March 28th is a pretty important day in the Larcombe/Mead family calendar.  On that date in 2006, two weeks after the due date, Oscar Mead made his first appearance in the world.  You’d think that this date would be etched into our minds forever; unforgettable, totally.

Not so.  This March 28th, Oscar’s third birthday, almost came and went without the slightest fanfare or celebration.  In fact, when we finally realized what day it was, we marked the event with a chocolate bar and a ride on a coin operated horse.  Oscar didn’t seem to mind, but we felt as lousy as that birthday sounds.  We aren’t terrible parents; there is more to the story.  Please read on before you judge us too harshly.

Pirate Party

Katie’s parents arrived in Spain on March 8th (Katie’s birthday) for a three-week visit.  This came nine months after we left Penticton - the small town where my in-laws live and where we were living - with their only grandchild in tow.  Phone calls and e-mails have kept us in touch and video calls through Skype have meant that Oscar has never lost sight of his beloved grandparents (they are Aba and G to him), but no matter how good the technology is, nothing replaces hugs and kisses.

Knowing that the actual day of Oscar’s birthday wouldn’t be a possibility for a party, we planned Oscar’s celebration for an earlier date.  In fact, it ended up being just a few days after Anne and Larry arrived; while Oscar was napping we (mostly everyone else, I should admit) decorated the living room in a pirate theme and dressed ourselves up as swashbucklers as well.  Shortly after waking, Oscar was buried in presents from Canada.  It was a very early celebration, but one that should be kept in mind when balancing the relative value of his chocolate bar and cheesy horse ride on the 28th.

Impromptu Road Trip

For their flight home, Larry and Anne had to make it to Madrid.  (Long story not worth recounting.)  Until a few days before their flight, they had no arrangements to get to Madrid and I was put to work to find the best means of travel and a place to stay the night before the morning departure.  In a typical gesture of spontaneity I suggested that we drive them to Madrid and all stay together in an apart-hotel or vacation rental for one last night together.  Done deal.

Of course it was difficult to find the kind of accommodation that we were hoping for on such short notice and for such a short stay - many of the vacation apartments that I found required a minimum stay of three days or more.  In the end, I did find two suites in an alternative hotel near the Madird airport for a steal.  That and a car rental secured at a bargain meant that our plans were set. 

We wisely put all thoughts of seeing Madrid aside, instead buying food that we could prepare in our suite’s kitchen in preparation for a quiet night in; a wake of sorts given our imminent separation.  Unwisely, I printed off driving directions from Google Maps without bothering to get a road map.  This meant that we did end up getting a pretty good glimpse of Madrid by taking the wrong exit and ended up in Vallecas, right where I used to live so many years ago.  I couldn’t help but take us for a ride up the Paseo de la Castellana.  Over a decade since I had been back and the city was a delight to see, even in passing.  (I have to go back soon…)

 When I did finally get us all to the hotel - could it have been as late as 10:30 PM? - we were all tired and hungry.  It wasn’t until after we were all checked in and I came back from moving the car that we realized our suite’s were missing something… kitchens.  Each had a locked door were a kitchen should be, but no way in.  In fact, I read on the list of services brochure that the hotel did not allow any outside food or drink on the premises.  Our bags of warm groceries were going to go to waste.

Larry and I obtained a large bag of ice from the hotel bar and we chilled some beer and wine.  (What did they think that we wanted it for if you aren’t allowed to drink in the rooms?  What a ridiculous idea…)  Oscar’s food was all prepared and he had snacked in the car. so he was fine.  An episode of Noddy on the computer and to sleep he went.  The rest of us were too tired to care anymore and so made do with some cheese cut with Larry’s pocket knife and some pan de leche- semi-sweet buns that only Oscar among us had any liking for. 

And yet, despite all of this ridiculous hassle, it was still well worth making the trip.  In the morning we rushed to get ready to take Aba and G to the airport and bid them bon voyage.  A sad moment, to be sure, but one that couldn’t have been missed.  When Oscar realized that they weren’t coming back in the car with us he started to sob and the rest of us weren’t far off.  Good-byes are like that.

Tears to Rain

It’s a strange empty feeling when loved ones leave.  Katie, Oscar and I drove out onto the highway and headed back to Valencia filled with that empty feeling and enveloped by the lamentations of our son, who called out “Aba, G!” over and over again.  It wasn’t long until exhaustion overtook him and he slept.  (I get sleepy when I am emotionally distraught as well.)  There was little to say about our family’s sadness; we live far away from Aba and G - we can’t always be near them.  There are many reasons for it, ones that they increasingly understand, but there’s not much to be done about it.  The sadness at leaving is just part of our reality.

Eventually we started paying attention to the second cause of our empty feeling; hunger.  We didn’t want to wake Oscar before he was ready - especially on that sad day - so we drove on until the boy stirred of his own accord.  We ended up in the same highway stop that we had been in with Anne and Larry three weeks before; Area 77.  It was when we were there, having some much needed coffee, juice and sandwiches that Katie turned to me with horror in her eyes and reminded me that it was Oscar’s birthday.  That’s when I walked him over to the little store and let him pick out a treat, the aforementioned chocolate bar.  On the way out a few minutes later we also granted his requested to ride the coin-operated horse.  It may not sound like much, but he was overjoyed. 

There were no more tears from Oscar.  We explained to him that Aba and G had to go back home to take care of their dog, Sadie, and he understood.  ‘Now Sadie won’t be sad’, he told us.  What a sweet kid.  We left Oscar’s tears behind but headed into a rain that lasted for days - the first rain we had seen since before Anne and Larry’s visit.  Now, is that pathetic fallacy in action or what? 

Three today

I turned to Oscar and said, ‘You’re three today!” and immediately thought how odd that we were also three that day.  Our little family group had been stripped back down to the core three members; beloved Aba and G were gone.  But no sooner had I thought this than I realized what a silly notion that was.  Anne and Larry aren’t gone and never will be, no matter how far apart our paths takes us.  Oscar seemed not to be too impressed with the concept of three either: two days later he looked me square in the eye and told me that he was four.  (Maybe because of that extra birthday celebration at Area 77?)

It’s been over a week since the day that Aba and G left and life is getting back to the strange chaos that we call normal.  I am finally writing something for the blog again and Anne and Larry are back in Canada resuming the life that suits them there.  But we still refer to our spare room as theirs and Oscar told me at lunch today that I was sitting in Aba’s chair.  We’re back to e-mails and Skype calls and yet their presence is stronger here because of their wonderful visit.  Oscar talks about them constantly, not with sadness but with love and the assurance that they love him and will always be there for him.   The wisdom of his three years astounds me.