I’m sitting in our rented summer house, looking at the chaos around me- beyblades on the floor next to beach towels and a random yoga mat, a completed 1500 piece puzzle on the dining room table, a soccer ball under the table, a mega charger with 6 devices being charged on the end table next to stacks of board games, remnants of snacks everywhere, and piles of shoes by the front door. Outside in the gazebo sits a giant emoji raft, swim vests and floaties scattered on the floor, a bunch of swim suits hanging to dry, half-empty bottles of sunblock randomly placed, and crumbs from last night’s dinner on the table. From the deck I hear the chirps of birds and cicadas among the kids screaming, “Cannonball!” The hourly fight over goggles and pool toys has now begun with the kids. Ahh, the sights and sounds of vacation.
We take an annual summer trip with my sister-in-law and her family to Michigan. It’s easy enough to drive to without wanting to jump out of the car window to escape from endless kids’ requests for snacks and devices. I try to find a house that has a separate loft area for the kids, which I was able to again this year, but as they get older, they seem to also get louder. While they absolutely enjoyed their own space in the loft area, their dirty clothes and toys somehow found their way downstairs in the common area of the house, as did their screams, unresolved fights, and random animal sounds that come out of their mouths. I know, I know, someday when they’re teenagers on this trip with us, we’ll never hear them and they won’t want to be near us, so we should cherish this time. But that sage advice doesn’t make them any quieter.
Many parents, including myself, say that vacation is basically doing the same caretaking of your kids but in a different place. I tried super hard to not keep that mindset during the entire duration of our trip and failed about 95% of the time. But that whopping 5% that I was successful in was very meaningful to me. I was able to be present with the kids, watch them play their imaginative games in the pool, observe them work together on their sand creations at the beach, and let them get their faces all messy when they ate their daily ice cream treats. I remember watching my son put his handprints in the sand and watch them disappear with the next crashing wave, while my daughter and I wrote our names in the sand and watched whose name would get washed away first. That’s the kind of stuff I don’t get everyday. That’s what I’ll hold on to, otherwise I’d never take these beasts on vacation with me again.
This year, we decided to try to hike up the sand dunes. As we drove by them, I heard, “Wow, look at that huge sand mountain,” followed by, “I don’t want to do this.” The parents hyped up the kids, telling them that we’d go nice and slow and take as many breaks as we need. My little 4-year-old nephew wanted to go up the smaller dune, but I told him we go big or we go home. My 8-year-old daughter sprinted up there with no problem, even with her broken toe, stopping occasionally to look down on us to see if we were okay. My 5-year-old son, who is notoriously lazy and does not like to purposely exert himself, was shockingly determined. He said to me, “Mommy, my legs are really tired, but I’m going to work hard to get to the top.” He never says stuff like that, and I was proud that he came up with a positive mindset on his own. I held his hand all the way up, occasionally checking on Jamie to make sure his knee was okay too. And just behind us I could see the little legs of my 2 nephews working hard, no one complaining, everyone just working hard. All 8 of us made it to the top, where we took our victory pictures that look pretty ridiculous. After some water and rest time, we headed back down. Deep down inside, I couldn’t wait to watch the kids lose their balance and either face plant or roll down the dune. 2 out of the 4 kids did not let me down. Once we all made it to the bottom, we looked back to see what we had accomplished. I told the little humans, “I want you guys to remember this. You were nervous to climb this dune because it was so tall and it looked really difficult, but once you actually started the hike, it wasn’t that bad, and you conquered it. In life, don’t avoid those big challenges that seem scary, just try your best and I bet you’ll surprise yourself and succeed.” I thought this was an amazing mom/Aunt moment for me, sharing this vast wisdom, hoping they’ll hold on to these knowledge bombs for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, none of the kids gave two shits about what I just said, so that was a nice waste of breath. Jamie patted me on the back and gave me some validation for my attempt to give them sound life advice, even though he was laughing at me. Screw them all.
As our time here in Michigan comes to an end, I can confidently say we had a vacation that goes in the books for a perfect mix of relaxation and fun, even though my mom hat stayed on 95% of the time. I look back and think about the 5% of my time that I stepped out of my usual mom role and enjoyed all that was offered- belly laughs from the kids, splashing in the pool, playing on the beach, the kids’ first experiences on a kayak and stand-up paddle board, dessert everyday, random hugs and kisses from the kids and Jamie, time to “relax” and put a 1500 piece puzzle together with the adults, board games after the kids went to bed, and sleeping in everyday. And if I’m being really honest here, we went through a shit ton of vodka to get us through this week. A shit ton. That’s pure Michigan.
The Mundame 