Our Day in New Jersey

We all slept in, which was good. Because four boys, who were wired the day before from the excitement of imminent departure, wired from ten hours in the care, have plenty of energy to contain once fully awake. Isaiah wanted to try to be the Princess and the Pea, so he stacked up all the pillows on one bed.

Then the boys decided one bed, good; two beds, better. So they created quite the stack, though it was too tippy for true relaxation, pea or no pea.

By the time they had eaten yogurts, muffins, and scones, their energy was at a fever pitch. They changed into swimsuits and we headed to the pool. Which was a little disconcerting, because Phil was up ironing, and I didn't want to get my foot wet, so I really hoped the boys would not drown. Isaiah self-propelled for the first time! A few feet of inelegant swimming, but swimming it was.

Phil's father and sister brought the boys clothes: shirts, vests, ties, pants. We met our little nephew for the first time, too. After a whirlwind of dressing, we went to church (and almost weren't on time).

I've never been to a Catholic service before. The priest seemed a genuinely nice man; he had transferred to the diocese on July 1, which was not a lot of time to get to know the family. After the service, there was a military salute. (Uncle Richard was injured in Vietnam.) A bugle played Taps, and I hadn't seen the musician until he started playing. It brought tears to my eyes.

We all went to lunch, then, at a seafood place right on the water. The boys were interested to see the fishing boats head out to sea, and the sightseeing boats come and go. A long time family friend heard that I wanted to take the boys to the boardwalk (their energy increased by the minute). She was horrified to hear that I wasn't intending to take them on the rides, and pressed some money on Phil.

We had a great time for those 90 minutes. The boys and I rode a little train around a track. It was slow and rather silly, but fun in a "I can't believe I'm doing this" sort of way.

Next I took the three older boys on a miniature roller coaster. I don't think any of them enjoyed the five times around very much ("It was a bit too fast for me,") but when they staggered off, there was Joe, waiting to go on, too.

He wasn't quite tall enough, but if I held him, he could ride. So I held on tight. He didn't particularly like it, either. But he was brave to ride.

The older boys flew.

That was their favorite.

And Abraham had seen a carousel from the train, and he had wanted to ride the carousel. So off he went, with Grandma. He was the perfect age, and as the ride went around, he had an ear-to-ear grin each pass. "My horse's name is Racer!" he called.

By that time, we were extremely thirsty, walking the boardwalk in almost 100 degree weather, so we splurged for the fresh squeezed lemonade, with tablespoons of white sugar lurking at the bottom of each quart-sized cup.

The boys and I walked down to the Atlantic. I think the tide was coming in, so they touched the water of a recent wave, without getting too close.

And then we left. Ninety minutes of vacation at the boardwalk, just about perfect.

Aunt Barbara had a lovely pool, so the boys got on their swimsuits. Even Abraham got in this time, as did Phil for a while. He had to take a nap, so we didn't leave quite when we had hoped: a 4:30pm departure would have put us home around midnight. But it was almost two hours later before we finally tore ourselves away.

Happily, we didn't get lost. Unhappily, we hit inclement weather.

Well, the worst moment was going over the Delaware. An extremely strong gust hit while we were over water, and actually displaced the car. We were in the outside lane, and though I'm sure it would have taken much more to actually push us into the water, it was a heart-stopping moment.

But that was a brief moment. Later, we hit mile after mile of torrential downpour. Perhaps sixty miles of intermittent downpour and let up. With the wipers going as fast as possible, it was still a wall of water in front. And though we didn't ever hydroplane, the idea that we could, at any moment, was disconcerting.

It was raining so hard, the cars around us turned on their distress lights, presumably just to alert all cars around that they could not see the road well.

Two miles from our turnoff in Fredricksburg, we hit a traffic jam. It was right about midnight, and as far as we could see, there was a mass of red taillights. When we turned off, even there we could not see the end of it.

A few miles later, and we were driving through the less populated sections of Virginia. It had been almost 36 hours since we were in the country, and it was a relief to return to the quiet, the lack of press of humanity.

But at 12:30, Phil said, "I could probably go to sleep." Seventy-five miles from home, and we were both tired enough that conversation felt almost impossible. Phil parked, but the boys woke up and interrupted any napping.

Phil got out to stretch, and we pressed on.

Shortly before two, we turned in. The dogs were enthusiastic in their welcome. The house, without air conditioning, was warm. But we fell into bed and were grateful to be home, safe, a day of vacation and family, of sun, beach, pool, and fellowship to look back to with happy memories.