Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Pact

On our recent roadtrip to a Georgia Island, I wanted to stab Eva, my four-year-old,  in her eyeballs with my drink stirrer and decorative umbrella, (yes, I drink during family road trips and that is why I always drive first (you know, so I can have my coffee, and listen to "CoffeeHouse").  JOKE.  Children's Services, K?  She is becoming increasingly more difficult, and unlike her older siblings, Eva does not care if she is disciplined.

Case in point.  She is doing her routine of irritating her older sister, Mills, who she is sitting right next to, by say, oh, repeating over and over that she wants to be a jockey when she grows up, (which is Mills' dream, but she is too tall, already at 45" and probably too fat, too, weighing in at a whopping 40 pounds.  She is in second grade.  That's the joke.  Get it?  Or should I get more descriptive?  Sorry, I am trying to bring in more Southern readers.)

Another famous routine of Eva's is to constantly ask for the IPad, even though I have told her 1009 times that it's battery is dead.  Sometimes she just moans or sings the itsy bitsy "pider" over and over, again, until you want to scream.  The first two times you take pictures and video her, the last 1006 times, YOU ARE OVER IT!!!!! 

She hits her sister's heads together when she gets mad.  I beg her to go to sleep, because being annoying is her M.O. for being hungry or overtired, and she is both. When someone asks for the 1009th time, how long we have, Eva demands to know the minutes, and then seconds.  I actually CALCULATE them if we are close to our destination, and if we are not, I always say 1009, because that is her favorite number.  She also unnervingly asks if we are AT a destination, whether it be a restaurant, or a gas station, or even our own home, as we are exiting the car - JUST TO MAKE ME NUTS!!!  Eva will not smile in family pictures, unless she is doing something she wants to do, like sit on this gigantic alligator sculpture at The Crab Shack.  I could go on and on and on and on.

"Is this our hooommmmeee?" she will ask as I open my car door and the dog jumps all over her. 

"Yesssss."  I will say,exasperated, as she cackles, and then cries, because Scarlett, our dog, has scratched her or something.

"Is this our hoooommmmee?  Can I take my puppy for a walk?" she asks, as we pull into our driveway at 10:30 at night, at the end of our 13 hour journey home from Georgia.

I want to come unglued.

At one point, on the way home, I actually hissed at her that if she didn't stop that I would "swat her like a spider," with my magazine.  I pronounced "spider", SPPIIIIDER because I had just spent a week in Georgia, and my accent has become thicker that it has been in years.

She laughed and said she didn't "COWWW," and so I preceeded to swat her with my GQ article I was reading about a man who lost his family.  CLASSIC.  She laughed so hard she could not catch her breath, and the girls and the rest of the car erupted in laughter, until Brad came to his senses and said, "What are you doing?"  So I stopped and we all got quiet for a minute.  And then Eva pounded on Mills' beloved hermit crab's cage, and I screamed that Mills and Hallie switch seats mid expressway, so Eva would stop her abuse, and somebody, I think Eva, said she was hungry and had to pee.  GOOD TIMES.

Brad then actually asked her if she could wait a half and hour, and brought up AGAIN, how he wanted to stop at a hotel two hours away from home, to "enjoy Saturday Night".

"This is NOT going to get any better in any hotel room," I reasoned.

"Yes, it will," he offered.  "They can play in the room while we go downstairs."

"What will we be doing downstairs?"  I innocently asked.

"Sitting at the bar," he countered, serious as a heart attack.

"So we're supposed to leave our 9, 7, & 4 year-old in some hotel room while we go to the bar?"  I was mesmerized.

"Hallie's old enough.  She can watch the others."

"Are you not laying right next to me when we watch 20/20?  Are you mentally insane?"

He just laughed, thinking he'd float that one out there, and then another fight broke out.

SOOO FLASHBACK - Brad and I are at our rented vacation home, night swimming, talking about our lives, when I grab Brad by the shoulders and make him "swear" that we will not let Eva fall by the wayside when she is a teenager because we are too tired, and we have checked out.

"She's HILARIOUS," he coos.

"She's just like you.  That's why you understand her."  I replied.

"You're right.  I mean, what do you mean?"  he is suddenly defensive.

"Nevermind.  We'll talk about it on the way home.  We'll have tons of ALONE time then."

Pic above is of Eva, in all her orneriness, at The Crab Shack at Tybee Island.  It is famous and our friend, Andrew, who is a foodie, recommended we go.  He actually drove from Hilton Head to partake. It was awesome.  You could purchase what I am convinced are TimBits from the bar at $3 for four and you use an old bamboo fishin' pole with a bobbypin at the end to feed their captive alligators.

The food is amazing and the ambiance even better.  There is a large hole beneath a sort of stationary wood lazy susan, with a garbage underneath, that you put your trash and shell casings in.  I would recommend the crab legs and shrimp.  They are amazing.  The famous platter they have, looked yummy, too, but I can't remember the name.  It has all the local catches of the season, plus the best corn on the cob I have ever tasted, and sausage.  Skip the oysters on the half shell.  Not impressed.  Drink their punch.  So good.

Also, don't forget bug spray.  Right on the marshes.

No comments:

Post a Comment