When I told you about our vacation to North Captiva Island in Florida last month, I promised you a post about my dad and step-mom’s new house.

My dad is a CPA, but for as long as I can remember he has had a side business scooping up rental properties. When he married my step-mom, Helen, a few years ago she joined him and this is one of their first projects together. Since between them they have seven grown children, several with families of our own, they wanted a big vacation home to be able to hold all of us. Unlike the other properties they own, they actually designed and built this house from the ground up.

For now this house is also available for rent, but one day it may be where they retire.

It’s not your average beach house. It’s very modern and Helen, who is already a very talented decorator, worked with an interior designer to create some jaw-dropping spaces. Since this is a source of income, it’s important to use quality fabrics and furnishings that can not only stand up to harsh weather conditions, but also draw renters. (If you are interested in booking a week, you can get more information here. There are also much better pictures of the kitchen on the listing.)

The house easily sleeps 10+ people and has 5 bathrooms, which is awesome when you have a very large family. There are also private balconies on each level (the house has 3 floors), and a salt water pool.

North Captiva is a very secluded island on the Golf Coast of Florida. You can only access it by boat and once you get there they don’t allow cars, so you have to travel by golf cart. A large part of the island is a dedicated nature preserve, which makes for some truly breathtaking scenery. 

It’s also very pricey. (As you already know if you clicked over and glanced at those rates and almost had a heart attack, like I did the first time I saw them.) Even the Popsicles at the little convenience store were over $5 each! That’s because nearly everything needs to be imported by barge onto the island. 

But since it’s my dad’s house and we were invited to stay there for a week, I get to share the pictures with you for free. 🙂

The ground floor is not finished. There are plans to add a game area and maybe another bathroom, but for now it is access to the pool deck area and the beach.

And now, just to prove how much I love you, I will show you a picture of me in a bathing suit crouching next to my more-than-half-naked child because this is the best picture I have of the pool deck area.

The second floor has a living area, 3 bedroom suites, and a large laundry room. Each bedroom has an attached bathroom. There is also a wet bar area with a small refrigerator. This is the floor that we stayed on. Eddie and I had a room, Nick and Abby shared a room with my little brother, and my sister and her guest shared a room. We set up a Pack n Play for Penny in the laundry room. (Don’t judge me.)

This is the room where Eddie and I stayed.

  And this was my sister’s room. (She brought her own pillow, which is why the slouchy blue one looks out of place.)

The top floor has a living area with a beautiful view, the kitchen (which I truly regret not taking more pictures of), the master suite where Dad & Helen were staying (which I also regret not getting ANY pictures of), the dining room, and an extra half bath. There is also a screened-in eating area.

It was a little strange getting used to the kitchen being on the top floor, but it made sense, because this was the view out the window.

Because of way that the property rights work in North Captiva, Dad & Helen actually own all of the property from their house down to the water line, which means that this is a private beach. It was so awesome to have that much privacy and not think twice about the way that you look in a bathing suit or having to strain to keep an eye on the kids through a crowd!

Well, that’s about it. I’m sorry I was a bad blogger and didn’t take more detailed pictures of each space. Especially the kitchen.

Next time, I promise.

Can you see me standing here?

You probably heard my brood coming before you saw us. You saw my son’s energy and told him you wished you could bottle it up, commented on the blonde curls my daughters share, said they look like their mommy. Maybe you even told them that their mommy has her hands full. You talked to them and only them. 

I’m still standing here.

But you are talking to them.

“What’s your name, sweetie? How old are you? Can I have some of your curls?” (Which, by the way, is a very creepy thing to ask a small child who is now envisioning you coming after her to steal her hair. We’ve seen Tangled.)

I still exist.

I think.  

Sometimes as a mom of small kids it is hard to tell. I can very easily go a day or two (or three) walking around in public and never once have another adult acknowledge my presence. Invisibility, thy name is motherhood.

It happens even when the children are not there. When I am standing next to my husband and you say, “Hi Eddie!” and wave and walk away without noticing me.

Do you see the look I share with him as you walk away? The one that says, “See? I told you. It happens every day!” as I roll my eyes to Heaven and smile in disbelief. 

It happens at dinner parties and reunions. You just don’t know what to say to a woman who is no longer a woman, but a mom. Surely, a full-time mom must not have opinions about current events or the state of education. Certainly, she cannot be engaged in conversation while she is breast (or bottle) feeding. What is there to talk about if she can no longer talk about work? So she ceases to exist. She sits quietly at the table and pretends to be engaged and listening. But if you take the time to look at her you will notice that her slumped shoulders have very little to do with the posture required to feed a baby.

In five years as a full-time mom, I have learned to assert myself. To be the one who starts the conversation, even if I have a breastfeeding infant under a blanket. To look into eyes and not look away, but to hold that gaze until they acknowledge me. To stop having conversations through my children and give adults clues that it is, in fact, okay to talk to me as they would any other peer.

Stranger (to my daughter): I see Dora on your shirt. Do you like to watch Dora on tv?

My daughter will hide behind me, shy, and expect me to speak on her behalf, which I will, so as not to be rude to the stranger and also not force my daughter to participate in a situation that makes her uncomfortable. 

Former me would have looked at my daughter and said, “Yes. Dora’s our favorite,” maybe smiled politely, and walked away.  

But that is a lie because Dora is not “our” favorite. It is her favorite because she is the four-year-old and I am not. Now I can look into the eyes of an adult and say, “Our girls do like Dora, but when we get some grown-up time I’ve been watching Band of Brothers with my husband on DVD. My grandfather was in Normandy and it’s been really interesting getting some perspective on what his experiences in the army might have been like. Plus, it’s a Tom Hanks project, so you know it’s really good. Do you like Tom Hanks?” 

Who doesn’t like Tom Hanks? 

I can also pipe up and say “Hi Dave/Bill/Rob/Whoever!” and look into their eyes and smile after they address my husband and not me. 

These are not hard things to do, but they take some getting used to. Because now it falls on me to make sure that I am seen. My simple presence is no longer enough. I will not be seen until I am heard.

It is very strange to transition from being a conventionally attractive woman with a promising career to a full-time mom with a body that is nothing but average in every statistical sense of the word.  

I used to be noticed for how I looked, for what people could see on the outside.

Maybe it’s not a bad thing. After all, when I was a cheerleader and a skinny blonde I always said I wished people would notice me for my mind and not my boobs. 

Now people painstakingly attempt to ignore my (even larger) boobs, along with the babies that are occasionally attached to them. Now I have to use my brain and my mouth to get attention.

But please do me a favor. If you run into a mom of young children who hasn’t come to this place yet, the place where she is comfortable asserting her existence, just look at her. Ask her what her name is, where she is from, and what she likes to do. Acknowledge that she is there and that her presence alone makes her good enough to engage in conversation. She might need the reminder.