long days

I think we finally learned how to vacation.

Our last family trip was so exhausting and emotionally draining, it took weeks to recover and was ultimately the catalyst we needed to get L professionally evaluated. It was that bad. It wasn't all her fault, it just turns out that back to back to back theme parks and a condo next to train tracks not only don't make for a relaxing trip, they can actually make you certifiably nuts (I have the paperwork to prove it.)

This time, we aimed a bit lower. No Shamu, no Legoland. Just beach and pool. We either ate at our condo or at the pool side restaurant that served shave ice and grilled cheese sandwiches. Not that we didn't learn the hard way. After two days of no napping and one disasterous road trip to the North Shore of Oahu, it finally penetrated our thick skulls that it would be better for the mental and physical welfare of our family if we didn't step back into out rented minivan unless it was for the drive back to the airport. So we didn't. We walked to and from the beach, and across the driveway to the pool. The little disasters, like back to back poop-in-pool incidents, seemed somehow manageable. Maybe because we weren't expending all our spare energy wrestling with a preschooler delirious from no napping and giddy with the newfound freedom that is a non-five-point harness booster seat. Or maybe it's because we were often drunk on mai tais.

TJ turned one on the flight home, and celebrated by pooping twice on the flight and kicking the (obnoxious New Yorker in the) seat in front of her the whole way home. After five hours of flying, an hour of waiting for our luggage, and another half an hour waiting for the tow truck to jumpstart our dead battery in the long term parking lot, she got In-N-Out french fries for her birthday dinner at midnight in her own high chair. Welcome to single digit-hood, and welcome home.