We've just come back from a lovely week on Orcas Island, Owen's first family vacation. Owen was a champ on his first ferry ride, despite the fact that we woke him up in the wee hours of the morning (turnabout of sorts, perhaps) to make sure we made it on time. We rented a cozy house on Obstruction Pass and Owen enjoyed leisurely meals while taking in the sights of passing boats and birds and kayakers. I think John and I only welled up once when we, ourselves, saw the kayakers, knowing that it wouldn't be us this year. We both took turns getting some nice runs in on the trails in the state park and felt a wee bit nostalgic for those Before Owen days and impressed with how fit we used to be. We spent most afternoons at Cascade Lake, where the water was a chilly 65 but still warmer than the ocean waters lapping at the beach in front of the house. John and I were the oldest kids by far splashing around in the water, all other adults having sense enough to stay on the sunny beach reading a good book. Owen met many friends and admirers and was nearly kidnapped by a Washington State Ferry Employee, who spent the entire trip back playing peek-a-boo and tickling him. She didn't even mind when he laughed so hard he spit up carrot juice all over her. So, aside from having the Go-Go's song "Vacation" stuck in our heads the entire week, we had a great first family vacation on Orcas Island. I think the moment that truly made it a "family" vacation happened at the very end. We had just had a nice picnic by the water and enjoyed talking with a sweet family from Denver. Owen was yawning a bit, all according to our plan to sleep on the way home, and we had just strapped him into his car seat when the ferry whistle blew, signaling the cars to begin boarding. We settled in, sad to be leaving but happy to be going home. And then, without warning, Owen, our sweet little boy, threw up. Vomited. Projectile. Everywhere. I think it is safe to say that after three hours in the car with that aroma, no one will be enjoying strawberry yogurt in this family for a long time (and no, he didn't sleep either.)
Vacation /All I Ever Wanted/Vacation/Have to Get Away
We've just come back from a lovely week on Orcas Island, Owen's first family vacation. Owen was a champ on his first ferry ride, despite the fact that we woke him up in the wee hours of the morning (turnabout of sorts, perhaps) to make sure we made it on time. We rented a cozy house on Obstruction Pass and Owen enjoyed leisurely meals while taking in the sights of passing boats and birds and kayakers. I think John and I only welled up once when we, ourselves, saw the kayakers, knowing that it wouldn't be us this year. We both took turns getting some nice runs in on the trails in the state park and felt a wee bit nostalgic for those Before Owen days and impressed with how fit we used to be. We spent most afternoons at Cascade Lake, where the water was a chilly 65 but still warmer than the ocean waters lapping at the beach in front of the house. John and I were the oldest kids by far splashing around in the water, all other adults having sense enough to stay on the sunny beach reading a good book. Owen met many friends and admirers and was nearly kidnapped by a Washington State Ferry Employee, who spent the entire trip back playing peek-a-boo and tickling him. She didn't even mind when he laughed so hard he spit up carrot juice all over her. So, aside from having the Go-Go's song "Vacation" stuck in our heads the entire week, we had a great first family vacation on Orcas Island. I think the moment that truly made it a "family" vacation happened at the very end. We had just had a nice picnic by the water and enjoyed talking with a sweet family from Denver. Owen was yawning a bit, all according to our plan to sleep on the way home, and we had just strapped him into his car seat when the ferry whistle blew, signaling the cars to begin boarding. We settled in, sad to be leaving but happy to be going home. And then, without warning, Owen, our sweet little boy, threw up. Vomited. Projectile. Everywhere. I think it is safe to say that after three hours in the car with that aroma, no one will be enjoying strawberry yogurt in this family for a long time (and no, he didn't sleep either.)
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