Last year, on the Fourth of July, we woke up in the hospital with a daughter who was about 43 hours old and who was still nameless. Shortly after we woke, we were told we would be allowed to leave. It was a beautiful day outside, the perfect Fourth of July. The sun was shining and the Rays were lacing up their cleats just a few blocks away in anticipation for the early afternoon game versus the Yankees.
By hour 46 we had decided on a name that fit our brown-haired beauty perfectly, Mila Joan. After we packed up to leave, they wheeled us to the elevator. I remember sitting in the wheel chair on the elevator, holding Mila strapped in the car seat on my lap thinking, "this is her first elevator ride." Humorously enough, I don't remember being as sentimental in the car--although I did nag Ryan at every turn and red light to drive more cautiously. By the time we pulled out of the hospital parking lot, the baseball game had begun so we basically had the road to ourselves. I was physically exhausted and starving for some non-hospital food. We drove through Wendy's--because who wants to go out to eat 48 hours after giving birth? The girl at the Wendy's drive through complimented us on Mila's festive attire and congratulated us on our new daughter.
I wonder how frequently new parents hit the drive through on the way home.
When we arrived at home our house was clean, the refrigerator was stocked, the dog was fed and my mom was waiting patiently to make sure we settled in before she went home.
We took a couple of
bad terrible pictures before I tucked Mila into her bassinet and I crawled into our bed. I turned on HGTV, ate about a quarter of my salad and passed out. The rest of the day was spent in bed snuggling with my new family. Mila woke up to eat as the beach fireworks starting going off. I remember she jumped the first few times she heard the "Boom!" We got her back to sleep and walked out to the drive way to try to catch a few fireworks before the display ended. We saw a couple over the tree line before I had to go back inside--standing for a long time still wasn't really an option at that point.
Although it was quiet, it was the perfect way to spend our first holiday as a family. I will certainly never forget Fourth of July 2012.
This year was a bit more traditional. Beach, beer, sandy sandwiches and fireworks! The day started off with a festive breakfast...
...festive gear and, of course, a Publix run (it's one of the few holidays they're open, I like to take advantage).
We were at the beach by noon and stayed until the black line of impending rain got too close for our taste.
We packed up camp (which is actually pretty accurate considering we had two tents, multiple coolers, a grill, beer pong table, pack and play, etc., etc., etc.), loaded the car and shut our doors just as the first rain drops hit the windshield. Our timing was epic, to say the least.
We went home to nap through the rain storm. Around 8PM I woke everyone up and we rallied with our friends at the beach to watch the fireworks. Unfortunately, due to the storm, the fireworks display was cancelled last minute on our island. However, the islands north and south still had their displays so Mila got to witness all the glory from a reasonable distance, which worked out well, as I wasn't sure how she would take all the noise. She was actually mesmerized by the noise, lights and flairs, even the close ones the crowd on the beach set off. She didn't jump once and didn't complain when the rain started again. It was the time, if anything, that got on her nerves. When we got to the car she was ready to go to bed.
Next year, since the Fourth will be on a Friday, we're thinking about renting a room for the weekend. It would be so much easier. Mila would be able to sleep when she wanted, we would be able to hang out later, no one would have to drive or ride their bikes (my friends got into a bicycle accident on the way home this year, no major injuries) and maybe we'd be able to prevent sandy sandwiches--because no one really likes that part of the Fourth anyway.
♥A
