How To Keep That Vacation State of Mind

This relaxed state won't last much longer. Promise.

This relaxed state won’t last much longer. Promise.

I’ve got the glow. The family-vacation-went-better-than-expected glow.

Like childbirth narratives, vacation memories are subject to reinvention. Instead of recalling the intermittent pain of persuading four genetically related, stubborn humans to agree on everything from meals to water play, I only remember the laughter and bonding – togetherness times ten.

Our family memories will last a lifetime.

My vacation-induced glow, however, will last only until we step through our front door. That’s when the real fun starts.

If you’re like me, the overwhelming affection you feel toward your loved ones and the relaxed vacation joie de vivre last just long enough to survive the trip home.

Once real life intervenes, the vacation glow peels off like a wet tankini, leaving piles of laundry, kids with no bedtimes, and sunscreen-induced acne behind.

I’m a great vacation mom – my yeses outweigh my nos ten to one. Want to eat gummy bears for breakfast? Again? Sure. Just be sure to wash them down with fruit punch. You best stay hydrated. Not shower for a week? Who cares! Lake water is clean enough. Jump head first off a floating trampoline? Why not? You’ll learn to swim on the way up.

Once home, I’ll have to slay the monsters I created. Or send them to your house.

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“How can we keep this vacation going and enjoy these last few weeks before school starts?” my husband said.

“We can ditch the kids and jet off to Bermuda for the rest of the month,” I said. “Right now I’m feeling relaxed and loving and up for anything. The second we get home, I promise to be a raving bitch.”

And so it will be. God help us all.

How do you keep that vacation state of mind going once you return home? Is the transition home after a vacation hard for you – or is it just me?

About Nothing


This is a post about nothing. It started off as a post about running. I ran five miles yesterday around the lake where we’re vacationing in Michigan. I wrote about my thoughts per mile (TPM):

Mile One: Look at me out running! I’m so proud of myself. I feel good. I look good. My new running shorts aren’t binding or rubbing me raw. Even my bra is comfortable. I’m a rockstar. Hi all you Michigan people! I could run all day.

Mile Two: When do those f-ing endorphins kick in? Who put all these hills in here? What happened to the flat plains of the Midwest? Whose stupid idea was this anyway?

Mile Two Point Five: Hello, endorphins! Welcome! I feel strong and powerful! I will run around this lake every day of our vacation. And walk every night. I can already feel my ass jiggling less.

Mile Three: That’s it? That’s all the endorphins I get? Please kill me now.

Mile Three Point Seven: If I make it around this god-forsaken lake without getting hit by a car a la Stephen King, I will never again complain about my jiggly bits.

Fascinating, no? Other than two angry pit bulls chasing me for a half mile resulting in my fastest pace since high school (mile four) and finding the perfect place to hide a dead body should I ever need one (mile five), nothing much happened.

Instead of sticking this post in my draft file folder with the thirty-seven other pieces I don’t think are good enough to post, I’m giving nothing a try.

Where do I go from here? Nowhere. See how this works? I think I’m pretty good at this!

I could write about our vacation so far, but all I’ve done is run once and prepared endless amounts of food for apparently starving children. How often do kids need to eat these days? Since when can no one open her own cheese stick or yogurt container? Must be all this clean Michigan air.

371 words so far about nothing. That wasn’t so hard. Jerry Seinfeld ain’t got nothing on me.

I’ll shoot for 500 words. How hard can it be? I just need another anecdote. Where’s a good boating accident or random alligator attack when you need one?

Even the ducks that my kids can’t stop feeding are quiet. In exchange for our meal plan, the least they can do is provide some blog fodder. House rule.


I’m going for another run. I hope the pit bulls are out. Or maybe a rabid goose. If not, I’ll start making up shit. I bet I’ll be good at that.