So after completing my last post I spent a couple hours on the beach with Grace while my sister got a pedicure. Grace loves the beach - running in and out of the freezing waves, grabbing shells and shell fragments and tossing them near our shoes, building and stomping on sand castles, making friends with any and every unsuspecting child that shows up in her general vicinity. Though I, too, love the beach, I found that making sure my niece wasn't lost to the waves at this particularly steep (and therefore dangerous) shore break was exhausting. Rewarding, sure, and precious, yes, but every moment was mildly terrifying.
After a quick shower for the sandy ones, the three of us made it to the Zoo by noon. The first thing we did was sit down to an overpriced calorie laden lunch. We laughed at how our father would so not approve. He would never condone resting without seeing a single animal and he would have lamented how much money we'd spent in so little time. He would have been proud, however, at how we snuck Grace in for free. Though she'll be four in January, she is the size of a normal two year old (just 30 pounds - more than 10 times her birth weight...). We didn't technically lie - we just omitted the truth. Very Catholic of us, I know. But we did coach her on lying about her age (we got her to agree to say, if asked, that she was 2, though she'd still hold up 3 fingers) and we asked her not to talk when we went through the gates (I cringed a little at the quote: "just like when Mommy's on her cell phone..." wondering how often Grace's spectacular gift for gab is stifled when I'm chatting it up with my sister...).
Anyway, we soon made our way out and about and trekked for five hours across the park. I know in my heart that the San Diego Zoo is a gold star in the industry but seeing it through my adult filter I was a bit conflicted and blue. The elephants, for example, are in line for a swanky new pad. But in the meanwhile they stand in a dusty busy intersection, pacing, bored. The male elephant was even reaching over the fence and tossing rocks at the crowd. The polar bears, as I expected, looked hot and dirty and, again, bored and so very caged. The gorillas and orangutans are in these groovy glassed in exhibits where they can choose to sit right up against the viewing wall but the looks on their faces are universally more vacant that I would expect from a primate in the wild. They seem jaded as I imagine I would be if viewed by throngs of people passing by each day.
There were highlights, of course, like the pandas on loan from China. And the hippo exhibit - the best. Again we were just separated by glass but these magnificent creatures cared only about each other, not their audience. They floated and fought and defecated all within inches of Grace's wide eyes. I loved when she squealed, "I touched it!" after one of the two swam right past our spot on the glass. We were apparently still on a schedule, however, as Suz rushed us away. I laughed (/complained) that here she was much like our Dad - keeping pace by walking ten feet ahead most of the time, always rushing to the next destination, never enjoying the moment.
Though we didn't have time for the guided bus tour (which would have been a welcome rest for our tired feet) we did brave the sky ride. Grace was scared to get on but had a blast once she was soaring above the Zoo. The grown ups had the reverse experience. We lamented that due to the hour and the distance that we'd have to board a second time to get back to the exit before closing. To reassure Grace (and myself) I explained that the periodic rumbling (of the tram passing through the series of wheels at the poles that kept it up) was just the sound of the ride farting. This little white lie then became a source of hilarity for me (and embarrassment for Suz) when Grace told Emily (a 2 year old who she'd befriended who left to take the bus) that we weren't going to the bus, we were taking "the farts."
I did notice, however, that unlike the day before, children were having meltdowns left and right. The Zoo is just more physically (and for me, emotionally) more demanding than Sea World, I guess. So it was little surprise that I had a meltdown of my own soon after leaving. I think I would have been fine but I was dragged off to dinner that I was too drained to survive. In contrast to the mojitos and tapas served to us in a private cabana the night before, we went to a crowded salad bar (as in line out the door) fairly far inland (through traffic) and we sat in a room full of school aged girls celebrating the end of their soccer season. I could handle the clapping and the trophies but once the whistles came out of the gift bags I had to flee. I waited in the car for another hour while my sister finished hanging out with her old friends. And by waited I mean I called my mom and nearly cried about how exhausted and trapped and sort of neglected I felt.
After finally getting a shower and some rest we spent one last morning at the beach. Grace put on her own suit - backwards so the bow could be on the front. Again we were rushed by my sister - this time out of the hotel. Though I'd secured us a late check out, Suz couldn't stand the tranquility of the beach and packed the car while we played in the waves. She then stood with the front door open (creating a wind tunnel) as I tried to dress for the day (hair wet from my final shower) and collect my belongings. We ended up leaving 45 minutes sooner than we had to. I'm not sure what the hurry was. Her flight out wasn't for seven more hours. Anyway, we then went, my small car filled to the brim with luggage, to kill time by shopping. We found our way to the border outlets (Mom would be proud) after a few wrong turns in San Ysidro (or, as I was calling it, Amerijuana). As we wrapped up our wandering, we paid homage to Dad by suggesting we "get out of this hell hole" and calculating how much money we spent in order to "save" that 10 or 20 or 30 %.
We shared some precious moments on the way to the airport. When left alone with Grace I snapped this priceless photo, proving once again that I should not be trusted with small children. I also initiated a game of eyeball licking (complete with a song, "I'm gonna lick your eyeball, eyeball...") that involved much face scratching (mine) and some involuntary retching (hers). I thought perhaps the teary eyes and gagging were from laughing too much, but when I was able to replicate the effect later at a calmer moment I wondered if it was my coffee breath? Erik has offered to lick my eyeballs to see if throwing up a little is just a natural biological response to have your optical orifice assaulted, but I don't trust him as he once gave me an eyelid hickey in college.Anyhow, I left when they passed through security (Grace was spun - my hug goodbye consisted of much forehead pushing and some grimacing and growling) and I sat in only about a half hour of traffic. Thanks to caffeine and sugar and hours on my cell phone, I found my way home safely. I knew I'd be the sleepiest through my own dimly lit, deer filled county. I even considered crashing on a friend's couch but I really just wanted to be in my own bed. Today I am most definitely grateful that I did not encounter any wildlife in those wee hours. I know I was too loopy to respond correctly...
It's great to be back. Monkey looks bigger. OC is healthy. (BTW, we did fight a little about the vet bills but in a casual sort of sisterly way. I kept working it into conversation and she kept shooting me dirty looks. Then she finally asked if I was going to keep bringing it up forever and I said I'd drop it as soon as she paid me the two grand...) Erik is cuter than ever.
But for now it is back to bed with me.
