We decided to visit Colonial Williamsburg on our way home from the Outerbanks. Although a culturally enriching experience, it did not go exactly as planned. I should probably back up and mention that our brakes had been squealing intermittently the entire week. We had considered having them checked while in Duck but decided against it once they stopped.
Note here: Our brake pads are designed to squeal to let you know they are wearing. They stop squealing when there’s nothing left to squeal.
By the time we pulled into the visitor center parking lot in Williamsburg, we were hearing grinding. Yup that was our rotors. We agreed that I would take the kids to explore while Patrick drove into town to find a repair shop that was open on Saturdays.
Note here: We both failed to realize it was also the 4th of July.
By some miracle, he found a Good Year dealer that could take him right away. A couple hours and a couple hundred dollars later, we had an oil change and new brakes.
Meanwhile, I had all 3 ravenously hungry kids…one of who had to use the restroom post haste. We hurried into the visitor’s center to find a bathroom. On the way, I noticed a map of the don’t-have-to-pay-to-get-in area but didn’t have time to stop because of the potty emergency. After we all relieved ourselves, we headed back out to the map. This was easier said than done since the visitors center was down 2 flights of steps and the ramp meandered all around in an s-like pattern. Unfortunately the map was pretty useless but did mention there was a cafe back at the visitor’s center. Since I wasn’t feeling confident about walking 3 blocks to a sit down pizza restaurant and controlling 3 kids by myself in said restaurant, we headed back down the winding ramp to the visitor’s center. The cafe was more like a coffee bar and our choices for lunch were cold biscuits, cold biscuits with ham and cheese, or cold biscuits with just ham or just cheese. After filling our tummies a couple bites here and there, we headed back up the windy ramp to the promenade to kill some time and wait for Patrick.
After 10 minutes of chasing Ty, I decided we were just as well to bite the bullet and buy admission tickets to the attractions in the historic center. An hour later after about 15 stops to rest Mia’s legs, we had made the 1/4 mile journey from the visitor’s center to the Governor’s Palace Green.
We were just in time for PJ and Mia to try their hands at hoop-rolling before the normal town activities started to come to a close. It was about this time, that I was super thankful that we had bought year-long passes. At least if we had a flop of a weekend, we could try again another time for just the cost of gas and maybe a hotel room.
After Patrick met up with us, we did have a chance to visit the art museum kid’s room and make artist trading cards. Then we were off to find food and wonder the town for a bit.
On his way into town, Patrick has secured us a spot on the palace green where we could enjoy the fireworks. We were a little dissappointed at the display. The music had happened beforehand and they were only shooting up one at a time. After the finale, we started to pack up to leave. Oops…there was more…another finale-like burst of brilliance…then another…and, finally, another. The 4 finales kind of redeemed the experience.
This is a video of the third “finale.”
We decided to stay overnight in Williamsburg so we could have the first part of Sunday to explore more. It was all going well until Patrick decided to park in town (instead of at the visitor’s center) and PJ realized he wouldn’t get to walk the bridge back. You see, as you walk the bridge from the visitor’s center into the colonial town, there are plaques that mark your journey back in time. Heading back to the visitor’s center, there are plaques that mark important people as you make your trip back to the present. PJ had only read the plaques going back in time because it was too dark to read them on the way out after fireworks, and we had promised him he could have a chance Sunday.
Anyway, Patrick decided to drop me, PJ, and Mia off in town before driving back to park at the visitor’s center so PJ would have to walk the bridge to get back.
Gee, I hope you’re still with me. I’m not sure I’m still following.
This would have been a great plan except Patrick’s phone was dead and he did realize it until he was into town. He spent more than 2 hours looking for us…guessing all the things I might do to be found easily. The problem was that I was trying to be found…even after I knew his phone was dead. It wasn’t malicious in intent as much as it was thoughtless. I was concentrating on getting the kids to as many kid-friendly experiences as I could while I didn’t have to worry about Ty.
We played in clay at the brickmaker’s…
…played the harpsichord at the cabinetmaker’s…
…and dried potatoes at the Benjamin Powell House.
Some kind (but slightly paranoid) lady eventually had pity on Patrick and called me on her cell phone to report where he was and we were able to meet up at long last. Then the rain started…yeah, it seemed our weekend at Williamsburg was a little less-than-perfect.
Not too fear, we headed home in good, but wet, spirits and headed up Route 301 instead of the more crowded I-95. All was well until we came to a complete standstill about 15 miles from the Virginia/Maryland line. Come to find out that the bridge that would bring us across the Potomac was one lane both ways while the road leading to the bridge was two. Bad planning. We were able to use back roads to cut out about 10 of those miles but it still took us about an hour to go the last 5. By the time we made it home after 7 hours of driving, we were all a little road-weary.