Dear J and L,
I recently read a blogger -- wish I could remember which one -- that wrote that once you have kids, there is no such thing as vacation any longer. It's just travel.
I can see how that is probably the case. Every day is hard work around here. The weekdays when I'm primary caregiver between 10 and 12 hours a day. Weekends, though while I do have some backup, the two of you have your way of keeping both of us busy all day.
While I'm sure a vacation would be just as physically demanding, my mind longs to be elsewhere. You probably sense that at times.
Your father and I have had some great vacations, though, so we can't complain. Our first was to the beach, which is where we're hoping to take you in a couple weeks. Summer can't be summer unless your toes touch the hot sand and your little meaty thighs are dotted with salt water. I would argue that summer isn't summer unless you sit for a couple hours picking hard shelled crabs until your fingers sting from Old Bay seeping into all the wounds caused by the labor. But, one thing at a time around here. Sometimes, I realize, we're lucky if we make it downstairs without a temper tantrum.
Our next vacation, I think, was to New York City. Since then, we got engaged in New Orleans, hugged and kissed our way across Grand Cayman and shopped and toured Boston/Cape Cod. Not so bad.
Soon, you will see what I'm talking about when I say that there is no better feeling than an ocean breeze hitting you square in the face, and a gaggle of sea gulls swarming around you.
You'll get it, too.
Nobody can escape vacation fever.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Dear J and L,