Spring Break - Part II

Continued from Spring Break - Part I ...

And Then The Paramedics Arrived

But only after the resort's security guard -- a guy who's mannerisms and deadpan delivery reminded me of David Puddy on Seinfeld -- planted himself in our room to witness the scene on behalf of the resort's legal department.  Puddy was convinced I needed oxygen.

"Do you think she needs oxygen?" he asked my husband.

"No.  I think she's breathing just fine," replied Chris.

This exchange occurred several times before the end of the night.

The paramedics determined I did not have appendicitis or a gall bladder thing and was likely experiencing severe food poisoning -- pain and non-stop, violent vomiting.  They were cleared to treat me immediately in the room.  I received fluids and two rounds of Please-Make-The-Throw-Up-Till-I-Pass-Out-Stop medication.

The paramedics and Puddy stayed with us a while, watched me wretch, writhe in pain, and examined all body fluids I produced.  They complimented my accuracy and tidyness as I contorted and crawled from the bed to the floor to be sick.  They also loved my purple sand pail and the Star Wars Legos on the nightstand that I never once disrupted during the ordeal.

And Then It Was A New Day

I was sick a couple more times that night but managed to rest a few hours before the boys woke up, oblivious to the visitors and drama while they slept.  I spent the day propped up under an umbrella with sunglasses on, like the guy on Weekend at Bernie's, bucket nearby, trying to keep an eye on our kids, while Chris moved all of our stuff to a new room.

There was no funny smell, we had a beautiful view, and the purple bucket was retired as a sick receptacle and sand castle tool.  The boys wouldn't touch it.

And Then We Got On A Boat

The next day began to feel a bit more like a real vacation.  We took a snorkeling excursion around the island of Lanai.  I wasn't able to snorkel because I was still recovering from food poisoning and had a touch of sea-sickness [I'm a fun date].  But the trip was worth seeing the whales, dolphins, octopus, lava tubes containing the remains of ancient Hawaiian royalty, the blowhole, and the memories Chris and the boys made while I stood by the boat captain battling nausea.  Kind of like motion sickness in a car, if a person is queasy as a passenger they often feel better behind the wheel.  I tried not to annoy Captain Chad, and the 20 other seated passengers.

I left my post as co-captain for a photo op in front of the blowhole.  The five-year-old-boy remained in diva mode.  No pictures.

And Then Middle Boy Got Sick

We think it was simply TOO MUCH that caused Middle Boy to vomit eight times that night.  Too much sun, too much boat time, too much rich food, too much gosh-darn fun.  He felt better the next day, had no fever and was ready to hit the beach.

And Then We Decided To Reclaim Our Vacation

We were all weak-kneed at the beginning of Day Five.  We hadn't experienced the laid-back island vibe we were hungry for.  Chris and I extended our trip a few days.  Reset button?  Hit.

And Then We Got Our Groove On

We swam, explored, picnicked with friends, ate, drank and enjoyed ourselves.

Unfortunately, almost every attempt at a family photo failed because of the youngest Ross boy's unwillingness to participate.

A few shots kind of turned out, but we'd been eating [and drinking] at Mama's Fish House and this Mama took her shirt off.  I had a bathing suit on, but I looked conspicuously unclothed compared to the rest of the family.  It's Chris' fault.  I will have a friend photoshop my tank top ON my body before I share.

And Then It Was Time To Return To The Mainland

Our red-eye flight was scheduled to leave late Thursday, March 10th.  We were tan, tired, ready to head home, but also excited to plan our return trip.

And Then The Tsunami Warnings Blared

Unbeknownst to us, the tragic earthquake in Japan had occurred.  The airport was intense and our flight took off 20 minutes prior to the scheduled departure in an effort to clear the island of as many tourists as possible.  We made it on to the plane.  A paradigm shift of epic proportions consumed Chris and me as we reflected on our Griswold-like vacation bad luck.  No.  We were lucky beyond comprehension.

And Then Two Of Us Were Wet

The five-year-old-boy and I were seated together on the flight home.  Without going into detail, we experienced a personal tsunami-like experience while he was sleeping wrapped around my body.  Our misfortune resulted in his pants and shirt, as well as my pants and shirt, becoming WET.

I chose to muscle through the next few hours in wet clothes, but our youngest son took the brunt of the wave.  A kind flight attendant begged a diaper from another passenger and gave us a clean blanket.  While he slept, Chris and I were able to remove wet clothes from his lower body, replacing them with the diaper and an almost fashionable red sarong/kilt.

And Then Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

Inspite of the rough spots on our trip, we had a wonderful time.  The tragic situation in Japan, the fact that we serendipitously caught a flight hours before chaos hit the island, and the request from a dear friend who is battling recurrent ovarian cancer to "drink for two" [I can't hang, but don't tell her] have humbled this family beyond words.

Spring Break 2011 was memorable, and I wouldn't change that for the world.

Here's to you, Emmy Lou.

Spring Break - Part I

The five-year-old-boy is quasi-civilized now. Spring break and vacation options are growing more vast by the day. We decided to travel to Maui late-February, early-March, for our sons' spring break. I inventoried bathing suits, purchased basics for boys who have grown a freakish amount in the last six months and tried to put a positive spin on our return red-eye flight.

We woke the kids up very early on Sunday, February 26th and headed for the airport to catch our 6:30 a.m. flight to L.A. where we would board a plane to Maui. We were stoked!

And Then The Flight Was Delayed

Unfortunately, our flight was delayed by a couple of hours resulting in us missing our connection in L.A. We sat in the LAX airport for almost nine hours and arrived in Maui late that night. We'd had a few tears and discussed how life is messy and we need to handle bumps in the road... better. We weren't feeling as stoked.

[Oldest Boy and Middle Boy hanging tough.]

[The Five-Year-Old-Boy became a Diva and would allow very few pictures to be taken from this point forward.]

And Then They Lost Our Luggage

Oldest Boy [13], a type 1 diabetic, had carry-on luggage with medical supplies and most of his clothes. The rest of us had nothing. Middle Boy [11] was able to borrow underwear and pajamas from his brother, but Chris and the five-year-old-boy had to rough it. I mortified my sons and guaranteed my husband wouldn't touch me that night by wearing a pair of Oldest Boy's clean underwear [boxer briefs] and his Mickey Mouse t-shirt after showering.

And Then We Lost The Five-Year-Old-Boy

We were all tired, our rooms smelled funny, and Chris was on the phone with the airline trying to find our luggage. We'd been up for almost 24 hours and were disappointed that our plan to hit the beach the afternoon we arrived had failed. A travel day that long should have landed us in Australia...or on the moon. 

When I got out of the shower near midnight, wearing my son's underwear and t-shirt, I walked from room to room assessing our situation. Husband on phone, older boys settling in...but no little boy. I went through our rooms again like the Tasmanian Devil and screamed at my husband, "How did YOU let this happen?" when it was evident the youngest Ross boy was gone.

Chris ran out a front door while the two older boys and I cried and opened balcony doors in piercing fear and disbelief.

The phone rang and someone had found our son roaming the halls and walked him to the lobby. In our arrival commotion he'd been locked out of our funny smelling rooms. He was missing for five minutes, but they were terrifying moments.

And Then We Hit The Beach...Finally

After a long night with only three hours of sleep, our child and our luggage found, and a call made to request a room change because of the smell and bad karma, we donned our own bathing suits and marched our white bodies to the beach. The day lifted our spirits. Maybe this vacation wouldn't suck!

And Then We Went To The Luau

If things had gone as planned, we would have arrived in Maui on time, had a leisurely first afternoon, a decent night's rest and been ready for the Luau I'd booked for the second night there. Although tired, we were excited to attend the show that was highly recommended. The Luau was entertaining, the food was good and when a storm rolled in and it began to rain, ponchos were quickly distributed to 600 guests. The five-year-old-boy fell asleep in my lap towards the end of the evening, but he was content. What a nice vacation...

[Oldest Boy helping Middle Boy make the "Hang Loose" sign, not to be confused with the "Rock On" or "I love you," sign.]

And Then My Stomach Danced

Not in a cute or jolly way. Trouble was brewing. Big trouble. I looked across the table at Chris in panic. "Something's wrong. I'm going to be sick. Take him," I mouthed as I almost threw our sleeping child to Chris.

I willed my body to not explode in the bushes at the Luau [I still owe God a follow-up conversation—I don't remember exactly what I promised] and the miracle continued until Chris managed to get our car to the front of the facility, driving over 600 people, and loaded our three boys and me into the car. "Drive fast," I said, "It's going to be bad." And out of the parking lot we screeched.

And Then I Threw Up

We didn't get far. Chris pulled over the first time right outside the Luau. Headlights from the cars behind us provided the perfect spotlight for my show. We continued to our hotel, Chris stopped the car when I gave the signal—which was any movement or sound—and our three sons remained reverent and stoic. Chris maneuvered our rental car as close to a hotel entrance as possible. Oldest Boy and Middle Boy escorted me to our room while Chris parked, pausing to cover me as I defiled the resort's beautiful landscaping along the way.

I made besties with the toilet and a bucket, Chris got all three boys in bed and promised them I would live.

"I think I need help," I said when Chris asked how I was doing.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"Maybe."

Chris made some phone calls and discovered all urgent care facilities were closed. The nearest hospital was 30 minutes away. He wanted to drive me there.

"We can't get the kids up. They've only had three hours of sleep. And we can't just leave them." I thought for a minute. "Put me in a cab."

"NO. You're crazy."

"Just give me my bucket and call a cab." I was serious and I thought it was the perfect solution.

The next twenty minutes are a blur.

And Then The Paramedics Arrived

To be continued...

V-Day BK [before kids]

Valentine's Day circa 1996...

Chris checked tires, chains, brakes and ensured we had extra tubes and the proper allen wrenches for our bikes. I made sure we had snacks.

We'd head to the desert, ride for a while and stop for lunch. Pop-Tarts and water under a tree.

I frequently crashed—usually pedaling uphill—and Chris always sacrificed his water to clean my scratches.  Sometimes I cried...pain, frustration, fatigue, or simply a bruised ego. Chris was never sharp with me. You almost had it. Take as long as you need—we have plenty of time.

We don't have those bikes, that truck, or live near the tree. And my leg sports a wrinkled knee, a few scars, and evidence of Pop-Tart consumption [as all of our legs should].

But we still have each other this Valentine's Day. Plus three handsome reminders of what intoxication on Pop-Tarts and water—plus playing a little doctor—can produce.

Happy V-Day.