Today has been a shitty day. I have been looking forward to it all week, and it was horrible. Tyler hates the beach. I mean, hates. Hates the sand, the sticky lotion feeling, the sun, the ocean, etc. He just does not like it. I love it! I love the sand, the sticky lotion feeling, the sun, the ocean, etc! I really like it a lot. So he agrees to go with Livia and me when he's feeling generous and especially family-oriented. So we decide to go today even though it's a holiday weekend, because it's a holiday weekend...
I was up several times with Livia last night because she gets too hot too easily and was over-heated all day yesterday since our apartment cooling system sucks and it's hotter than hell outside. So I wake up with her this morning, as is my weekend duty, to begin the day tired. But her fever is gone; so I'm relieved about that. I prepare us for the trip: gather towels, lotion, buckets and digging devices. I fix a few sandwiches, gather some nalgenes of water, and stick the nilla wafers all in the ice-filled cooler. I get Liv and myself ready. It takes about an hour and quite a bit of energy. Tyler packs the car, and we're off. Half way there, when he has yet to speak b/c he is so bummed to be going to the beach we hit traffic jam central. What should be about an hour drive quickly progressed into two. Liv was crying, I was attempting to feed her lunch and get her to drink from a nalgene (forgot the sippy cup) with jerky stop-n-go movements all while we starred at the bumper of the oversized fire engine bumper, oh wait, just a ford pick-up in front of us. The tension in me started yelling at Tyler and crying with Livia. So by the time we get there, I am pissed at Tyler and the whole situation.
There is no parking left so after circling the lot and catching a departing boogie boarder's spot, we get to our locale en beach and spend several minutes setting-up. Over the course of the next two hours, Livia's heat problem (that I thought would improve in the cold Pacific and breezy beach air) worsens to the point of a head-to-toe rash. Literally, her entire body is blotchy. So we leave and drive home for another hour and a half to nearly run out of gas and have another fight later tonight post-dinner. Livia screamed or fussed most of the evening because she felt so bad and was exhausted. I have a migraine.
wa-hoo. Can't wait to do that again. Why is it so hard to communicate when your expectations go awry so badly?
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