cumin at the cottage

This past weekend we started a new chapter of our lives.  For the last two years, chaos has reigned in our house. Between nursing school and Scott’s long work hours and me taking on a job that was a far greater commitment than I ever expected, we had little time for each other.  But this last weekend we implemented one of the final interventions to help us reach our goal of family togetherness.  Nursing school has been over for awhile, Scott has made some much needed adjustments at work that have allowed him more family time and I have finally adjusted to my new job.  This summer my goal is simple, relax, breath and rekindle our family bonds.  We will be strengthened in our marriage, bonded with our boys and re prioritized. 

Scott’s mom and dad closed on the cottage this week.  I lost sleep making mental lists of everything I needed to pack for our first weekend.  Sometime midweek I lost sight of my dining room table as it became the packing zone.  Every time I walked by the table I remembered something else.  The first aid kit, the Windex, the light bulbs, the Legos.  Saturday was our first day.  I was supposed to have our house in perfect shape prior to taking off.  It was so hard to do laundry while daydreaming of reeling in snappers and difficult to load the dishwasher while imagining long walks to the beach.  All morning I calmly organized and packed but as soon as the boys woke up the energy level changed.  They dressed and packed, what they thought, was appropriate for the weekend.  Then at about 8:30, I found them all sitting in the van with their seat belts on.  We had about three more hours of housework prior to our scheduled departure.  I was probably more excited than all of them put together so we ended up leaving a bit earlier than expected with a few less tasks checked off my to do list. 
It should have taken us about 40 minutes to get to the island, but between grocery shopping, stopping to buy some used lawn furniture, trying to fit my $5.00 chairs into an already jam packed van, and getting gas, it ended up taking about an hour and a half.  We listened to wholesome county music on the way to the cottage, we listened loud with the windows down, partially because my air is broke in the van and partially because we were headed to the cottage and it wouldn’t be right to drive down Stringfellow road with the windows up.

I was a bit apprehensive about being at the cottage without Scott for our first time.  There were new life jacket rules to reinforce, neighbors to make good first impressions with, lots of potential dangers, like a fuse box missing a cover and some loaded mouse traps and some strange items that the previous owners had left behind. 

“No, don’t eat those pickles, those aren’t ours!”
“Don’t touch those, they all have hooks…”
“Don’t pee in there yet, I don’t know if the water is turned on…”
“You introduced yourself to who?” 
“Where did you get those toothbrushes, throw them out, gross.,,”
“Because, the little boys will die if you let them out by the sea wall with out me…”

I had bags and boxes to unpack and a fridge and entire kitchen to clean and disinfect before Scott and his parents arrived.  I wanted things to be perfect when they walked through the doors for the first time.  Let me just say, my expectations were far to high.  The previous owners left some really strange stuff, like a fridge full of ethnic food and some lottery tickets and stuffed animals and birthday cards and broken furniture.  I did what I could while keeping an eye on all the boys.  I unpacked the essentials and threw out about five bags of garbage. 

I pulled all the bedding off of our bed and walked outside to do some laundry.  Laundry at the cottage is so satisfying and simple.  There is no washer in the house.  It’s located in a shed attached to the cottage.  I smiled as I hung laundry out in the ocean breeze to dry.  What is such a task on the mainland is suddenly bringing me great joy.  This could be due to the fact that I live in the only city in the United States that has decided to ban clotheslines, really.  I sat near the water as I folded slightly stiff sun dried towels.  No ocean breeze scented Bounce for me.  By the time I finished hanging the last of the pillowcases, the sheets were already dry.  In the Gulf breeze and the beachy sunshine laundry dries in about 26 seconds. 
Soon Scott arrived followed by his mom and dad.  I was excited to be surrounded by a few more adults.  This free’d me up to work with the boys a little. 

“This is the life jacket hook…”
“It’s called a canoe…  Not a kayak, a canoe…”
“This door needs to stay shut…”
“You need to jiggle the handle after you flush or it will run.  Like this…”
“That’s because this is high tide.  I’m not sure, we’ll have to study some tide tables…”
“I don’t think electric eels live in the canal…”
“No, you can’t swim here… Because, I’m too nervous…”
“Because, Pine Island statute B456.7 states that you can’t make S’mores till after 7 PM…”
“SHUT THE DOOR…”
“If you are going to scooter on the seawall you must wear a life jacket…”
“It’s not a kayak, it’s a canoe…”
“If you cast into the neighbor’s boat one more time I will have to take your pole away…” 
“You’re right, Mommy shouldn’t cast into their boat either…  Because mommy is not an experienced fisherwoman yet…  I know, I’ll go put myself in time out…”
“You need to take turns standing over the AC vent… Then go in another room and find your own…”
“Who forgot to shut the door?”
“IT’S CALLED A CANOE!!!”

Scott’s mom arrived and blew through the kitchen with far more attention to detail.  Cupboard by cupboard she sorted and washed and disinfected and laid cupboard liner.  We made team decisions regarding the future plans for the rice cooker, crock pot, seven extra frying pans, twenty seven reusable plastic containers and three electric skillets.  Seriously, was this someone’s cottage or catering business?  Tommy was in charge of the spice cabinet.  Instead of tossing everything as I requested, he carefully unscrewed each and every top and dumped the contents into his spice bowl before throwing them into the garbage.  I walked through a cloud of cumin on more than one occasion.  Who keeps Cumin at their cottage?  Really?
Scott’s mom and I schemed about meal plans and new cottage rules.  Several times this weekend I paused to count my blessings.  We are so lucky to have Scott’s mom and dad who buy a weekend retreat and then graciously allow us to come and crash each every relaxing weekend.  Not just allow us to crash it, insist that we treat as our own.  Of all my friends in my social circle I am the only one that is best friends with my in laws.  We are so blessed. 

Scott’s dad spent time babysitting the boys near the water, experimenting with the boat lift (this involved teaching Tommy how to operate the davits so he could see if it was strong enough to lift him off the ground) he also watched hours of painful card tricks performed by the non so amazing Gavin.  Scott's mom cooked and cleaned and cuddled boys and pushed the stroller on several long walks. 

We have a list a mile long of things we need at the cottage.  But we are all in agreement that less is more at the cottage.  We are on island time and need minimal essentials.  No rice cooker or carpet cleaners or gas grills for us. 

Scott and I visited the town center.  We are now weekend residents of the southern most city of the island.  I  say city with a little smile because St James City is as far from a city as you can get.  A handful of waterside taverns, a couple marinas, a hardware store, a Baptist church and a general store make up most of the businesses in St James City.  The general store was exactly what one would expect.  I walked in wearing a swimsuit.  Prior to entering I scanned the door for the no shirt no shoes sign.  Refreshingly, there were no signs of this nature.  Just a sign mentioning that you are more than welcome to come in barefoot if you assume your own liability for any injuries you may sustain while shopping.  Fair enough.  At the general store you can: buy bait, purchase beverages of all kinds (more beverages that food), rent a video (note I did not say DVD, they’re VHS tapes), swap, purchase or rent a paperback book, post a sign for a free couch or a missing daschhound the community bulletin board, purchase a stamp or a few possibly staples.  My plan is to grocery shop on the mainland prior to the weekend but I think I may find myself looking for excuses to take a trip into the city to the quaint little general store. 

We spent a morning driving down some of the narrow little island roads.  Driving past any of the St James City residences you can tell they are a little more relaxed, a little older, a little more carefree and a little more creative than their neighboring mainlanders.  The mailboxes were my favorite.  Did you know you can make a mailbox out of an outboard motor?  Lawn decor was mostly nautical in theme.  It was difficult to determine if crab traps stacked near the driveway were just a common landscaping trend or if their owner was  a weathered old crab fisherman or if he was just a transplanted retired prosthetic limb salesman from Ohio just trying to fit in with the locals.  Regardless, it worked.  In fact, I’m already scheming to find out how I can get my hands on a few free crab traps.  Aggressive home maintenance went out of style some time ago.  A little peeling paint and a lawn long inhabited by the native island grasses instead of short green grass is all the rage this season.

Scott’s mom and I re purposed some kitchen chairs being discarded by a local.  After disinfecting and Pledging them we tossed out our dilapidated sun room chairs and replaced them with our new find.  We were quite pleased with our new chairs and our no cost upgrade.  The beauty of having a cottage is that functionality is the only requirement for household .  In fact new household items wouldn’t actually blend in at all.  I’m anxious to start making over our bedroom with everything I’ve collected for free or next to nothing. 

Scott went on many canoe adventures this weekends.  I was the captain for a few shorter trips.  I can handle being the captain, sitting in the back keeping all of the crew sitting in low positions, not rocking the boat and certainly not leaning over the edge.  Scott convinced me to accompany him and the older boys on a morning paddle.  I was supposed to sit in front and was more than a was a Nervous Nellie.  I couldn't see what the other boat occupants were doing and was afraid of rolling the canoe if I turned around to see.  They rocked and moved and splashed and threatened to capsize our canoe on more than one occasion. 

“Who’s moving back there/”
“Why am I getting wet?”
“Because, if I’m paddling I can’t hang on”
“Quit moving!”
“We need to turn around”
“The next person who moves is going to have extra jobs when we get back to the cottage”
“I can too swim, I just don’t want to right now”
“I hate canoeing”
“It’s a canoe, not a kayak”
“I am never coming with you guys again”
“QUIT MOVING”
“Take me home”

I guess this must say something about my control issues.  Maybe canoeing in a tippy canoe with a very casual overly relaxed captain will be therapeutic.  I was taking laundry down and folding it near the water when I saw Scott and the boys paddling down the canal returning home from a two hour adventure.  I was relieved to see that they hadn’t been capsized or lost at sea when suddenly the boat started to rock.  They appeared to lose their balance and Gavin flopped over the side into the canal.  I dropped my basket and screamed at Scott before I realized they were only joking and had probably rehearsed this skit several times prior to playing this evil little trick on me.  They all got a good laugh and I anxiously awaited their return to the seawall so I could swat their butts for tricking me. 

Our first cottage weekend was one I will remember but relive each and every weekend we can possibly get away.  I hoped to get more photos, but with so much to unpack and clean and so many unruly little boys to watch, I had little time for photo shoots.  We had more laughs this weekend than I have had in the last month.  Several pieces of furniture collapsing and some of the items Annette would pull out of the kitchen drawers while cleaning made my sides ache and tears well up as I giggled uncontrollably.  The boys are in love and can’t wait for Friday.

 How many more days till the weekend?