Sunday has become much more than just another day since Harrison was born. Sunday was never really a day of rest, rather it was once a day of hangovers, a day of impending Monday blues and a day for pigging out before the inevitable diet started again. Sunday wasn’t really significant, it was just another part of the week. Everything changed though when Harrison was born. For the first few months, I had a difficult time getting myself out of the house. Until I returned to work when he was five months old, it wasn’t unusual for me to go five days without actually leaving the comfort of my home. It wasn’t healthy, but it was my life. When I went back to work, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t waste anymore time. Every Sunday, we would do something new, or maybe something old, but we would do something. Every week, Sunday rolls around and Jordan wonders what great wonder I have in store for him this time. Whether it be a strawberry field, a beach in October, or an ice-cream trip in the next town along, I’ll have a new adventure for us. This Sunday, we spent our day in my childhood heaven, Blackpool. Unfortunately, my dreams of a wildly interesting day to share with you all quickly dissipated and what I am left with what closely resembles the epitome of traveling with a toddler: stressful, not as expected but ultimately good old fashioned fun.
No two Sunday mornings will ever be the same for us. Morning routines have never really been our strong point, much less when we are ‘on holiday’ and we very much following Harrisons’ lead. Harrison woke up too early, having not slept enough, eager to explore his new caravan environment with his new light saber and a cuddly toy bigger than he was. If he wasn’t battering walls with this light saber, he was having a tantrum because he’d knocked down said cuddly toy. It was just one of those mornings, but we were on holiday, it was to be expected. The boys went swimming, and I took advantage of the quiet to sit and do absolutely nothing. Quiet is a rarity these days and is something I’ve grown to appreciate. I remember being a child, and always wondering why my mum never wanted to come swimming when we were at a caravan. She would always stay behind and cook breakfast and I could never understand why you would pass up a chance to go swimming. Well mum, I now understand. After swimming, Harrison slept for around an hour or so, just enough time for me to have another coffee (or four) and for Jordan to sit down and also do nothing. It’s amazing what an hour or two doing absolutely nothing can do for you. I do love going away on these weekend breaks, but they are not always easy. They throw routine right out, they are generally more work than they are a ‘break’ and it does make me wonder sometimes if it’s worth going. Then I’ll catch myself with an hour to do nothing, and with a little time to breathe it’s easy to appreciate why it is we actually come away. In this weekend alone, we’ll have done more in a month of Sundays. We may try and make the most of our weekends at home, but nothing beats the experiences you get on holiday as a child.
We made the most of running between the caravans and took a trip to the local park. It’s funny, the park is something we try most weekends, but Harrison never seems to get anymore interested. We were in Blackpool with my cousin who has a little boy nine months older than Harrison, and it’s amazing to see the differences between the two. The gap is closing slowly but it’s definitely still there. While Connor could play on the swings, or the slide, or the climbing frame and was happy to do so – H was not. Harrison is so inquisitive but he will never go for the ordinary, he was more intrigued by the dirty ball abandoned on the grass than he was the play area (a choice Jordan was more than happy to entertain).
We made it out into Blackpool for a little while when Harrison woke up. Nothing significant, but a trip to the pier and a little saunter around on the sea front was enough for us. I went out with high expectations of our day (probably a little too high) and couldn’t help but feel slightly deflated when we didn’t make it to any of the attractions I had on my list. I think I forget sometimes that traveling anywhere is just not as simple as it once was. I can’t hop on and go, and paying for a Zoo, or an Aquarium, or for a 5 minute trip up a Tall Tower with a one year old won’t always be worth it anymore. I spent part of the afternoon in a bit of a downer of a mood, and as I write this now I’m kicking myself for even wasting a day worrying about everything I wasn’t doing. Rather than pay for any of the big attractions, we spent some time in the local park playing around. With a one year old and a toddler, they know no different when comparing Blackpool Tower and the monkey bars and they had a whale of a time. We also visited the pier on the seafront and walked along the front, which will forever be my own favourite activity in Blackpool. We dragged around an oversized rat dressed as a Rastafarian that we had won in a fairground game, we ate soggy chips and took in the Illuminations. It was completely ordinary, but exactly what we needed. We had a great afternoon in the park. We had a great time on the pier. We done nothing ground breaking, but we done enough.
I wish I could say our day continued in the same successful way. I was planning on staying another night with Harrison and Jordan was going to head up the road on that evening. Despite having told him what felt like a million times to get the Monday off work, he hadn’t asked, and I was refusing to give up my final day. In hindsight, two nights was probably enough anyway, but I’m stubborn and it took me until the Sunday afternoon to admit it made more sense to travel home as a family on the Sunday evening. We had a good old Sunday Roast at the carvery, not pictured because unlike most adults I don’t eat vegetables in restaurants and therefore my plate was simply meat drowning in gravy, and no one needs to see that, I even managed a drink, and then we set off on the road. Life happened, and an accident on the road home doubled our journey time, which made for a car ride that doesn’t even bear thinking about. 5 and a half hours later we made it home and the longest day in the world was over.
Blackpool is exactly as I remember, pretty tacky, but also pretty spectacular all things considered. It’s a town that can change so much depending on what side of the road you are standing on, and one that I think will always be special to me. It’s just one of those places that take me back to my childhood, and I can still remember distinctly those hours spent playing bingo, or the time I threw up in the restaurant outside pleasure beach, or the time my dad dropped me on my head whilst I was sitting on his shoulders as he chased my uncle on the pier. I remember Blackpool for so many different reasons (some slightly more painful than others) but if I look back, I don’t remember Blackpool for the tower, or the zoo, or the aquarium. I stress over making sure Harrison will have these amazing experiences, but truth be told, he won’t remember anything at one years old. It may not have been the Sunday I had planned, but it’s one that ended up better.
Over the last few months I’ve been regularly sharing the images behind our Sunday trips. I save the photos for a rainy day when I have a story to tell, and often they never see the light of day. When Amber of Meet The Wildes asked me to share a Day In The Life this weekend with some of my favorite bloggers, she didn’t have to ask me twice. Kaye of Hello Archie and Zoe of My Little Wildings have also shared there own days so be sure to give them some love.