Updated: Jan. 22, 2021
Originally Published: May 31, 2015
Every winter, as the post-holiday blues settle in, I start crafting the ultimate fantasy known as Beach Vacation in My Head. In this daydream, I lounge for hours with my book, soaking up the sun while my skin transforms into a perfect golden hue. I imagine myself running blissfully along the shore, and sharing delicious meals with my partner at cute little seaside eateries, sipping on fruity cocktails. My hair? Oh, it’s flawless. And rain? Not a chance.
In my head, my kids are happily engaged in their own adventures, perhaps exploring tide pools or flying kites while dressed in stylish linen clothes. They’re absolutely too busy to bother me.
Beach Vacation in Reality
Now, let’s talk about Beach Vacation in Reality. Picture this: “NO, throwing sand at your brother isn’t a new game! DID YOU JUST DOUSE HIM IN SUNSCREEN? WHAT ON EARTH?!”
When I try to read, my youngest, who’s 10, sidles up to my chair. “Mom, how many pages are left? Are you done yet? Can we do something else now?” It’s relentless.
And then there’s the daily necessity of feeding everyone. Each day requires three meals—something I usually escape during the year while I’m at work. I do more grocery shopping the week of Beach Vacation in Reality than I do in the entire year, and let me tell you, grocery shopping does not scream “vacation,” no matter how you slice it. Funny enough, I never recall the grocery store visits when I’m daydreaming about it.
Afternoons are often interrupted by summer storms that drive us indoors, where my boys manage to spread sand and water over every conceivable surface. My hair turns into a wild, frizzy mess. By day five, my skin is a patchwork of red bumps from sunburn, sand, and mosquito bites. The condo? It’s a chaotic display of wet towels and mismatched flip-flops. Seriously, how do we have six left shoes?
By Thursday, I’m seriously considering an early departure. “I could just rent a car and head home for some peace,” I think. “That’s totally normal, right?”
Every year, my friend texts me, “It’s Thursday of beach week, are you ready to come home?”
The Packing Dilemma
And let’s not forget the packing. In my fantasy, I simply toss a few essentials into a tiny bag: bikini, flip-flops, running shoes, and a toothbrush—boom, we’re ready to roll!
In reality, I have to install a massive rooftop box to fit all the golf clubs and beach toys, plus load five coolers and a mountain of electronics. Yep, we’re those people.
Upon arrival, it’s unpack, repack, and then unpack again. By the end of Beach Vacation in Reality, I’m more worn out than when we started. My skin needs two gallons of aloe to recover, and my hair treatment is a lost cause.
My mom insists that one day I’ll look back fondly on this chaos, but I’m pretty sure that’s just one of the many little fibs she told me during her quest for grandkids. I see through you, Mom.
“Can’t wait for our beach week!” my older son, Ethan, exclaimed recently. He’s 15 now, and we’re headed back to our familiar spot for the 11th year. “It’s the highlight of my year!”
“I know,” I replied, wrapping my arm around his lanky frame. “It really is.”
Absolutely, it is. Because in my mind, it’s still Beach Vacation in My Head, and there’s no rush to dive into the reality of Beach Vacation until absolutely necessary.
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Summary
Beach vacations often turn out to be a chaotic mix of dreams and reality for parents. While daydreaming brings to mind relaxing moments and carefree children, the actual experience involves juggling meals, endless packing, and managing storms. Despite the chaos, the memories created with family make it worthwhile.