Oh, hi there. I'm on vacation this week. Did I mention that? Vacation. V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N. At the beach. THE BEACH. It's been sunny and in the 80s everyday thus far. Aside from the first evening, my children have been sleeping and relatively well behaved. I've been reading books. BOOKS. And, trashy magazines. And eating chocolate every day. Miles has developed a five Popsicle a day habit. I'm enabling him. I'm not ashamed.
The tops of my shoulders are just a bit sunburned and I'm finding the sensation not entirely unpleasant. There is just the smallest bit of sand in my sheets and I don't find that unpleasant at all.
We spend our mornings at the beach playing in the sand and our afternoons we spend poolside. In the early evenings we return to the beach for a bit of kite flying and then it's back to the pool to tire our the kids for early bedtimes. As in before 8PM and those geese are cooked.
Evenings are filled with margaritas and wine and maybe some tequila. A little poker; conversations about books; reading; sitting on the deck and enjoying the almost chilly breeze off the Atlantic ocean. You know, our backyard. IS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.
My kids, they are awesome. They are racing dump trucks up and down the beach with their cousins and falling in love with hermit crabs and taking fearless plunges into the pool. They are filled with giggles and salty hair and sandy bottoms. Miles is as brown as a nut and Oscar's skin remains creamy and light.
My husband is funny and fun and relaxing and enjoying our children and I love him so much.
I cannot stop smiling.
So. You know. Vacation.
It’s us, but in dead animal form. But not really dead because they weren’t ever alive. Undead? No. That makes them sound like vampires. So not that. Fuck. I don’t know the word. Hey, how long can a title be? Because this seems excessive. Someone should stop me. Jesus. This is as bad as 280-character twitter.