I may have lived in land-locked Kentucky my whole life, but I’ve loved the beach for a long time. Growing up, my family vacationed on Florida’s Panhandle many years in a row. I’ve taken road trips with friends to Naples {twice}, Tampa, and Panama City.
Almost eight years ago, a hurricane changed our plans to vacation with my family in Perdido Key, Florida. We ended up in Hilton Head, SC. And, you know, besides a trip to Jacksonville Beach when my dad was working there in 2006, I hadn’t been back to Florida. But I’ve been to South Carolina five times since then {July 2005. June 2008. July 2010. July 2012. November 2012.} and seen the beauty of the northern Atlantic coast.
When the save-the-date card for my cousin’s Feb. 9, 2013 wedding on St. Pete Beach, Florida, arrived in my mail box several months ago, I heard the Gulf Coast calling my name. I didn’t realize I’d missed it. Of course, I’m not likely to ever deny a beach my presence if it’s possible to be there, where the land meets the water and downs out the chaos of everyday life.
We spent four nights in Madeira Beach, one of the many Gulf beaches near Tampa. Our condo sat at the end of the row of buildings next to John’s Pass, so we could look to the south and see water and a drawbridge and out to the west and see the ocean. The location was lovely.
I ran on the beach a couple of times. Half of my family of four went to my cousin’s wedding while the other half went to the immediate care center because Cate spiked a fever just days after her brother started a fever with strep throat. We saw Winter from “Dolphin Tale” and spent a day at Busch Gardens. We ate good food, played Spoons, and hung out around the heated pool and on the beach.
Yes, I could have spent another week {at least …} there. Good call, Jennifer, on planning a beach wedding in February. We loved being there and loved an excuse to come back to Florida. It didn’t take long for me to remember why I loved the Gulf Coast, where white sand covers the ground and the sun sets perfectly behind the water horizon.
Even in this paradise, imperfect life creeps in.
Our first morning there, Ben woke up with a rash. Turns out it can come with strep throat, according to my nurse friend who consulted a resource to see if it’s “normal” for one to show up after a few days of antibiotic. Ben spent Wednesday and Thursday — the two days before we left — with a fever that wouldn’t quite break as his body battled strep throat.
My nurse friend Courtney told me to make sure it didn’t spread to his trunk. I really thought she texted the wrong word. I couldn’t figure out what autocorrect mistakenly corrected. I was alone in my confusion. My husband and sister-in-law knew she meant his chest and belly.
After swimming in the {chilly} ocean and then the {heated} pool, Cate couldn’t get warm. I figured it was just her body still chilly from the ocean swim. But even after a hot shower, it took a jacket in nearly 80 degree weather to warm her little body. The ocean was nothing like “The Bachelor” polar bear plunge I’d just days before on TV. After lunch, some homework and watching a movie with cousins, she walked up to me and told me she needed to take a nap. I saw glassy eyes and a flushed face. The thermometer confirmed: 102.2.
She ended up at the immediate care center, thanks to her Daddy who was missing the wedding we flew to Florida to attend. I was pretty sure she had strep throat and even tried to call our pediatrician back home. Cate’s official diagnosis was tonsillitis. And thankfully she perked up the next morning and was able to enjoy the rest of our vacation.
Meanwhile, I rushed around to get wedding-ready {read: shower and put on a skirt} and forgot to put back on my insulin pump. Of course I didn’t realize until eight of us filled a mini van.
We turned around and my gracious sister-in-law {who was closer to the door than my third-row seat next to the boys and their car seats} saved us some time by going back up to our fifth-floor condo to retrieve my pump from the bathroom counter. This is the same sister-in-law who is a hair stylist and offered to blow dry my hair. Seriously, that’s speaking my love language. I would hire someone to come blow dry my hair every day if that a realistic option.
Then we had to wait for the drawbridge to come back down before we moved south on Gulf Boulevard to St. Pete Beach. We pulled into the parking lot about 12 minutes before the wedding was scheduled to start but couldn’t find a parking spot. We ran by the valets, questioning why we didn’t think of that option, right at wedding start time. Seeing the bridal party still gathered not at the ceremony site was a relief. We found our way to seats and took deep breaths.
After the wedding was over, my mom told Ben he was good. “I not make any noise!” he said. Of course, part of him not making any news was the yogurt-covered raisins he ate and stored for later in his shirt pocket.
That’s my wedding date. A guy of many emotions.
Back at the condo, Cate rested and thankfully her fever came down. It’s worth noting in a matter of three days, I had two kids start amoxicillin. And it was Cate’s second time in less than a month. Ah, motherhood, always keeping us on our toes. It’s certainly the job that never takes a vacation.
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