We went on a family vacation for Spring Break and it was an adventure. Taking a vacation as a solo parent with three kids is an undertaking….a nightmare…a miracle… a journey…the best time EVER…well the most exhaustingly best time ever. 🙂

So many moments of wishing I could run away, mixed with so many moments of unfettered love, adoration, and pride.

DISCLAIMER: I was only truly alone for the traveling part. I had my best friend in the world on hand the rest of the time to help with all the craziness. But we were devoid of a man, specifically my husband and their father.

There are so many challenges to parenting alone, however, I quickly realized this vacation wasn’t just about an adventure or solo parenting. This vacation was also about grieving. Grief is a never ending game. Our first vacation without him brought out many emotions and frustrations. But I feel healthier for having experienced it. I feel proud of myself for making it work. I feel a little sad to be home without him, again. I have always struggled with what I believe about his spirit, whether it is with us or not. But there were times where the wave of happiness mixed so seamlessly with the calm of contentedness it could have been him completing the moment. It’s so hard not to miss him in a way that crushes me, but I know he would be so proud to see us making memories, and building a new life. I know he wants more for us, for me.

I had a few moments on this trip where I really wanted to share life with him. I really missed his presence…for me, but even more for them. I think these moments are a true blessing when they come. They are a door into a love that is beyond this world. They light the way for us to live fully after we have lost so much. Here is one from each of the boys that made me love hard:

When we went to the first beach, it was a cool and gloomy day. But the beach is always sand and waves no matter what the weather. The constant lap of the approaching tide meeting with the wet sand. I wanted the boys to put their toes in it. To feel the breeze that only the ocean can breathe on their faces. I wanted them to see my happy place. The big boys were a bit deterred by the cool air and they preferred the dry sand with their shiny new plastic buckets and shovels we had just purchased at Target. They stayed at the edge where the sand meets the parking lot, with my best friend. She was equally, if not more so, deterred by the cold. She says, in California only crazy people and tourists go to the beach on cold days. But I wanted the baby to crest the hill, see the waves and hear them roar. So I put on his little coat and took off his shoes and socks, carrying him over the ridge, carefully rolling up the bottoms of his baby jeans into cuffs. I set him in the sand…his toes next to my toes, just under the cuffs of my jeans. He looked out at the dark water, rolling into foamy white waves as they came closer to us. He looked at me, he babbled, he wobbled. His little tuft of hair was blowing in the sea air. He was smiling, his eyes were wondering what was happening. He liked it. I liked it. I was so happy for this moment we shared. Just the two of us. His first time at the beach. His first time seeing the ocean. The list of firsts gets longer everyday. I loved him hard in this moment, as if I had to love him for Tony too.

Then the baby discovered the large beach stones lapped up at the edge of the water. He licked them and liked it because they tasted like salt. He wanted all the stones he could carry, sand all over his chubby cheeks, smile a mile wide. It was shortly after this, I decided it was time to pack it in and wait for a warmer day to be beach bums. Prying the stones from his hands, making him cry, we returned to the car and packed up. We headed off to a brewery that made one of Tony’s favorite beers for dinner.

After a scenic and restful (for the kids) drive out to Stone Brewing in Escondido. We had an awesome dinner in their indoor/outdoor taproom and restaurant. I enjoyed a beer I like, the stout, and a then their most hoppy concoction – the Ruination – for Tony. The food was excellent, the environment was loud and friendly, so the boys could just be kids. Ahhh, thats always nice. But, there is a breaking point when all the kids begin to lose their minds and its time to head out. That said, I still wanted to pick out some souvenirs at the gift shop. My best friend took the baby and my oldest to the car while I paid and took my middlemost to the gift shop with me. He was none too happy to have to stay behind from his brothers. But I assured him I needed a helper so I could get to the car safely. He took his job very seriously. He helped me shop and pick things out, showed me to the pay counter. He kept track of me in the store. And when it was time to go, he reached out his hand and said ok mom, I am gonna make sure you are safe. And his face, a face that makes expressions like his dad, beamed with pride and maybe just a little bit of adoration for his crazy mom. I was so proud. He was being this big brave boy. I took his hand and allowed him to lead me down the stone path covered in tropical vines. I was overwhelmed. The day, the dinner, and my proud little escort made my eyes overflow for a moment. He said momma are you sad. I said a little, but mostly I am just so proud. He said don’t be sad, I will keep you safe. I felt myself loving him hard, hard enough for two. 🙂

One of the best parts of the trip for the kids, specifically my oldest, was the hotel pool. An outdoor heated pool and hot tub. One end three and a half feet, the other 5. Whether it was sunny or foggy, day or night, they wanted to be in the pool. My oldest is a little fish. We did a couple of years of swimming lessons and I plan to start them again soon, but I was worried that he would not be okay when he got to the end where he couldn’t touch. And at first it was a mix of a fierce doggy paddle and going under to push off the bottom of the pool, that got him around in the deep end. We talked about some of his swimming lessons skills: chicken, airplane, soldier. We also picked up goggles that covered his eyes and nose. These were a great addition to his swimming confidence. He started to kick more, paddle less, putting his head under water. He began to cannon ball bravely into the deep end. He was swimming. I was fairly relaxed that his skills were enough to keep him safe. As I watched him really embrace swimming for the first time ever, I was proud, I was excited, and I was transported into a world we could have had. I could see his dad cheering him on. I could see his proud face and hear him telling his oldest son what a great job he was doing and how proud he was. I could see him swimming there next to him, daring him to dive down to retrieve a toy, to hold his breath longer, and to make bigger splashes. I could see him having handstand contests and them watching each other do underwater flips. In my mind, I saw what wasn’t there, but in the sun…I saw a boy growing up. When I called him from the pool and wrapped the towel around him to dry his olive skin, the same skin his dad had, I loved him hard, harder than I ever thought I could.

There are many other revelations and moments from this trip to ponder and share, but for today, I just wanted to say how much my heart has grown through this terrible loss. I have more love than I ever thought possible to give. To my kids, to my family, to my friends…I feel like I am loving for two in a lot of ways. But I think more than that, I am now aware that love has no bounds, no limits, and should be given freely and in abundance.

May you love hard today, and everyday you are given on this earth.