You take the good, you take the bad, you take then both and there you have... vacation

Yesterday morning, after I spent an hour and a half organizing belongings and packing bags and stripping beds and sweeping away the sand and detritus of a week at the shore with four small children, we all donned bathing suits and headed down for one last hour on the beach before going home. As I stood at the edge of the water, holding Evan (who had already experienced the indignity of one too many waves in the face over the course of the week) and watching Julia and Paul collect shells further down the beach, I felt vacation amnesia set in.

The naps which Evan decided were entirely unnecessary while away from home and his resulting crankiness? Carried out to sea by a wave. The sun which woke both children several hours earlier than usual and further contributed to the crankiness factor? Washed away. The bickering and fighting which was inevitable with that many kids in the same place for that long, yet no less annoying for this inevitability? Whisked into the surf. The sight of a cozy lounge chair and a good book just slightly out of reach all week as I tended to my family's needs before my own? Erased by the tides.

By the time we'd all scrubbed ourselves clean in the fabulous outdoor shower and headed off for home, all that remained of our vacation were the good memories; hours spent digging in the sand and playing at the water's edge, trips for ice cream and pizza, amusement park rides and aquarium exhibits, watching the moon rise and pouring another glass of wine on the deck with friends after the children had gone to bed. "Maybe we should go for two weeks next year," I suggested to Paul. He considered this for a moment, my husband who despises sand, can't stand putting on a bathing suit, and is driven nuts by too much time spent in the presence of too many children. "I think that's a good idea," he finally replied. You gotta love vacation amnesia.