button, blah blah blah. However, being two floors removed from the site, and in the middle of another task, I shooed him away and promised I'd come help as soon as I could. A few minutes later when I meandered downstairs, he had managed to launch his PS3 and was embroiled in a game, so all appeared well for the moment and I knew I could wait to fix the Electronic Emergency.

After dinner I finally remembered to examine the offending device and try to diagnose the problem. It instantly became crystal clear to me...the power strip, which supplies electricity to the satellite box that controls the television's operations, was disconnected from the outlet. I'm not kidding. The thick black cord with its conspicuous three-pronged plug was lying there on the ground in plain sight. Oy. In a flash I deduced that the Ladies Who Clean had detached it in order to vacuum earlier that morning and then had simply forgotten to put it back. I didn't mention the incident right away, instead holding off for Reading Time, when we're all four in Husband's and my room, hanging out and bonding together. This is a special part of the day when we enjoy sharing passages from our own books with each other, recounting episodes from our respective days...and engaging in warm and fuzzy bouts of teasing, as only a loving and supportive family can. In this atmosphere of socializing...and stuff...I couldn't help relaying Derek's observational failure, "Your son (because it's a y-chromosome thing, so I'm obviously 100% off the hook on this) couldn't figure out that the TV wouldn't work...(I paused for dramatic effect...that's the x-chromosome in action) because it was unplugged!"

Husband rolled his eyes and shook his head with the world-weary attitude...of one who deeply understands such an malady, as a fellow sufferer. Meanwhile I got another cheap chuckle out of it. BUT...almost too muffled to perceive without my Mom Superhearing...from the other side of the room, where he was cozily nestled in the reclining chair, Riley muttered in a tiny voice, "Humph...Midvale School for the Gifted!" And the room fairly exploded with hoots of raucous laughter. This is the classic comic strip to which he's referring:

Husband must be credited with teaching them this, as he uses the phrase whenever anyone does something...less-than-brilliant. But for our younger son to effectively utilize both biting sarcasm and The Far Side to thoroughly slam his brother? Well, I feel like we're doing our job--bringing the art of the Literary Insult...and the genius of Gary Larson...to the next generation: Proud. Parental. Moment (sniffle).

August Antics

Here's how the Summer typically goes for us...the kids don't get released from bondage--um, "school"--until mid-June. The rest of that particular month whizzes past, since the boys always do their South Carolina visit at the beginning of the time-off period. After that brief whirlwind of activity, we settle into the long, hot month of July. We pass the days with pool jaunts, and camp weeks, and outdoor hiking and biking, when not prohibited by the double-whammy of high temperatures and soaking humidity. Usually we take our mini-getaway sometime during July as well, to give us something to enjoy while continuing to wait for our Big Vacation. Then comes August, which carries its own...unique vibe. On the one hand, you can clearly see (although still be in abject denial about) the rapidly approaching, impending Fall and beginning of the new academic year. (Excuse me one second: aaaaaahhhhhh! That's just from me; trust me when I say the children feel much more strongly about it...) Heck, we've even stocked the backpacks full of required supplies already, just to beat the last-minute crazed rush and get it out of the way. However, on the other (preferred) hand, we still have our reeeeaaaal trip on the horizon, you know, the one we've been (mostly patiently) anticipating since I first booked it...back in January. (You can tell I'm just a wee bit excited by the fact that I've packed as much as possible already, even if it means digging things out of the luggage to use them for this week. Okay, I’m both hyped up…and compulsively organized to the point of inconvenience…sigh…I need the beach…)

But the tone of things has definitely changed a smidgen around here recently, as the novelty of "constant togetherness" wears thin, combined with the fact that we're all sooooo over the stupid Heat Index and sweating and figuring out ways to stay entertained all day long. Yes, we've reached that very special point in the Summer when conversation first thing in the morning can begin like this:

Riley: "Derek, can I come in your room?"

Derek (sharply): "No!"

Riley (plaintively): "Why not?"

Derek (unhelpfully): "Because I don't want you to!"

Riley (dramatically): "Then I guess I can't come in your room ever again, right?"

Mom (gnashing her teeth and pulling her hair in frustration): “Congratulations, you have earned the privilege of accompanying me to Target!”

Boys (horrified): “Whyyyyy?”

Mom (unsympathetically): “To deprive you of the continued opportunity to bicker with each other for the rest of the morning.

Resigned silence…

You can tell that thoughts of school have crept into Derek's mind, though--however unwelcome they may be. Out of the blue one day he asked, "If I get straight-As, will you get me a present?" I was ready with the pre-packaged response from the Parental Manual, which was something along the lines of "We don't reward you for good grades because they're expected." For added measure (and because, let's face it, I couldn't help myself) I tacked on, "You should WANT to do well, not just try hard to get a prize." He gave a somewhat disappointed, "Oh", then brightened considerably as he mused, "Well, then, I could get Bs, right? Even a low-B, what's the difference, it looks the same on my Report Card.” He triumphantly concluded, “I could start working a lot less and still do okay!" Now hold on just one minute, there, son--I quickly jumped in to repair the damage and prevent any further wandering down this dangerous path..."We expect you to try your BEST. If that's a B, fine, but there will be no 'squeaking by' with the bare minimum effort!" He sobered up again and inquired, "What if a C- is the best I can do?" I was way ahead of him this time: "Then you will forego video games and have extra tutoring until that grade comes up!" If that's not motivation, I don't know my pre-teen son...might be an interesting 7th grade experience coming up...

And finally, as our Mexico excursion draws ever nearer, I’m happy to report that we're all getting in the spirit. When I came down to breakfast this morning (before my coffee--don't they know better yet?) Derek greeted me with, "We're practicing Spanish!" He held out a Fruit Loop on his spoon and exclaimed, "Ay, caramba, it's rojo!" (You have no idea how pleased and proud of himself he looked. What's the Spanish word for big honking goofball?) Riley chimed in with "Azul! Gracias! Si!" Their vocabulary might be extremely limited and next-to-useless, but you can't fault them for their enthusiasm. Maybe we can fit in some language lessons this week before we go...both to keep them ocupados...and to promote paz among the hermanos until we can get ourselves to the playa...

Here Comes the Sun...

There are certainly a multitude of things I relish about Summertime...sandals (no socks), strawberries, swimming--and that's only the S-stuff! However, there is one element I do not enjoy, although it is an absolute requirement for my fair-skinned family: sunscreen. Growing up, I had probably more than my share of burns, and I'm determined to shield my kids' skin from the same fate. But, as I've mentioned before, I'm also adamantly opposed to slathering unnecessary chemicals on our bodies, which means I'm constantly buying and trying out natural sunscreens, to find ones that are acceptable to my picky clan. You see, the problem with non-chemical lotions is that they use titanium dioxide and zinc oxide, which block rays exceptionally well...but tend to sit on top of your skin...leaving you looking fairly...shall we say "spectral". Added to that, my gang doesn't like creams that feel too sticky...or slimy...or heavy...and it becomes a knotty problem to find something that's both protective and comfortable. Let's face it, I'm really aiming for the perfect balance between keeping my boys safely untanned...and minimizing the whining protests that occur each and every time I cheerfully declare that they must wear sunscreen for whatever activity they're about to undertake.

To be honest, I think I'm probably on the Less Vigilant side of the spectrum on this particular issue: I don't lube them up every morning if we're only at home or following our normal everyday routine. Our yard has lots of shade, they generally don't like to be out there in the heat for too long, so more often than not, I just let it go. But of course we do full-sunscreen for the pool...or when they're attending camp. Which brings us to the most recent example of SPF-itis. I had purchased two different lotions from Whole Foods to test this Summer. One of them emerged as the clear (no pun intended) winner, as it spread fairly smoothly and left only a faint whitish sheen on the skin when applied properly. (This is important to note, as Husband tends to layer on that stuff as if preparing for...a nice long vacation on Mercury...or something. When he's in charge, the boys look like...well, the best visual I can give you is: it appears that they have thick, goopy diaper rash cream smeared all over them. Don't tell them I said that, please!) Anyway, the other product came out of the tube in clumps, and refused to absorb at all, instead depositing a chalky residue that just remained there until washed off.

Okay, so we identified a natural sunscreen that works for us, you'd think everyone would be happy, right? Oh, please. This morning the ungrateful little urchins--not at all appreciative of the time and effort (and messy hands!) I sacrifice to prevent their pale selves from suffering a nasty sunburn--gave me a ridiculously hard time before the application process even started. Derek led off with, "My friends ask me why my face is so white, and tell me I look like a zombie." Riley chimed in, "Yeah, they all tell me to rub it in better." How I wanted to sarcastically respond:  something along the lines of "What are you, high school chicks, worried about what your legions of admirers think?" But that didn't seem like appropriate Mom Behavior...so instead I explained once more how the minerals don't sink into your skin the same way as the chemicals do, and why we (well, I...and they don't have a choice) prefer the natural option for our health, and the environment, blah blah blah. But Derek refused to let it go--"Suppose it's raining, then do we need it?" "Well, nooooo," I began, then quickly added, "but it could just be morning showers, and the sun could come out later, so it's better to be safe!" I could barely hear his exasperated sigh, but he recovered enough to come back with, "It rains all day until 3:00, then do we need sunscreen for the last half-hour of camp?" Oh. My. Goodness. You'd think I was subjecting them to unfathomable torture every single day of their Summer lives, for crying out loud.

At this point I deemed it best to cease debating with the mouthy pre-teen...and commence the Sunscreen Punishment. I believe during the subsequent ten minutes--while I gently, carefully placed the bare minimum of lotion on my precious son's delicate skin and he mooooooaned theatrically--I threatened to "forget" to pick them up today and leave them as a special gift for their counselors. So hopefully right about now they're out in the sun, playing, having loads of fun, NOT burning...and we'll see how I feel about retrieving my little ghosties after a few more hours of blessed peace and quiet...