Let's talk about expectations versus reality. What I expected for my Memorial Day weekend was this: Drive to the beach with Mia, arrive around lunchtime, have a picnic and frolic for several hours. Then, drive to our boat, where Mr. SOC was working on painting. Have a drink at the tiki bar, eat a leisurely picnic dinner, put Mia to sleep in the tent, drink a beer while looking at the water, get a nice night's sleep on our comfy air mattress. Then wake up and play around by the water, or maybe take a second trip to the beach before heading home. Sounds like a lovely weekend, doesn't it?
What I didn't bank on was getting stuck in traffic and spending more than four hours getting to the beach. By the time we finally got there, and then couldn't find a damn parking spot, I was on the edge of hyperventilating. By the time we planted our chairs in the sand, we had 2 hours and 40 minutes before we had to crazily rush back to the car, hoping to make the 5:25 ferry. We missed the ferry, of course, and the next didn't arrive until 6:05, so we sat by the side of the road for half an hour. I drank a beer to try and relax myself as I saw all my lovely visions of the weekend evaporating.
When we finally got to where Mr. SOC was, it was 7 p.m. and I'd been driving or in transit for about eight hours for our less-than-three hour stay at the beach. There was no time for the tiki bar, and I was totally grouchy and stressed out. We finally put Mia to bed, hoping to relax and have a beer together. But she absolutely refused to sleep, flopping around the tent, moaning and yelling, "I'm not tired." She didn't fall asleep until about 11:30, giving me another near anxiety attack thinking about what a misery she was going to be the next day. Finally in bed, both of us pumped up with stress, Mr. SOC couldn't sleep. He is tossing and turning--and keeping me up. Finally, around 2 a.m., he leaves to sleep on the boat. I probably fall asleep around 3 or 3:30, and Mia wakes me up at 6:45. I feel like I'm going to die. From the looks of Mr. SOC, he does too.
I drag myself up and go to the coffee shop. I decide to take Mia for one more day at the beach and then head home. We speed the 30 minutes to the ferry dock, arriving in plenty of time, but there are too many cars ahead of us. We can't get on the ferry, the next boat doesn't come for two hours, and there is absolutely no other way to get to the beach that doesn't involve driving four hours. I give up and drive the three hours home. I spend the rest of the day nauseous with exhaustion, trying to hold it together with Mia, mourning the trip that should have been.
I recognize now that much of the misery of this trip was self inflicted. If I had been able to take what came, without imposing my schedules and expectations on it, it could have been different. I could have enjoyed myself, rather than looking at the clock with dread and yelling at Mia over and over to "Hurry up!!!" But I just couldn't do it. I was stressed to the point of wanting to scream. There wasn't enough time. This wasn't going according to plan. Ugh. I'm just glad it's over. No more beach on Memorial Day. Must go meditate.
Oh man, I hear you. My husband and I always talk about how you just can't manufacture a good time. It either happens or it doesn't! We've had so many weekends like yours that were sheer misery, but you look at one image captured from it and it looked like a great time was had by all. Sigh....
Hope this weekend is better!! At least it's a short week, right?
Posted by: moseyalong | May 27, 2009 at 10:10 AM