Vacation notes, and a poem

Things to remember for next time:

• Most hotels/vacation rentals can supply a portable crib. Ask before hauling own heavy-ass equipment halfway across globe.
  
• Ditto car rental places and car seats.
  
• Schedule at least one day post-vacation to recover from vacation, unpack, nap, gird loins for the resumption of work, etc.
  
• Figure out all ramifications of the time change beforehand and do not schedule anything across baby's naps/bedtime on "home time."

That said, it was a nice vacation. R and K were safely married off in a touching ceremony, the food was excellent (both at the wedding and all over the island), we got to the beach at least once, and Himself and I got to spend some time together, something we don't always remember to do at home.

The Squid was on his usual schedule, just with less napping and less eating, so we woke up between 3:00 and 4:30 local time each day and went to ground by 4:30 or 5:00. This gave us a lot of time for hanging out by ourselves, and some nice quiet evenings, but meant that our excursion ability was pretty curtailed; between Squidnaps and wedding-related events, we made it to the beach for a few windy hours (baby disapproves of the ocean - too cold! too wet! too big!), into Waikiki once for a trolley ride, and out to breakfast once or twice, but failed to snorkel, see the aquarium, hang out with my Uncle J and his wife, or visit the campus where my parents used to teach. Ah, well. Such is travel with a 7.5-month old. There were still some lovely quiet moments, and I re-read some favorite mystery novels that I found in the vacation rental's wee lending library.

R managed to find us childcare for the wedding (bless her heart) - none of the other parents of small children needed it, but the Squid was the youngest there by at least six months, and it made a big difference. Sadly, we were overanxious and kept interfering and taking over - much to the chagrin of the capable young caretaker, who insisted that she could do it, really - and ended up leaving early anyway. I think it was more guilt at enjoying myself while someone else endured my offspring in full meltdown than any micromanaging mama thing; if I'd been working instead of playing I might have left her to cope with his fusstasticness more. But still, having childcare let us stay for the reception, and eat poké and pork and salad rolls, and make a toast, and take more photos, and generally enjoy our friends' happiness.

Uncle J sent me the following poem, which I found in my email on our return:

Landscape

Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience? Isn't it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.

Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky, as though

all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.

        - Mary Oliver