The family is headed out for vacation. Well, not me. I'm working. But that's a good thing. DH's idea of a vacation doesn't suit the rest of us and my boys are here begging me to stay home. They'll clean. They'll walk the dog. They'll even take care of Elle's montage of animals. Just. Don't. Make. Them. Go.
Somehow, it occurs to me that shouldn't be the feeling before vacation, but there are several reasons for this thought process. First up: The White Trash syndrome. DH finds it perfectly acceptable to pile as much crap on top of the car as it will carry. As a former boy scout, his "always be prepared" mantra looks like a scene out of Hoarders to me. Hence, we look like the Clampetts rolling down the highway. The kids made up their own car game, "The White Trash Game" -- the object of which was to find someone more white trash than us. Ie., people with old refrigerators on their truck, or floral couches on the porch. That kind of thing. (And it's not always easy.)
The next reason we define vacation differently is the actual destination. When we get to vacation, our family likes to relax. DH grew up in a family where the destination was only half the vacation. The other half involved climbing something, hiking until your feet fall off and generally, seeing how cheaply a family can vacation.
And don't get me wrong. I'm all for taking turns. I will gladly do the Extraterrestrial Highway if the following year, we check out say...a place where my cell phone works. So the family was supposed to leave at 8 a.m. They just got out of here at 2 p.m. with everyone begging me to stay home, "It's Shark Week!" They wailed. "We HATE hiking!"
I've tried to have a vacation intervention, to explain why no one in fact, finds his vacations fun. Or vacations at all really, but when someone enables, your interventions rarely go well. (Watch the show?) His father is coming along on this trip. They'll BOTH tell the kids how much fun they're having. Next time, I'm going to try pictures:
Me on vacation with Beth in Mexico.
Me in San Francisco with Cheryl.
Me with Nancy in Florida. Note: I'm doing a lot of relaxing.
Me on vacation with the family.
Kids in Santa Cruz for a day of boogie boarding. (Note: Not expensive.)
Kids with Mom in Disneyland.
Kids hiking on last year's "family" vacation.
I know visual proof means nothing to an addict, but still...at what point do you realize your kids hate hiking and you're only making matters worse. No doubt, they'll live in high rises in their future.
This year there will be no picture proof as I just noticed my camera is sitting on the table. All I can say is that I'm grateful for the deadline and someone, please tell my husband's family getting to the top of something is only a vacation if there's an elevator. Or perhaps a ski lift.