They slept! There’s a normal amount of toddler tantrums! The adults, on the other hand, are CRANKY and just want to sit and sleep. Instead they argue in those hushed and strained tones that parents use around children when they want to strangle each other. But we whisper argue while we walk to the beach and the water/sand/children calm the anxiety and stress. It’s hard to continue to feel murderous when you’re digging sand holes.
The beach fills up quickly and there’s a family with similarly aged children who are very interested in what we’re doing. We giggle at each other’s kids, trade plastic trucks, but generally go about our business. So, I found it strange when they moved all their supplies right next to us and began to utilize our sand toys. I suppose it made sense, as they only had the one truck for two kids. As this is going on another young girl who spoke English began to chat us up and offer babysitting services (she was about six) while her Dad talked to us about her birthday week. I try so hard to set a good example for the kids and every time they’d get possessive about the toys, I reminded them that we had plenty. Everytime I was told by a child that I could go swimming and leave my kids with her I told her how generous she was. I was smiling and affable throughout. But hot damn. I was in hell. I barely had the energy to play with my kids and regulate the possessiveness between the two, let alone adding two other families to the mix. I don’t want to raise antisocial kids, and that’s really hard when you self-identify as a bitch.
Beachtime is finally over and although I loved the time with my family, I was ready to GTFO of that situation. We opt not to bother with an actual lunch and grab bread, cheese, fruit, and veggies from a local store and go to eat in the room. This set up is much easier on the kids. But I realized that I bought salt-free (ie. utterly taste-free) bread and the worst cheese I’ve ever eaten. And I am back to pouting. But I salvage lunch with a bag of peanuts and crackers? I’m having food trouble here. As predicted, there’s not a big vegetarian crowd. But I underestimated the complete lack of options other than pizza, which even I can’t do for every meal. So much is pre-made that there’s not an option to customize. I’m kinda food obsessed; eating is my favorite part of the day, but I can’t even get a fucking salad. Everything labeled vegetarian has chicken and all the cheese comes covered in ham. Don’t’ get me wrong, I’m in caloric overload, but it’s because I feel justified in eating nothing but carbs that are bread and carbs that are ice cream.
All the new cheese is catching up with Mouse who’s happily yelling, “poop” every couple of hours and then running away when I go to change him. Before nap today, after cleaning up that stinky little butt, he runs off as I am putting away supplies. Then I hear him yelling, “poop” at me again. There’s not a diaper on that butt and there’s definitely poop on the floor. He thinks it’s hysterical and I can’t help but laugh. The chances of him trying to poop on the floor again are pretty damn good.
I’m still feeling pouty about my food situation, so I hijack the afternoon and take us to a park and playground that’s close to the only vegetarian pintxo restaurant in the entire city. The park is incredibly beautiful with a great playground, lots of wooded trails to explore, and a duck/swan/peacock pond. Mouse is ecstatic about all of it. But he’s also almost two, so he’s giving the entire park some ambiance and screaming, “No! Mama!” at everything and anything. I’m not even sure what he’s upset about or if this has just become his mantra. But there’s a weird sense of calm, knowing that everyone in the park is actually staring at you and it’s not just your social anxiety. Even the ducks can only keep him happy for about 10 minutes before he needs to test the shit out of his limits and he’s yanked out of there.
We get to the restaurant and there’s hummus. And guacamole. And samosa. And vegetarian chorizo, burgers, falafel in all iterations, seitan, quiche…but they still had to ruin my brie with eggplant. But I’m so dumbed out with bliss that I even eat the stupid eggplant. The kids eat an entire meal. And poor Derek has the same expression I must have had at every other restaurant we’ve been to. But he’s a team player and actually enjoys the food. I’m feeling so overstuffed I would like one of the kids to push me back to the hotel in the stroller, but they refuse, and I waddle home. We end the night at a pastry shop that sells a million tiny pastries and cookies, all about the size of my thumb, and the kids get to pick their own treat. It’s amazing how such a small thing can bring everyone so much happiness. Thank you, sugar.
Travels with Larson and Co 