Earlier this year, before I was pregnant and therefore had more energy to enjoy life, I bemoaned a bit that it wasn't the year for beach week. My sisters and I like to rent a beach house ever other year for a vacation. It is really an ideal vacation if you have multiple families and young children. You can maintain sleep and nap schedules, cook familiar food, and meet people at the beach or at home when it is convenient for you and your family. Finn is at the age where I thought he would really enjoy such a vacation.
As if by divine intervention, I got an email from my brother-in-law inviting us to such a beach week. Turns out he had/has a student (an woman of advanced years with children and grandchildren of her own) who owns a beach house within reasonable distance of all of us. She offered the beach house to my brother-in-law for the convenient price of FREE. So my sisters and I jumped at the opportunity.
This is the second beach week where I have been pregnant. In one sense, it is great: many distractions, limited responsibility, lots of sun. On the other, it always seems to coincide with the Great Thickening that occurs. You know, the phase where you just look and feel fat and wide. Not the best moment to don swimming apparel. Oh well.
Finn, like I supposed, had a glorious time. He loved the water (as long as he was safely held by his parents), enjoyed building huge sand piles with his dad, and followed his cousins around with loving and rapt devotion. (The cousins, in turn, were wonderful playmates for him which made me love them even more.)
The weather also cooperated. The week we were there, it was a nice, temperate high-70's and mid-80's with a decent breeze to keep all those annoying bugs away rather than the sweltering 90's of the week before. Small miracles. That is what life is all about.