June 25, 2010

Gianna likes to look for snails. I guess I started it, exclaiming and pointing whenever I came across one in the backyard, which is often. She likes it when I line them up on the little edging thing, and will watch them until they start to move. Until recently, she wouldn't touch them or pick them up herself. She began to feel brave enough to do so the other day. I discovered a whole cache of them gathered where the fence meets the garage; perhaps it is cool or moist there. We plucked them all off and put them in a bucket. There must've been 25 or 30. Since I really don't want to kill them (much less have Gianna watch me do it, or see me throw them in the garbage or something equally heartless), but also don't relish them slithering around the yard and munching on the plants, we decided to go find them a new "home." So we strolled to the park and released them at the base of a sycamore tree. I guess I may as well kill them, but at least this way they perhaps have some small chance. When they start to emerge from their shells, Gigi says, "it's moving mommy, it's moving!" She'll touch their antennae/tentacles things and watch them withdraw, then unfurl again. Actually, I kind of like to do that myself.

We are back from Hawai'i and I really need to chronicle it. My favorite Gigi moment actually occurred in the elevator in our six-star hotel. We (Joe, I, and Gianna) entered the elevator, as did two men. One man had a glistening, deep green watermelon. It was totally silent in there as the elevator began to ascend. I could see Gianna watching the man, and thinking about something. She blurted out very loudly, "Got waterMELON?" and everyone burst out laughing. He replied he would give her a piece were it cut up. It was so cute.

So let's see if I can remember this stuff: Day 1, June 4th. Our flight out of Sac was at 9:30 or so, requiring that we get up and out of here fairly early. Gianna seemed excited, as were we. We parked and rode the shuttle to the airport. It was immediately apparent what the biggest obstacle to traveling with a toddler is: when you need to go somewhere, or wait in some line, or some other mundane task, said toddler will strongly prefer to do otherwise. Perhaps the other direction is more interesting. Or where does this conveyor belt go? The toddler in question will want to closely inspect every garbage can, rope, kiosk, chair, but especially the escalators. Every where we went, we had to ride the escalators before we could depart. If departure was attempted without indulging in multiple rides, one must prepare oneself for loud and shrill protests, often for a prolonged period. Anyway, everything went smoothly, including the flight. As it was relatively early, and the curiosity factor exceedingly high, there was no chance Gianna would sleep. I staved off her restless for approximately 2.5 hours, at which time I had to produce the secret weapon: this laptop upon which I now type. DVDs and admiring photos kept her entertained until we landed in Honolulu. The connection went very smoothly, and we landed in Lihue. We saw Hoss and Tristan right away. Gigi was very happy and the two embraced. We split for the hotel, but our room wasn't quite ready so we loitered around the beach with Genny and Hoss, somewhat uncomfortably in our street clothes. We were in Sac at 9:30, and Kalapaki beach by 2:30! How beautiful and amazing it was! It's difficult to believe that this place is part of the U.S. From the hotel, one had a spectacular view of the expansive pool below, green knoll, and the beach. Beyond, hulked the craggy mountain that is quintessential Hawai'i, or as Joe and I said on a few occasions, "It looks just like Lost."

As soon as our room was available, we gratefully changed clothes and returned to the beach. The ocean is so warm and inviting. Just cool enough to be refreshing, but not enough that it gives your body that shock upon entry. Nothing like Lake Tahoe even at its warmest. Nothing like the Atlantic, or even Lake Hopatcong in New Jersey. And certainly nothing like the Pacific here or any glacier-run-off Wyoming water. All of the bodies of water I have ever entered require the deep breath, run at top speed, and plunge-in-to-get-it-over-with method. I also didn't expect the weather to be that mild. Intellectually, I understood it was always 80. I had been watching the temperature in Lihue via my iPod for months before departure. It was always 77, or 82 or whatever. But I still expected sweltering, or muggy, or swarms of insects, or torrential rainfall. Maybe those are stereotypes about tropical rainforests, I don't know. I guess I don't know what 82 degrees feels like because Sacramento is 105, and Wyoming is seldom above 65. It was mild enough that one felt downright chilly if emerging from the pool later in the afternoon, or if clouds were obscuring the sun. Perfectly comfortable, all the time. Except when Joe wanted to sleep with the window open to hear the ocean. Then I was sort of hot all night. It was nice to hear the ocean, but then you'd also hear random dudes mumbling things from down below in the courtyard. Or maintenance people scraping around the pool.

I was thinking we ate at Duke's that first night, but I think I just took Gianna to bed since she hadn't slept all day. Yes, that's right. Because I never really ate aside from the crappy airplane meal and I awoke ravenous the next morning. Ravenous, and looking forward to a cocktail, heh heh.

Genny and Hoss said that after each voyage to Kaua'i, Tristan matured, or "grew up" after the experience. Gianna did change a bit, I think. Most notably is that she no longer nurses in the morning. It had been intermittent, but she was still fairly consistent with wanting to nurse in the morning. In Hawai'i her bedtime and morning routines were very different for myriad reasons: first, I could not just lay her down and exit like I do here at home. So I had to dim the lights and lay down with her. To my surprise, I enjoyed this because I would turn on the "Scenic Hawai'i" channel which permanently airs aerial views of all the islands filmed on a helicoptor, all paired with appropriate and soothing music. After she fell asleep, either myself or Joe would move her to the other bed. Usually it didn't take her long to fall asleep, since of course our days were full of activity and the hour would be considerably later than her usual bedtime. Then, in the mornings, rather than slam the door open and run into the bedroom yelling, "nurse! nurse!" she would sleep in a bit more and/or simply say, "Next to Gigi?" or "Next to me?" at 5:30 am or so. As long as I crawled into her bed with her, she'd fall back asleep to the indulgent hour of 7 or even 8:30 one time. Gasp.

Now that we are back home, she just never thought to ask for "nurse!" again. That's not entirely true, but I just patted the bed and said, "Next to me?" and she's been willing to crawl in and if not doze, at least contentedly lay for a while. That's why we nursed for as long as we did: so I could continue to lay there, even just for 15 minutes. It's been almost a month now, so there's no going back. I will miss it in many ways, mostly when her little fingers flitted around my belly, or kneaded. But she needs to move on, I suppose.