I’m not sure when it happened but at some point I stopped being completely real here in this space. Everything I share is 100% authentic but I hold back a lot. I feel so lucky and blessed in so many ways that it seems really shitty to complain about my first world middle class “problems”. I feel like I have to disclaimer everything by acknowledging that I know I have a great life and I shouldn’t complain – so I just mostly quit doing it. My blog used to be a real piece of me. Now? It is cute photos of my kids and occasional recipes with a tiny bit of snarky commentary thrown in. I’ve decided to say screw it. I’m tired of being polite and apologetic.
One morning this week, at the ass crack of dawn, we leave. I am driving the kids 10 hours to Pittsburgh. We are staying a couple of days then leaving for the beach for a week. You notice I don’t say “vacation”. Because let’s be honest, mothers of young children (and maybe older children too – I don’t know, I’m not there yet) don’t get vacations. We basically have to see into the future and pack up everything that any family member might want for the coming 2 weeks. Plus Extra! Exciting! Items! to pass the 10 hour car trip (or in our case 10 hours then 12 hours then 12 hours back and then 10 hours back again). Then we have to try and keep some semblance of a schedule in place so that meltdowns don’t occur every day at 4:12pm while well-meaning relatives feed our children copious amounts of sugar and allow our children to break all of the rules (because they don’t know the rules that keep things from falling apart). While doing all of this, we must wash laundry daily because the kids wear every freaking outfit every freaking day, cook meals, apply sunscreen 337 times a day, and make sure no one has unsupervised access to a body of water (pool or ocean or hot tub – this makes me tense the entire time – I have nightmares so let’s not discuss). All of this while building treasured family memories. THEN when we get home, we have to spend 3 days doing laundry and a week deprogramming the kids by convincing them all previous rules have been reinstated and that they must again learn to entertain themselves because Uncle Pat isn’t here right now to play whammy with you.
None of that screams vacation to me. My idea of a beach vacation is long, quiet walks on the beach and sitting in a beach chair while reading a trashy novel and admiring the waves. A cabana boy bringing me fruity adult beverages would also be nice. Then dinner out somewhere – preferably seafood and cocktails. Maybe a dip in the pool after dinner. Some drinks and card/board games in the evening (shut up, I’m a dork and would rather do that than hit a club).
The girls love these beach trips. They get to spend time with family and have so much fun. I love that and enjoy the time I get to spend with my husband, my girls, and my inlaws. I married into a great family. I’m looking forward to the trip for a lot of reasons. Just don’t try and call it a vacation or I might punch you in the face.