Last Sunday, we checked in to a hotel about 20 minutes away from our home. We stayed in a suite right on the beach, for three nights.
Unless you are super wealthy, can afford two suites, and bring a full-time babysitter, there is no such thing as a “fun” family vacation. It’s a lot of packing, a lot of whining, a lot of kids who are too amped up to sleep. It’s a lot of mess, a lot of noise, and a lot of mouths to feed. A lot of mouths that you do NOT want to take into a restaurant.
The Embassy Suites is as good as it gets for a family with several little kids, but not a ton of money to spend. And, you can’t beat the location of this one. During the week, the beach was deserted, and the kids had a blast.
I’m not much of a traveler. I know a lot of people think it’s awesome, but I like being at home. There are places I’d like to see, in theory, and maybe someday I will – but right now, I can’t deny that I live in one of the most interesting and beautiful places on Earth. It’s “suburban, with benefits,” if you will. And I love it.
Because on the first full day of our trip, Bridget and I ventured down to Hollywood to hang out at Children’s Hospital, then returned to our little beach idyl. How amazing is it that I can be here:
And in an hour and fifteen minutes, be here:
And back again?
We came home on Wednesday, and we were ready. I canceled school for the rest of the week, except for Jack, who did go on Friday. Predictably, the kids showed almost no appreciation for the time, expense, and energy that went into the trip – Brian and I needed a vacation after our vacation, but the kids wanted to know what was next. I remembered all the vacations that we took, when I was a kid. They were much more involved than three nights at the local beach, and I doubt I ever thanked my parents. But it’s true what they say – that, “Someday, you’ll be the mom, and you’ll understand.”