Let’s think back to late August.

The weather was oppressive: hot and humid. Summertime was in full swing, even though school had been in for a few weeks (something which, unaccountably, I still tie in with a dip in temperatures/an end to the dog days of summer… even though that is no longer the case here in Florida). The month was almost through, and I needed a state park to visit. Why not revisit Crystal River? It’d been a couple of years since we’d last went. It wasn’t a HORRIBLE drive. Just an hour and a half or so. My parents could meet us there. Why not?

Why not?…

Well, this isn’t a parenting blog, per se, and I don’t want to publish things that would reflect poorly on either of my kids in the future when, you know, they start to read and be conscious of their reputation… But… One of my children has behavioral issues that are tied in with mental and psychological pathways that probably are connected to medical issues encountered in their early life. (That’s a mouthful of saying “my child is not always easy to parent, and sometimes even relatively small things–like taking a daytrip–can be unmanageably stressful for everyone involved.)

Visiting Crystal River on that Saturday in late August was a bad day. A bad choice. I did not know it was a bad choice when I planned it, but even when we started out, the pressure was building. I had hoped to power through the bumps and try to encourage a turn around, but that ultimately did not work. We arrived at our destination exasperated–all of us.

We met my parents at the head of the “Crystal Cove Trail”, but the layer of heat that bore down on us had left my mom feeling not well enough to do the walk we’d found. My husband wasn’t keen on walking in 90+ degree weather*, either, so he kept my mom company, and the rest of us (including my dog) went along.

The trail would have been easy to push a stroller on, as the dirt was packed and was covered over in hardy, short grass in other areas. As for shade, it was shaded about half of the way. The trail led into a swampy-type forest (if only I knew the actual name of the biome…) but thankfully their were few biting insects out and about. (Or perhaps that all-natural insect cream did a phenomenal job and kept us sane? It is a decent product…)

Naturally, my eldest found sticks along the way and poked here and there at small holes and dips in the ground. The heat tends to slow him down and encourage him to “dawdle” a bit on walks. Honestly, this can be a little tough. I like long walks (though we haven’t yet taken one as a family… my kids are too little), so having a short hike stretch out beyond a “reasonable” adult time can be frustrating. Yet I want my kids to like the outdoors (thus far, they do), so it’s something to bear quietly… and pray to change!

My poor youngest had to carried in a harness, as we had left the stroller at home for some reason. I can’t imagine that it was the most pleasant thing for him, given the heat, but I did get to protect him from bugs landing on him… Mostly. You can see I missed at least one mosquito, though.

As we walked we encountered a couple of families who were lugging fishing equipment to an inlet a quarter of a mile or so along the path, which was fairly nice to look upon except the fact that the son was sending its deadly laser of heat upon our heads, shoulders, backs…

For all of us, it was a bit of a break from the stress of our long(ish) ride there. We all needed some fresh air to breathe and space to exist… without breathing down each other’s neck. That’s one of the BEST things about parenting and bringing your kids into nature: it’s a… uh… “naturally” (duh) relaxing thing to be near greenery, to hear birds sing, to feel the wind.

Our next stop was the mercifully air-conditioned archaeological museum. Unfortunately behavior began to deteriorate at this point once more and I was unable to take many photographs. My parents took my eldest inside the museum and showed him the pretty shells and the artifacts of the natives who once lived in Crystal River.

The baby and the dog (latter, not pictured) hung out at a picnic table.

The last thing we’d hoped to do was walk to the mounds and tell my son a little bit about their purpose and their history. Remember, though, how I said “unfortunately behavior began to deteriorate” mere paragraphs ago? Well… It became enough. One adult and one child returned to the car and readied themselves for a long, hard ride home. The others went to the water and looked out on the river before returning to their cars, packing up and packing in, and (in my case) wracking my brain for new approaches to discipline and parenting and rewards and “punishments” and therapies and…

And–that’s just it. It became a lot to try to organize these trips and get both adults on board, believing a fun day could be had. It became a lot just to do small things. Things got hard… and they’re a bit better now, thanks to effort on all our parts. But they’re still complex and I don’t know that I can continue with ever-further exploration at this point in time. We’re still going to parks–as I said here, they’re a powerful tool against frustration on both the child and parent sides–but they’re more local, places that can be accessed within 20 or so minutes and easily left if behavioral circumstances call for a change of plans.

So–happy end of 2024! This blog is not done, though I think in 2025 it will pivot to mostly non-state park locations to better accommodate my family’s needs at this time. As things change, I hope, I can expand the things I attempt here and offer tips and tricks on, say, boating with young children… or going on an extended bike ride… or, who knows, learning birding.

Maybe we will even make use of the boat rental AT Crystal River, which I observed only at a distance.

*Side tangent–I’m beginning to not blame my husband for his reluctance and distaste for walking in Florida with our ever-worsening weather. When I was younger, I could more or less enjoy myself on a sunny hike in 95 degree weather, as long as I had a few Gatorades and some sunscreen, but the Florida weather is truly beginning to impact my general ability to recreate outside… At least to the extent I’d like. I miss hiking or walking for 4 to 5 miles, but that’s neither enjoyable nor advisable with two young children. This reality is soul-crushing. I hate feeling cut-off from the outside world.