We took our annual family trip this year to a seaside town in Maine. I say it was a trip, rather than a vacation, because we shared a house with 4 children. Two 2+ year boys affectionately known as Category 5 and the Tornado. A one year old girl who crawls faster than I can walk and got into everything in our non-child proofed rental, and one 6 week old girl who was velcroed to her mom, constantly cluster feeding. Chaos.
We chose Maine as it is driveable for all of us and we needed every available inch of car space for car seats, strollers, beach wagons, blow-up toddler beds, bassinets, a high chair and boxes of diapers, wipes, snacks and other assorted baby and beach paraphernalia. That we willingly put ourselves through this is a testament to the human spirit.
Still, we managed to do some fun things - an antique trolley car ride and a seaside open air train ride. Lots of quaint shops that always sold salt water taffy and fudge. Picturesque lighthouses and amazing oceanside seafood. And hours and hours of late afternoon hours at the beach.
Maine water is a little chilly for me to do more than splash my feet but to see Category 5 and the Tornado form the perfect storm - throwing themselves into the water, building and smashing sand castles with such exuberance while my 1 year old granddaughter simply crawled in the sand, laughing every time a wave came and knocked her over - it all just filled me with such joy and nostalgia for my beach bum childhood.
We ended our trip with a few more pounds around our waists, even more pounds of sand in everything we owned, and some great memories. Then after the chaos of trying to shove all the gear back into the cars, babies into car seats, and get back on the road, I got a text “where shall we go next year?” I’m going to need a few days to recuperate before I even think about that.
