So, we packed up the Armada and off we went. I could feel the nerves settle in a little remembering the last time I went to Oak Island... with my husband and my family...29 weeks pregnant with the sleeping angel in the carseat. Everyone was so excited to get in the water that after I put sunscreen on everyone else (including J) they ran off to swim in the ocean. Guess who never got sunscreen on their back... Can you say LOBSTER??? I rarely burn, but apparently 6 hours on the beach with no sunscreen on your upper back gets just about anyone.
As we hit traffic just outside of Raleigh, I encountered my first hurdle. There was an accident, a motorcycle accident...A mangled motorcycle laid on its side, a tarp covered a body. I felt it all come back... the numbness, the panic... I imagined him there under that tarp. I stopped at a gas station shortly after that so I could let out the tears I had struggled to hold back, breathe and regroup. I grabbed a cold diet pepsi, checked the topper on the truck to make sure it was secure, climbed back in the truck and reminded myself... "You can do this."
The trip was a success. The weather was beautiful, the house perfect and the children had a great time. Charlee chased waves, birds and her brothers. The boys hauled everything out to the beach each day, played football in the waves, body surfed, built Charlee a "swimming pool" and aggravated the girls. The girls made lunches for everyone in the mornings, boogied on the boogie boards, went for walks on the beach and played with the baby.
For me, the trip was so much harder than I thought it would be. It was the first vacation for me by myself with the kids. No family, no friends... just me. As I sat on the beach, playing with the baby, watching the older kids goof off, I longed to share the moment with him. I watched families playing on the beach and missed him. I watched a dad playing with his little girl for the first time on the beach and missed him. I watched a man running with his wife on the beach and missed him. I grilled dinner each night for the kids and missed him. I watched our little girl squeal with delight as she chased the waves back and forth and missed him. I carried her to bed, exhausted, but beautiful with sunkissed cheeks and missed him. I sat on the porch with a cold beer, listening to the waves, watching the beautiful day fade to night and missed him. And then I packed everything back into the truck, loaded up the kids, drove back home and missed him... but I reminded myself... "You did it."
Miss you baby!
Goodnight all...
As we hit traffic just outside of Raleigh, I encountered my first hurdle. There was an accident, a motorcycle accident...A mangled motorcycle laid on its side, a tarp covered a body. I felt it all come back... the numbness, the panic... I imagined him there under that tarp. I stopped at a gas station shortly after that so I could let out the tears I had struggled to hold back, breathe and regroup. I grabbed a cold diet pepsi, checked the topper on the truck to make sure it was secure, climbed back in the truck and reminded myself... "You can do this."
The trip was a success. The weather was beautiful, the house perfect and the children had a great time. Charlee chased waves, birds and her brothers. The boys hauled everything out to the beach each day, played football in the waves, body surfed, built Charlee a "swimming pool" and aggravated the girls. The girls made lunches for everyone in the mornings, boogied on the boogie boards, went for walks on the beach and played with the baby.
For me, the trip was so much harder than I thought it would be. It was the first vacation for me by myself with the kids. No family, no friends... just me. As I sat on the beach, playing with the baby, watching the older kids goof off, I longed to share the moment with him. I watched families playing on the beach and missed him. I watched a dad playing with his little girl for the first time on the beach and missed him. I watched a man running with his wife on the beach and missed him. I grilled dinner each night for the kids and missed him. I watched our little girl squeal with delight as she chased the waves back and forth and missed him. I carried her to bed, exhausted, but beautiful with sunkissed cheeks and missed him. I sat on the porch with a cold beer, listening to the waves, watching the beautiful day fade to night and missed him. And then I packed everything back into the truck, loaded up the kids, drove back home and missed him... but I reminded myself... "You did it."
Miss you baby!
Goodnight all...
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