Apologies for the length... It's been a long week

I have no idea how it’s possible for 3/5 of us to have trouble sleeping tonight. It’s nearly midnight on the East Coast, and Aidan and Ella have only just now gone to sleep. I probably jinxed a good night of sleep with this simple statement: “The best part of today is that you KNOW the kids will sleep.” That was a rookie mistake, and I’m in no way a rookie. Second mistake: Make a plan to be up at 6 to catch a ferry. It’s like having an early flight. Inevitably, you fall asleep only a couple of hours before you are meant to leave.

Yesterday the kids were given a choice of the Mystic Aquarium or the Seaport and chose the Seaport. Like so many Americans, they were certainly unclear about for what they were voting; however, at the end of the day, even though they weren’t entirely impressed, they had forgotten the other candidate.

The Seaport was an “authentic” replica of a 19th century port town. Sounds great, right? It really wasn’t bad. The buildings in the seaport were all historic but were not all built in Mystic. They were “shipped” in (pardon) from around New England to recreate the town, as it would have been in the 1800’s. For a family with absolutely zero knowledge of shipbuilding, sailing, tying knots in ropes, or barrel making, it managed a score of “moderate entertainment.”

We began our tour in a confusing little barn of a museum of small wooden boats, called cats. Had it been a museum of early models of cars, I might have been able to feign some knowledge to impart to the kids; however, I was just as bewildered as the kids. Ok, so this one was sold as a kit through Sears and Roebuck in the 1930’s…. ummmmm. Once we gave up on the dark little barn of dusty old boats, we were directed to the tall ships. Whew! That was close. We almost had a mutiny on a very little Bounty.

The tall ships were open for exploration. Aidan led the way into the “hold,” or something like that, where the kitchen and bunks were located. The next ship on the dock was a replica of the slave ship Amistad, also somewhat interesting to the adults, but the kids just saw it as another opportunity to play pirate. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the real Amistad was once a vessel of something far worse than pirates.

Following the tour of the tall ships, we strolled around the seaport village, checking out some of the historic buildings. The most interesting was the 1876 schoolhouse. Inside a man old enough to have been the first schoolmaster was giving a lesson as it would have been taught in the year the schoolhouse was built. Aidan played along, enthusiastically answering the questions in competition with the 10-year-old girl next to him….a couple of nerds… but it was cute.

After leaving the schoolhouse, we needed a break from the heat, so we sought respite in the Children’s “Museum.” Thinking we would be entering an actual museum of the seaport geared for kids, we were surprised to discover that the “museum” wasn’t really a museum at all. It was more like a pre-school classroom with ocean related puzzles and games. Initially, I was disappointed, but the kids seemed to enjoy it. Abby and Ella sat at a table and worked puzzles for a good hour before getting bored. Even Aidan was somewhat entertained by the games inside. When there were no more puzzles to complete, we moved on to the playground and the Map Room. Inside the Map Room, the kids could play with giant wall maps of the world and create their own maps to take home. Again, it was enough to hold their attention for a half an hour and gave us a break from the weather.

For me, the best part of the day came a few minutes later when we sat down to lunch at Mystic Pizza. The movie of the same name had been a favorite of mine as a teenager. I was only mildly disappointed to discover that the place plays the film on continuous loop all day, every day. Still, the pizza was a “Little Slice of Heaven.”

“Authentic replicas” aside, the town itself couldn’t have been more pleasant and all agreed that it was one of our favorite stops thus far. It didn’t hurt that Brent found a Tim Horton’s.

The next day, it was time again to pack up the camp and move on. The uneventful morning drive to Cape Cod was a breeze and we arrived at the Cape Cod Camp Resort only two hours later. This campground was even better than the last and maybe better than any since Fort Wilderness at Disney World. We checked in and were given directions to the un-hitching area where we were required to remove the tow vehicle before driving on to the back-in campsite where we would spend the next two nights.

Eager to get unhooked and parked, I jumped from the RV ready to help Brent take the Sienna off the tow dolly…maybe I should have just stayed in the rig as usual. For those of you who have seen my van, it’s obvious to even the most oblivious observer that I’m not a great driver… really, I’m not even a GOOD driver. Why I thought I should help with this unhooking is beyond me and even stranger that Brent allowed me to assist. As I began backing off the dolly, I heard a horrible noise. I looked up to see, first, the horror on Brent’s face, followed by the entire front of my van detached from the rest and left where it began… at the front of the dolly. At this point I was more than a little afraid to get out of the van, as Brent was spinning on his heels and actually punching the air. He was HOT. I quietly and calmly approached the beast with a solemn apology as he attempted to reattach the front of my car. Thankfully, it popped back into place but the plastic screws holding it on the frame were lying broken and scattered around the parking lot. I got back in the van to follow Brent to the parking spot and noticed that as he sat fuming behind the wheel that the kids were probably hearing some pretty choice vocabulary at that moment. To have been so angry and annoyed with me, Brent did manage an excellent and speedy recovery. The best part is that a day later HE accidentally backed into a concrete wall. There wasn’t any new damage, but it did provide a hearty laugh or two that even the “highwayman” can make a mistake.

Back to the night of no sleep… I knew it would happen. When the alarm went off at 6, I told Brent to forget it. The kids were still sleeping and we weren’t about to wake them. Selfishly, I wanted a little more time to rest as well. When the kids finally woke at 8, we checked the ferry schedules and devised a plan to go to Nantucket for the day; however, just before departing, we kind of chickened out. It isn’t something Brent and I do often, but not having ever been to Nantucket, we didn’t know what to expect. We had worked so hard on this trip and we kind of needed a break, so we settled on Martha’s Vineyard instead. We honeymooned there almost 9 years ago, so we had an idea of how to handle it with the kids.

Since Brent and I would be renting bikes on the island instead of paying the $130 to take the van across, we threw Aidan’s bike in the van and made our way to the ferry parking. We were directed to the “Bike Bus” since we were toting Aidan’s little Diamondback. On board, we were the only passengers on this bus. We wouldn’t be departing for 20 minutes, so we chatted with Lorraine, the animal rescuer/grandmother/ferry bus driver, who was one of the most NEW ENGLAND-ish New Englanders I have ever had the pleasure to meet. The kids didn’t quite know what to make of her frank way of speaking and she challenged everything my precocious 7 almost 8-year-old said. It was a fabulous learning experience for my little Southern boy who is hardly ever put in his place by our polite fellow Southerners. She kind of gave him hell, so to speak, and he hung in with her. For once, I saw my sweet little know-it-all humbled but in a good way. They went head to head for the entire 20 minute wait while she shared her the watermelon from her packed lunch with the girls. Lorraine was a real character and we are better for the time spent with her. She taught my kids more about New England in that brief 20 minutes than they have learned in the three days we have been here. At the end of the bus ride, she called Aidan over to her. She asked if she could give him a hug and then pulled something from her backpack. It was her part of her uniform, the baseball hat that says “Steamship Authority – M.V. and Nantucket.” She told Aidan that she never wore the hat and had been looking for the right boy to give it to. He sweetly accepted and she asked him for a hug. He obliged sweet and frank grandmother/bus driver Lorraine and departed with his bike. She told the girls that she didn’t have anything for them, but she offered them the rest of the watermelon from her lunch. This was going to be a good day.

We boarded the ferry for the 30 minute ride to the Vineyard. The weather was gorgeous, if a bit hot. We docked in Vineyard Haven and walked a couple of blocks to the famous and slightly overrated Black Dog Tavern for lunch. After lunch, we walked to the bike rental shop and arranged for 2 adult bikes and a little tow car for Abby and Ella. Clearly, I was not allowed to have any kind of association with a dolly, so Brent would be towing the girls behind his bike. Aidan would be riding his own bike.

I imagined traffic, but I imagined it a little less aggressive. I mean we were on a vacation island. Slow down, people! I started the day terrified that Aidan would wobble into traffic, but he was managing ok and THRILLED to be doing such a big kid thing as riding a bike on the ROAD. We rode about 2 miles before we took our first break at the top of Telegraph Hill. Aidan was utterly exhausted since his tiny wheels had to turn twice as fast to keep up with ours and without the benefit of shifting gears. It was also incredibly hot for M.V.

After a brief rest at the top of the hill we pedaled the next 2 miles into Oak Bluff. We briefly considered stopping there for the day and hitting the beach, but it was a bit crowded. We knew the next few miles were supposed to bring more public beach access, so we kept on going toward Edgartown. It turn out that we made an excellent choice. The next beach we came to was a relatively quiet state park. We parked the bikes and swam in the semi-frigid but shallow and calm water for about 2 hours. Here, the kids met up with some locals who showed them how to find crabs. A few minutes later, Aidan had become an expert and began terrorizing his sisters in the usual fashion.

Back on the bikes at 4:00, we realized that we hadn’t left much time for the ride back to the ferry. Another Griswold moment followed…. Sure that we could make it back to Vineyard Haven, I insisted that we pedal furiously past Oak Bluffs and up Telegraph Hill into town. After about 4 miles of absolutely killing it, Aidan’s batteries ran a little low and he bailed into the sand just on the other side of Telegraph. It was 4:37 and we could see the ferry in the distance. We abandoned hope of making it and turned around to try for the 6:15 back in Oak Bluffs, which required another trip up the hill. Aidan thought briefly of crying but held on.

The next day, today, we moved the RV just an hour up the road ro Normandy Farms Resort. This place is, by far, the nicest campground imaginable. It has 4 pools, a rec center with an indoor pool, softball fields, and a concierge. Who knew such a place existed?

After setting up camp, we jumped into the car and headed for the Quincy Adams T-stop where we could leave the van and take the train into Boston. The kids were so excited to be taking their first ever subway ride.

We spent the afternoon in Boston, first stopping at the Boston Common and then walking to Faneuil Hall. After that, we went on to our favorite part of town, the North End for dinner at Giacoma’s. The waitress, as usual at Giacoma’s, didn’t waste any time. She pressed us for our order but paused long enough to learn that Aidan’s birthday is tomorrow. Normally, I would be appalled at the singing of Happy Birthday in such a place, but Aidan was surprised beyond belief when she had the restaurant play a canned rendition of Happy Birthday as he stood for acknowledgement. That lucky kid. After a fantastic meal of linguine and clams, etc., we walked across the street to Mike’s Pastries for ice cream and the kids’ first cannoli. In terms of what we accomplished with three little kids, I would say it was a pretty darn good day.

Tomorrow, Aidan’s birthday, we plan to go back into the city for the afternoon. We have a reservation for a Tall Ship cruise in the Boston Harbor that will re-enact the ORIGINAL tea party. No jokes from my more conservative friends, please. The kids can’t wait to throw the “tea” into the harbor. Let’s just hope Sarah Palin doesn’t make an appearance.