The first truth of Family Vacation

It is not lost on me that on this dreary Wisconsin morning, a week ago I was in the sunshine and salty waters of North Myrtle Beach. Generally, this sort of feeling leaves me a little depressed. But I am glad to be home. I suppose that's a sign of a good vacation: great to get away; great to come home.

This is the first vacation my family has taken on our own dime, which is important milestone in itself. Throw in the fact that our itinerary was of our own creation, and you have a monumental milestone in grown-upness.

Perhaps people have already discovered what I'm about to tell you, like the guy after Columbus that "discovered" the new world. But I am the center of my own universe, and therefore, I proclaim these five things as a new discovery to benefit the rest of mankind:

Five Universal Truths About Vacation (in a five part series)

1.) A Buick is two-thirds blessing, one-third curse.
When we made our vacation plans, I called my aunt to let her know we were coming. She offered her spare car for us to use while we were there, so we were able to cancel our rental car (and at $350 for 4 days, I was happy to do) and use her Buick.

These are not my kids. For one thing, they aren't hitting each other.

If you've ever put three kids in the back of a Buick and proceeded to road-trip, you know that it's not always Skittles and Beer. Especially three kids that were just getting used to the closer quarters of a mini-van (compared with the Not-So-Mini-Van, which died in the Spring). The beach was about 3.5 hours away from my aunt's house. And with Disgruntled Husband's navigational skills, it was about 4.5 hours. With three kids in the back of the Buick. Here are some things that came out of my mouth in that car:
- Mini-Me, we do not lick people.
- Boogers are not weapons.
- If you two can't stop hitting each other, you will hold hands for two minutes.
- No singing when the radio isn't on.
- Don't sing a different song than what's on the radio at the time.
- Please stop talking about butts.

There was a lot of punishment hand-holding going on. And in case you're wondering about the booger offender, I hang my head in shame when I admit it wasn't either one of the boys.

But something else wonderful happened in between booger warfare and in-subordinate hand holding. They learned to get along. Kind of. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of imaginative game playing; a lot of, dare I say, bonding in the back of the Buick.

But I still had a new appreciation for my mini-van.