Vacations Aren't For the Weak of Heart

It's been too long.  I'm jumbled up and inside-out for not being able to write in the last few weeks.  Feels like my brain needs a good dusting off.  Many layers need sorting.

I'm a few real life errands away from doing work worthy of reading so in the meantime, let's just wipe around the lamps and magazines-

• We just returned from a few days vacation on the east coast.  
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• I combined visiting with family with a vacation.  It was eleven days of pinging all over in planes, rental cars, and boardwalks in effort to do it all.  I should know by now that for me Doing It All means immediate inner turmoil and a mini-meltdown on a lounge chair.  
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• We surprised the kids with a visit from their old besties from Virginia.  Their reactions were low-key and conversations picked up right where they left off while Tanya and I wiped away unnecessary mom tears. Kids and their impervious hearts.
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• If we vacation together, never invite me to the beach..  I will spend our entire trip disappointing you that I don't want to actually go to the beach.  Or go anywhere or do anything.  Unless you desperately want to listen to the seagulls while sipping hot tea on the porch.  In that case, let's.  I will pack two mugs.
• The boardwalk is prime real estate for feeling awesome about yourself.  Anything goes.  And sometimes some of it has yet remains scantily clad.  Rock on, rounding curves and aging muscles.  You too deserve the light. 
• My mom's house is now a time machine that makes me walk around daydreaming about my little brother's elementary school years (he's 22 now).  Standing in his closet remembering the days he wore funny T-shirts, teenage-slouched in his oversized hoodies, and turned pink when he laughed.
• My own children seem older and more present in my mom's house.  Gone are the days I hover or refill sippy cups.  My favorite thing in the world now is to watch Mom listen to Abby.  Abby speeds up and Mom's face searches for anything meaningful.  It's like Diane Keaton meets Reece Witherspoon.  So, so funny.
• Grayson still thinks my mom and Grandpa T are Santa Clause.  When I'm not in the room, apparently he places his order for the next LEGO piece his shelves can't live without.
• My little nephew dances just like his father.  I wish we could see this more often in person.  And more of my brother's sweet family.  
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• East coast waters are frigid in July.  Living in Louisiana for a year has spoiled me and now I fully expect all natural waters to be bubble baths leading into a jacuzzi.
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• Abby is terrified of sharks.  This made the beach trip and surrounding aquatic themed EVERYTHING so much fun for her.  I have sore arms from carrying her little near 6yo frame so she could hide her eyes from all of Ocean City.  
• Leaving my family is increasingly difficult for me and taken in stride with my kids.  Their youth and their "military kid" lifestyle seems to be giving them an edge over change and loss.  I'm impressed at their fortitude and maybe a little envious.  Andy always stops at Dunkin Donuts because husbands don't mind spending $5 on a hot drink that might dry up the sads.
• If I never see another arcade, token machine, or ticket counter, it will be all too soon.  We took kids to the arcade so many times it began to feel like an Examiner headline:  Family of Four Rot and Perish at Prize Counter Because 5yo Could Not Decide Between Pink or Purple Slinky. There is not enough cotton in the world to mute out the hellish cacophony of that place.  I might actually hate it.
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• When asked what their favorite part of vacation was, the children both agree:   The arcade and visiting with their old buddies from home.  Sacrifice is often worth it.