Sand and Sun

Ah, vacation . . . a chance to rest, relax, and take lots of pictures of the kids having fun. Well, I did rest some, try to relax (why is this so difficult?), and failed miserably at taking any pictures past the first day. I will post one video of Penny jumping off the side of the pool to her grandmother. This action was repeated multiple times that morning and the next day (with me) until she figured out she preferred to turn around and scoot herself backwards over the side, with or without someone standing there to receive her.

[video will go here, but blogger is having trouble with it right now]

From a cinematic standpoint, it's terrible: out of focus and veering all over the place. That's mostly because the sun was so blindingly bright and I had to just aim it generally at what I wanted to film. I think it could be viewed as a representation of how Emily feels marginalized by her little sister, but that's probably more my guilt imposed on the scene. I did take one of her swimming, too, but it's even less focused than this one. Other pictures are the kids with their young, attractive aunt and uncle (my husband's siblings). This weekend served as Emily's follow-up birthday party ('cause who doesn't need two birthday parties when they're five?).

Next year, the in-laws promise, we will be meeting somewhere closer than 12 hours from where we live. Have I mentioned that we live 10 minutes from the beach ALL YEAR LONG? Since the in-laws paid for the whole thing (except a few grocery runs), I can not complain too much. And temperatures at the Carolina shore are decidedly more temperate (and less humid) than at our beaches.

Also, an anecdote to make you think twice about swimming in any public pool. You know how the packaging on the swim diapers you buy for your infants and toddlers warn that they are not designed to keep fecal matter from leaking during swimming (and that, in fact, no product does this)? Well, my child pooped in the pool. I wasn't sure she had (even though she had made The Face), so we kept swimming. As soon as I picked her up to take her inside (a necessity because she refused to walk in on her own two feet), I knew. I had to hose her down in the shower inside the apartment while she screamed the entire time as if she were being tortured. And then I had to clean the shower floor. So I suffered, too. I win a Bad Mommy award, I know. But I imagine this happens more than we'd like to think. I, for one, didn't go back in that particular pool, hypocrite that I am.