Summer Vacation Nightmares

Summer Vacation. Freedom. It's a breath of fresh air . . . until you have children. Summer vacation has a whole new meaning to me now.

In my ultimate fantasy my husband and I head to the beach with a couple of towels and a few drinks while we sleep the day away under the sun listening to the waves crash on the beach. What actually happens is so far from this it's almost comical.

We spend forty-five minutes applying sunscreen, packing a cooler with drinks and snacks because even though we all just had breakfast, something about arriving at the beach makes every child instantly starving. And God forbid we don't bring a tent, towels, toys, and boogie boards because the beach itself isn't entertaining enough.

Phew! After our long production we finally make it to the beach and have the joy of unpacking all the crap we have brought with us and dragging it up the boardwalk to the beach while holding my 16 month old, convincing our twelve year old to help carry stuff, while listening to our six year old complain about the two hundred minute (45 second) walk to the beach.

Once we have found a good spot we then get to set-up everything. Put up the tent so our fair skinned girls don't burn, blow up the pool, because everyone is warning you not get in the ocean. You will get eaten by a shark! And let's not forget that 1 out of 3 children are hungry already, and the baby wants to nurse.

Now it's been an entire 70 minutes since we first decided to go to the beach and you are thinking it's worth it because the kids will spend the whole day enjoying the beach, right? There is so much to do there, right? Can I laugh in your face now?

Two hours in-- "I'm hot." "I'm bored, when can we go back?"

I don't want them to get too much sun because then my in-laws are asking why my kids are sunburned. Then I start worrying about skin cancer and heat stroke . . .  Is that a fin in the water?Crap! We pack everything back up and head out.

Fifteen minutes after we get back to the beach house the, "I'm bordes" begin.

Vacations with kids really aren't vacations. They are a cruel test of your patience and creativity because you're in an unfamiliar beach house rental with twelve other family members. I then find myself wondering why my husband and I do this to ourselves. Drive 8 hours with three kids to go on vacation when it really feels like anything but that because we are bed sharing with our six year old and room sharing with the baby who wakes up twice a night because she is squished in the pack and play.

When people ask me how my vacation was, or insinuate that is was probably amazing, I just smile and nod because I'm supposed to be thankful I get to go to the beach for two weeks, right? And I'm not allowed to be irritated or stressed.

The truth is it wasn't a vacation, it was work.