Why didn’t someone warn me?  Give me a heads up?  Anything? 

Vacationing with a baby is HARD WORK! 

Last Saturday, with the Mommy-mobile packed & ready-to-go we set off for Hilton Head Island.  Along the way, we stopped briefly to begin our caravan with Coach’s brother and his family.  About midway, my BIL phoned to say that they needed to stop.  Their five-year-old was barfing in the backseat.  However, it was a perfect opportunity for us to feed & change Babycakes. 

With the car jammed, there were few places to change a diaper.  The driver’s seat, while small, was the only makeshift changing table I could find.  Any other baby might have just layed there like a good baby but our baby is a BUSY baby.  I opened the diaper, wiped off the #2, Babycakes wriggled away, I wrestled her back, got the diaper on… YES!  Mommy wins!  NO!  6 points for baby!  She had grabbed a cup of Dr. Pepper and was shaking it all over herself and the car.  The look on her face was pure shock – as if to say, “What the hell is going on here?”

By the grace of God, we made it to Hilton Head Island by lunch time.  We all enjoyed the spaciousness of the villa — I was just glad that it was clean.  Babycakes set out exploring, seeking objects to place in her mouth while Coach and I unpacked and set up household. 

Our week was busy with trips to Harbortown, South Beach Marina, swimming at the pool, surf fishing for Coach on Folly Beach, a couple trips to the beach… 

Let’s talk about the beach.  Sunday.  Weather — perfect.  Our villa was VERY CLOSE to the beach, but there was still a 0.2 mile walk to get there.  A windy twisty macadam path led to sand covered stairs & walkways.  Up, down, up down, over the dunes.  In our preparations, we felt like maybe we should take the stroller to the beach.  Wasn’t there a ramp with the stairs? 

Our memories failed us and by then it was too late. 

I stood at the foot of the system of stairs and walkways, sleeping baby in a stroller, beach bags in my arms pondering how I might be able to accomplish the journey.  (Are you wondering where Coach is?  He’s waiting on his mom and following closely behind with the rest of the gear.) 

An older couple from Ohio approached me, “Honey?  How are you going to manage that stroller?” the wife asked. 

“I think I’ll just carry the baby and thump the stroller over the stairs.”  I replied.

“Hank!  Honey, carry this stroller to the beach for this girl,”  she ordered.

“That’s okay.  My husband is coming and I can just wait for him.”

“No, no.  Hank here will carry it for you.  Come on, I’ll help.” 

I thought, “Oh dear God, please don’t let this couple have a stroke carrying my stroller to the beach!”  They made it without breaking a sweat and placed it on the sand.  Now I just had to get up over the dunes and to the beach.  Piece of cake, right?  With Babycakes in my arms, I dragged her stroller through the sand.  Wheels do not roll on hot, dry sand.  Just FYI.  In case you didn’t know. 

Then I was on the lookout for the family.  I continued to drag the stroller through the sand when I heard another voice. “Hold on, ” the voice said calmly, “Papa’s coming.”  An older gentleman, 20 yards away came to my “rescue”.  He took control of the buggy, introduced himself, and immediately made friends with Babycakes.  “Do you see your kin?” he asked.  I scanned the beach and couldn’t find them, so in the meantime he suggested that we come and meet his family.  Babycakes went right to him when he reached his arms out to her and he took her to meet his wife. 

This story gets better. 

I found my kin.  Coach made it to the beach.  We set up the sun cabana for the baby, rolled the towels and blankets out, unfolded the chairs, tuned in the radio, and sat Babycakes in the middle of the blanket.  Does she play with her toys?  Of course not — she makes her move to the sand and without hesitation puts a giant fistful in her mouth. 

crunch. crunch. crunch.

I couldn’t handle it.  I rinsed her mouth out at least half a dozen times before I shouted at Coach to take his daughter to play in the ocean.  In the meantime, the cabana is trying to blow away, the towels are now covered in sand, my diet coke has gotten warm…  I’m not sure what I expected.  My BIL was relaxing in his chair, Coach & Baby are at the water’s edge, so I decided to try to fix the cabana.  With my diet coke in hand, I bent over in the sand, and…

SNAP!  My top went flying off. 

Seriously?  From the other side of the tent I shouted to my BIL, “D, can you please throw me a towel?  Don’t come over here.  Just throw me a towel!!”  The clasp on the top had totally broken, but luckily I came with a dark cover up and I wore that.  Nothing like a little peep show for all the retired folks at Hilton Head.  Wish I could have given them more to look at. 

As frustrating as it was at times, it was well worth all the effort.  There is nothing more rewarding than seeing your child experience the ocean for the first time… and loving it.