Suddenly This Summer (Part 3)

"Mommy, I want to go 'twimming in the 'twimming pool!" Lisped two-year-old Eishka, dragging her groggy mother by the hand. Said mother was blinking against the glare of a very early summer sunrise after having spent the wee hours yowling her lungs out at Paradiso's videoke bar.

Yaya Rose and Yaya Arcelle, themselves mote-encrusted and sleep-deprived, were rehashing their midnight performances in the same videoke shout-out, and laughing with hysterical horror about the hapless centipede that crawled over them the night before as they lay huddled in blankets against the arctic air-conditioning.

Atch was cranky and muttering darkly about people singing way off-key .."and at the top of their lungs, too..." cutting into his precious sleep. "...likely kept the whole resort awake," he grumbled. But the rest of the midnight revelers largely ignored his sour-graping. He was prevented from singing the night before due to a heat-induce sore throat, bully for him. He perked up after I handed him his morning coffee, but not by much.

We introduced Eli to the joys of the twin swimming pools. After a previous day spent digging his toes in the warm sand however, the cold chlorinated water made him scream bloody murder, runners of tears and snot streaming down his miserable face:

I want to go back to the beach!

Lucky for him, he was rescued by his Tatay, and together they contemplated the plumage and shrill warbles of the lovebirds in cages around the pool area.

Two beached whales

Breakfast was a subdued affair, most of us either nursing a hang-over, or sulking over having been ordered to return contraband shrimp and entire hermit crab communities back to the sea where they belonged.

The rest of our stay was spent in the swimming pools, and even my mother with her sprained ankle jumped in, creating mini-tsunamis in her wake, much to the delight of the kids.

Finally, it was time to leave, and amid the flurry of packing, the yelling at dawdling children, and the last minute snagging of swimsuits left to dry, an air of exhausted melancholy settled into the adults. Even the little ones seemed a touch subdued. Vacation time has come and gone. Back we plod to the real world.

We waved our tired goodbyes to the Hawaiian-shirt clad staff and sent ourselves on our way. Except for one hair-raising incident when an embarrassed Kylot muttered, "Auntie, I'm going to throw up," and Atch pulled over to let the poor car-sick boy heave his half-digested lunch over the side of the road, the drive home was groggily floatingly uneventful.

We got home to our beloved furnace of an apartment. Dust had gathered in thick flurries over surfaces and in corners in a conspiracy of powdery coup d' etas during our one day absence. We dragged our limp lethargic selves inside and deposited our lumpy waterlogged belongings on the dining table for sorting.

And as I eyed the growing mound of laundry-ables piling up, I sighed, thank you Papa God for the wonderful vacation. A Happy Easter to You, too.