DadaMama: Vacations Kill!

We're home again! With all our limbs intact! Believe me, that's saying something, it was touch and go for my children more than once on this vacation. Like when Gus swore he wanted a cinnamon roll, but then refused to eat it after Dashing Husband tore it into bite-size strips. O, cruel father!

And have I ever told you how much fun it is to listen to a whiny fourteen-month-old go "uh-uh-uh-uh" while waving his hand at his brother, because God help him his brother has the very toy HE NEEDS?! Will did this for a lenghty portion of every drive, and boy howdy, we did some driving. To Savannah, to Jax Beach, to Rockledge, to St. Augustine, and to home. Several combined hours of driving.

I am convinced that family vacations are like bead necklaces strung together sort of haphazardly. Some beads are ugly, some are deformed, but every once in a while one perfect bead makes its way onto the string, and that's the bead you will keep forever, even if you break the necklace. Know what I mean? Because amongst the neverending whining, the I'm hungrys, the begging for toys, the complaining about the heat, and the niceties exchanged between over-stressed parents--well, there were some simply golden moments.

There was Gus waking up the morning after we bought him his play shaving kit, saying, "Daddy, I have an idea! We can both shave together!"

There was the pure, unrestrained happiness of a fourteen-month-old seeing almost everything for the first time and discovering the freedom of his own two feet.

There was Gus at the Castillo de San Marcos, pretending to be a soldier, firing off the cannons on the gundeck, and striding around as if he owned the place.

There was little Will, exhausted, falling asleep in the sling, sleeping on my chest like he hasn't done in months.

There was Gus, asleep in the bed at the Holiday Inn Express, clutching his new pirate telescope.

There was Will following his brother, following him everywhere, pointing out things, and Gus saying, "What do you see, Will?"

There were the two nights Dashing Husband and I escaped without our children, once to a pleasant little bar on the beach, and once to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2. There were giant fishbowl margaritas and a visit to the tattoo parlor where we almost got spontaneous vacation tattoos (the only reason we didn't is because they didn't have one Dashing Husband liked).

There was the magic of fireworks in Savannah, fireworks we watched from the seventh floor of a parking garage, ending with the biggest finale I have ever seen.

But the real gem is this picture, which I submit as the best vacation picture ever taken. Ever.

And believe me, there is more where this came from, so stay tuned ...