I wish I could really describe what it’s like. When we’re there and all the planets are aligned and things are just as they should be…and there are constant moments of thinking, This here? This is beautiful. I know I say ‘beautiful’ all the time on this blog, but it is and, for all the posts I’ve dedicated to the Isles of Capri, today’s is perhaps the summit while all the others were just stops on the climb. Because yesterday, when I was there, I saw the entire landscape–things I’ve never seen before–and there, on the beach with my family and my friends on my special Mama Day, I staked my claim and raised my flag. This is our Isles of Capri where all the good in our life is turned up a few notches and all we have to do is enjoy it.

The day was storybook with cerulean skies, pillow-perfect clouds and staccato melodies from wood chimes that echoed across the beach. Brett says gravity is different here. Because he swears there is some galactic force that pulls him toward this beach. No seriously, he really does. And while I can’t say he hasn’t had his share of cockameemee ideas, this time he might just be right.

I told Brett on the way home last night, “You know, if going to Isles of Capri was an illegal drug, I’d so be in jail…and I would rot there happily.”

We arrived early and stayed late. We cartwheeled in the sand. We found freaky creatures that fanned gelatinous wings and squirted purple ink.

There was so much color, so much life, so much laughter. Especially when Heidi burrowed into a stack of kayaks to get a good shot and almost died when the kayaks toppled over. Or when we did the Irish jig on the floating dock and I strangely felt the need to say “Irish jig, Irish jig, Irish jig” over and over while I did it. Or when Brett asked what time it was and I whiplashed my head and screamed, “You bite your tongue, Boy. You NEVER EVER ask what time it is on the Isle of Capri.”

And the kids explored the island from the sea grapes to the end of the dock where the barnacles grow. And you can’t help but sit there and smile taking it all in–the happiness here and how it’s so concentrated, so pure after the events of a busy week tend to dilute that purity. Sunday may be the end of a weekend, but it’s still the beginning of a week and starting off like that? You can’t go wrong.

Nella’s First Painted Piggies!

And Nella? Oh, sweet girl. She was made for this island, and all the shells I bent over that big beautiful belly to collect and save throughout my pregnancy here echo the blessed truth that this girl’s presence on the Isle of Capri makes it even more magical, if that’s even possible. She slept in the moses basket, just like Lainey used to do, and was calmed by salty sea breezes and being lulled in the shade.

And then, when we are completely sun-soaked and sand-sprinkled, it happens. The Isle hushes as the clouds part and the water glows, and this giant ball of sun gives the day its last hoorah. That’s when the magic really begins.

And when the sun sinks low, we kiss the day goodbye and trail into the tiki hut to replace cold draft with hot coffee. Last night, the littles danced in their jammies to island tunes as we huddled around a table with friends to play the “If Game.” If you could meet one person, dead or alive, who would it be? If you could vacation anywhere in the world for seven days with your family right now, where would it be? If you could… And the questions continued as we laughed and teased about answers, sipping coffee from styrofoam cups, all the while watching crazy, tired, heat-exhausted littles spinning circles on the old wood floors and doing that whole hysteric laugh thing that comes when you haven’t had any sleep and your friends are really, really funny.

I love my Island babies and the way they smell of sunscreen and salt at the end of the night. I like baby wipe baths and how they take the sand off but leave just enough of the beach so that later, when I’m cuddled in bed with them in the middle of the night, I can close my eyes and still smell that coconutty sweetness and remember just how magical the day was.

And, yesterday, I had a job. I said I’d do it when she was born and things would be just fine when I did. And, with a happy heart, I added a dollar to the beam of the bar that overlooks the beach where we make our magic. And things were just fine. And they will be.

What a happy Mother’s Day it was.

Have I said how happy this place makes me?

“Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either – not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.” ~Robert Fulghum

And speaking of happiness…my bathing suit rocks, and one of you commenters gets one. Picture yourself, all sun-kissed and retro fabulous sippin’ lemonade and sinking your toes into the sand. You could bake cookies in this suit, seriously. Pamela at Popina Swimwear designed it herself (with all the curves and fabulousness of a woman’s body in mind, too) and is giving one away to one of you in just your size. Start pickin’ out a hat to go with it. Winner will be picked randomly from comments on this post and will be announced this Wednesday evening. Now, pardon me while I get some work done. We’s got some fairy garden plannin’ to do!

…and I hereby proclaim my apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors I’ve made past, present, or fewchure. xoxo

setting out for the long drive there, i settle familiarly into the passenger seat with a writing book, two photography books and a pile of magazines. three miles in and i’ve been updated on what kourtney kardashian is craving, how long us readers predict renee and bradley will stick together and who wore armani’s latest the best. i ditch the magazine and opt for the writing book.

the ride is quiet but for the sounds of the dvd in the back and the boys’ random laughter at all the funny parts…cueing lainey to interject her own laughter with a precise two-second delay. she doesn’t exactly know what she’s laughing at, but if her brothers think it’s funny…it must be.

a monster truck with scantily-clad-women mudflaps rolls along two cars ahead of us. pulled behind is a rusted twin engine boat, sloppily painted with Team Nauti Boys. i imagine they are headed out for some sunday fun for sure.

i notice for the first time all the panther traffic signs along the way. official yellow road signs with panther silhouettes as if their crossing is as ordinary as the common pedestrian. i’ve never seen a panther cross these streets.

the trees get lusher and thicker as stores and gas stations grow more sparse. of course there is the oddly-placed outlet mall in the middle of nowhere that suddenly appears. i always expect it to be closed, but miraculously, it goes on…a few random cars parked in its old parking lot. i wonder exactly how many outdated suitcases the samsonite store sells each month. i imagine there are many a days when not a one customer shows up at this poor place. i also imagine that hell might be waking up employed at this very outlet mall…banished to the dingy walls of the dress barn selling frumpy green paisley sack dresses here on the most god-forsaken stretch of 951.

the green sign finally appears. isles of capri and a single arrow, pointing you far away from the dress barn…past the magroves, the bait store, the impressive marina for such a tiny island.

and we arrive.
and unload.
and settle under shady umbrellas.

the tide is low.
the seagrapes droop.
the sea foam recedes, pulling with it broken shells and ‘beach pencils’.

it’s hot and my hair sticks to the sunscreen on the back of my neck.
but she’s happy.

transporting shovels of sand from the beach to the large blue bucket ready to float away at the edge of the tide…until finally, she’s piled enough sand into it to weight it steadily into the mud.

we spend most of our time partially submerged in the gulf today, its salty water stinging the shaving cuts i apparently acquired this morning. she floats and splashes as i eat cold cantelope from the chair i have half buried in the shallow water.

and later, we venture back to the hot sand to watch the boys dig deep tunnels.

soar the blue skies with daddy and austyn.

take a ‘crab walk’ with mama.

and smile every time one of our fish house friends comments on how we’re finally ‘showing.’

it’s a girl. we exclaim.
another baby to tote along for sunday memories…
to sleep in the moses basket on the old wood floor under the palm-thatched roof of the tiki bar.

and then, before the sun sets, we head home…

the drive home is always cozy as we huddle under beach towels, the air seeming a little cooler against salty, damp suits. it’s quiet again but for the random laughter…and two-second delayed laughter. i close my eyes and prop my sandy feet on brett’s dashboard. i take them down when he frowns at me.

and when we pull into the driveway, the herd exits wildly, running toward the pool where everyone jumps in to clean off sweaty, sandy, sunscreened bodies. i hear them all from our bathroom as i always opt instead for the more refreshing waters of a real shower. a long shower with a clay mint mask and deep conditioner. and after donning a warm nightgown straight from the dryer, i join them at the edge of the pool where we watch the sun set behind the woods…

…and baby lizards emerge from their hiding spots under mossy pool rocks to entertain little eyes…

and now the house is calm. quiet…but for brett’s football game in the other room and the dryer tossing a load of beach towels.
and the tea is finished.

thoreau may have wandered into the woods to live deliberately and suck the marrow out of life…
us? well, we have enough marrow right here.

sucking it, breathing it, sharing it…

~k

*note: i forgot. i hereby give credit to brett for the pregnancy shots. he was proud of his work as he scanned the camera screen after the shot.
‘if this goes on the blog, you’re so crediting me,’ he said… …er, um…’humbly’.

i’ve debated writing this for the sake of not becoming the complaining headache of a pregnant woman. but, in balancing positivity with the sheer truth that real life is not always beautiful, there will be times when the scales drop their weight on the not-so-beautiful end of the balance.

and they have dropped hard for me as i’m struggling to simply make it through the day with horrible nausea and exhaustion. i had it with lainey, but i also had no responsibities at the time and was able to caccoon myself into bed for weeks without guilt or other pressing matters…like taking care of a two-year-old. and, although these weeks are small in comparison to the life-long joy this wanted little bean will bring us…it’s still hard to deal.

i haven’t turned on my computer since the weekend but rather have wisely used my time to invent a slew of play-with-mama-from-the-couch games. like letting her brush my hair. or wrap my legs in toilet paper. or smear lotion wherever she pleases. or beg God to keep her interested in half an hour of sesame street. i’m not the mom i want to be right now, and that’s the hardest part of it all…but i know it will pass.

in the meantime, hot tea makes things a bit better…strangely, the smell of noxzema, cold grapefruit and as many naps as i can get.

and in the midst of it all…sweet friends brought me to tears when they arrived with brooms and mops and buckets the other day and sent me to my room while they scrubbed the dickens out of my house and left me with a clean, cozy place to guiltlessly settle into…and a bundle of happy daisies.

and enough about that.
there are so many fulfilling moments in between the yuks…

she has absolutely astounded us with the potty-training…like she’s been doing this for years. we don’t say anything to her…she just runs to the bathroom throughout the day and emerges a minute later with a smile and a “look, mama” as she proudly shows off her accomplishment. honestly, it’s the easiest thing we’ve faced in this parenthood thing.

she’s just…so big.

and, we did manage to slip in an isle of capri this weekend where, even with not feeling so hot, i was comforted by her greasy sunscreen cheeks and a cold sand bed.

oh, and the bathing suits? we generally wear about four throughout the day as, after a little wading and resting her butt in the sand while digging, she independently sheds her current suit and digs through our bag for the next one. huge fans of the wardrobe change, we are.

and finally…
the one area i try hard not to fall off the wagon is the memoir-ing.
finally moving along a bit on her third year book. the books mean far too much to me to let it go. and i’m progressing slowly on this pregnancy journal as well, but it’s so worth it later. this babyhood thing is far too fleeting to not grab as much as i can of it and document it…make it as beautiful as i remember.

oh, how i wish i had pictures of summer projects underway or some bubbling soup on the stove or stories of outside summer forts we built this week. they shall come in due time. for now, we are soaking in reality…knowing we are still blessed…and anticipating the gift all this will reap in a matter of a few short months.

still…enjoying the small things. ~k