Bug gets up at 245am and I’m just at a loss. He’d only been asleep for a little over four hours. I give him half a dose of melatonin and feel all the guilt but after an hour he’s still awake and NEEDS sleep. Ug. Just typing this makes me feel like I’ve destroyed any chance he’ll ever have of sleeping normally again. He does this most nights at home too, but with more sleep to go on. I hate that both of my kids have inherited my insane insomnia. Why aren’t we doing 5k runs and colored ribbons for people who cannot sleep? Probably because it can’t kill you. I think…
Even after the small amount of sleep I’ve gotten over the last three days I’m up at 8am. But, dude. That was almost ten fucking hours. I’m still on a high. Everyone else manages to sleep until 10am and we quickly get clothes on while Derek rubs sleep out of his eyes. I leave with my monkeys and let him shower himself awake. The restaurant breakfast is only open for another hour and my kids need some eggs in the morning so I can feel them shit the rest of the day and not feel too bad about it. What’s the age when meal time isn’t a complete shit show? Don’t get me wrong, they did a pretty decent job but I’m haggling with one (trading bites of eggs for the fruit he really wants) hand feeding yogurt to a one year old who’s desperate to do it by himself (I only have so many clothes kiddo, sorry), grabbing knives that have magically appeared back at their place settings, and generally not eating anything that wasn’t previously in one of their mouths. But hell, everyone’s fed and we didn’t destroy anyone else’s breakfast experience (I hope) so there’s that.
We pack up approximately one bajillion things and head to the beach. We lug everything through the sand and set up camp and begin putting sunscreen on two writhing alligators. In the process I discover a new spa treatment while I accidentally exfoliate every surface of their bodies while gooping them up. (pro-tip: sunscreen before they cover themselves in sand.) We have really great time playing in the sand and the waves even though Mouse discovers on more than one occasion that seawater in the eyes is a specific kind of torture that mommy can do nothing about.
But my zero percent body fat three year old is shivering so badly after 90min that we have to call it quits. The beach is a good 15min from the hotel, so I’ll be damned if we’re going back there before lunch. We pretty easily get the kiddos back into real clothes because no one minds baby penis on the beach. But we’re stuck with no bathrooms or changing stations and I am not about to chafe the shit out of myself, walking with wet thighs. I am very graceful and have Derek hold up a towel while I change in front of a beach full of people. Hahaha. Nope. I flail and stumble around as I try and wiggle into my bra and not fall over. However, he manages to do it all by himself, just holding a towel with one hand. I feel a particular kind of inadequacy watching this.
We’re off to find a vegetarian friendly pintxo place (tapas) that I read about. It turns out that by “vegetarian friendly” they mean mushrooms with mushrooms and not much else. Ain’t no way me or my kids are eating that. So we wander a bit and find a place that has some options for us. I am not a fan of eating standing up, smooshed in with other people, no matter how good the food is. But that seems to be a part of the charm and the local culture so we buck up and do it. It lasts all of two minutes until we give up and realize Mouse has to be contained to keep him from licking every surface and Bug is overwhelmed by the crowded atmosphere and not hungry anyway. So we shovel food in quick and leave. Magically, five minutes later, Bug’s appetite returns when we pass ice cream. Now he’s hungry and all I’m thinking about is my poor skinny, shivering at the beach kid, and do the most responsible thing I can and give him ice cream.
We meander through the streets, soaking up the street music and an abundance of architecture and languages. Then it’s off to the hotel for some quiet time and a quick nap for Mouse.
When we’re ready to go again we take a nice walk to another kick-ass playground. Bug only wants to chuck his airplane glider and Mouse is all about chasing the shit out of poor pigeons, so the playground is a spectacular success?
We follow it up with a dinner of cheese and bread. Really. It’s all they would eat. But on the plus side they ate all the cheese. I mean stinky, strong, rindy cheese that I can’t get most adults to eat. We’ll try again tomorrow and see if I can add french fries to the mix. Off to wrestle them into bed…
Travels with Larson and Co 