Category Archives: Vacation

Honestly, 18 summers together sounds like A LOT

As the golden light of an August afternoon sun filters in through my window, I can’t help but feel it’s all slipping away. Another summer with my children is almost over. We only get eighteen with them, I’m repeatedly and aggressively told by my social media algorithms. 

Eighteen summers. 

It’s a stark reminder. And so I pause as I unload the dishwasher yet again, swallowing my rage and staring wistfully off into the middle distance. Reminding myself that I’ll miss this eventually. That someday there won’t be 167 half full cups littering every room in the house. That years from now, I’ll look back through the hazy, nostalgic-filled, choking mist of sunscreen and bug spray and realize what a blessing it was to constantly clean the pee off the toilet seat and army crawl my way under beds looking for yet another missing library book. 

But it’s not over yet. So, for now, I will hold on tightly to that unique summer feeling of warm, sun-kissed skin against a cool, wet bathing suit. Of pools and lakes and long stretches of ocean. Of giggles and splashes and squeals that turn into screams because one of my kids is attempting what looks like incompetent manslaughter. Of the beautiful, neverending chorus of “Mom, I’m cold!” and “Mom, I have to pee again!” and  “Hey mom, watch this!” over and over and over again, even though all they’re doing is holding their nose and dipping their faces chin deep into the water. 

There will come a day when I yell for the last time “Where the hell did all this sand come from? We got back from vacation a week ago!” I just hope I’m present enough to remember it. 

Because one day there will be no one to feed 11 times a day. No light switches covered in Doritos dust. No house full of blanket forts and entire Lego cities and a baker’s dozen of abandoned board games and what looks like a Barbie and Monster High Doll civil war in which no one was the winner. A messy house full of beautiful memories that I am ready to burn down because it will be easier than trying to clean all this crap up. 

Someday I will miss meticulously planning a picnic that is abandoned early because there are apparently bugs outside. And the barbecue we tried to have but my kids don’t eat hotdogs or hamburgers or potato salad or corn or watermelon and why can’t we make chicken nuggets on the grill and can we eat inside because there are bugs outside? And the beautiful hike that ended in tears (mine) because I cannot explain again why there are bugs outside. 

How many more days are left where both my children accuse me of not listening because they are talking to me at the same time? How many more eyerolls and puking noises will I get to enjoy as their response to the dinner I just spent over an hour making? How many more times will they beg me to watch them play Minecraft? 

Five thousand? A million? That’s it. 

What I would give to have them call me ‘bruh” forever. To freeze this remarkable age where they wake me up at 6 am by jumping on my most sensitive bits asking if they can play Nintendo, and yet also wake me up at midnight to tell me all about their nightmare that somehow divulges into an hour long monologue about why Roblox is, like, really awesome. 

So these last few weeks, I am going to revel in the long lazy mornings watching cartoons, and the long lazy afternoons watching movies, and the long lazy evenings of them watching whatever it is they watch on their tablets that I really hope is child appropriate, because it’s been an unrelenting heat wave since mid-July. At this moment, right now, I am wholeheartedly embracing the simple joy of Googling the symptoms of rickets because I honestly can’t remember the last time I took them outside. 

I know it’s coming. As sure as the seasons change, that moment will come when I’m sitting in my clean, quiet home, with a full bank account and a well-stocked fridge with a gallon of milk that isn’t missing its lid, and I will long for the days when I walked around the house in a blind rage because every surface was covered with those little plastic thingies from juice box straws. That moment when I can leave my house without hollering at someone to get their damned shoes on, we’re already running late. 

And when that moment comes, I suppose I’ll have to take solace in the fact that during our 35th summer together, I will get to watch, giant margarita in hand, as my beautiful children scream at their own children. And I will laugh and laugh as I skip from room to room, throwing the plastic straw thingies I’ve hoarded in my pockets like so much confetti. 

The Post-Summer Pre-Back-to-School Domestication Process for Children Who Have Gone Feral

Good morning, small humans! I know, it IS really early. So I hope you all had a long, restful sleep. Just kidding. I know you were up playing in your rooms until midnight despite repeated and increasingly explicit warnings to go to bed. But that all ends now. School starts in less than a week and the time has come to reintroduce you to proper society. Which has super fun things such as rules and schedules!

Which brings us to our first lesson. Allow me to introduce you to Clock. This is your god now, children. And it is a cruel god. When it says jump out of bed, you say how high. When it says it’s time to go, it does not mean 45 minutes from now. 

No, no. We do not hiss at Clock. Nice Clock. Pretty Clock. Clock controls all now. You will obey Clock. 

Next item up, pants. P-A-N-T-S. Say it with me, kids. PAAAAANTS. They go on your lower body. Along with underwear. And not underwear from three days ago that you picked up off your floor and turned inside out and therefore are declared “still good.” No, clean underwear. From a drawer. Say it with me now. DRAAAAAAWER. 

OK, can anyone tell me what these things are? Ah-ah! Stop. Drop it. I said drop it. Just look. Now sit. Good children. These are typical breakfast foods. Bagels, eggs, fresh fruit, cereals not prominently featuring marshmallows. Every morning you will choose one or more of these items and eat it at the actual table. No more root beer and Cheez-Its eaten in your blanket fort while playing Minecraft.

Whoa! And no more of THAT language, thankyouverymuch.

Speaking of which, where does cursing belong? That’s correct! In the #$%&*@! home. Not in the classroom. I do not want a repeat of the 2018 Preschool F Bomb Blitz. And the 2020 Remote Learning Shit Show. And last year’s But A Bitch Is A Female Dog Fiasco. 

Alright, moving on. Pop quiz, kiddos! How often should one take a bath? Yes, with soap. AND shampoo. Yes, they are different. So, how often? Um…good guess but no. Also ew. The correct answer is every day.  And then after our bath we…are you kidding me? Stop gnawing on that! Give it here! After bath we brush our hair with this hairbrush. What do you mean why? Yesterday a bird tried to nest in yours. 

Who can tell me what shoes are? Anyone? Anyone? OK, we’ll come back to that one. 

Now this should be an easy one. Do you remember this object? This is called a book. It’s just like your tablets but without videos or games or music. No, stop swiping at it. You open it. See? And then you read the words…stop swiping it, it doesn’t work like that. You read the words…poking it doesn’t work either! …and then you can see the story inside your head! Pretty cool, huh? OH MY GOD, STOP TRYING TO SWIPE THE PAGE. 

Hoo boy. Well, I’m just going to assume you aren’t ready for pencils again either. Can you stretch your hands out yet or are they still molded in the shape of the Nintendo Switch controllers? Oof. Remind me to call your pediatrician. 

Let’s circle back to shoes. Ring any bells yet? No?

OK then, let’s discuss possibly the most important lesson: Appropriate topics for what we did this summer. When people ask you, you can tell them all about the beach trip we took last week, or how we got a new puppy this summer, or that fun outing to the science museum. What you should NOT bring up is that time the plumber came to fix our bathroom and we all had to pee in a bucket your father affectionately nicknamed The Chamberpot. Or when the TV broke and the little one somehow got ahold of a knife and threatened to go back into my womb until she could watch Bluey again. Agreed, I never should have explained to her what a C-section is. 

And please, please do not bring up that 3-hour traffic jam during our road trip to Canada where mommy threw a tantrum and you all learned a new and very naughty word. I never should have called all Canadians that. Yes, you are correct, they both start with the letter “c”. But I never should have said it. Look, it doesn’t matter what it means, all that matters is that you don’t repeat it. NO! DO NOT TURN IT INTO A SONG! STOP DANCING!

Oh god…

OK…

You know what? 

How does everyone feel about homeschooling? 

An Ode to my Fellow Carriers of the Mental Load

Two weeks and two days. That’s it. That’s all that stands between me and an entire golden-hued summer of memory-making freedom. The last day of school is so close now I can almost taste it and it tastes like cheap popsicles and the still drying glue on 14 comically large art projects handed to me in an awkward, sticky pile. 

The best part is we have an epic summer family road trip planned immediately after. We’re gonna pick them babies up from school, hurl them into the back of the van, burn those hazardous waste dumps they call backpacks in a ceremonial fire and then BAM! We are hitting the road for two and a half weeks, starting from our home in Boston and heading west, halfway across this majestic country of ours. 

All that’s left to do is a mere few small minor end-of-the-school-year tasks. Volunteering at Cultural Heritage Night, chaperoning a field trip, attending the PTA meeting, creating a Galileo costume, making something for the Family Breakfast event, meeting to discuss a possible IEP for next year, attending the ice cream fundraiser, buying the teacher gifts and finding and returning all the books from the school library that are currently missing, which I’ve just been informed number in the lower double digits. 

And then BOOM! The best summer ever can begin! Did I tell you the first stop of our road trip is Ontario, Canada? I found this quaint little resort right on the shores of a crystal clear lake. There’s even a fire pit. It’s exactly what we need after a long school year. And once I find our passports, swim shoes, floaties, water guns, water gun bucket, beach towels and goggles, and buy everyone new swimsuits and those swimming kickboards the kids requested and a vat of super strong sunscreen and bug spray for the inevitably friendly but nonetheless still very much there Canadian bugs, we are good to go! Oh, and firewood and starter logs for the firepit. Which I can pick up when I buy the store-bought muffins for the Family Breakfast because, let’s be honest, I was never going to really make something from scratch anyway. All of which I can do right after downloading the ArriveCAN app that makes crossing the border easier and then filling out all the required information. 

And then. BADA BING, baby. It is Relax City. 

And after Canada, it’s off to Ohio to visit my family. And let me tell you, I cannot wait. So many people to see, so many things to do! People and things I have missed so much. And after a quick two dozen emails back and forth and roughly 67 text threads and ten or so group chats to try and coordinate everyone’s schedules so we can squeeze a month’s worth of visits into 72 hours, we are all set. BADA BOOM. Simple. Barely even worth mentioning. 

Next up is Kansas, off to see Grandma and Pop-pop and the rest of the in-laws. It’s going to be a beautiful drive straight through the heartland. Albeit a long drive. But as soon as I find the best routes and coordinate drive times with hotel pool times to make sure the kids can swim before they close and gather all the confirmation emails and map out good places for potty breaks and buy more children’s dramamine and allergy meds and gather together activity kits for the kids to do in the van, I can focus on what really matters and that’s spending time together with family. 

And, I mean, just think of the wonderful memories we’re going to make. The kids will remember this trip forever. I’m not the kind of person to use the word “magical” to describe things, but I think this trip might come pretty close. 

And it’s all almost within my grasp. 

So yeah, all that’s really left to do now is a few small housekeeping items (including actual housekeeping) and sending out the rent check, prepaying all the bills, putting the mail and newspaper on hold, rescheduling the occupational therapist appointments, canceling the regular therapist appointments, moving the dentist appointment, attending that Zoom meeting next Wednesday, following up with the doctor, going to the block party, juggling three playdates, buying a gift and attending that birthday party we were invited to, finishing up that freelancing gig, sending out the W9 form, making an appearance at the end-of-the-year Girl Scout event, and WHOOSH! Off we go on our adventure. Yup, just gotta do all the laundry, pack, have the kids pack, repack everything they packed, get the van to the mechanic for a checkup, check the bank account, buy all my daughter’s birthday gifts and pre-plan her party since we don’t get home until the day before her birthday, get road snacks everyone will actually eat, buy more hand sanitizer, get more Tylenol and Ibuprofen in case anyone gets sick while we’re gone, pick up more shampoo and conditioner, respond back to the flurry of last minute emails sitting in my inbox, let the board of directors know I can’t make next month’s meeting…

And for all of you out there who have made it this far because you can relate on some level to this madness, just know I see you. And I salute you. With this wine I am drinking straight out of the bottle because I cannot stand the idea of doing one more thing, namely the handwashing of a wine glass because the dishwasher always breaks them. 

Here’s to all the carriers of the mental load. 

And to the best summer ever. 

Eventually. 

Packing for spring break when you’re 20 vs when you’re 40

When you’re 20:

Bikini that requires extensive de-hairing techniques

Giant bottle of baby oil 

1 sundress, 2 tank tops, shorts with university logo 

Impractical wedge sandal

Makeup box that holds approximately 37 pounds of makeup

Cute purse that is big enough to hold 4 wine coolers

Toothbrush

When you’re 40:

1920’s-style swimsuit so you can do the “lazy” shave

4 kinds of sunscreen

3 giant old lady hats, because you now have a sun allergy

3 Morticia-level beach coverups because you now have to get your moles checked out twice a year by a dermatologist

Giant tub of soothing lotion for when you DO break out into your sun allergy rash even though the lotion really doesn’t do anything

Flip flops you bought 7(?) years ago

Sunglasses that cover two-thirds of your face

1 bottle of Aleve

1 bottle of Ibuprofen

1 bottle of Tylenol

Claritin for seasonal allergies

Benadryl in case the Claritin needs backup

Pepto because any sip of water that is not from your specific area code now gives you diarrhea for some reason 

Tums in case the Pepto needs back up

1 tube of that long-lasting red lipstick that you have to reapply every day because you have yet to find a makeup remover that can actually remove it

Giant purse that can hold four bottles of wine, two bottles of the medium affordable whiskey and a wide variety of snacks in case anyone gets hungry (also holds bandaids, giant tub of hand sanitizer and three sticks your 5-year-old asked you to carry for her last time you went to the park)

Extra plastic baggies because you never know when they could come in handy

Expensive electric toothbrush, regular floss, waterpiks, mouthwash, tongue scraper, dry mouth lozenges recommended by your dentist