BATMOM

Plains, Ga

July 27

The last time we tried to drive to Raleigh (during our first attempt to see Andrew Johnson’s home, back in the spring, driving up from Babu’s home in Charleston), we had to turn around due to George’s fever. This time at least Tom made it to the house with Cole and Adeline. George stayed in bed and rested. I packed up the room. We thought that driving would be okay and he could sleep.

In the afternoon we arrived at James Knox Polk’s childhood home in Pineville, SC.  Polk’s visitor center was not open on Monday, which was okay with Cole because he had just puked all over a gas station bathroom floor and was hot with a fever. Adeline and George, who was feeling better, got out with Tom to explore Polk’s old house and barn. It started to rain lightly, and they emerged, wet, both in Tom’s arms, from the forest. I got out and had a peek too.  

Polk was a protégé of Jackson’s, and he was President when we fought the Mexican-American war and won California.  (Lincoln was one-term Congressman from Illinois and gave an infamous anti-war speech on the floor, asking “Where is the spot?” about the imaginary provocation from Mexico.) We didn’t learn much about him, but at least we got the scents and look of his little house, and Tom can do the research later.

We spent the night in Augusta, Georgia, at an awesome and friendly Holiday Inn off a random highway . Cole and Adeline, who was now also acting a little under the weather, stayed in with me and even cooled off in the courtyard pool while a reinvigorated George went with Tom to Woodrow Wilson’s childhood home. George hollered that he didn’t want another President’s home, “The tour is too long!” Alas, I think the kids are beyond on to us about this Presidential home thing. It’s a good thing we only have five more left on this trip!

 

(George with Tom at Woodrow Wilson's home - he doesn't seem too upset)

These tired but awesome kids drove almost happily down to Plains, Georgia. Tom had been trying to get out of this leg of the trip since the trip started. He was very resentful of a trip so far south for only one part of one President’s childhood,…but try as he did to avoid it, we had to go.

 

We thought this might be all we would see!

It was closed by the time we made it. With sick kids and the guilt of having them in the car too long, not to mention the pee and pee and poop breaks, we made an especially long journey. Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter are one of a population of about five people still living in Plains. Although Carter’s home and farm were closed to cars, we snuck in on foot. We did leave our supermobile (with its conspicuous Obama ’08 bumper sticker) at the entrance of the gate so I’m guessing we weren’t so sneaky.

The donkey made me nervous. He followed us with his gaze wherever we went.

 The Siamese cat which emerged from under the house followed us too, which delighted Adeline (but not Cole so much so it told us he really was sick).

 Adeline followed the cat up the stairs of Jimmy’s home and then down back under the house. I couldn’t get her out. By now there were two big wheeled, loud trucks (one with a rack of antlers on the back) roaring by our minivan. Cole said he was cold in the Georgia summer evening. It was beginning to rain. I began begging her with all I had. Cookie? Dessert? Movie (in English)? The cat ran out and so did Adeline.

 

We found a McDonald’s playground for them to play in. I went in search of good food to sneak onto the playground. On aisle 3 of the grocery store adjacent to the McDonalds, as I was choosing between healthy crackers, Tom suddenly came stumbling towards me with three small wet screaming children… they were ours. The play structure had turned out to be soaked. The kids were tired and hungry and they got stuck halfway up in puddles filled with inchworms.  The small packet of Chicken Mcnuggets which he had bought for them to snack on (a point of issue between us) had spilled into a puddle at the base of the play structure, and while he was retrieving Cole, who was now shaking visibly, Adeline ate them.  He was, let’s say, a little stressed. “Take them,” he more or less said.

Tom is the most amazing Dad on my planet. He deals with what I cannot. He can deflect the most on-course temper tantrum known on Planet Clyde. He can make them laugh when they’re screaming and smile when they’re sad. But today he had driven 8 hours and he was spent.

“I can handle it.” I said.

As I changed the kids in the wet, grocery parking lot, Cole said to me, “See Mom, you can handle it.  You’re always cooool.” Sometimes, I thought. No one can handle parenting (well) all of the time. It’s not possible.  But I liked getting that compliment from Cole.  I had heard him say that about the silver Power Ranger.

The kids slept (at last), and we drove to Atlanta. We wanted to drive while they were sleeping because, frankly, they’ve had enough of it. We tucked them in tight at my cousin Sam (whom I’ve always called Uncle Sam). Sam offered me a glass of wine at midnight… ever the Southern host… but I declined and let him go to bed.

NCSA

The next Clydes destination was Raleigh, NC to see the home of Andrew Johnson. During a potty break, George screamed and ran. He'd seen this:

It looks like a locust, but we looked it up in George's book and a locust has black on it. Anyone know?

On the way to Raleigh, we stopped at my high school North Carolina School of the Arts. 

Unfortunately it was a Sunday and the buildings were closed, but we walked around the main quad – the “elephants” sculpture (very abstract), the main hill we took trays and sled down in the winter, the volleyball court, the location of the jello wrestling during Beaux Arts. 

The school has grown with the addition of the film department. When I was there there were less than 200 high school students and 500 university students. Agnes de Mille’s theater, where my mind was blown when I saw my first modern dance performance, has become a recital hall. I don’t think she’d like that much. There’s a new school of music and a street mimicking a Hollywood studio.

 The tree which once had 1000 white origami birds still stood to the side of the coffee house and the Pickle field where our pathetic volunteer tag football team once “played” was now a film warehouse on Pickle Drive. Zuri was the Pickle mascot with red high tops. 

It was too hot to linger too long. My time there was an amazing experience for me. I was away from home and thrown into the thick of vocal study and competition.  I came alive as an artist there thanks to the dance and music and theater. The Moscow Arts Theatre had an exchange with our actors. They brought their version of Chekov’s The Seagull to our campus. Four hours of Russian and the single most influential piece of theater I have seen. It was acting at its best and most beautiful. I have been in love with Chekov ever since!

Mostly, I think I was most influenced by the people, all artists, of different disciplines, and cultures from around the world in such a small place. It was quite a change from my Catholic high school in Charleston, South Carolina (with no music program). I will always be grateful to my parent for sending me there (I had to beg)!

We spent the night in Raleigh, NC. George was not feeling well (he was still fine when he found the 3D glasses and tried out different emotions while wearing them) and a fever had developed. 

Lake Watauga

July 24

We were scheduled to be in Lake Watauga in Tennessee by the afternoon, but we were also scheduled to stop at a Target for children’s life jackets (for the lake) and to see Woodrow Wilson’s birthplace in Staunton, VA.

A family reunion from my mother’s mother’s side of the family was being held in the lake community where Uncle Mike and Virginia have a place.

Woodrow Wilson’s home visit was a disaster. Adeline was on the floor within moments of entering the museum. I was obviously not going to see this museum. We were running late, and I was grouchy about it even though I was equally to blame. I wanted to see my family!

I sat on a bench with Adeline and let her cry. I tried not to freak out about the minutes passing. Adeline finally stopped screaming, and a nice man offered to take our photo. Here we are… not crying!

 

There were other stops too. Potty breaks to be sure. Grocery stores. Cole refused to get off this horse once he got on (Tom had put 50 cents in the machine and threw the kids on and off it until it ended. Having never been on one of these rides it did not ocur to them that they could each get a separate turn).

We arrived at “Driftwood” for dinnertime. The lake was beautiful as was the driftwood-accented lake house. The kids were naturally drawn to all the scary things (waterfalls, the spiral staircase, steep hills, unsecured rock piles, spiders). They loved it!

 

We met the newest member of the family… Elijah Bradley. At 4 months, he has an incredible set of blue eyes and jet black hair. He does a mean Elvis impression with raised lip and eyebrow.

 

The family stayed in various cabins situated within walking distance. We were in a great place up the street, with a swing and a view. Cole took to the swing right away and parked himself there until forced to go to bed.

My cousin Nicki got lost, and a rescue brigade, equipped with flashlights, was sent out for her. Once located, Nicki sent her father off to bed, and she and Aunt Sandy began Mission Flamingo. In honor of my mom’s birthday and my Uncle’s which is 3 days later (they are 11 months apart), they gathered 129 plastic spinning pink flamingos (the combined age of Ellen – Babu -- and David) and planted them in the ground in front of the swing.

 

“Look who flew in for David and Ellen’s 129th birthday.” The sign read.

We set up a pink breakfast and finally went to sleep.          

There was little time to savor the pink moment the following morning (there were inflated flamingoes, hats, leys, sponges).

Bindi the dog escaped and Uncle David spent the morning chasing him. Mom broke a bottle of wine and there was glass and red wine all over the floor. The kids saw the doughnuts and cupcakes and WANTED them. They settled, momentarily, for the leys.

 

(Cole is being a mean, pink Iron Man).

Pink Breakfast moments:

We took slow cruises on one of Uncle Mike’s pontoon boats, which was perfect for the little ones. There was also tubing behind a speedboat. I rode next to Heather, which was smart as she was 16 and knew what to do! I must admit it was very fun, though I am clearly not 16 anymore. Half way through the ride my arms started their falling asleep routine and the arthritis in my hands set in. I panicked a little when I couldn’t feel them and wondered if I’d be able to stay on and even swim if I fell off. I think Patrick, John, Becca or Ali must have seen my worry because we stopped shortly.

George, Cole and Adeline were yelling at me as I stopped. “I want come!”

 

There were naps (for everyone) and more boat rides. While Cole was sleeping, Adeline was with Tom, and George was on a boat ride with Babu, I had some time holding Eli and talking with my aunt Virginia and Great Aunt Rachel.  Rachel was my Grandma Toney’s older sister. She looks fantastic at 88.

 

We had cocktails on the deck overlooking the lake and a potluck dinner. All of the children ran madly about. It made me nostalgic for my time of running around at my Great Grandmother Kate’s veranda and gardens with these same people singing some of these same songs. They are happy, happy memories. I feel certain that as Adeline, Cole and George climbed down the hill and sat on the big chairs overlooking the lake; as they jumped in a circle of relatives for the pink balloon; as they danced on the parked boat, they were building happy memories, too.

 

(Ballon tossing)

Uncle Mike lead an outdoor family history presentation projected on a rented projector. We’re directly related to Abraham Lincoln. Others in our family, but not us, are related to GW Bush (whew, that was a close call). We’re related to Daniel Boone and Cole Porter and John Howland…The last being a passenger on the Mayflower and the first person believed to carry Familial Polyposis (well, he or his wife. Yippekaiay.)

We had a left-over brunch the following morning, and all headed our separate way after big goodbyes. It was a lovely time. Tom and I realized that it was the first time on the trip that we had really relaxed. We had nowhere we had to be, nothing to visit or fix, no errands to run… lovely.

(a proud peacock).

As you could guess, the kids were very tired after BIG play.

Montpelier

July 22 

We packed most of the bags in the supermobile the night before (mostly to keep them away from the kids, but also to help get an early start. The kids, as a result, did not get into the bags, but into a dog cage instead. 

Cole, Adeline and Cousin Irv.

George worried that this was not okay, but when the grownups laughed instead of scolded, he joined them.

Breakfast turned into lunch as we tried to make the apartment look like we’d never been there (impossible). We also did a last search for All Bown Ki'y (now called ABK by grownups so as not to upset Cole whenever we talk about where it could be).

After eating the soup we all made the night before, we said our goodbyes. Hugs and kisses all around. “See you tomorrow in Charlottesville!” We’re meeting everyone in Charlottesville tomorrow. 

The James Madison museum is located in Orange, VA. It was a very odd museum for such an important President. The displays were on copied paper and poorly cut out. The man didn’t even get straight lines on his cutouts. Outrageous! This was literally the father of the Constitution.

Adeline and Cole found Dolley Madison’s mirror. Dolley was de facto first lady for 16 years. She stepped in as hostess for Thomas Jefferson prior to her husband’s election. Note the digital copy of a famous Madison portrait that was on loan to the museum (the copy is on loan).

There was a funny lady that “manned” the front desk. She didn’t come to worry and fret when Adeline and Cole screamed with delight (and might) throwing themselves against a wall and falling onto the floor. She even gave them small copies of the Declaration as we left, as well as a hard candy each (great).

 

Our big stop for the day was James Madison’s Montpelier. The location was beautiful.  It poured rain at one point, but the kids didn't mind one bit.  They ran sprinting and falling in the wet grass.

(The shutters were all away being repainted, New evidence had been found, and the shutters were rushed off to be painted the correct shade of green).

The visitor's center is new, and the house is in the process of being restored. It was refreshing to be in the middle of the process instead of at the end of it. There were tents and working archaeological dig sites throughout the property.

Dolley Madison had to sell Montpelier after James’ death due to the decline of the soil due to its time as a tobacco farm (it paid well but was hard on the land) combined with gambling debts from her son (whom Madison raised). America’s much loved first lady for 16 years was forced to live on the verge of poverty. As a result of the property passing out of the Madison family and a selling off of furniture and valuables, it has been hard to track down original furniture. Currently, the foundation has seven donated sideboards which are “definitely” the original sideboard. It is delicate, as the foundation does not want to offend donors on whom they depend.

James Madison was a small man at around 5’ 2” and very quiet. He and Dolley, with her outgoing nature, were said to be the first “power couple.” I liked Madison. He was smart and passionate. His parent saw that their son was an intellectual, and instead of sending him to the traditional, aristocratic farmer’s son school William and Mary, they sent him to College of New Jersey, now Princeton.

It was the school to which his tutor had gone and was also run by a well known President, Dr. John Witherspoon, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and a teacher of Enlightenment principles.

The influence of neighbor Thomas Jefferson, also a fellow of the Enlightenment and good friend of the Madisons, can be seen in the newly discovered 'Chinese' railing at Montpelier. It echoes the design of Monticello.

Madison was appalled by the thought of owning someone and against the notion of slavery, and yet his home was run by more than 100 slaves at any one time. There would be no way to live as these founding fathers did without slave labor. Neither Madison nor Jefferson liked the idea of it, but carried on with it nonetheless. They did work towards ending the practice but due to economic woes, in Madison’s case anyway, freed only a few men at their death.

The garden:

The archeologists have been able to find almost every stone of the driveway in Montepelier. They have found every placement for the fence and have recreated it all. 

Adeline fell asleep before the tour began. She fell asleep in her stroller during the movie in fact. I waited outside and listened to a tour being led by one of the women on the restoration crew. It began to rain and I reluctantly left the tour for cover (they went inside and the stroller couldn’t be accommodated). I wandered where I could and eventually Tom came out because Cole had to pee. I finished up the tour and he ran around the rain with the kids (I saw them out of the family room window – cuties). 

James Madison hasn't got a real museum or a furnished house yet, but his imprint on history is extraordinary. I liked him very much! The propaganda worked!

Mount Vernon, Take Two

July 21

Determined to see the green walls of George Washington’s dining room, I had everything ready for the kids before we went to sleep. Outfits for everyone on the chair, a packed diaper bag, snacks in the purse… I didn’t want another wasted day. We still didn’t make it out of the house until 10. We lost Cole’s shoes. Or Cole did, rather. I always linger too long over breakfast. I like it. I like my tea. And besides, since chemo, it takes my fingers awhile to warm up. I think it’s arthritis as the joints hurt and I can’t form a fist. 

I grabbed the good camera. My stellar inlaws sent George (Poppy)’s camera (an upgraded version of mine) for me to use because my Canon needs repair. Ah, at last! I can shoot what I’m seeing! THANK YOU GEORGE AND SHERI!

Anyway, we had to pause the process when Cole bit Adeline on the hand. It was the second bite from Cole (cousin Irvin being the first victim 2 days earlier) and not something that has been a problem with Cole in the past. He was sent downstairs for some time alone and was told he could not wear his brother’s Flash costume. It was a bad bite. We could still see the distinct marks in her hand 12 hours later. She provokes him. She pinches him, and Cole flies off the handle. I have to find clothes to replace the Flash.

Civilian Cole piled into the car with the rest of us. Tom was grabbing drinks or shoes or diaper bag back in the house, and George, whom I had asked multiple times to stop climbing around the car like a wild monkey and sit in his chair, fell out of the car and onto his head. I was in the front and didn’t see the impact. Mom had seen some of it, but she didn’t think he’d fallen ON his head. Tom and I were consoling him, rubbing his head, kissing it, when I randomly felt a huge egg-sized lump. We rushed for ice. Asked him his age. Full name. And to count. 

Assessing that he was okay, we hoped back in the car. Mom, Adeline and I toured the house, saw the museum, saw the movie where it snowed. I saw the desk chair that Washington actually used. Its seat was slightly worn and the black leather imperfect. It was the only thing that really moved me. I stared at it for as long they’d let me…. They herd you through Mt. Vernon… The man who was our first President, our first hero, our first and only could-have-been king sat here.

 

There is an exhibit where you can see GW's skull. Not the real one, but similar. I liked the eyeball behind the skull.

We picked up our Supermobile in the afternoon. Tom cleaned it and Uncle David’s car while the kids helped me pack. I packed a bag. They jumped in it. IN IT. Cole got himself inside the bag. Every bag. Adeline gleefully threw clothes out of carefully planned duffels.

George likes to help me cook. Whenever I saw, “I guess I better start dinner.” He jumps up to help me. I overheard him tell a friend one day, “My mom doesn’t really do the cooking. I do it all.” Ah hem. This day he told Irv, ”Cooking is really easy. You just do whatever Mommy says.” Irvin came down with us to the kitchen. He and George were very eager to help. They stirred and measured and dropped things in the pot.  As Irv got more and more into it, he tried to put anything he could find on the counter into the pot. George was at first very upset about this (this was not cooking), but then saw that we could rectify it all (take the things out of the pot, specifically the silverware) and have a good laugh.

The girls laughed into the night. The men went to bed. Too much wine and too little sleep!

From PAGENT PRETTY

To GIRLS GONE WILD (Eww that's my mom and my cousin Nicole)

And goofy through-the-wine-glass shots... When I reframed the shot the same way, I knew it was time for sleep.

Beer

Monday, July 20

Today I was going to go back to Mount Vernon. All day that was my goal. We made it to the entrance, but had to turn back. Cole was asleep. We’d forgotten something. We’d taken so many wrong turns on the way there that it was only open for another hour, which wouldn’t be long enough to see the house. I am trying not to be mad at having a wasted day. I wish I had known in advance that it was going to be a wasted day, so that I could have enjoyed the wasting along the way. Maybe I would have turned on the tube and cracked open a beer.

The kids shot off the water rocket, which finally fell out of its tree, again (that thing goes really, really high). I solved a camera issue. I got laundry done. I wrote some Thank You notes. I dragged the kids around in a red wagon (and now my back hurts but it was worth it). It wasn’t all wasteful. But in this heat, I think I would have enjoyed the beer.

 

Back in Time

I’m going a little back in time now… really… to historic Williamsburg.

July 19

The morning started with a swim. I wrote at a picnic table while everyone else swam. We forgot bathing suits so it was pajama shorts for the boys, and boy’s Batman underwear for Adeline.

We wandered through historic Williamsburg and ate at an outside, period joint. George kept asking where the Umbas were. “What?” I finally asked. “If we’re going back in time we’re going to eventually reach the Umbas.” There are no cars or modern conveniences in Williamsburg. It is supposed to be as it was in the 1700s. George pointed out the one electric light in the entire freakin’ town and asked about the flush toilets… all good points. Adeline got red chicken stew all over her and then fell in the dirt. She also took off her diaper in the food line and held it up for everyone. She flung it around like she was in a rodeo. Great, potty training in Williamsburg. Cole managed to find a burning cigar. He has never come in contact with one before but seemed to know what to do with it (sort of). He put it in his mouth. The wrong way. Who the heck left a long, burning cigar in a pile of leaves. Err.

(Cole wanted to try the "toys").

(These toys were not too fun for kids!)

The kids did put on a good show however. Cole grabbed a bottle of water from the barrel next to checkout at the restaurant. We were far from checkout, but the kids were thirsty so we opened it. “If you can share.” A lady in front of us (into whom Cole and Geroge had bumped multiple times already) said, “I’ll believe that when I see it.” It was almost as if she had issued a challenge to our kids, and they were determined to take it. Almost too sweetly they stood in a perfect triangle and began to take one sip and pass it to the next. Again and again the water went around. When they were done, they began to hug each other. Parents began to comment. “I hope their Mom is somewhere because someone has got to take a picture of this.” I looked up from behind my camera and waved. Apparently I forgot to turn the camera on or didn't have a card in the camera because I can't find them and prove it all was real!

 

 

Harrison’s Berkeley plantation was pretty, a big brick building surrounded by landscaping. The tour guide was bit drunk, I think. He was a fat, round guy in period “farm hand” costume. He was the type who, if her were only a type, would be jolly. Only he kept staring blankly at us and forgetting where he was. “Now. Where was I?” He droned on. And not about interesting things. “Does anyone know what to ‘86’ something means?” Yes, yes, I was a waitress. “Does anyone not know what to ‘86’ something means?” He was like a bad substitute teacher. “Well some people do, and some people don’t.” (Apparently the term comes from the Constitution). Obviously. I never got why it comes from the Constitution. Cole and George and Adeline were trying hard to be good during the antique furniture part of the tour, but the guide wasn’t helping. Cole was circling my knees and grabbed a hold of my tube top’s decorative strings with balls (the ones he calls kitties). He managed to pull my entire top down and flash the guide and a few others. Talk about speechless….

The poor guy mumbled and sighed. “Uhhh.  He he.  Uhhh.” “I can’t blame you!” shouted an overeager blond teenager from the other side of the room and a few rows back. How the heck would she know? Could she see? Did everyone see?

What struck us as odd is that there were 2 US Presidents that lived in this home and yet the history, tour and even the street signs all honored the grandfather and signer of the Declaration of Independence Benjamin Harrison. WH Harrison died in office shortly after his inaugural address. He refused to wear a coat during his 1.5 hours address. outside. in DC. In the snow. While it was raining. The tough guy died of influenza. The OTHER Benjamin Harrison was a one term President whose only real claim to fame was being semi unsocial. 

It does seem that neither descendants could ever live up to his father and/or grandfather. You can be President of the United States of America - the pinnacle of success - and still not live up to your father (in this case) and be viewed as a failure.

 

(Harrison's gazebo where Tom and the kids took refuge from the bugs).

(Cole wanted to check out the diaper changing table at Harrison's from the 2nd floor).

We took back roads “home” to Uncle David and Sandy’s. I accidentally used the word ‘home,’ and Cole piped up, “We’re going home?” He was excited.

Tom and I managed to get into a huge brawl in Williamsburg. Time management… Kids crying… Responsibility… you know. I had just finished a diva scream when Cole said, “Mommy, you’re right.” And in the next breath, with no sense of hypocrisy, “What’d were you saying to Daddy, Mommy?” He wasn’t trying to make things nicey-nice again, but he was trying to make me feel better. I was upset and he wanted to help. It makes you feel all the more guilty for fighting in front of the kids.

 

I am tired. I’ve had no time alone. I’m used to having time to come to peace with my brain and the day I’ve just had. I’m processing without doing much recharging. Tom and I have time in the front seat, but not much. The kids can hear us. We’re tired. I am trying to write. Tom is trying to drive. 

Cole mentioned home. George mentions it too. I’m not sure Adeline even remembers it. Of course I miss home. But the week after we get home I have my next scan. Have I put my family through this because I was scared to stay put and wait?

I even feel a little disconnected from Tom and the kids. I need my time alone in order to tune into them more acutely when we are together. I don’t feel that I am an especially good mother right now.

I wonder about these things in the low moments. Tom wanted to do this trip too. It fell into place. The kids are, most of the time, having a great trip. George gave it a thumbs up today. I’m just tired and don’t feel much like using what little brain power I have left to pack us all for Charlottesville. Maybe I’ll just go to bed.

 

VIP

July 23,

I know, I know, I’m jumping ahead. I’m a few days behind in posting, but I must tell what happened today.

Last night was the first of two nights in Charlottesville, VA. On the way yesterday, we visited Montpelier (James Madison's home), and today we started the day with a visit to Tuckahoe Plantation where Thomas Jefferson lived from age 2 to 9.

Tuckahoe is just outside of Richmond, and we stopped in Shadwell along the way. It’s where Jefferson was born, All we found were rolls of hay. Lots of them, but they were cool.

Beth, our tour guide at Tuckahoe Plantation was dressed in period Colonial attire. You must make an appointment to see the plantation as it’s a private home. She was funny. She was a little aggressive, but only in the nicest of ways. I asked if the kids could play in the old playhouse (because they already were) and she said “If they’re not bitten by a cottonmouth or copperhead.  You know, a S-N-A-K-E.” Tom asked if Jefferson would have walked to the river. “Oh no. There are copperheads and cottonmouths.”

 

She knew a lot about the property, though I never managed to decipher much of what she said. An Indian chief from Arizona, there on a film shoot, said that a man was murdered in the room in which Jefferson slept, but not when Jefferson was in it? “When did it happen?” “I don’t know!” she said in an annoyed fashion, as if it was unseemly to ask about such things. We were told that ghosts abounded in this house. And the gentleman who owned the home, a descendant of Randolph the original owner, has a daughter who was in the latest Star Trek Movie. “She’s a pregnant alien,” Beth cooed proudly. My how Southern high society has changed. From penning the Declaration of Independence to a speaking role on Star Trek.  Both impressive, in very different ways.

We met Babu and Alexa at Monitcello. It’s Babu’s birthday! Happy Birthday!

We made it on the final tour at Monticello for the day. There was a VIP coming, and the whole site was closing early at 3:00 PM. While we waited for our tour to begin, secret service began to show up. New red carpet runners were rolled out, and the rain turned to gorgeous sunshine (that can happen if you’re BIG enough). Cole found the puddles and could not be dissuaded from jumping in them. I scolded him… lightly… a puddle fan myself. An older man took a liking to Cole and joined him in jumping. Cole was in awe. Adeline had a go of it too. Great.

Our kids were noisy and slowed down the tour. Out of nowhere 3 strollers appeared for them. And after too much loud talking, a new tour guide did too. We had a personal tour. We knew we were being rushed through, due to the mystery VIP guest. Everything was playing in fast forward, which the kids didn’t mind but the grown-ups did.

I must be honest. I was impressed with Monticello… Jefferson’s additions and inventions. I loved the bed in the study and the antlers on the walls, but it was not beautiful in a warm sense. It lacked a femininity. It lacked a place to congregate and relax.  I imagine that there was little relaxing, except at the dining room table… The man’s bed was IN his study for goodness sake. It was an 18th century version of an amazing bachelor pad. I felt less nervous and more welcomed at Madison's Montepelier, even though it was still unfurnished.

We walked under the house (Jefferson had tunnels with kitchens, storerooms, privies, etc.), and we were on our way to the gardens when secret service told us to hurry along. But Cole needed to go potty. The secret service stood sentry and let Cole and I go in. Tom, Alexa, George and Adeline continued down to the last shuttle. Babu tried to win over secret service outside the door as I struggled with Cole inside. “I have to do FIVE poops,” announced Cole, holding up his hand with all five fingers and smiling widely. "Ok," I said. A moment later, he was ready to go.  We washed his hands and exited.  I opened the door for us to leave.  “I can’t do five," Cole continued, "I’ll did four, and you make it five." The secret service agent tried hard to have no expression. Escorting us out, the last to go, he declared, “We are now clear. Report: clear.” Cole somehow recognized that this was a special situation and dragged his legs across the lawn. Fifteen, maybe twenty, secret service stared at him as he crossed the lawn dragging his legs between Babu and me. He laughed and fell to the grass. Finally, he agreed to a Babu piggy back ride.

We learned on the unofficial shuttle down with guides and staff that the mystery guest was Michelle Obama.  And the girls!

We waited with a small crowd at the visitors' center. Sasha, Malia, and their Grandmother came in to the movie theater. Twenty minutes later Michelle and her mother exited back to their security motorcade. It was amazing to see them closely, and what a coincidence! A real Presidential family on our tour of Presidential homes.  George happened to be wearing his Obama t-shirt. 

 

Another boy wore his “Five Guys” shirt (where the President visited for a cheeseburger with Biden a few weeks ago).  We felt we were representing well.

We were star struck and came back, dazed, to the hotel. Tom fetched burritos for the kids at a place immediately next to our Red Roof Inn, but he came running back quickly. “Michelle and the girls are around the corner eating frozen yoghurt. I waited there but you need to go. Go now!” I grabbed George, now in full Spiderman costume, and we ran to the elevator singing the Spiderman theme song. We were taped for the local TV news (who can resist the Spiderman-on-the-street interview), but we had just missed the Obamas.

My sweet, sweet husband had missed them (he could have gone in) but came up to tell me instead.

We took Mom out to eat at the Old Ivy Inn in Charlottesville for her birthday. It was delicious! 

More pictures and a video of the Obamas here:

Get the heck out of there...

Tom took our supermobile (’04 Toyota Sienna) in to get checked out and the oil changed. They said it was fine, but when we started it the next day, the air conditioner suddenly didn’t work – it just blew hot air. He took it back, and we learned that it wouldn’t be repaired until Wednesday, which could have thrown off everything. Uncle David generously offered us his car, since they could not locate a rental big enough for all of us.

So we set off for a quick day trip and possible overnight in a Ford S.U.V. A 20 minute trip to Fredricksburg became 2 hours with traffic (on Saturday at midday? Apparently, this is to be expected on almost any Summer day on 95-South.  It’s all the traffic from NY to Florida). We finally made it to George Washington’s childhood home, called Ferry Farm, where he spent his first years. They had a lovely vegetable garden just like the Obama’s… The Obamas weren’t the first, who knew?

It was a beautiful plot of land.  It rests up against a river that at one time had a public ferry that ferried people across. It still has the pretty river, but also a McDonald’s and 7/11 “resting” on its other side. First President/First fast food restaurant. The old and the new… Hmmm…

We took the walk down to the river and around the grounds. George Washington lived in some phenomenally beautiful settings. No wonder this guy loved the country so much to defend it.

He was raised as an English Country gentleman would have been raised, and with that came the obligation to society. I would like to know more about the origins of that. As others in his era, he had slaves. I know it was the custom, but it obviously still bothers me.  After looking at the slave house on the grounds of Mount Vernon, Tom and George had a conversation about how G.W. was “a lot good, and some bad too.”  George is very interested in how nothing is black and white, and everything is gray.  But it’s hard for him not to actually visualize the color instead of just accept the metaphor.

James Monroe’s museum in Fredericksburg was closed for renovation. We used the port-o-let on the street outside. Thanks James.

Next we drove to George Washington’s birthplace in Popes Creek.  We were impressed (and slightly irritated?) to find that it was as lovely as his other homes. 

Adeline was sleeping so the just the boys went inside. I wandered along the path by the river (which meets up with the Potomac) within Adeline-crying range. Could this guy be as perfect as history portrays him?

I thought I heard Adeline cry and raced back to the car at full speed (hard to do in strappy sandals). She was still asleep, mouth open, Cole’s Spiderman sticker book clutched in both hands. I watched families leave the parking lot and wondered about their stories. One family of five piled into their small hatchback (compact economy in national rental chains). They then hopped back out and put their dog in a dog cage located in the hatch back. Did they just put their dog in the trunk I wondered? About the time that the mosquitoes were really coming out, and I was considering putting repellant on Adeline even if she did wake up (she’s very reactive to mosquito bites), a man stopped next to us in his car.

“Time to leave.”

“My husband and kids are in there.”

“I’ve got to lock up the gate.”

“Oh. I don’t know where they are.”

“Any clue?”

Didn’t I just say no? This man was rude and I didn’t want to help too much.

“No.”

He gestured for me to look. I gestured to my sleeping child.

“Oh.” He slammed his door and drove 5 feet to the curb.

Shortly, Cole came out of an entrance crying. He tugged at Tom. The rude man got out of his air conditioned car and put his hands on his hips. I chuckled. Hands on haunches does nothing for Cole. This guy is going to have to wait.

Back in the car, having apologized to the ranger, we circled the mini Washington monument on the property and checked out the farm lands and juncture where the smaller river (I forget the name) and the Potomac meet. There was a large bird, bigger than an egret, with a kind of white feather beard, on a tree overlooking the water which we couldn’t identify. 

Thinking that we’d find decent food and shelter at Colonial Beach nearby (where we were headed for a drive-by of Monroe’s birthplace marker), we headed there quickly. It was a strange, dismal beach town. People drove around in golf carts as if it were one of those high-end, boring resorts (why would you want to imitate that?). But the whole area felt as if it was about to sink. The houses were old (40s?) but not quite quaint. I couldn’t feel the town’s personality. It was trying to be too many things to too many people. There were sale signs on most of the water side houses.

The kids were crying. We found a seafood restaurant next to a “fresh” seafood shop. “What is fresh?” I ask. “Everything.” Flounder and salmon; scallops and shrimp…? I got a broiled flounder. How can that be messed up? No comment. And it was expensive. Everyone else was eating fried food. I guess that way you can’t taste the fish.

We headed towards William Henry Harrison’s Berkeley Plantation in Charles City, Va.  The kids fell asleep, and we were looking for a hotel but didn’t find anything. I was engrossed in reading about President John Tyler or something to Tom when we stopped at a stoplight. I looked up and there was a man at my window. He was facing me and looking down at my lock or my purse on the floor. I believe he tried to open the door. I screamed, “There’s someone there!” We had just been on the highway (I thought we still were), and I was freaked out. The man did not respond and walked in between the other cars calmly and was quickly out of sight. I think he’d tried to rob us. I had the freaky, violated feeling and had trouble sleeping when we did finally reach a hotel in Williamsburg. 

We tried to find John Tyler’s birthplace on the way. We wound up in a spooky little complex of a court house and visitor’s center. Tom went looking for the plaque that we had read was next to the court house. Even though by now it was 12:30 am, he found an open door with a red light glowing inside it. He found no fewer than six plaques to obscure people and taverns and long lost history, but nothing about President Taylor.  He came back to the car chuckling.  I ran to the restroom (the kids were in the car sleeping) and it too was glowing red. Bats screeched  and flapped. There were a lot of them. A historical marker next to the restrooms made me scream (it just looked scary, what can I say), and I ran back to the car. Unfortunately I had just read about John Tyler’s haunted Sherwood Forest plantation up the road (he called himself the “Robin Hood” of politics), which didn’t help. Down the road we located the marker at last, in front of a corn field. I clicked a picture to prove it happened and we got the heck out of there.

Private driveway to Tyler's house:

Williamsburg was a nice place to end up. Heck, anywhere but there was nice to be!

Mount Vernon

We did little but play and get organized. When we arrived at Uncle David and Aunt Sandy's, Tom carried the riff-raff from our car (knee deep) into the downstairs in-law where we were staying. It had to be done, but it took days to clean it all up. The kids were so happy to see Irv and play play play that we hardly saw them.

 

  

 

 

 

  

 

Cole burned his eye lid on a sparkler in East Hampton. Ouch. (He doesn't seem to notice it).

 

  

 

Eventually, we ventured out to Mount Vernon. The opening movie had “real” fighting (G.W. from the French-Indian war), something the boys had never seen. They were into it. Cole screamed, “Is that George Washington?” Now that’s a super hero! Now we're talking President! he was thinking.

 

 

 

 

Super Power Ranger Cole and Super Irvin:

 

 

 

He did not want it to end. We had gotten a late start, so Adeline and Cole broke down quickly and couldn’t wait the hour to tour the house. My Mom ("Babu") and I took them to the food court, while Tom, Alexa (Aunt Sandy’s niece) and George did the tour and museum. Babu and I plan to go back. Tom said the museum was amazing, much like the Lincoln library and museum.

We also made a trip into see the White House. We haven’t been able to get tour tickets. The list is long… maybe next year. We stood outside, though, and walked around the other side to see the vegetable garden Michelle planted in the South lawn. It’s pretty amazing to be able to get so close. It felt like the people’s house.  The lights were on in the Oval Office, and you could imagine Rahm and the President having a discussion.

There were many little adventures in between. The dog Bindi escapes on a regular basis and runs to the creek out back. If we don’t find him quickly, a nice neighbor brings him back. One day, we lost Irvin too. He threw a ball for Bindi, and when Bindi escaped so did Irv. We didn’t panic as first because 3 of the 5 of us thought that Sandy had taken him to school. I asked Uncle David casually. Mom, Uncle David, Alexa and Tom were out of the house in a split second. Back came Irv. Back came Bindi. Whew.

We sent off a huge water rocket into a tree, and that rocket is still in the tree. It’s too high to get down. We played in the creek and even had some time to sit after dinner and catch up.

 

 

  

 

 

 

(I think of this as them in 15 years... uh oh).

Below, a moment of reflection.  Tom's probably explaining to Cole that this is it, this is where all these people we've been talking about and seeing movies about ended up. (Well, except for G.W., who was in NYC.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Thursday, Sandy organized a spa afternoon for all of the older girls (Mom, me, Sandy, Nicole and Alexa). Mom treated me to a pedicure and massage. The massage was my first hour alone in 34 days. Just a room alone, massage or not, was good.