Way back in 2017, when we were but young newlyweds with one whole month of marriage under our belt, Mike and I decided to load up all the kids, and the dog, and drag the RV to San Francisco.
Why, you ask?
Were we testing the 75% divorce rate looming over our heads?
Do we enjoy submitting ourselves to the pain and suffering of small, cramped spaces and children at each other’s throats?
No! It was actually a lot of fun! We took two cars, because you know, lots of kids, and we stayed at an RV park in Novato just north of SF and drove in each day. I emailed our families satirical updates throughout the trip (I think Day 3 sounded like I was writing home from war after sleeping outside for three weeks in the pouring rain), but I hope to paraphrase for this blog post.
DAY ONE
(Also important for lovingly reflecting on family vacations is TIME. Looking back on my emails, perhaps Day One was my war story. Except I am now vaguely remembering carrying a crying toddler in a stroller up 100+ stairs to go see a non-air conditioned tower in the heat of the summer on Day Two so maybe we should just count our blessings that we’re still married, aye?)
Mike left the house at 0500 with Zach, Samshel, and Wyatt. We will henceforth refer to them as the A Team, as they do not whine nor cry as much as The Others. I stayed behind with The Others and made breakfast burritos. For two and a half hours. Sober. In the dark. Kidding (about it being dark, anyway). Nine mouths x 4 breakfasts is a lot of freaking burritos, can we just say? But, I saved us from spending our retirement on thirty-six plates of pancakes that no one would touch anyway so there’s that.
I must have blocked the drive down there from my memory, but I wrote to family that Tim asked where we were going 1,372 times and that I was the only one who didn’t cry, so it had to have happened that way.
Mike:1, Erin:0
Mike did wait for us to go grocery shopping, because he missed us all and also never misses an opportunity to advertise for birth control. Tears were shed. We made it back to the RV in one piece and slept.
DAY TWO
We had plans to leave the RV park at 9am. We left at 1030, and that should’ve told us how the day would go but nay, we pushed on.
We began our first excursion with a scenic tour via car, and Tim did not nap. We took the kids through the Presidio, with Mike giving a very detailed explanation of each location and I was quite impressed with his expansive knowledge. Until I realized he was reading the signs out loud.
Mike:2, Erin:0
We waited 45 minutes to drive down the famous Lombard St, and Tim still did not nap. My concern was growing. We made our way on to Coit Tower, with a very awake Tim. Approximately five minutes before locating a parking spot at the bottom of the hill that Coit Tower is perched upon, Tim drifted off. Without a blink of an eye, Mike hauled our gigantic full-sized jogging stroller off the top of the car and towards the stairs, and I carried a sleepy, fitful Tim who was very verbal about the fact that we were not letting him nap. We hauled the stroller and Tim up one hundred stairs. I counted each one, sweaty and tired, with burning thighs and an aching back. At the top, when I was through crying, we had lunch with The Others outside the tower. Tim was hungry but but he was also tired and wanting to go home, and he was quite vocal about his discontent with the current situation. I think the other tourists wanted us to take him home, also.
We waited in line to get inside the building. And then we waited in line to ride the elevator to the top. Tim whimpered about not having the proper accommodations for a nap. I threatened to take away his birthday and Tim refused to relent. Mike quietly and rhythmically pushed the stroller, careful to stay out of Tim’s line of vision as Tim’s hard-fast rule is that Mike Is Not Allowed To Help Him. I think he would defiantly sit in a burning bedroom than accept Mike’s rescue to safety.
Tim eventually conceded to sleep, despite his substandard conditions.
Mike:3, Erin:0
The girls pretended to belong to the family in front of us while Brandon, Ethan, and Wyatt shamelessly flirted with the female staff. Mike and I silently wondered why they didn’t serve alcohol.
After one hour of waiting, we made it to the elevator doors only to be informed that we are not allowed to bring the stroller with the Feral but Sleeping Toddler nestled peacefully inside on the elevator.
Mike asked if the staff would watch Tim sleep in his stroller while we rode to the top, assuring them that he would not wake in our absence. The woman quickly stepped back, wide-eyed and stunned. She glanced around feverishly, looking someone to step in and tell Mike he is insane, but the people around us suddenly became very interested in the artwork decorating the walls. She finally stutters, “Umm.. Sure.. I mean, I guess maybe.. I could..” She is visibly sweating at this point. I finally ask her if anyone has ever asked her to watch children at Coit Tower and she immediately responds “No, ma’am, this is definitely a first for me.” I inform her that Mike is joking, as he belly laughs while parking the stroller in the corner. I shake my head and unbuckle Tim, carefully lifting him to my shoulder. He nuzzles in to my shoulder without a peep or flicker of eyelash. We finally, finally enter the elevator.
The view at the top is breathtaking, and the boys discuss loudly if they could pee and hit the people on the ground below. Tim naps soundlessly on my shoulder and while my fingers are numb and my shirt is drenched in sweat, I decline Mike’s offers to hold Feral Sleeping Toddler.
We concluded SF: Day One with a trip to Pier 39 complete with submarine tours, oxygen bars, carousal rides, and a fancy dinner overlooking the bay.
Win for all.
DAY THREE
After our historical day prior, Mike agreed to visit SF’s Museum of Modern of Art at the girls’ and my request. Mistake #1? Not restraining Feral Awake Toddler, as he attempted to scale a multi-million dollar statue immediately upon entering the building. I fastened Tim into the stroller and Mike and I silently decided separate tours would be most beneficial.
We met up later on, to visit the modern-modern section, which is far beyond Mike and my taste and appreciation for art. Once exhibit was a half-melted sole of a tennis shoe on the floor. Each exhibit became more ridiculous, until Mike finally, jokingly, took his sunglasses off his head and placed them in a corner. He stood back with his chin rested on his fist, studying his fine work. And then more tourists came, standing beside Mike, and genuinely admiring the exhibit. Mike, not seeing his audience, chuckles and picks his glasses up off the floor. I am rolling with laughter as he turns and finally sees the people next to him who are thoroughly confused as to why he was touching an exhibit. We left quickly.
After our museum trip, Mike took the kids to get pizza while I sat in a quiet car with a sleeping toddler. That was almost spa-like, let me tell you. I didn’t even mind that the kids ate all the pizza.
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