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My Summer Vacation
by Vanessa Sands
Contributor Vanessa Sands passes her post-trip convalescent
period by relating the high points from her summer vacation and
offering you a few valuable tips on traveling with children -- and
living to tell about it.
Half an hour later, somewhere south of the Maryland border, we
heard an explosion from somewhere behind us. The good news is,
no one was injured. The bad news is, my youngest child has that
curious habit of many breastfed babies: he poops but one day a
week-and today was it. No harm done, really. But there is a
dumpster at a rest stop near Washington that will never be the
same.
Despite the incident, we were hungry, so grabbed some fast food. I
say with no small confidence that we will never really, truly enjoy a
sausage and egg sandwich again. That's because the
two-year-old, having scarfed one down with gleeful abandon,
apparently liked it so much that she decided to see it again. Did
you ever hear something so awful you chose not to believe it?
That's the way it was when my nine-year-old very calmly stated,
"Mom, Rachel's barfing."
We stopped as soon as we could. It was 99 degrees, and the
various and sundry aromas of our family needed airing. By this
time, the trip started to look like a bad idea. A bad, gross idea.
We arrived, finally, and our accommodations redeemed the journey.
The older kids had the living room, with its Murphy bed and ocean
view, to sleep in, and we had our own master bedroom with its
own ocean view. A friend e-mailed me to comment on the romantic
boost the trip would surely give my marriage. I laughed about that
later, as the two-year-old sleeping between me and my husband
rolled over. Again.
The baby, who is happy and quiet
wherever he happens to be, slept away
the week in his stroller. We nearly forgot
him on our way down to the lazy river one
morning, when hotel room door shut
before we noticed his absence. A few
minutes passed before we were able to
get another key to the room; frantic, I
burst into the room and peered into the stroller. The baby peered
back, smiling and wide-eyed; he is usually hungry, often sleepy, but
he is never bored. Note to self: He will drive us through
Pennsylvania when he's older.
Our hotel had a different pool for every day of the week. The ocean
was warm and inviting. The beach cried out for strolls. But the
kiddie pool had a lure all its own for our two-year-old, weaving a
spell we couldn't break. One parent stayed there with the little
ones, while the other went with the older kids to the ocean and all
the other pools -- except the Lazy River, which turned out to be
too… lazy. The pace was grueling. We're currently looking into a
vacation to recover from our vacation.
This deserves special mention. A crowded Friday night, a toddler
who did not nap, a hungry baby, and two kids with 40-ticket ride
booklets. Do I really need to write this paragraph?
The trip home was effortless. No one had enough energy to speak,
whine, fidget, or pee. I fell asleep in North Carolina and, for
reasons I will never understand, woke up in Pennsylvania. A few
hours later, we pulled into our garage. Before my feet hit the floor,
my husband looked at me with a gleam in his eye: "Key West. Key
WEST is VERY nice. Whaddya think?"
The brochures should begin arriving any day now.
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About the author: Vanessa Sands, a freelance writer and
stay-at-home mom of four, lives in New York state.
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