Whole State of Maine

This year’s trip to Maine started with me trying to understand my 13-year-old talking about blue raspberry “rizz” in the drive-thru at McDonald’s in Hanson. Yes, we hit the McDs on road trips because it’s convenient and covers two major food groups—carbohydrates and protein in the most basic, albeit chemically altered, forms. I remember I used to be horrified to hear that seaweed was in their milkshakes, now I’d be intrigued. “I’m the rizzler” I said to my kids, “You are. You have a boyfriend.” my eldest told me. “How does that make me the rizzler?” I asked him. “Because you got charisma and got a boyfriend.” I guess I am the rizzler.

On top of being the “rizzler” I was also informed that I have “aura to the third power” because I have given birth three times. Aura is a thing now and it’s an elusive attribute to achieve. Apparently the birthing process is a gateway to that next level of humanity. I’d like to say I didn’t care whether or not my kids considered me to have aura but I kinda did. All this in the drive thru of McDonald’s. Parents, turn to your kids right now and ask them if you have aura. If they say no, come up with a counter argument listing all the amazing things about you and they might change their minds. However, they might not. Prepare yourself.

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On top of rizz and aura, we all talked about Ohio and Skibidi toilet as we merged onto route 3 today. I told the kids that my sigma mom status was clear and I made that known by belting out the lyrics to “California Dreamin’”, singing the parts of all the Mamas and Papas. Confused by those terms? Me too. Parenting, amiright? It was a long ride up to Port Clyde, Maine and our first stop was at the Walmart Supercenter. There the kids orbited around my cart picking out all the junk food they wanted to consume over the next 6 days. The other Walmart shoppers could easily see that I was thoroughly annoyed with each of them.“I.Need.To.FOCUS!!!” I hissed in the pasta aisle, trying to mentally plan out meals for a week. “You need to focus in a grocery store?” J.D. asked. I shot him a look that says “of course and don’t even think of saying another word.” I think my kids believe that meal plans happen through divine intervention.

When we finally arrived to the house, I was jonesing for a beer. My legs were stiff, ass was sore, and nerves were fried. Yes sir, I am the rizzler with a crap ton of aura and sigma energy. I got three developing humans that I birthed up to Maine with junk food and a nutritious meal plan. Top that Gen Alphers. I cracked a Baxter hazy IPA and allowed myself a moment of pride while I sorted through our groceries and put them away. Then I made homemade pizza on the grill.

The first time I went away by myself with these three hooligans, it was somewhat nightmarish. We went swimming in a part of the Saco River that had slippery rocks and places you could slide down in a tube. A guy stepped in to help the boys down a little waterfall in their tubes and I knew I looked way over my head because I was. Each year has gotten a bit easier though I admit that I have often bitten off more than I could chew. When reminiscing, we label the trips with their darkly comedic moments like “that was the dead body trip with the Indian restaurant in the Motel lobby.” Curious? Check out Issue 132.

Each year, I’ve gotten better at this momming thing and, of course, the kids have gotten older with vastly improved fine and gross motor skills. Yesterday I sent them down the street with $30 to get some candy at the general store. Two came back in a panic saying they got ice cream and were $5 short. $35 for three cones of ice cream? Well, the Alfaro children have champagne taste and went for large waffle cones each with a specialty topping. I sent them back with my debit card and an instruction for them to tip and tip well. “Too much stress for ice cream.” J.D. said with chocolate ice cream on his nose and side of his mouth. Today, we’re going on a kayak tour and Thomas will join us tonight, a new chapter in our journey. I told Thomas a while ago “I’m not just Harpswell” (a picturesque Maine fishing village where he and I have gone the past couple years), “I’m the whole state of Maine.” Not exactly sure what that means but if you’ve spent a lot of time here, you get it. I’ve done Outward Bound here as a teen, gone on a backwoods writing residency at a remote lake cabin north of Bangor, and have explored much of its coast all the way up to the Canadian border where I watched scallopers do their work in the middle of a frigid winter. From gnarly to charming and everything in between, Maine is a lot of us really and exactly “the way life should be”. Here’s to another summer in my soul state. What will this trip become known as? When we’ve already had a “dead body trip”, the possibilities are endless.

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