Vacation: It's not for the weak.

The J family just returned from a week-long beach vacation.

I absolutely cannot remember the last time I was this hung-over exhausted.

Clearly, vacation is no place for children.  Or adults.  Either/or.  You pick.

On our particular vacation, sandwiched between two 12+ hour car rides, RJ and I did everything we could to make our vacation fun, enjoyable and memorable.

For the kids, of course.

We went to the beach.  I drank wine.  We went to the pool.  I drank beer.  We went to the Aquarium.  I drank margaritas.  We went to the Boardwalk and rode rides and played games.  ZJ won at darts and picked two smaller prizes instead of one big prize so he could share with cj.  Cj immediately threw his prize (a duck) into the ocean, because Hello!  Ducks swim!   I drank more beer.  We played miniature golf.  I drank more wine.  We went back to the beach and the pool and we stopped at every single swingset, slide and playground in the greater South Carolina area.  Every. Single. One.  We even went to Build-A-Bear, have mercy on my soul. I was so drunk by then I only remember it because we have a stuffed Tasmanian Wolf named Superwolf and a prehistoric sabertoothed cat named Kitty, and an $80 credit card bill to prove it.   Zj, who is quite a prolific pooper, clogged up toilets all along the coast, including one in the all you can eat seafood buffet place that charges $30 per person. Serves 'em right.  $30 is highway robbery.   I drank beer and wine and margaritas with abandon.  We discussed sharks and dinosaurs and superheroes and vampires and watched Batman cartoons and listened to Kidz Bop until my eardrums bled and I couldn't form coherent sentences.  That may have had something to do with all the wine, though.  We ate ice cream every day.

Every night as soon as the kids were in bed, RJ and I fell into bed ourselves, often before 9 pm, too exhausted to do anything except stare at the ceiling and mumble incoherently about what time we would "get going" in the morning.

The boys were up by 6am the next day, without fail, to see what exciting new adventures awaited them.

To be honest, I'm not sure either one of them will remember this vacation in 20 years, or 10 years, or next week.

But I will remember it.

And I'll remember that my boys had the time of their lives.


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