Vacation Redefined

WHAT A VACATION SHOULD BE:

These are not stock tropical island photos -- they were taken by yours truly on Nevis in the British West Indies. (That is my husband leaning rakishly on the palm tree.) Nevis is the sister island of St. Kitts and comes complete with its own volcano.

That was our last real vacation. It was 1995.

WHAT A VACATION SHOULD NOT BE:

Five young children in a smallish beach house...

Ten people sharing one bathroom...

A 98-year-old who can't find the bathroom in the middle of the night and instead pees in several spots on the living room carpet and in the kitchen trash can...

Sharing a bedroom with a cancer-challenged drooling cat (and his litter box)...

Two nine-year-olds trying to use a magnifying glass to set paper on fire on the roof deck...

A glowstick that explodes as it's being spun around, turning the living room into a giant spin-art picture as it sprays fluorescent liquid all over the carpet and couch...

Your six-year-old consuming her weight in ketchup...

Four children drawing up an elaborate plan to take down seagulls on the beach...

Okay, I thought this one was creative and kinda funny. (Heck, they were planning on somehow constructing a catapult!) But honorable husband thought even the planning process was a form of animal cruelty. Never fear, the plan was not acted on and no seagulls were harmed in the making of this blog.

One hideous 18-hour period where four adults were outnumbered by five children. Never a good equation...

Leaving a day earlier than originally planned because you must admit defeat...

Getting home to find your central air unit has died and costs $3,225 to replace.

All of the above defined our recently-returned-from "vacation." I suppose it could have been worse -- for example, if I had turned the aisle in the local Acme and walked blindly into a mime. But even without a silent white-faced guy, it was the antithesis of relaxing.

On the calendar, it was nearly two weeks long, but I like to think of it as The Vacation Where Time Stood Still, most probably because we were awakened each morning between 5:30 and 7 AM and after a few days of sleep-deprivation it all became one big blur of children and sand. Everywhere.

Although it wasn't the most leisurely of times, there were some good memories:

One of our daughters learned to ride a two wheeler without training wheels.

We beat my parents and my brother and sister-in-law at Trivial Pursuit. (Hey, my sister-in-law is a lawyer and my brother is often referred to as The Boy Who Knows Everything, so this was no small achievement.)

We walked to a local bar, heard a decent cover band and had drinks with enough vodka in them to give me a hangover the next day. Which I guess was both a good and bad memory.

And I hunted for sea shells on a quiet beach with my girls. Always a good memory.

(Although you'll notice the oldest is far, far away from me & the youngest...)

Needless to say (but I will, lest I offend one or another of the family members who had to tolerate me for 10 days, not to mention the parents who generously bankrolled the entire project) it was, in the end, a multi-generational festival of love, bonding, and repeated warnings of "Don't let the kids use markers on the couch!"

And finally, this heartwarming story:

For some reason, the kids began to say "posterior" over and over again, thinking it hilariously funny. In an effort to derail them, honorable husband said, "Did you know the opposite of posterior is anterior?" To which earnest nephew said, "No, Uncle, the opposite of posterior is testicles!"