When You and Your Vacation Clash

Well Everyone, I'm back in town and I couldn't be happier. The Pocono Mountains has some great attributes, but when I dream of vacations, I'm far away from Pennsylvania.

For the last six years, the family and I have rented a home in the Poconos. Due to the fact that these vacations are always booked online; some of these homes, let's just say, are not up to par. It's amazing what a little Photo shop will do for a property. Not to mention, a few white lies.

Believe me when I tell you that some people have posted pictures of brand new homes when in actuality the home is a few decades old. When you pull up, you find cobwebs, decks that are about to pull away from the house, and hot tubs filled with so much chlorine your skin dries out. Let the fun begin!

I realize that half the problem is definitely me. I have not one ounce of Davy Crockett in my blood stream. I don't pretend to like bugs, fishing, bears, or other nocturnal creatures that anxiously await until you're asleep so that they may tip your trashcans over to divulge in your barbecue leftovers.

I cringe when anything that has more legs than myself (aside from my beloved doggy) enters my domain. I love deer, but there's a special breed in the Pocono Mountains. The deer up there have no fear of humans or your vehicles. The fact that there are actually roads requiring you to drive faster than 55 miles an hour is truly a horror. It's Russian Roulette, and no matter if you drive 55 or 25 you're bound to get some use out of your brakes.

I tried hard year 1, 2, and even 3. By year's 4 and 5, the fun was running thin. Now in year 6, I decided to stop pretending. I came clean to my husband and told him that I don't want to rent any more. I've dropped hints over the years, but I finally broke down (right after my brand new minivan wouldn't start, and had to be towed to the nearest VW dealer 40 miles away). The tears must have done it.

I cook and clean every day of my life, and for the most part, I don't mind. But when I hear the word vacation, I want to get excited like everyone else. I want a week where I don't have to prepare meals or clean bathtubs.

So next year, it's official, we're going to a resort. I don't care if it's in the middle of the Pocono Mountains. I don't care if there are men with rifles hunting outside my suite. I don't care if there are bugs the size of my fist. Because my friends, I will be on vacation. The vacation of my dreams!

No Such Thing As A Day Off

I was so looking forward to Easter vacation. My son began his yesterday, and it extends to Monday. I had so many things I wanted to do with them: from dyeing eggs to going to the park. Then something so crazy happened. Should I say my children became little monsters?

Maybe it's just the fact that Potter is so use to having a regimen at school that he just needed to let loose for a while. And seriously I may just buy that excuse, but Scooter made sure he had a few surprises for Mommy as well.

Yesterday began with a sinus headache. All right, not the best of beginnings, but I made promises, so off we went to have a great day. Somewhere between mid day and late afternoon, the whining ensued. It finally tornadoed into a full blown meltdown. (You know the type: The one that only other people's children are capable of having. The one you witness at fast food restaurants and promise your children if they ever try that stunt, there will be no tomorrows. Yep, that's the one).

And so it went on and on and on, until finally, Mommies head exploded. I loaded the minivan, children and all, and headed back home. Fifteen minutes into our ride, both children were sleeping. Ah! Sometimes peace and quiet comes in the strangest of places. I could of driven that minivan until the cows came home. If only I had filled up on gas.

So I woke up this morning hoping for a brand new start. Since it's holy week, maybe my children had been visited by God himself last night and he made the proper threats so that Mommies day could be just a bit easier. No such luck.

Off to the grocery store we headed. The trip felt longer than the one to Disney World we took 2 weeks ago. It began outside the store when Scooter realized there were no more car carts (you know those oversized roller coasters that supposedly fit children and a whole week of groceries. Not to mention they weigh 300 pounds and no one else can fit around you in the isles) So I was forced to choose a regular cart (tears, sniffles).

"Ladies and Gentlemen in this corner we have Scooter at 43 lbs. In the other corner Potter at 42lbs." And the fighting began.

From who would weigh the bananas, to who would get to ride on the back of the cart, to who would get to play with the large beach balls on display in isle 10, to who would be the first to knock merchandise off a shelf (Potter won that bet...a bottle of Pledge).

I never prayed so hard for Valium in my life.

I tried every trick in the book. I tried getting them involved, asking them questions, so on and so forth. They had their minds made up when they woke up this morning. They were going to drive Mommy crazy. Mission accomplished at 10:20am Eastern Standard Time.

By the time Hubby arrived home from work I was in a coma curled in fetal position on the couch. Both kids had taken a nap. They didn't wake up much better, and I can't say I was surprised or unhappy about this. See, sometimes I don't mind if my husband gets a taste of the tantrums, the meltdowns, and the somewhat bizarre behavior that the children are capable of dishing out.

Like the optimist I am, I'm sure tomorrow will be better. The plan so far is a trip to the library and another birthday party. I think were expecting a thunderstorm so it looks like a day filled with inside activities. (Dear Lord!)

Ready, Get Set, Go!

Bags For My Bags

I have a serious problem. I've had it for years, and I'm not sure how to get help for it. I know there are others out there who suffer like I do. I've seen you. You've probably even seen me. We can't miss each other because our problem follows us wherever we go. What's the problem you ask? I don't know if I've ever said it out loud before, but here we go. I'm an over packer.

That's right folks, there's no denying this disease. It snuck up on me so innocently, then just kept snowballing. I didn't realize there was even a problem until about age 26 when I took a trip to Las Vegas with my girlfriend. It was a five day trip. At about 5am I stood in front of my home loading my suitcases into my car. I had my trusty large suitcase that comes standard with most luggage sets. It weighed about 60 lbs. Back then my long curly hair couldn't be dried by just any hotel hairdryer. So of course I packed my own. Along with a diffuser, gel, moose, pomade, and hairspray. And then there was of course my carry-on. Again, another piece of luggage loaded to the brim with do-dads and what-nots.

Then here comes my friend. Out comes her carry-on, which by the way was a quarter of the size of mine. She threw it into my trunk. The weight of her luggage convinced me she had probably just packed flip flops and a bikini. (Not a big deal since we were headed to sunny Las Vegas). She then hopped into the car.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Where's the rest of your luggage? We don't have time to run back to your home and make it to the airport!"

My friend was practically in tears laughing so hard. It was then that she informed me that all the luggage she brought was already in my trunk.

"Shocking," I thought. How does one fit all that stuff into such a tiny space? Immediately my mind began to fade into the Spoon Full of Sugar scene in Mary Poppins. Surely my friend had also packed a lamp and talking umbrella to entertain us on our trip.

Well, as it turns out, despite lugging all my personal belongings cross country, I was still the one who borrowed clothes from my friend that week.

It's been almost ten years since that trip. I would love to be able to say how far I've come since then or at least report that I'm on the road to recovery. The hard truth is that the car is almost filled and there are still more bags inside the house. In fact there are bags inside bags.

It's 8 hours and counting to the big Disney World Trip. I still need to fit 4 more bags and a cooler in the minivan by tomorrow morning. If that's a success, I'll just have one more problem....Where do I put the kids?