Benjamin Penguin

Dear Benjamin,

You’ll have to forgive me in advance for what will assuredly be one of the shortest monthly letters on record. It’s just that Mama’s so tired that the bags under her eyes have bags under their eyes. And this is not your garden variety parental tired. We’re moving, I’m working and in school and you like nothing better than to go, go, go all hours of the day. I’ve got just enough in me right now to muster out a “You’re great. Moving on.” But I’ll try to make this a smidge more comprehensive than that. Though, you are great.

Much of the last month was dominated by our first family vacation, so this letter will really be about that time. And since I chronicled much of our activities while on the road, I need only bring to your attention all those little details that I always inadvertently leave out. So let me tell you what it was like to take a vacation with a little man. Specifically, a little Benjamin.

In planning whether or not to take a vacation, Daddy and I did what we always do. Which is, of course, to discuss things to death until the point that one of us (namely me) no longer becomes interested in doing anything until the FURTHER point at which we impromptu decide to do the thing we eventually end up doing. Did you follow all that? It won’t make sense now and it won’t make sense while it’s happening, but when casting a glance on it in retrospect, well, it won’t make sense then either. Welcome to the family! We started our discussion with thoughts of going West. First we set our sights on the great state of Washington. But that seemed really far. So then we bandied about the idea of the Dakotas. But that seemed only mildly interesting to me, in part because I wasn’t sure if that was a good location for a toddler. I made the case for something new to us but not that far which, coming from the Midwest, generally translates as the eastern coast. Daddy wasn’t as sold on this plan, but I wasn’t sold on a vacation that would involve 6 days of driving before I finally arrived at a place I wanted to visit. In the end – and at the spur of the moment – we selected the Carolinas and Georgia.

Now, let me start by stating the facts. On the night before our departure, we were not packed, Again, spur of the moment. So we quickly assembled everything then, realizing there was no way we would be prepared in time, we postponed leaving for a day. This allowed us to stock up on all manner of toys and Benjamin snacks for the trip. All of which came in handy.  We weren’t quite sure what to expect from you during the drive so as we pulled away a nervous, chortling sound escaped from both of our throats. I think Daddy began mumbling a prayer of some sort. I just begged him to stop for an iced tea because (1) I never let a day pass without drinking iced tea and (2) the world seems infinitely more manageable with one in my hand. Truthfully, though, you were a great little traveler. Really, I mean it. You were really good natured in the car and rarely put up a fuss. Daddy and I would take turns driving and one of us was always in the back seat with you. We would tickle you or play with your toys or watch videos on the laptop. I would poke your little belly or chew on your fingers and you would do a little car seat dance and nonverbally declare it the best time ever. There were a few hiccups along the way. I recall a few meltdowns in restaurants and one evening when you absolutely refused to fall asleep even after we pleaded with you for mercy. And the trip was exhausting, but all trips are exhausting when you drive across the country and live out of a car. Overall, however, you were an enjoyable companion and we all had a good time.

There isn’t any one memory that particularly stands out for me. Chasing you around various hotel rooms as you laughed hysterically, maybe. What I remember more is how it felt to be together like that with nothing else to do but spend time with one another. We’re a close family. Close in that we really like to spend time in the company of one another. In the nearly 10 years that I’ve known Daddy, I always look forward to seeing him every day. In the 20 months that I’ve known you, I’m always eager to get home to you when I have to be away at work or school. When I am able to share some time with my family, it makes that day feel so much better. I’m not really someone who likes to be away from my loved ones, so when I get the opportunity to spend large chunks of time with the people I adore, I get absolutely giddy with excitement. I smile more. I let every care in the world melt away and for a brief period of time, I am the cool, calm and collected person I wish I could always be.  I love you and Daddy so deeply and fully that I didn’t even mind nearly sweating to death under the hot August sun, in Georgia of all places. If I was going to melt into a puddle of sassy ooze, dammit, I was going to do it in good company.  Ask anyone – ANYONE – that knows me well and they’ll tell you how much I hate the sun and the heat. But if someone would have stopped me on the street to ask if I was enjoying my vacation, I would have proudly beamed, pointed to the both of you and said, “I’m loving every minute of it.”

That’s the amazing thing about you, Benjamin. You take what would be dull at best, unbearable at worst and make it so new, so novel, so desired an experience that I am helpless to do anything but let myself be carried away in joy and appreciation. I sometimes stop and think about the life that I would be living now had Daddy and I never tried to have children. I draw mental pictures of us eating leisurely at restaurants and sleeping in on the weekends and taking a long, rambling road trip up to Washington and Alaska. They are nice images, to be sure, but they lack the excitement of, say, carrying a screaming, flailing toddler away from a stack of toys at a Cracker Barrel or a swift kick to the abdomen in the middle of the night or a noisy road trip punctuated by the sounds of Dora the Explorer, giggles and silly voices coming up from the back seat. The chaos that a child brings into one’s life is the vibrant, beaded fringe around a ring of “nice” that is pleasant and sweet but rather unremarkable. It is what makes life worth living.

Love,

Mama