As I write this I am sitting on a ninth floor balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. The waves are crashing into the sand and the chants of singing voices and echo of crying babies float up into the salty air. There is honestly nothing like a good vacation to recharge the batteries.
Having said that, it took me quite some time to realize the impact of a "girl's trip." Much of this is due to the fact that throughout my adult life of raising four sons, a vacation was one of the most exhausting experiences of my life. I would often write about needing a vacation from the vacation when we returned.
The beach was always a fabulous place to bring growing boys who loved kicking sand all over ladies who had freshly applied suntan oil and diving headfirst into waves in shark infested waters with little concern for the dangers swimming beneath.
Life was a beach, literally. And all Moms can attest to the many hours spent preparing for these trips. The list after list and trip after trip to the store for everything from bug spray to sunscreen.
With the car loaded so no expensive things would need to be bought at the beach for twice the price as the local discount store at home, the trip began. Along with food, clothes, towels and toys was medicine. There was that big bag of medicine to treat almost anything to help hold things over for a visit to the doctor upon returning home.
Yes, Moms had to be very strategic in planning those fabulous relaxing vacations for the husband and children to enjoy. Then unloading into the condo and stocking the shelves for a week of frolicking and making memories. And thank goodness you took pictures because those would be your memories as you cleaned off a scrapped knee or soothed a jelly fish sting. And cooking was much easier than waiting in the one-hour line for Hooters because your junior high sons could eat a sandwich instead.
The lounging on the beach consisted of back and forth into the water waving your arms to get back closer to shore, or helping the boys with building a sandcastle or boogie board. Trying to keep the constant worry out of your thoughts about under toes or shark bites. Thinking about what was going to be for dinner and did you put up the mayonnaise?
Yes, those fabulous vacations that left us so sunburned and exhausted upon returning home were truly wonderful times bonding with the boys, who didn't shout out so often, "He touched me!" "He's looking at me!" "He won't give me the remote!" The children got along better and the husband seemed to finally relax.
But then the children grow up and the husband buys a lease at a hunting camp miles away to have man bonding and kill large animals to hang on his office wall until it looks like a herd is charging through. The phone rings and you get an invite to the beach with some other ladies needing the same cheesy get away with karoake on the balcony and shared stories of raising those children, now finally married, and swapping homemade remedies and cooking ideas.
And you actually relax in a way your children and husband would think to be insane. Who would call that fun? Women who once vacayed in the trenches, that’s who.
Bring on the cucumber drink and face masks, the toenail polish and corny jokes. So Beachy!
