Dark Ages Day

Three days ago we got a note from our apartment complex, which we love, saying that the power would be turned off in the entire complex from 9-4 on Friday. Fantastic. That shouldn't be a problem at all, considering the day before it was 99.5 degrees with 90% humidity. But Shannon, no lights means cooler indoor temperatures. It also means no fans or fake air conditioners. I wasn't freaking out at all. Then Thursday at 4:15 we got a message on our answering machine from the complex saying that they will be power washing our neighbors' decks, and they will do ours too unless we call them before the office closes at 5:00. If they don't hear from us, they will wash our deck. Also, please make sure you remove anything from the deck that you don't want to get wet.

So to recap:

• No electricity from 9-4

• Unless we call them within 45 minutes they will "power-wash" our deck (with no power? hmmmm...)

• If we do not remove things from our deck, what will they do? Indiscriminately hose it because we did not have the foresight to put the barbecue in our dark living room?
  

• The office will be closed all day because of the power outage, so if there are any issues we're on our own

This shouldn't be a problem. It's not like I have a toddler who's learning to walk and can barely do it in bright lights without falling and running into things.

By 8:45 I was all ready...

...Ben's lunch prepared...check
...stack of books and education journals...check
...book light...check
...fans and fake air conditioner running all morning for pre-cooling...check

All that was left was to wait.

At 9:20 everything stopped. I put Ben down for his nap, then I settled onto the couch with my stack of reading materials and book light. The morning actually wasn't too bad. The pre-cooling had its desired effect, and the apartment, while not cool by any standards, was not as hot and stuffy as I had anticipated. It was actually kind of nice to be forced to go without the TV, computer, and lights. It was quiet and almost peaceful.

Ben woke up around 11:00. My plan was to escape the dark cave and have one more beach day before Black Monday. While these solo adventures have been stressful at times, I'm really glad I did them. For most weeks I went to the beach at least once, sometimes more. By yesterday I'd come a long way from my novice days. So you'd think after two months of going to the beach with Ben every week I'd be a pro. Apparently I regressed on this last and glorious outing.

At 11:15 I was on the road with the stroller, backpack filled only with the essentials, Ben's lunch, and the umbrella. For my own lunch, I decided that since it was our last beach adventure I would treat myself to a sandwich from the Stuft Surfer, my favorite beach-side eatery. The only thing I didn't have was quarters for parking; I only had 3, which would buy me only 45 minutes. Not a big deal--I would just go to the grocery store, buy something small, and get some cash back in the form of quarters. So I went to Stater Brothers, picked out a banana, and purchased it asking for $10 cash back. The cashier opened her register, pulled out a $10 bill, practically threw it at me, slammed her register drawer shut, and started ringing the next customer up. Not wanting to elicit her spewing flames at me, I figured I'd get the quarters at the laundromat across the street. So I drove across the street (which, I should tell you, was actually a freeway, so it was a little more complicated than just "driving across the street"), unbuckled Ben, hauled him and my ten into the laundromat, and sighed deeply as I saw the token-dispensing machine. No quarters. New plan: there's an Albertson's on the way, so I'll stop there. $1 worth of bubbles, 9 cents in tax, 81 cents in change (including 3 quarters), 1.5 miles, and 40 minutes from my start time later, I was back on the road.

At 12:00 I found a parking spot at 13th street, just two blocks from the Stuft Surfer. I emerged from my car to discover that the suffocating heat and humidity had gone to a whole new level. I walked two blocks to the Stuft Surfer to see that there was a line stretching practically to 14th street. Lunch would have to wait. So I walked down the paved path to the water to discover that apparently all of Southern California had the same idea as me. There wasn't a clear spot of sand to be found. Normally I park the stroller at the end of the path, take Ben out (can't stroll on the sand), walk him and the stroller a few feet, and set up camp. Not an option this time; but I've worked too hard to get this far, and I can't give up now. So I took Ben out of the stroller and walked them for many many feet, wading through the crowds of people, and finally found a small clearing surrounded by bikini-clad preteens, a family of a billion, and for some reason a number of grandmas all by themselves. Why is that important? Because grandmas can't control themselves around Ben. They come up, pinch him, squeeze him, pet him, and say inappropriate things like "my, you're big...your mommy has a good milk supply."

I set up our little area and Ben stationed himself in the sand and started burying himself in it. He's a boy, to be sure. The kid loves getting dirty.


After a little bit we ventured through the throngs of tourists to the water. It was actually pretty fun. This is Ben's first beach adventure since learning to walk, and he was out of his mind with joy and excitement. He'd run a few steps, fall on his face in the mud, push himself up grinning ear to ear and run again with fistfuls of sand. The tide was a little rough, and at one point Ben, myself, and the camera were almost swept out to sea. Thankfully we emerged, alive and with a still-working camera. How that happened I'll never know, but I'm choosing not to question the saving of the camera. However, my clothes were soaked, and I was forced to remove them and wander the beach clad only in my swimsuit. This is something I didn't do when I was in college and skinny, so I wasn't too keen on it now. But I didn't have much of a choice.


The rest of the hour went much the same.

After our beach funsies I packed up my soaked-through kid and sand-covered belongings (Ben had some fun collecting sand and dumping it on, well, everything), and headed back to the pathway, loaded stroller in one hand and Ben in the other. I was moving fairly quickly because the sand had been touched by the fires of Mordor, and I was barefoot. I got to the pathway and put Ben in the stroller, at which point I realized that my sandals had fallen out quite a ways back. So I pulled Ben out of the stroller and ran back to collect my shoes. Ben was squealing with delight and laughing while mommy was screaming with flaming feet. I got us to the shower-ish spiggots to rinse off, as we were way too sandy to get in the car. Ben didn't like it much at first, but by the end he was giggling and entertaining the Matthew McConaughey-like surfer waiting for the water.

We skipped the Stuft Surfer again because it still had a line down to Mexico, and I wasn't about to prolong this adventure. So home we went. Once we got there, we headed to the pool for a rinse (no electricity=a very dark bathroom and potentially catastrophic shower). Upon our return we played for a bit and I put Ben down for his nap. At this point the heat was out of control, and I was staring at my cell phone every couple of minutes in anticipation of 4:00 and the return of the power (also because I'm reading The Satanic Verses right now and I'm having a hard time not drowning in headaches and confusion).

When Ben woke up from his nap, we were both dripping with sweat. So good.


When my mom came to babysit for our date night at 5:00, we still had no power. Thankfully it came on at about 5:15, at which point we gladly left for dinner and Inglorious Basterds. I happily spent the evening eating with two hands, meandering through the other sections besides the children's at Barnes and Noble, and watching a movie that did not star puppets.