The Unparalleled Pleasures of Home

We just spent ten days in central Florida, and it was glorious, but even glorious-er is coming home, where the jersey knit sheets brush my skin with softness and everything fits — from the remote in my hand to my bum on the toilet seat.

We took the kids to SeaWorld and Busch Gardens and Disneyworld (thanks to Dick’s colleagues) and our kids said their favorite place of all was the (free) beach. If you’re near St. Petersburg ever, make sure to go to Fort DeSoto. The water is cold in November, but we showed our Florida cousins what was what, keeping my old family tradition of submerging ourselves in the nearest body of water no matter the temperature.

A few notes for next time we travel:

1) Even “easy” kids don’t appreciate twelve hours of travel, so resist Dick’s impulse to save (a little) money by not flying out of the closest airport and ignore any ideas that involve any unnecessary layovers.

2) If exercise and eating healthy are important to your happiness at home, why would I think being on vacation means lazing about and eating junk? Also, if caffeine is verboten at home, wouldn’t it be a good idea to stay away from Mountain Dew in times of upheaval? Why do I allow myself “treats” that aren’t really treats at all?

3) Whenever I have an excuse/reason to be offline, I find that I usually embrace it. And then the longer I’m disconnected, the more I don’t want to blog or tweet or anything, but then I catch a glimpse of my reader or my gmail over Dick’s shoulder and soon I am happily clicking. But not posting. The longer I go without posting, the more insignificant anything I have to say seems. Which is fine, because I strongly believe people should resist blogging if they can at all help it, but this actually is kind of like exercise and eating healthy for me. I feel better, more like myself, more reflective and centered, if I am writing daily or semi-daily. This is the hardest part of the situational depressions that I’ve experienced (after miscarriages and surgeries). A burgeoning cycle of not writing, feeling like I have nothing to write, and then not writing some more. So I have to learn to balance my (good) desire to (cliche warning) “live in the moment,” which is especially rewarding and important while on vacation with family, and a need to examine that life through writing. I did jot down some notes here and there, but I am pretty sure they’re not legible.

4) Even if I’m sick with swine flu and toothache (resulting in a life-saving, fantasmagorical-in-the-pain-reduction-department root canal) right before a trip, I should probably inform Sally’s teacher that she’ll be missing a week and a half of school. (Luckily Sally mentioned it to Mrs. W. right before walking out the door, but responsible mothers probably make a point of discussing these things, though I wouldn’t have taken homework along anyway.)

5) Leaving a 4 month-old male cat at home for ten days will probably make him AGGRESSIVE. I haven’t written about Mr. Skippyjon Jones yet, but boy! was he missed and subjected to an orgy of cuddling when we got home.

6) Even with super-generous relations who have timeshares and buy dinner every night, vacation is expensive. Maybe we should, like, save up for it, or something.

7) Sally really, truly does not like roller coasters. It is not worth it to trick or bribe her into riding them. Susan, on the other hand, is now asking for a flying motorcycle. Why does this not surprise me?

Don’t be shy about asking someone with a cute haircut to pose for a picture. I got side and back shots, but had a temporary chicken-out when it came to getting the front (which may have had something to do with having already taken seventeen pictures of my family from a weird angle right next to her).

9) Don’t blame Dick for losing Susan at SeaWorld for 15 minutes. As a man, he’s probably incapable of the multitasking required to keep track of three children in a place with that many fun! distractions! Squirrel!

One thing I do like about the logistics of traveling (I unreservedly love the new things, places — or the nostalgia of visiting a place we used to live) is the necessity of simplicity in dress and belongings. We got by for ten days on one checked suitcase and just a few carry-ons. It inspires me to get rid of more stuff. Because when you travel, you realize that the only thing you really can’t live without is the sticky, sniveling kid in the airplane seat next to you.