Vacation

Vacations are trips with room service, spa treatments, and fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas in them.  Vacations are not to be confused with family trips.  A family trip is when the kids are invited. 

"He licked me!" Amaya yelled from the backseat.  "Get on your own side Rio!"  she whined as she pushed him away. "Mom! Tell him to stop!"

"She stuck her tongue out first!" Rio defended himself.

"I didn't actually lick you though!" Amaya uttered in disgust.

Rio and Amaya argued back and forth as I attempted to drown out their bickering with the radio.  I tried to take deep breaths to calm my nerves.  I tried to ignore them by reading a book.  But eventually I reached my breaking point.

"Enough!" I yelled facing the backseat. "Your father is driving, do you want him to stop this car?" I asked. "If he has to stop...I'm leaving you on the side of the road...and you can walk!"

They both stared at me blankly, their eyes protruding from their skulls. 

That's right, only 30 minutes on the road and mama has already snapped.

Like I was saying...vacations aren't to be confused with a family trip.

Umbrella Assumption

Packing for a trip is no small task.  I'm neurotic, I'm not one of those people who can throw a few things in a bag and go.  If I were, traveling would be easier.  Instead my process involves check lists, charts, to-do lists, paying the bills in advance, cleaning, and multiple trips to the store to buy last minute items I don't use at home, but somehow can't live without on vacation.

My husband doesn't see what the big deal is, after all the only thing he was responsible for was the umbrellas.  If Rio can handle three tasks, surely my husband could remember one.

Three days into our vacation dark clouds formed and then it rained. My husband informed me that he left the umbrellas in the car, so we hiked a half mile through the self parking lot to retrieve them.

"The umbrellas aren't in here,"  my husband said as he rummaged through the trunk.

"Yeah okay, very funny."  I thought he was kidding, until he approached me empty handed.

"Where are they?" He asked sternly.

"I remember asking you to pack them...and you were like...no problem hunny,"  I mocked him.

"I assumed they were in the trunk,"  he stated.

"Well you know what they say about assuming..."  I rolled my eyes with irritation.

"They're always in the trunk, who took them out?"  His defense: it was my fault.

"It's been raining, so the kids take them to school."  I pointed to the sky.  "Umbrellas won't keep them dry sitting in the trunk."

Next time, I'm assuming he packed his underwear. 

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