Arizona Bar to Pool Bar

We.  Are.  DONE!  The Arizona State Bar is behind us!

Feel free to shout "hallelujah", and maybe even do a little victory dance in Roy's honor.  But maybe hold off on the full-on celebratory Gangnam Style routine until we get the test results back.  {Although I have complete faith in you, babe!}

Roy isn't done with school until May, but we are so done stressing over that dreaded exam-that-determines-your-future.  All three of us needed a break; a time to unwind, unplug, and just be together.  Preferably somewhere with sandy beaches, and a pool bar with virgin piña coladas.

Our friends, the Bowens, had just endured the same hair-tearing experience we had.  Another couple, the Smiths, were just gearing up for the bar themselves.  In the spirit of relaxation and forgetting the Arizona bar altogether, we all headed down to Rocky Point.


Though the weather was crazier than I've ever seen it there {winds threatening to chuck the porch furniture off the balcony} we still got to spend some time enjoying the beach.  And the rolling, brisk water.



Of course it wouldn't be Rocky Point without the occasional piece of trash or giant dead pelican.  But really, there's no better place to be than the beach.


Unfortunately, not everyone is a fan.


Oh Camden, my sweet, timid child.  For him, I could see how the roaring waves would be unnerving.  They were larger and louder than usual, thanks to the weather.  Okay, understandable.  He was only happy at about this distance:


But sand?  He's afraid of sand?!
I mean, he walked fine on the firm, still-wet sand pictured above.  But as soon as it started getting shifty underfoot, he panicked like he was going to sink into it.  Watching the other babies happily dig holes and splash in the water made me a little jealous, stuck up at the top of the beach, safely atop scratchy towels.


In an effort to help my boy make peace with sand, I grabbed a pail and sat down with him in my lap.  I dropped seashells into the pail and sifted fine sand through my fingers.  "See?  Nice sand."  Camden tentatively began picking out shells and dropping them into the pail.  Once he seemed comfortable touching the sand with his fingertips, I patted his bare feet on the sand.  Good response.  I thought I'd even get a smile out of him, so in one scoop I buried his feet beneath the sand and said, "Where are your toes?  Where'd your toes go?"

It took a moment.  He stared at his ankles, back and forth.  Then sheer panic; "I don't know!  I DON'T KNOW WHERE MY TOES ARE!!!!  AAAAAHHHH!!!!!" washed over him.  I'm talking complete meltdown, "I've lost my feet and I'll never walk again" end-of-the-world hysteria.

So if anything I've scarred him for life.  Son, if you ever wonder where your irrational fear of sand came from, I'll point you to this post.  My bad.

At least you liked the pool!


The guys got to go boogie boarding, and had a trip into town, but the fishing trip we planned for them didn't work out due to the high probability that the wind would take down any vessel on the water.



We girls darted into the water too.  Even Darcee!  That woman is brave - Jenn thought she was going to have to rescue that pregnant lady from some monster waves.  I tried to dip my head in the water to say I went in all the way, but really I just smacked my face into a wave and ran out squealing.

Relaxing while babies are running around isn't easy, even on vacation.  But the guys gave us girls some major beach time to ourselves, which was seriously great.

The kids are all very close in age, and none are really interested in each other yet.  But I think it's safe to say that all are interested in melons.


And that little, pint-sized broom.

We spent a little bit of time at the malecon, letting the Bowens and Smiths check out the shops and souvenirs.  Camden thought he was in heaven when he found the stairs there.  He may not be brave with sand, but he has no problem running around at full speed through a strange new place with crowds of people, teenagers skateboarding, and loud music bands playing all around him.



At the end of every day we had chlorine on our skin, salt in our hair, and babies who slept hard, exhausted from all the fun.  Once they were asleep we adults either played games, talked, or split up to watch TV.  Basketball in the living room for the boys.  Downton Abbey, huddled together on a bed, for the girls.  When my head finally hit the pillow sometime past midnight every night, I fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves and wind beating on the sliding glass door to the balcony.  Perfect white noise.


Oh, maybe I should mention that my little brother was there with us.  Zac and a few of his friends were staying in my parent's condo down the hall while we were staying in my grandparent's.  We only really saw the teens when they came over for meals, and occasionally down at the beach playing spike ball.  I think they spent most of the time planted on couches, enjoying a Lord of the Rings marathon.

On the way home Zac's friend almost didn't make it across the border.  The border patrolman gave him a really hard time about having only a birth certificate and driver's license to show.  No passport.  Oops.

But hey, if they'd sent us back I don't think I would have been too sad about it.


So long!


2 comments:

  1. Lovely post and lovely family! I actually am reading it in Rocky Point, but without the kiddos and hubby as I enjoy a very quiet girl's week here. So strange. And did I mention, quiet?!?

    I laughed at the part about fear of the sand. I feel your pain. Samuel screamed like monsters were coming out of the sand to eat his flesh. But it turned out not to be the sand, but the little beach worms that come out of the holes. To him they must've looked like giant snakes. I had to carry him anytime we ventured toward the water.

    Just wanted to check in and let you know I enjoy your writing. Keep up the great work!

    Sincerely,
    Rosa Linda

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    1. Thank you for your kind words. Poor Samuel, flesh-eating-worms are scary indeed! Haha!

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