Popi went back to California today. This means that for the next 2-ish weeks, we will be on our own. Precisely put, I will now be flying solo around the country with 5 kids. Things can get hard. Im hoping they are all old enough for smooth sailing.
Our first adventure was Plymouth Rock. This is a place I have never seen before, and it was barely impressive as a rock. It has broken apart a bit over the years, but even in its full glory, it wasn’t big. I guess I wanted it to scream “You’ve made it!” Instead it winks and whispers, don’t stub your toe on me.” It was a good stopping-off place.
This is looking more and more familiar. I am trying to remember the last time we came to Cape Cod. Was it really just after we were married? I have booked a tent site at the state park we slept at on that trip almost 20 years ago. Then we were on bikes. To experience anything from a bike is to hold it in your hand, to taste it, to roll around in it. A car sterilizes it a bit. An airplane ignores it completely.
The smells come back to me, those wild roses and wild berry blossoms that mix to smell like no other place. The kids are pros at setting up camp by now, so I make it look like I am busy while they pop the tent up, but really I am breathing as much of that fragrant air that I can. I never want to forget that smell.
There is a pond at this campground. We must swim in all the ponds. Judah found a log large enough to float around on, so he gave taxi rides around the swimming area. Atticus met some French kids and some Russian kids. Atticus will be an ambassador one day.
And, of course, Provincetown.
My first encounter with Provincetown was when I was 19 years old. My sister and I took the ferry from Boston to Cape Cod, and for a long time I thought it was the only thing to see on the Cape. It is really just a town of tourist stores filled with candy and t-shirts. Artists filled the stores with hand-crafted clothing, furniture, housewares, and other handmade curiosities. People went there to make art and not be bothered. Some places sell a lobster meal or hot dogs. But if you were to clear out the tourists, the town seemed to be filled with gypsies and travelers, and the houses were beaten up by the storms. The docks were filled with lobster trappers coming in with their catch, and shacks with bins of salt water waiting to be filled with the creatures. One could wander into these shacks and peer in at the doomed, and they were not opposed to reaching out a claw to snap at your face.
Provincetown has “cleaned up” over the years. Most houses are now freshly painted, the main street sparkles, the stores are filled with pricy items, most made in a factory. It now has the vibe of a classy beach town populated by retired white men and their partners. But it still has that artsy edge and color one likes to see there. There are still salty, red sailors lounging barefooted on the docks near their sailboats. My children were impressed. Judah said, “There sure are a lot of hippies around here!” “Then you should feel right at home here .”
My kids like high towers, so we had to visit the Pilgrim Monument. After all, Provincetown is VERY proud that the pilgrims landed here first before Plymouth Rock. The tower is so tall. Its the kind of adventure where mothers realize that all their efforts to stay in shape have culminated in this moment, as their energetic children race to the top up stairs that barely protect them from falling to their deaths. So for the second time in 2 days, we raced to the top of a tower.
It was beautiful. No wonder why we are so exhausted.
As we drove back to our camp site, we found a lobster stand and ate lobster. Well, I ate lobster. The kids took the eyes and green stuff and pretended they were prisoners forced to eat lobster guts, and they dared one another to eat it. It was not the civilized affair one expects a lobster dinner to be.
So bedtime was welcomed today, and I have had to play mom to a bunch of boy scouts who believe quiet time means screaming in their tents.
Recent Comments