We're Back!

It was a vacation weekend.

The drive takes a while and is not my favorite part. I'm too impatient to sit still and confined for long, and there is whining on the way up that feels as if it goes on for hours. At one point, I threaten to leave the car and ride the rest of the way to Pismo Beach in a cab - ALONE - but of course I don't make good on the threat.

I love the feel of cutting across Southern California, cities I recognize and those I don't slipping by outside the windows. I love the golden felt hills studded with cactus or wild flowers, and a bit further north, decorated with the dark, glossy green of live oaks with cows scattered here and there for effect. The cows always move slowly and radiate calm.

One hotel room is a bit too small for four people; I am aware of feeling crowded. There's never much of anything to distract us on TV - so much of it is not okay for the girls to watch. We skim through a bit of Disney Channel and Suze Orman's blunt financial advice.

"She's mean, Mommy!" The girls are shocked at her abrupt bossiness.
"That's the point," I try to explain. "People call her so she can tell them what to do with their money."

We spend little time in the room, only stopping by to shower after a round of swimming. The girls could swim nonstop. My parents in the next room and my brother and sister-in-law on the other side all have different opinions of where we should eat, which towns we should see. Getting together is a constant negotiation of tourist options. It's like writing by committee. The product never quite meets anyone's expectations.

My sister-in-law announced that she is newly pregnant with their first child. We are all beyond ourselves with excitement! I will finally be a real aunt and my daughters will have a cousin!!

From our room, there is an exquisite view of the Pacific coastline. At night, we leave the sliding door open and the room fills with misty salt air and the wonderful thudding of the surf. In the morning, we eat white flour hotel breakfasts at an outdoor table with a million dollar view. My love for the ocean is unbounded.

I don't do much reading - just a little skimming of Anne Lamott's comments about being published. My sister in law and I spend a few hours at the local B&N, skimming books about pregnancy and birth. I try to maintain appropriate excitement/advice levels, being neither too disinterested nor too over the top with enthusiasm (which is an easy state for me to reach. Lately my older daughter has begun to point out that I tend to be MUCH too cheerful, particularly when she feels grumpy.)

I'm keenly aware of the danger of being too opinionated, as I actually wrote my Masters Thesis about how cultural narratives impact birth experiences. (Well, I'd done all that reading when I was pregnant, tons of books. Why waste such good research?) But, in a Zen way, I recognize and validate M's right to choose her own journey through this experience - it's really not about how I would do it.

Oh, and can I say that I cannot WAIT for some of the experiences of parenthood to come crashing down upon bro and sis in law? HA HA HA HA. Tell me that MY toddlers were too loud during past visits.

Sunday, we celebrate my father's 68th birthday with lunch at Marie Calendar's. Gathered around the table, still with that amazing ocean view, we open not only his birthday gifts but also early December 1st presents. Our family exchanges pre-season gifts on December 1. But since we were together, we did them early. Our waitress finds it odd that we are tearing into red and green wrapped parcels in mid-November, but then we are odd. All families are.

We tour the Santa Barbara Mission on the way home. The solemn quietness of the thick adobe walls and the layers of history, belief and oppression wrap around us. We're all entranced by the vast church and its soothing smells of incense and candle wax. I touch a rugged, thick nail in the external Mission wall. It looks hand crafted, uneven and rough; I wonder how old it is, who put it there, what they were thinking while they worked.

After Santa Barbara, the girls sleep. My husband and I listen to Christmas music and make plans for the rest of the holidays. We track back through the string of California cities, strung along the 10 freeway like glistening jewels. Home welcomes us with a warm familiarity.

Next stop, Thanksgiving.