Hawaii, you win this time

baby toes!

Hawaii wins in many ways. It's lovely and warm and there are palm trees and exotic foods and parrots everywhere. We tend to go there every spring for Charlie's work vacation. And this year, this year Hawaii defeated us.

Dash wiped out for part of the trip there

I suppose we were optimistic, rakish even to think that over a week in paradise with six month old babies would be....paradise. We did our best but just couldn't last the whole trip. The boys weren't sleeping really and in a hotel you can't exactly relax while they shriek like banshees. It took the two of us full time watching the babies just to survive, which didn't mean any real sleep. Envision this: at 4 am every morning the boys would wake up for the day. We would each take one baby and sit in a chair and try to cuddle our baby to sleep. Sometimes it worked. One morning I had a glorious two hours sleep with Dash on my chest, the most I ever got in a row while we were there. Then inevitably we would end up on our room's patio watching the sun rise and trying to keep the babies from screaming.

Those sunrises were beautiful, really. I usually had Dash, and he loved nothing more than to sit on my lap and watch the palm trees. One morning we ordered a huge pot of coffee for room service. They asked me if I wanted any food and laughed when I groaned no, just the coffee. Lots of it.

taking in the fresh air

Liam's summer shirt

The warm weather was wonderful too. I think the boys were agog to have so many of their body parts exposed. Toes! Legs! Arms! There was a lot of wiggling and toe grabbing. We took them swimming in the salty lagoon a couple of times. Liam really enjoyed the water. Dash, not so sure. He didn't outright scream, but he moaned and groaned.

ready to swim

Liam stayed in a bit longer and enjoyed himself

The final adventure was after we asked to come home a few days early. The people who organized the trip were lovely enough to find us seats on a direct flight the next day, one of the only flights available to get home. The catch: we each had to take a baby in our laps. Middle seat. Six rows apart. Now, on the way out we were spoiled in quite possibly the most crazy way possible. We were on a charter flight, in first class, with four seats. Baby heaven! And for a very first flight it was great. We worried about the babies raising a ruckus, sure, but it was a plane full of our friends. They'd understand if there was a bit of mayhem. On the way home it was strangers cheek to cheek. We managed to trade with our row partners to get the aisle seats (but couldn't sit closer, because you can't have more than one baby in an entire row of the plane and it was packed full). And then we held our breaths. The boys were fantastic. There were a few crying spells but for the most part as long as they were constantly entertained they were quite pleasant.

first-class baby wants to know where his champagne is

By the end of the six hour flight I felt like the court jester to an overlord prone to beheading court jesters at a a whim. Dance, mother, dance! And then we drove home and it was late at night, and the boys went to bed with a bit of screaming and then we sat in the kitchen and ate grilled cheese sandwiches and drank wine. And even though Hawaii won, we still came in second, third, fourth, and fifth place.

winners!