Old Orchard Beach

“Three trucks and a parrot?” I question Bob after looking into the bag of toys he and Matt packed for our vacation to Maine.

“I let him pick out his own toys,” he replies without a hint of regret in his voice. We are already on the highway so it is too late to turn back now.

Traditionally we like to stop at the York Wild Kingdom Zoo on our way to the hotel but because it started to rain we instead drove to a Children’s Museum in Portland. It was perfect for Matthew because there was a 25-foot fire truck for kids to dress up as firefighters and play on. He had a lot of energy to work off after eating more munchkin donuts during the two hour car ride than Bob and I combined.

When we left the museum I dragged us all to the LL Bean outlet across the street and bought the most adorable footed pajamas with sea creatures on them for Matthew. “See my jammies?” Matthew asked us every ten seconds or so while carrying the shopping bag himself to the car. Once he got settled into his car seat he took them out of the bag, “there they are!”

This year we are wiser and chose to stay in a bigger hotel room with an eat-in kitchen and room for Matthew to roam and play with his toys on the floor. Last year we stayed in a room half the size with the bare necessities which made for one cranky toddler on a short fuse. Once we had unpacked Matthew started to refer to it as “Sarah’s House” associating it with our recent trip to Vermont.

“Do you want to go home to Matthew’s house?” Bob asks Matthew who is curled up under the blankets in his pack n play and flipping through a book.

“Matthew’s house is Sarah’s house,” Matthew replies without looking up from his book about a frog driving a school bus.

By the following morning the rain stops and so we walk along the ocean on our way back to the hotel after eating breakfast at a local eatery. Matthew, dressed in cargo pants and a t-shirts splashes around in the chilly water and giggles when the undertow covers his feet in sand. Best of all, a bulldozer happens to drive by when we are making our way back towards the street. I hate to admit it but Matthew may have been more impressed with the bulldozer than the trip to the zoo we took later that morning.

By that afternoon we were back at the beach covered in sand and salt water, and enjoying our summer vacation like no other before. The three of us quickly fall into a routine of spending our afternoons at the beach, jumping in waves, flying kites, exploring tide pools. In the evenings we spent a lot of time on the boardwalk, eating ice cream, shopping, and watching Matthew ride a fire truck kiddie ride nearly a dozen times. On our last night we watch fireworks on the beach or as Matthew called them, “fire truck works”.

Bob and I have always said that when we had children we would take them on vacation at every summer at Old Orchard Beach. We first stayed here as a couple in October of 2002. Years later Bob proposed to me on the same beach where in 2009 we would sit with our son and watch fire truck works. I love it here.

Trip To Vermont

Matthew is roused from a deep sleep when the car pulls to a stop. “Fire truck,” he mumbles remembering the last thing he saw before his eyes closed. We are spending the weekend in Vermont and had the good sense to leave during his bedtime hour. It is just Matthew, myself, and Sarah staying in the condo which her parents own, which I have spent many weekends over the years, the first time being when I was in 7th grade, and the last time before now being when I was pregnant. Inside a jumbo stuffed Bear in the Blue house is sitting in an arm chair to greet us. Sarah takes out some chic drinking glasses, with her initials carved into the side of hers, and pours us some water. We guzzle it down as though we walked instead of drove for the last three hours.

I set the pack-n-play up in the room that I will be sleeping in. Once I lure Matt away the kitchen to tuck him into bed, the child latch free pantry being his playground over the next couple of days, I then curl up in my own bed with a novel. Already I can feel the little daily stresses of life melting away.

The next morning Matthew slept to a reasonable hour, which was good seeing that I read to an unreasonable hour the night before. We drove out to a whimsical place called Santa’s Land. It is an interesting place with the whole winter wonderland theme obviously, but also kiddie rides, playgrounds, animals, and old fire trucks for kids to climb on. The rides were included in the next to nothing ticket price. Matthew rode a kiddie ride on his own for the first time, climbed up the highest slides, and fed a goat some hay, but was terrified by the sight of a caged peacock spreading its wings before us. He cried and quivered, and then refused to walk past the cage until I carried him.

Next we drive to a swimming lake with a wonderful wooden playground. Unlike other lakes we’ve been to this summer, this one doesn’t have fish swimming in the shallow waters, ranking it at the top of my list. It feels cleaner to me somehow. Matthew surprises me by spending more time in the water instead of the sand, which for the most part of this summer has been the opposite. I tried not to meddle when Matthew took it upon himself to sit with an older boy who had spent the afternoon collecting and sorting rocks. I worried Matthew would take the rocks from the boy but instead he listened to the boy chat about which ones he liked the best and then later started a collection of his own.

That night Sarah and I play bored games and snack on chocolate while Matthew watches television and snacks from a container of plain raisins that he horded from the pantry. When we are washing up for bed it starts to rain hard. “Boom Booms!” Matthew announces with vigor as he has inherited his mother’s love of thunderstorms.

Sunday we make a stop to the Ben and Jerry’s factory before heading home. Before we even get to the ice cream eating part, we make spin art for free, play on the playground, and visit the flavor graveyard, an area dedicated to retired ice cream flavors, complete with headstones for them. Then of course we ate ice cream. On the walk back to the car Matthew plays with the rubber bracelet he got at the gift shop that reads, “Peace, Love, and Ice Cream.” Those words sum up our trip to Vermont for me.

Piecones

At first, Matthew was more interested in the fallen sticks along the wooded path that lead to the sand area and water. Once he had enough sticks in his arms to start a campfire he handed them all to me and walked ahead to the beach with Bob. He was a little timid around the water but became more comfortable each time he went to the shoreline to fill up his bucket with water for his sandcastle.

Bob took Matthew out wading in the water which I thought was too cold. They collected rocks and looked for fish while I took pictures of the lake and the two of them. Then I heard a splash and saw that Matthew had lost his balance and fallen under the water. I reacted as any sane mother would react, the same as though a great white shark had just carried him off. Bob had helped him up by the second time I had shouted, “Get him!”. The whole incident had only lasted a matter of seconds but while Matthew didn’t even cry.

We have a picnic and then there is more splashing around the water and digging in the sand until it is time for us to get home so that I can log on to work from home and Matthew can take his afternoon nap. As we are walking back up the wooded path the ice cream truck arrives, which Matthew will tell you was his highlight of the afternoon if you asked him.

The 4th of July is the following day. We didn’t have any big plans to celebrate the holiday because I was working from home again in the afternoon. In the morning, I set up a table outside with red, white, and blue art supplies. Matthew may appreciate this but fully ignores it to play a game that involves a bin full of rainwater and a net. For lunch, we do a cookout. Bob grills hotdogs and hamburgers while I boil corn on the cob and slice up some cucumbers and strawberries. For dessert, I bake a blueberry nectarine cobbler. To make it more special we eat in the dinning room, which hadn’t been used since Matthew’s second birthday in May. While eating our Independence Day feast Matthew tells us ‘jokes’.

“It’s dark outside… it’s not dark outside!” This is his first and favorite joke. Of course, we laugh each time he tells it.

Later that afternoon, Bob takes Matthew. When they return home, Matthew brings me two pinecones. “Piecones” he called them. I am pleased that he would share his treasure with me. For that reason I treasure them.

Chatterbug

“Mama?” Matthew looks up at me quite seriously after rolling a yellow play doh snake on the table, “Dis string cheese. Here you go.” He hands it to me with watchful eyes.

“Thank you,” I say, “Can you make me a cookie too?”

“Mmm, good cheese,” he hedges, leaving me no choice but to mock eat the playdoh in my hand.

“Delicious,” I compliment and he claps his hands together with delight before handing me a blob of brown play doh. “Is this a cookie?”

“It’s poo poo!”

“Yuck,” I state this without a trace of humor in my voice.

“Yuuuuuck,” Matthew agrees but his eyes are lit up with amusement, “Yucky poo poo!”

“A mess!” Matthew tattles pointing to the play doh blobs and cutting tools scattered all over our dinning room table that a minute ago it was his string cheese and cookie factory. “Oh no! A mess!”