We Survived the Beach!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

 

 

I wrote recently about our annual trip to the beach to see my husband’s side of the family. My sister in law has a beach house and we all pile in and get up close and personal with family.  This year we had more people than usual and had to add some cots, along with more air mattresses, into the mix for sleeping at night. We have taken a vote and determined our family has outgrown one beach house and next year the younger generation will be renting an additional beach house.

 

For me, most of the time, the drive to the beach is the worst part of the week. The beach house is in North Carolina and up until this year we have gone 95 South through Washington DC and Richmond. Two years ago, it was just my DH and me and we were unable to drive in the HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle) Lane and sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for what seemed like an eternity. Meanwhile, the HOV lane was moving at a fast clip and I begged my DH to take a chance and get in that lane.  I pleaded, whined, batted my eyes at him and promised him things he had only dreamed about up to this point in our marriage and all he said was, “does it involve duct tape and your mouth?” and continued to wait it out in the traffic.  By the time we got there, we were both ready to sign divorce papers, but he grabbed a beer and I spent an hour commiserating with the other wives about what a dunce I am married to and soon we all felt better.

 

This year armed with two GPS systems, one outdated map that I threw in at the last minute, and MapQuest directions, we decided to take some back roads and avoid the DC area altogether.  The trip was going perfectly and we all loved the new way until my DH decided that he did not like going through so many towns and wanted to get back on the highway.  I am not sure why he prefers the highway because all he does is discuss how stupid the other drivers are and by discuss, I mean swear and yell.  At some point, he pointed at me one too many times while ordering me to find this road or that road on our old map and let’s just say, the map did not survive the trip and might have accidentally been tossed out the window.  After that, whenever I said anything about where were we or how much farther, he would answer back that he had no idea since we did not have a map.  Our DD, along for the vacation, has grown accustomed to our loving banter on trips over the years and wisely packed her IPod. 

 

I have a large assortment of nieces and nephews and they range in age from 20 months to 36 years old. For some reason, most of them have picked me as the adult most likely to be immature on a trip and I get asked to go in the ocean with them, play tennis, play basketball, play card games, color, do hair, paint nails, and this year they wanted to bury me up to my neck in sand, which I politely declined.  They all seemed too eager and I was concerned I would never get out. I have tried explaining I am 54, but it does not seem to matter to these relentless children. One of my nephews knows the art of flattery and I think was complimenting me when he said, “You are in pretty good shape for someone so old.” It is not uncommon for the same nephew to come up to me in the ocean and tell me he just peed right beside me or another nephew to silly string me. I have asked their parents to discipline them, but all I get is something about me being an instigator and asking for it.

 

My super adorable, diplomatic, nine year old niece never fails to crack me up. This year we were on the front porch of her house and a 20 something girl walked down the street in a very small, very fitted, Fourth of July string bikini. I turned to my niece and said, “Well, I am so mad now, because I have that same bikini and tomorrow when we both show up at the beach wearing the same outfit it is going to be mighty embarrassing,” and my niece turned around and said sheepishly, “Aunt Laurie, I hope you are kidding.”  Her equally adorable sister would shake her head and say, “Really, Aunt Laurie?” every time she saw me on the computer checking out DK.

 

Most of the time we have to cook in the evenings and I hate to cook. This year, it seemed like we were cooking every night and I am not a fan of tuna on the grill, salmon on the grill, or chicken.  At one point I turned to the masses and said, “I am on vacation. I can cook at home and I don’t want to cook on vacation,” and my DH chose that opportunity to add, “When do you cook at home?”  I think I told him that question was not relevant and the point I was making was I could cook at home if I wanted to and maybe he could go back to not listening to most of what I say. My rant worked, though, because the next night we all went out to dinner.

 

We have been going on this trip for so long and to put that in perspective, one nephew was three when we started and graduates high school next year. Somehow, with the passing of time, my husband, his siblings and spouses, and me have become the odd assortment of aunts and uncles that they grew up with, who attended all of our weddings, came to the family stuff, and seemed old to all of us from the beginning. I just don’t remember getting to know them like I think our nieces and nephews know us. These kids know which aunt (me) can take a joke, which uncle calls them leeches when they hang on him in the ocean (my husband), which aunt makes amazing cookies (well, there are two, but enough about my sister-in-law), and which aunt and uncle look smoking hot in their bikini and Speedo (this is embarrassing, but my husband and me again).   The amazing thing is with all those people piled into one house we all get along.  There is little drama and a whole lot of laughs and fun.  Since my husband’s parents have died, it is our one opportunity to all get together each year and that beach house has become our new gathering place.  

 

I hope as time passes and all these kids grow up into adulthood, and I am going to borrow a lyric from Alan Jackson and his song Drive, that maybe one day they'll reach back in their file and pullout that old memory and think of me and smile.

[Tina, Clover, Plus 5 More]

Somebody call 911
Shawty fire burning on the beach shore

Definition of shawty - (Noun) a girl who is honest and true, beautiful and caring. has alot of friends

[F, Calla & Luca]

Well, I see why you hesitated. Now we are all envious. I pledge to hardly eat anymore and I am wiggling my toes already in preparation for my new work outs.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thank you, Donna. I do try to eat right and work out.

[Donna K & Quincy]

Hot, hot, hot! You are aging well girl. :>)

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Lots of you have been asking for pictures. I am a little shy about posting pictures of myself, but here is one I just found of me ready for the beach.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thanks, Jennifer and Pat!

Jennifer, You will just have to take my word about the bikini...LOL! Our camera was broken.

[Pat and Traveler]

What a marvelous vacation, and the tale about it is hilarious!   

[Jennifer,Chloe & Myla]

So where's the picture of the bikini??? Your family sounds fun and you must love eachother very much to be so confined and to let them pee by your legs! We had a 3 year in a row get together at a campground which started to be a yearly vacation. Then the campground shut down. My DH and I passed the last 2 years at the choices, didn't want to board the doodles. Anyway, my sister's family is building a cabin 3 hours from me so hopefully we can get back on track to a tradition. Sounds so fun (and tiring) Thanks for sharing!! Love your stories!

[F, Calla & Luca]

Laurie, I would never dream that you would need PS, although you have --hmm--implied that. It's just that I thought you wouldn't want us to see your body before you finished have DK logos tattooed on it.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

LOL, F! Actually, I enlist my DD's help for all my photo manipulations. I can only push her so far. I actually did just get Photoshop Elements, but need to take a class or something, because I have not figured it out yet. Besides, F, what makes you think I would have to use Photoshop at all??