Vacation

A family vacation for a stay-at-home mom is like one of those old-school racing video games in which you can choose your race location. At first the prospect of driving around New York or Japan or Egypt is compelling, and then after the first lap you realize it's the same stupid game but with palm trees instead of skyscrapers.

You know what made me think of those video games? Henry spent five hours a day playing them while we were in Tahoe. Vacation for him, vacation for me. Amelia can't play video games yet, and that's a loss for all of us.

Fortunately, we did not go alone. We brought my sister and our friends and former best-next-door-neighbors-ever (former because we moved, not because they slacked off), Marion and Shiloh. This is the key to vacationing with small children: adults should outnumber them by at least 2-to-1. It's brilliant. Everyone has time to read, everyone can go down the sledding hill, anyone who gets up to watch The Lion King at 6:15 am can go back to sleep by 8.

Mostly we went sledding, which is a much more athletic activity than I would have thought. This is a photo of Henry taking flight after the other adults sent him down the hill by himself. He was fine. Mildly traumatized, but fine.

It was actually a wonderful time. We ate good dinners and laughed a lot. The sledding was the most fun I have had in years. By the time we left I was a little more relaxed. I was also exhausted from the repeated night-wakings of my disoriented children. For me, exhaustion is a clear precursor to anxiety, and last night, after we returned, I was weeping to Simon that after three days with me, Maura and Marion and Shiloh had finally realized what a dill-weed I am, and we'll never see them again.

This is me: good friends, good times, crippling self-doubt, tears.