Rest and Relaxation

Index

3.September.04

Deciding that the kids needed a bit of a vacation this summer (as they had been complaining about a lack thereof) I drove the four of them, plus one nephew and a carsick doggie to the family beach cabin over in Kingston. Ah yes, a relaxing time for all. Especially hubby, who got to stay home and work. I’m not being sarcastic here. His time after work was his own. Well, after he finished the three page Honey (I LOVE YOU) Do list that I left him on the kitchen table, it was all his. So, back to the relaxing vacation.

Wrong.

A vacation, by definition, is not relaxing if there are children and carsick doggies present. Especially carsick doggies. I was assured that the dog was doing fine during the drive. No problems, other than excess droolage. This dog spouts buckets of slobber each time we even hint she might be going for a car ride. Putting her actually INTO the car brings on disgusting ropes of slobber that fly back and forth when she turns her head. It’s not for the faint of heart. This is why I put her in the back of the van and not near me, the driver. Of course safety was my primary concern. That and not coming into contact with any canine bodily fluids. I did my best to ignore the whoops and hollers emanating from the rear of the van about how gross things were back there and the occasional ‘moooooom! She’s using my pillow to wipe up the dog spit! Make her stop! Moooooooooooom!”

It wasn’t until we arrived at the cabin that the barf was discovered. Guess who was the lucky cleaner-upper of said yuck? Not my son, who insisted that we bring the Barfing Boob, it was me of course.

Ah yes. Let the relaxation begin.

The first thing my teenage daughter did upon arrival at the cabin was to open the bathroom door on my teenage son as he was using the facilities. The ensuing dialog was every mother’s dream.

Son:

Daughter:

I could feel the stress simply seeping out my pores. Ah yes, this was relaxation at it’s finest.

An hour and three clothing changes later for my two youngest, it was time for me to take leisurely stroll on the beach. Alone. Ha.

I never do anything alone. Going to the bathroom is a group event in my house. If I leave one room, I am immediately followed by at least one, if not two of the younger kids.. I think they tag team me in the fear that suddenly I will simply POOF one day and disappear. So far that hasn’t happened, but I’m still hopeful.

Beach Therapy. That’s what I need…some beach therapy. Someone once told me that if you write your cares in the sand as the tide is coming in, then watch as the lapping water slowly erases your worries, you begin to let go of the things that are causing you stress.

However, I checked and burying your children in the sand up to their necks while the tide is coming in was still frowned upon. So much for letting go of what was causing me stress.

We went home one day early due to circumstances beyond my control. It all started with the campfire and the boys. Teenage boys are by definition, budding pyromaniacs.

When I thought that taking two boys, both thirteen years old and cousins, to the beach for a few days would be an experience to remember. I didn’t know how right I was. From my son inadvertently racking his boy-bits, to my nephew breathing powdered coffee into his nasal passages, to the spitting and peeing on the fire contests. It was fun for the whole family.

And when I say the whole family, I mean the just the two boys. They are a walking duo of doom. Walking, sleeping or building fires, they bring joy to all. And when I say ‘all’, I mean just the two of them. They crack themselves up in a way that is only understood by other thirteen-year-old boys.

Me:

Nephew:

Me:

Nephew:

At this point I was beyond caring how on earth he’d gotten the chocolate up his nose, but I had to ask anyway. He said it had been in his mouth, had melted and had run into his nose.

Me:

Nephew:

I couldn’t argue with that, so I fell back on giving them disgusted looks each time they spit on the fire. When it was time to go inside the cabin for the night, they said they’d put the fire out. As I was walking towards the cabin I heard an unmistakable sizzling sound and turned to see my son, back towards me, peeing on the fire. At least his aim was good. I started to laugh and he began to turn towards me, and then realizing his mistake, quickly reversed his motion so he didn’t entirely embarrass himself in front of his mother.

Ah yes. Relaxation at it’s best.

Index

editor's note: due to stoopid people who can't behave in public (ie, spammers) we have had to turn off the comment feature on our older columns. We'll try waiting a while and then turning it back on to see if they get bored and go away. In the mean time, we will manually add any REAL comments if you email them to us. The link is below.

Just don't conger up this experience in your next relaxation course. "Now, imagine you are walking on a beach..." Keep it coming! Lisa
Lisa Shirah-Hiers
Austin, TX USA -

The good thing is you can use these columns as future blackmail. You can threaten to send the URL to any friends or potential girlfriends... :)
Mike Weasel
L.A., CA USA -

Pamela, you rock!
Con
Edinburg, TX USA -

*SNORT* I'm sure that was how my mom felt when we went on vacation... No wonder we never stayed overnight at the beach! Good luck and keep the laughs coming!
Jeri Lynn
Shoreline, WA USA -

Scripts modified from Matt Wright's guestbook. His scripts can be found at Matt's Script Archive

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