I needed 911. Today’s vacation day, and that’s the day Moms everywhere must prepare. There are piles on the floor and nothing’s really ready. The boy’s going wake up on crack, and I’ll have to remember what I wanted to put into the bags.
We were going to drive on a super long road trip to Tennessee without a plan. Vacation’s like suicide. You must always have a plan to be successful. It was stressing me out–the idea of “roaming without a need to come back.” I need a plan. Ideally, I need a hotel room with a hot tub. I like good food. It’s not that I don’t want to pitch a tent, it’s that tents are my idea of what happens if I suddenly stop paying my bills, not a vacation. On a vacation, I want someone to treat me nice.
My husband wants an RV. I researched the cost of a RV vs. usage. When compared with the amount that the average family who says they’re going to use it actually does–I could buy the Waldorf Astoria.
I watch people in hotels on vacation–people with kids are always miserable. Last year, we drove around the universe, ending up at my brother and sister in law’s house where we had four boys together and a thunderstorm that ended up being the one that destroyed the East Coast, leaving people for weeks without power–we were complaining because Virginia was a million degrees with four little boys who were cranky. As we headed home, hotel by hotel, we noticed miserable families yelling at kids. I want to have fun and smile on vacation. The cost of human misery was too great–we aborted the idea of going to Hershey Park in the 110 degree sun.
The year before, we went to New Hampshire, to the Loon and Lincoln attractions. We hadn’t planned ahead, as we never do. I made a call “just in case” finding nearly every hotel booked. Luckily, one was able to get us in if we agreed to move rooms mid-week. It’s what happens Fourth of July week. The thing Declan liked the best–a little peep toad he found on the hotel grounds. We have peep toads at home–but now he wants to go back to the hotel and see his friend Kermit. It’s the little things that produce the most joy.
“I don’t want to go to Tennessee or Kentucky or the Southern tip of Florida without a plan.” I said, “I want to enjoy myself. I want to stay closer to home and do something.” I cited the time we went to Lake Champlain and didn’t actually do anything but drive around looking for the next restaurant until we were too hungry to look further and stopped at a chain.
We’re going to Maine. He found a wonderful place on Boothbay Harbor, and we’re going to have time to relax. We go to Maine a lot–nothing in New England’s out of reach for a day jaunt.
Why go to a nautical town when you live in the Ocean State? Because. That’s why.
Because it’s here, and packing will be easier. Now. It’s time to put things in the car, and decide what things I’m going to forget while everyone’s talking to me or rushing me. There always comes a point where I am lagging behind everyone else’s preparation–in all fairness, that’s 50% distraction, and 50% I’m doing 90% of the packing.
But I don’t want to be the family that looks miserable at the hotel continental breakfast, so I’m packing wisely.
Usually, the attractions are all for naught anyway–Declan only likes the pool.