De-Vacationing

Going on vacation is always fun, but it’s also a lot of work – especially if you’re a bit neurotic, as I am. I have lists of what I’ve packed in the past, what I’m planning on packing now, and what I think I should pack in the future. I have lists of what I need to get, what I already have, and what I don’t need this time. I have lists that are alphabetized, categorized, and color-coded. I spend nearly as much time making lists as I do collecting the stuff that is on them. And I definitely spend more time planning and packing for vacation than I do actually being on vacation. But what really takes up my time when it comes to vacation is not the preparation, nor the vacation itself. It’s the “de-vacationing” that comes after we get home.

The first part of de-vacationing is laundry. Even if a trip was only a quick overnight, my family somehow manages to generate 27 loads of laundry. In fact, whether the trip was overnight or two weeks long, the amount of laundry is roughly the same. It’s like some weird magic vacation physics. And since my family often goes camping for vacation, a large part of that laundry is washing sleeping bags.

I live on the edge when it comes to washing sleeping bags. I used to carefully read the labels and have them dry cleaned, until I noticed that one of our sleeping bags carried a dire warning: “DO NOT DRY CLEAN!!!!” It was in such a threatening font that I decided to give in to that warning and instead ignore the warnings on the other bags that said, sweetly and non-threateningly, “Wash only in a large capacity front-loading commercial grade washer.” Pfft. Ain’t nobody got time for dat. If I can stuff that baby into my washer, then that’s where it’s going. So far, neither the washing machine nor the sleeping bags are any the worse for wear. I do draw the line as throwing them in the dryer, though. I have had the experience of sleeping in a sleeping bag whose stuffing had shifted in the dryer and I will never again subject myself to that. Instead, my back yard is covered with sleeping bags draped over every available surface. At this very moment, there’s one hanging over the fence, another draped over two carefully placed patio chairs, a third hanging over the railing of the pool steps, and a fourth looking like a heavily-padded tablecloth on the picnic table. I spend most of “drying day” praying for no rain.

Another large part of de-vacationing is re-stocking and de-stocking. Our camping supplies include a mix of perishable and non-perishable items, so things like Ziploc baggies, rolls of paper towels, and long matches are re-stocked prior to being packed back away in the attic, and things like pancake mix, Clorox wipes, and batteries are pulled out and added to our daily stores before their boxes are tucked away for another year. Of course, this leads to a complete reorganization and repacking of all the items in every box. There is a complicated system of nesting and tucking items together to maximize use of storage space. (This is where my years of playing Tetris come in handy.) The paper towel roll nests perfectly inside the Dutch chimney, and the space left by that cereal box I just took out can be filled with two boxes of ziplocs and a pack of firestarters. If I do my job correctly, next year these boxes will look like so many clown cars, with many more supplies spilling out than could possibly have been packed in there.

And of course, the final stage of de-vacationing is cleaning out the car. Once the bulk of the boxes and bags have been removed, the process of picking through the detritus begins. Like a gold miner panning in a river, sorting through mud and stones to find a glimpse of gold, I sort through petrified raisins, stale Froot Loops, and empty juice boxes to find miniscule Lego pieces, Matchbox racecars, stuffed animals wedged under seats, and other treasures hidden amidst the chaff. If I could invent a vacuum cleaner that would suck up Cocoa Pebbles while leaving Legos behind, I’d be a millionaire (and the hero of every mom who ever lived).

It may take some time, but at some point after arriving home, the car is clean; the boxes are once again stashed in the attic; the scents of campfire, bug spray, and sunscreen have faded away; the photos have been posted on Facebook; the updated packing lists have been filed; and all that’s left is a few tan lines and a lot of happy memories. We are officially de-vacationed! Hmm, I’d say it’s time to start planning the next vacation. Now, where’d I put that packing list?

Anticipation: How to Make a Dull Job Fun

This week, my husband and I, along with our preschooler and toddler, are going camping. For almost a week. In a tent. On purpose.

I love camping. I really do. I love the smell of the campfire, I love lying in the tent at night listening for owls hooting and insects chirping and small animals rustling through the underbrush, I love chasing fireflies and stargazing and going for hikes.

 

What I don’t love, however, is packing. Even though I have lists, and lists of lists, I always have to spend hours gathering supplies, checking that everything is in working order, replacing used up items, double-checking that everything is in working order, and trying to get the same things I packed last year to fit into the same box I packed them in last year (they never do). But I’ve discovered a way to make even the dreaded packing chore fun: Anticipation.

Every time I pack an item, I anticipate how much fun I’ll have using it. While I’m digging through the attic to find the toasting forks, I imagine seeing my daughter’s face when she tastes her first s’more, or watching my husband help my son roast his own hotdog over the fire. While I’m scrubbing the dust off of the plastic wineglasses, I’ll be anticipating our traditional first-night steak dinner and thinking about which bottle of red wine my husband and I will use to toast the beginning of our vacation. When I cross off the words “formula,” “high chair,” “baby backpack,” and “Pack & Play” from last year’s packing list, I’ll anticipate how much more my kids will be able to do and help with this year compared to last year’s camping adventure. It doesn’t save me any time, but it certainly makes the time seem to go by faster!

And it does seem to work for pretty much any distasteful chore. Dusting the living room because company is coming? I anticipate the cheerful conversations that will be going on in the room when the company arrives. Washing the kitchen floor? I anticipate sitting on that very floor doing a craft project with my kids. Taking a disgusting diaper pail liner out to the trash? I anticipate that wonderful day when my son is potty trained and free of diapers. (Insert sound of angels singing here.)

 

Even tasks like sitting through a boring meeting are more fun if you find ways to enjoy anticipation. Imagine getting kudos from your boss when you finish the project he’s describing ahead of schedule and under budget. Imagine getting a letter from a happy client thanking you for your hard work (and cc’ing your boss). Anticipate getting a raise and a promotion because of your efficiency! Dream that you are asked to accept the CEO position of your company!!! Okay, maybe that’s going a little overboard, but anticipating that the meeting will end ahead of schedule and your boss will tell you to call it a day a few hours early is perfectly reasonable.

Anticipation doesn’t just make the distasteful stuff go by faster; it also extends the pleasurable stuff. By thinking about my vacation before it even starts, I get a few more days of enjoyment out of it. By imagining how much fun I’m going to have, I’m having fun before the real fun even begins. My honeymoon only lasted two weeks, but I enjoyed it for several months just by imagining how great it was going to be. This vacation is less than a week, but I’ve already been getting some fun out of it for several days merely by anticipating it.

And when I get home, as I’m unpacking and doing umpteen loads of laundry and trying to get all the camping gear to fit back in the attic where it came from, I’ll try another method of extending my vacation: reminiscing.

 

June 21 Photo: Where You Slept

Last night was my first night back in my own bed after sleeping in a sleeping bag on an air mattress in a tent for four nights. And oh, did it feel good!

Don’t get me wrong, I love sleeping in a tent. I love the squishiness of the air mattress and the way it poofs me up in the air a tiny bit when my husband lies down on the other side. I love the feeling of toasty warm toes inside my sleeping bag and a chilly nose peeping out of it. I love hearing the lullaby of the frogs calling and the owls hooting and the wind rustling in the trees. I love the smell of campfires and sweet fern and pine as I drift off to sleep. I love waking up to the sound of birds singing and chipmunks chittering and neighbors going about their business.

But there’s something to be said for the familiarity of your own bed. I know exactly what angle to lay the pillow at to get my neck comfortable. I know exactly how many layers of covers I need to get the perfect temperature. I know exactly how much space I have to roll over in between the edge of the bed and my husband. I know my way to the bathroom without needing to turn on a light. I have my glasses and my tissues and my Kindle and my lamp right at hand. The familiarity is comforting.

It’s fun to go on a trip of any kind, and to sleep in new places. But it’s always so sweet to come back home and sleep where you know you belong, right in your own bed.

Ducks, Docks, Donuts, and Dirt

One of the highlights of every summer since I’ve been married is time spent at my in-laws’ house on Cape Cod. It’s a good-sized house, so our visits are often shared with grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and often other family or even unrelated friends who’ve become family. So this past Thursday afternoon, we threw a bunch of stuff into the minivan and headed down the Cape.

To elaborate on that last sentence, I really do mean “threw a bunch of stuff” very literally. In the past, we’ve had to minimize and calculate to make sure we can fit everything we actually need into the trunk of a sedan. There were always tradeoffs: Do we really need to bring the full-sized stroller? Can we manage with the small umbrella stroller? Do we need the highchair or can we take turns feeding the baby on our laps? How many diapers do we need to bring for three days? Can I manage three days in the same pair of shorts without grossing everyone out? And of course, these questions were often asked as we stared into the full trunk in frustration, with 20 “needed” items still sitting forlornly in the driveway. But with a minivan, we literally tossed anything inside that we could possibly want, never mind need. It was great! Unfortunately, the drawback to this laissez-faire method of packing was a lack of organization that resulted in our leaving behind my husband’s backpack, which included all his toiletries and clothes (fortunately I had packed his swimsuit in a separate bag, so all was not lost). But it was the Cape, and it was vacation, so we rolled with it.

My son Ryan had first experienced the Cape House last summer as a 7-month-old. His enjoyment of it back then was pretty limited to sitting inside a giant inner tube on the lawn and being crowed over by dozens of adoring relatives at the annual family summer party. He was non-mobile enough at the time that it was easy to plop him somewhere with something interesting to watch and just sit back and relax myself. Ha! Not so this year. As soon as we brought him inside, my now VERY mobile 20-month-old was off and running around the house exploring every nook and cranny. He carefully pointed out each clock, turned every lamp on and off, and strained to reach every wall switch. He threw all the throw pillows on the floor, peeked in every cabinet, and attempted to fall off the porch into the bushes.

And then, he found the beach. (One of my favorite features of the house is that it’s right on a good-sized pond so the porch affords a lovely view of passing kayaks, sailboats, and various wildlife, not to mention a small private beach.) But even better than simply the beach, he found the ducks. A mother duck with 8 adorable, fluffy babies swam by to beg for handouts. Cousin Troy grabbed the sleeve of stale crackers which was waiting for their arrival and rushed down to the beach with Ryan eagerly following. Enthusiastic but not completely clear on the concept, Ryan imitated Troy throwing bits of cracker to the ducks by throwing handfuls of sand to them. Fortunately, the ducklings weren’t overly clear on the concept either and just as enthusiastically swam over to explore the splashes where the sand had landed in the water. Ryan turned to me several times and pointed at them, excitedly announcing, “Ducks!!” I was just thrilled that he made the connection between actual ducks and the animated and cartoon versions he’s seen on Curious George and in books.

When the ducks had had their fill and gone on their merry way, Ryan took advantage of being near the water and splashed a few inches into the pond (he would happily have plunged right in if it weren’t for his stick-in-the-mud mother who insisted he put on a swimsuit before that particular exploration). He was curious about the feeling of wet sand between his toes, and found a big flat stick to dig in the wet sand with. After a few barely-thwarted attempts to squat in the water to play, I hauled him back to the house to get him into his swimsuit.

Daddy gladly took over at that point (Ryan was not the only one eager to go play in the pond), and soon they were both suited up and ready to dig in the dirt and swim. One of the many items tossed haphazardly into the minivan had been a set of sand toys, and Ryan happily explored the bag of goodies. Buckets and shovels and molds, oh my!

He also enjoyed floating in the pond with some assistance from Troy.

And of course, a few swim lessons from Daddy:

The next morning we took a drive to pick up the morning paper, and on the way stopped by the docks to admire the boats. Ryan was as impressed by the real boats as he is by his toy boats, and happily waved to the various captains and passengers with an enthusiastic (and loud) “Hi!!!” to them followed by the announcement, “Boat!!” to everyone on shore who might not have noticed.

On our way back to the house, we stopped one more time for coffee and donuts – a special treat that Ryan rarely gets. He deigned to share a chunk of glazed donut and a bite or two of chocolate glazed while he watched Mary Poppins in the DVD player, his eyes glazing over as it approached nap time. I figured that he would settle right down in his crib for a nap when we got back, but I don’t know WHAT I was thinking. There’s no napping on vacation! As soon as we were back at the house, he insisted on running around again, stealing beanbags from Uncle Jim’s game, being chased by ever-patient cousin Kayla, climbing on the picnic table to see what Pappy was doing, and giggling while racing past Aunt Holly’s and Bammy’s legs. He didn’t want to miss out on a moment of fun at the Cape house!

But one of the highlights of our visit, to me, was our outing to a Falmouth Town Band concert. The town has a lovely bandstand with a great stretch of lawn that plays host to band concerts every Thursday night. Families set up lawn chairs and spread out blankets, others sit in their cars and honk appreciatively after favorite numbers. Herb and Ryan and I merely plopped on the grass and sat back to enjoy the fun. Ryan was tired enough that he was content to sit in my lap and sway along with the marches, his eyes wide as he took in the rows of shiny brasses and watched the cymbals and timpani clashing and crashing. At one point he did get up to chase another small boy next to us who was running in circles, as small boys do. It reminded me of the many other summer concerts I’ve been to throughout my life, both as a performer and as an audience member. I suspect that you could go back in time a hundred years and, other than the clothes and cars, see exactly the same scene. Families relaxing, children running about chasing fireflies or each other, people clapping in time to familiar marches, happily ignoring the occasional missed note or muffed entrance.

Families relaxing and having fun together: that’s what summer vacations are all about. That, and ducks, docks, donuts and dirt.

I Think We're Gonna Need a Bigger Car

Last summer, Herb and I went camping at Lafayette State Park in NH. It’s a beautiful woodsy spot in the mountains. We set up our tent, cooked on an open fire, and hiked through the mountains. We had such a wonderful time that we decided to do it again this summer. But of course, this summer Ryan is on the outside instead of on the inside, which means a BIG difference in packing.

Traveling with a baby requires a lot of packing. And camping requires a lot of packing. So when you combine the two, we’re talking a LOT of stuff. In fact, I don’t think we’ll be able to fit everything we need into the car. Last summer the car was stuffed to the gills, and this summer we need to also accommodate a car seat, a Pack & Play, a stroller, a framepack for hiking, possibly a high chair, plus Ryan’s clothes, toys, diapers, and food. Plus, we have a bigger tent this year.

You’d think that living in the woods for a few days would be simpler than living at home, and would therefore require less stuff. Your needs are pretty basic, right? Food, shelter, clothes, and not much else. But food requires not only the actual food, but something to cook it in, something to eat it with, and some way to clean up afterwards. So pack the basic foodstuffs: cereal, milk, juice, peanut butter, jelly, bread, burgers and dogs, buns for the burgers and dogs, condiments, soda, and of course graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate (it’s not really camping until you’ve made s’mores, after all). (And will hard-core campers think less of us if we add to that list two filets mignon, fresh summer squash, red bliss potatoes and a bottle of wine for that first dinner? It’s a little tradition of ours.) But of course, a good deal of that needs to be refrigerated, so add in a larger cooler with ice. Then add in paper plates and cups, napkins, plastic cutlery, a few pots and pans, and a camp stove (don’t forget the propane), plus a sharp knife, a spatula, and toasting forks. And then some dish detergent, a basin, a jerrican for hauling water, some sponges, and a dishtowel or two. Oh, and a kettle for heating wash water on the stove. Then comes shelter: a large tent (with fly and partitions), a tarp to put it on, an inflatable air mattress, two sleeping bags, two pillows, and a Pack & Play with its mattress and linens.

And we haven’t even gotten to clothes! You’d think those would be simple, but again, it’s more complicated than it seems at first glance. This being New Hampshire in the summer, you need to plan for all contingencies of weather. Could be 40 degrees, could be over 100. Could be sunny, could be rainy. So you pack shorts, jeans, T-shirts, sweatshirts, a windbreaker, a rain poncho, warm pajamas, cool pajamas, sneakers and socks, hiking shoes, sandals, and a bathing suit (don’t forget the towels). Multiply that by two adults and a baby (who often goes through multiple outfits a day) and there’s another whole carload of stuff right there.

Then of course you have all the other bits and pieces: toothbrushes, hairbrushes, soap and shampoo, first aid kit, paper towels, tinfoil, an extra backpack, cooking spray, salt and pepper, flashlights, a lantern, bug spray, sunscreen, matches, firestarters, citronella candles, a few board games, folding camp chairs, and a crossword puzzle book or two. Luckily, most of that stuff is small and can be crammed into the nooks and crevices between the larger stuff.

But of course, the biggest difficulty is when you’re headed home, and despite the fact that you’ve eaten most of your foodstuffs, thrown away a bunch of paper goods, and used up a lot of your toiletries, everything remaining has magically expanded so it no longer fits in the car. Many families I know upsized to larger cars or even a minivan or an SUV after they had kids, and I pooh-poohed the idea. We can easily manage with our existing cars! But camping might be the one thing that sends us over the edge. Unless of course, we just bring both cars. Hey, that’s not such a bad idea, come to think of it…