Lake Awful (July 21st - 24th)

Most people would assume that going to a place like this:

on one of these:

with one of these:
would equal a totally awesome vacation. But then, I'm not most people.

The above pictures are just taken from the internet on Google image search and are not my own. That is not the house boat we were on or the motor boat that we had but you get the idea - it was something similar. However, Lake Powell (the first picture) is where we went (although I don't remember having a view like that). I didn't take any pictures the entire time. Why? I was absolutely miserable...

I'm not sure how much of my misery could be attributed to the stress of traveling with a 3-month old, some post-partum depression, lack of sleep, the heat, the stress of vacation with in-laws (I love my husband's family but sometimes it is just a reminder that I'm not with my own), or perhaps I just don't like Lake Powell that much. I know that comment might be considered sacrilege to some, but I didn't grow up with the "awesomeness" of Lake Powell and countless family vacations there so it is probably pretty easy for me to take it for granted.

My husband's family is a Powell family. They've been going on family vacations there for a long time. That lake is legendary to them, I think. They have a lot of memories of really good times (talent shows, great water for wakeboarding) and some difficult times (boat breaking down, an automobile accident on the way that could have killed someone). But it seems like even the crappy times somehow contributed to the wonder of Lake Powell for overcoming it But this was only my third time to Powell. I hadn't really established any meaningful memories with the lake.

And I don't do water sports. I tried wakeboarding one of the previous times in Powell but I hurt my back and suffered back pain for a year. It was one of the most frustrating experiences because I consider myself a pretty athletic person and somewhat coordinated (I mean, I played field hockey and did hurdles & pole vault - that should count for something). But I couldn't even stand up - I just kept getting pulled forward on my face. And what was even more frustrating was that the person who was trying to teach me (Brandon's brother, Adrian) just kept saying, "Just let the boat pull you up!" as if I was some kind of idiot for not getting it (or maybe that's what I was thinking). Yeah - not helpful. Every time I heard that motor start up, my heart started pounding, adrenaline started pumping, and the fear trickled in. By the end of that experience, I was exhausted and not only failed (my attempts to even stand) but had hurt myself in the process. I wanted to cry. So maybe that one negative experience would taint all future experiences at Powell.

But I hate that it did. Powell is a constant reminder of that failure and I sometimes think that I will try it again but the fear starts trickling in again and I think about back pain for a year. Then I think that I just will be one of those people that goes to Lake Powell and doesn't ski or wakeboard - I'll be confined to riding on tubes or just the boat, which is still enjoyable. And then I'll take comfort in the fact that watersports can be dangerous and my mom was always worried about my participation anyway. But in the back of my head will always be this nagging of my failure.

However, on this trip, I had absolutely no intention of attempting water skiing or wakeboarding. I was freaking out in my head the moment we got there on account of Lucy. We had not had a good night's sleep the night before. We had just flown in from Mass and our flight was delayed two hours (getting us in past midnight as opposed to 10:00 p.m.). Lucy's sleeping schedule was all messed up from the travel and when you're used to your baby sleeping through the night at 6 weeks (I know - spoiled), it's a hard adjustment to wake up once or twice in the night. So we were exhausted when we arrived. And it was hot but I didn't want to take off her clothes cause then she would have no protection from the blazing sun. And when we finally got on the boat to take us to the houseboat, I was paranoid that she would somehow get dropped off the side of the boat, sinking to the bottom of the lake and drowning. I was even concerned about the bumping of the boat on the water as we sped away - I mean, I wouldn't even put her in a jogging stroller til 4 months.

I thought I might settle down once we got to the house boat but then I realized I forgot her bottle and pump (which she doesn't take the bottle too well anyway). And with the heat, I really couldn't leave her because she was getting so dehydrated and wanted to nurse so frequently, throwing her feeding schedule out the door. And I certainly didn't want to take Lucy with me on the boat, exposing her to the sun & heat, bumping, and greater risk of drowning.

So I was stuck...and I was miserable...and everyone knew it...which made me more miserable. This may just be me projecting my ideas on the situation, but I feel like at Lake Powell, and any family vacation for that matter, there is this expectation that you should have fun. And if you're not, or even worse, are in a bad mood, you're ruining it for everyone else. And although I am positive that everyone was quite sensitive to the fact that I had a baby and was still acclimating myself to the stresses of that, I'm quite sure I was no fun to be around and probably was putting a bit of a damper on the whole overall mood of the place. Cause no one likes a fun hater, and no one knew what to do with me. So I allowed this knowledge to burden me a little more.

I had hoped that nights would be a respite - it was cooler and I could just sleep. But with 15 people all sleeping in the same space, I was hyper-sensitive to any noise that Lucy made in her sleep. So I didn't sleep so well as she would cry out (which she normally does at home but then falls back asleep) and I would immediately nurse her to quell the sound. So I was still exhausted. And although I had recently been finding some solace in books at home, I couldn't seem to concentrate on that at Powell either - my mind was just so stressed out.

That trip couldn't have ended soon enough for me. But eventually it did, with the last night there being the worst as there was some crazy windstorm that drove us inside to sweltering heat and even less sleep.

So I said that I didn't take any pictures of this trip, but my mother-in-law and brother-in-law did, which I snagged from facebook. So here are a few to get a picture of how crazy I must be:Here is me and Lucy on the boat on the way to the houseboat. Little did I know of the misery that awaited me. I thought that once we got to the houseboat, my mind would settle down, but it didn't...Here is Lucy who was probably warmer than comfortable, but relatively happy. This trip did more damage to mom worrying about her than it actually did to her.

And here is what I missed out on. I forget how beautiful Lake Powell is - I wasn't paying any attention in my neurotic state:
Brandon's brother, Damian - much more relaxed than I was...

Not sure who this is but he/she was definitely having more fun than I was...

But I missed this the most - beautiful hikes around the surrounding canyons of the lake - one of my favorite things to do. Maybe next year... but definitely without a baby.

I was somewhat comforted when I returned home that not all people are Lake Powell people (Lindsey) and that I was really brave to bring my baby. So I stopped beating myself up about this trip. I may not have been at my best, but I'll have lots more chances to show my husband's family that I can be crazy in a good, fun way. But maybe that will be in a rented beach house in California - then we could have all the grandkids we wanted there and another brother too...