Tom Takes a Vacation
Jul 29, 2013 09:28AM
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Everyone’s heard the saying, “lazy days of summer,” right?
Well, August is now “lazy days of Tom.” (Which is interesting, because August is the only month without an official holiday or day off). Tommy has decided that it would be too hard to write this article while draped over his folding lounge chair in his Speedo, sipping lemonade out of his “I heart Bigfoot” tumbler.
Summer is the perfect time to be lazy; it’s too hot to do anything. People practically expect you to lie out in the sun and drink ice-cold beverages all day. You’re supposed to take naps on the couch while watching baseball. You’re supposed to go on vacation and leave your worries behind.
But, have you ever noticed families on vacation—the frustration, the irritation and the weariness all over their faces? Vacations are work. You need a vacation when you come back from your vacation. Picture for a moment being with your family 24 hours a day for a week. Now don’t get me wrong: I love my family; I love them enough to not go on a weeklong vacation with them.
My husband suggested a family vacation this year. We compromised with a five-day road trip up to Portland, Oregon. A road trip means being in a car—a very small, enclosed space that you cannot escape. A trip to Portland meant two full days in a car with a three- and five-year old.
Side note to my parents: How in the h**l did you survive road trips with my brother and me without a DVD player? The DVD player is like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (unless no one can decide what movie to watch for the 87th time). The fighting begins. And that’s just 20 minutes into the trip. You can’t threaten with, “If you can’t decide, you won’t watch anything!” because you have the pot of gold right there. You can’t waste it. Not to mention, the selfish side of you doesn’t want to deal with the crying and whining because you wouldn’t let them watch a movie. It’s a 10-hour car ride!
Then it happens. The dreaded, “I have to go potty.” You think back. Didn’t you tell them to go before you left the house? They said they didn’t have to. You told them to try anyway. Your husband wants to pull into the first place he sees. You argue that it has to be clean. The kids are starting to get upset because they can’t hold it much longer. You start to dream about going on vacation by yourself…to a nice, quiet place where you can relax in your folding lounge chair, while sipping a cold strawberry daiquiri out of your “I heart my family” tumbler.
Ahh, the lazy days of summer. I think Tom is on to something.