We're going to be embarking on a
family vacation soon and I'm super excited. Now, let's be honest, this vacation
is to New Jersey for a family wedding. (And, not just any wedding, an Italian
wedding!) However, this post is not about the wedding (although
the next one might be), it's about the art of vacationing with one's spouse.
We haven't actually vacationed much since we've had children. This year is the
big kickoff for this particular parenting right-of-passage. As we've brainstormed for potential vacation spots,
we've been calling upon our own childhood experiences in this realm and once
again, we've run into an area of great disagreement.
Me and the Beher fam at a Florida bird and wildlife preserve. |
Full-Out vacations were similar
accept that this time, we usually got our very own bag of goodies to entertain
us in the car (Mad Libs, activity books, new crayons, gum and lollipops for sticking in each other's hair, etc.) which did nothing to curb the number of fights between me and my brothers. My family of five had a Renault Alliance. Remember those...probably not. They were only sold in the US for a year or two. (My favorite argument was who got to lay out on the back seat, who slept in the back window and who had to curl up on the floor with that big hump right in the middle.) We saw more museums, stopped at every 'Scenic Overlook' and of course, walked through many, many more birthplaces of well-known and unknown historical figures.
Vacations for my husband were
different. They actually were what you would imagine when you thought of
vacation. An entire week, on a beach (usually Fort Meyers) playing frisbee tag
and beach volleyball with strangers, laying in the sun, body surfing and
enjoying all forms of seafood. Now, these vacations were also reached by
automobile. However, his family traveled in a pimped out conversion van
complete with a tv for video games and movies as well as an occassional dose of
dramamine so that "your tummy doesn't hurt" (i.e. maybe you'll actually fall asleep). My father-in-law, a road salesman with a heavy foot, is proud that he could complete the 15 hour drive in approximately 12 hours because you got to pee or get something to eat only when the gas tank was on empty.
Me and Fam on a Rizzuto beach vacation... complete with loud Italian father-in-law. |
So, as you can see, my husband and I
innately have VERY different interpretations of what constitutes a 'vacation.'
However, regardless of these differences, they all evoke fond memories for the
participant and 'reality-TV/trainwreck-like' fascination for the other. And, in retrospect, I believe the fun is in the madness. If you read the above paragraphs, the memories were not made at the museums OR the beaches. They memories come from the chaos. So, my hope for our future vacations is that we can provide enough mayhem to be memorable but with minimal out-of-network hospital visits.
(PS-To my knowledge no Rizzuto ever actually wet themselves or was malnourished on a car trip.)