Vacation

As we were walking back to our car yesterday, a man and his wife smiled at us and then the man said, "Thanks, you guys were the entertainment on board today!" Tim and I laughed, knowing that was exactly the case. Take 3 boys, 13, 10 and 3, add a catamarran, sprinkle in a 2 1/2 hour sail and top with nothing to do but lay in the sun? A disaster cocktail I'm inclined to think and that's not even mentioning the small, purple plastic hippo that flew overboard somewhere on the way back, much to the chagrin of the 3 year old who hysterically screamed "Hippo can't swim, hippo can't swim." We assured him that hippo would make it back to shore just fine. Ah, the lies parents deign to tell. At one point, Jake had Nick pinned down on the deck pillows and Ty was doing some kind of flying kami-kazee jumping thing as Nick screamed and other people laughed. This went on for some time, at least until someone cried and then Tim or I took turns stepping in. Where were we during the melee? You know where we were; standing off to the side of the deck, drinking and pretending that they were someone else's kids.

Family vacations are an absolute rite of passage and, if, you didn't get to take them as a kid, you relish all of the moments that you get to share with your kids; even the ones out in the middle of Lake Tahoe. Tim and I always managed to agree on this very simple axiom: "Family vacations are a necessity." A made up axiom to be sure, but if you really think about what is being said here without actually being said then you'll understand what I'm talking about. There needs to be a weekend or a week or two weeks or however amount of time you can tell your boss that you're "working from home" and then when you can actually get on the freeway or hightail it to the airport and get the hell out of dodge. I digress for a moment here; I'm hoping that I might have a shot of staying out of hell after I pass on, but in the event that I end up there, I'm thinking that it couldn't possibly be worse than driving on the fucking, hair-pulling, crazy ass lane changing, traffic jambed hellish passage that we call the 405 freeway, which, incidentally, just turns into the 5 freeway (all previous adjectives applicable). Driving that piece of shit highway while trying to placate the ten year old, answer the 13 year old's inane questions and, simultaneously, find the Dora the Explorer DVD for the 3 year year old; I tell you, it's Road Rage defined. And that's before I took the wheel and refused to continue to play cat and mouse with the Ford Focus that apparantly thought my 85 mph wasn't enough and who, for about 25 miles or so, continued to pull up next to me and then cut me off, sliding right in front of me as if to dare me to do something. And, quality parenting aside, I did what any road raged, incensed mother of 3 did, I honked my horn at him for about a minute and then I flipped him off, screaming every obscenity I could think of, to the complete amusement of the two older boys who began to whisper and point at me, "Did you hear what mom just said?" "What does that word mean?" mixed in with the 3 year old's screams of "I can't hear Dora! I can't hear it!" In these moments, I usually turn to Tim as a meter of sanity to see just where I read on the gauge at any given moment in our daily lives. I glance over at him and he sighs and says, "Pull over at the next exit. I'm driving." Well, no need to get all upset, I think. Then again, he's used to it.
9 hours, almost two tanks of gas, one meal at IHOP, two rest stops to pee and one drive through a McDonald's for ice cream cones and WE ARE THERE! For those of you who feel compelled to ask that age old question, "Are we there yet?" Fuck you. So, we roll on into the parking lot of the hotel and the 3 year old is beside himself. He LOVES hotowels; everything about them: the elevator, the card key, the beds, the windows, even the bathroom. He turns to me every once in awhile when we are at home and he says, "Mom, I go to the hotowel?" I'm not sure that he's even referring to a particular place so much as a building where someone makes the beds every day and brings fresh towels and where, after you place a phone call, food arrives at your door. Pretty shrewd for a 3 year old... Nonetheless, we've arrived and are unpacked in minutes, as wardrobe is not a major concern of boys. "Let's go, let's go" they start shouting, even though they have no idea where they want to go, but after having been trapped in a car for 9 hours with Mom behind the wheel most of the time, they are ready for something.
It's interesting I think, the dynamic of being on vacation. There really are opportunities for very different types of bonding amongst family members. Normally, siblings who wouldn't give one another the time of day are suddenly BFF's due to the simple fact that there is no one else for them to play with or to talk with. Parents who never seem to have a moment to talk, get the chance to sit and look out at the scenery once the children are engaged or they might even get to hold hands or even kiss, but, of course to the shouts and groans of the two obnoxious boys who are standing on the beach, disgusted by their parents' "improper" behavior in public. But overall, without the daily stresses that exist, the family vacation is an opportunity to get to know your family again and to really listen to one another without a constant stream of interruptions. The fighting goes on and the disagreements and the occasional "I hate you" comes out or the 3 year old becomes a Flying Walenda in the hotel room and lands on the head of one of his brothers, but in general, it's more of a healing process than an injury. Strange that I'd put it that way, considering the fact that it took us 10 hours to get back home. Quirks and all, vacations are filled with moments of pure enthusiasm and joy and the chance to become someone else for a little while; someone who doesn't answer to anyone or anything other than to the people who they love most in the world; floating hippos and all. Good lord, I sound like a fucking Hallmark card.
I will say this one last thing; we've been on many family vacations these past 13 years, visited different places, tried new sports, swam with dolphins, but what I hope that my children remember the most, the one thing that I want them to take with them and to share with their kids is that desire to want to be together; even amidst the chaos. I want them to look forward to the experience and to then later laugh about all of the ridiculous and smile at all of the lovely and maybe even curse at all of the angry things that occurred on said vacation. It's not about the photo ops or the souvenirs or the pricy boat rides; it really is about that moment when you look up and you see your three sons laughing and diving and swimming in the lake while you sit at the water's edge, breathing in the mountain air and wishing that summer would never end...