Working Vacations

A brilliant man once told me that work is play and play is work. I first discounted the phrase because the man was from Idaho, (never trust a spud picker) but have been thinking a lot about the saying after returning from our vacation last week. I have never been so excited to get back to work so I could rest up from vacation. Can anyone relate? Let me explain.

Vacations at the Stewart home are more like a pilgrimage. To my recollection we have never vacationed within 500 miles of our home or for less than four days. Most often it involves international flights, multiple time zones, in-air diaper changes, and at least five major meltdowns. That is why I was so excited to hear that Kate (my adorable side kick/wife) had planned our vacation this year in Southern California at the beach. I almost felt a rush of excitement as she described to me the resort right on the beach with nothing to do but watch the waves cooling the toasty California sand.

However, knowing Kate, I was somewhat skeptical that I would be spending my days under a palm tree sipping lemonade and humming a Kenny Chesney song. Kate is a planner and what I refer to as a “militant vacationer”. I knew there would be an itinerary. There always is. However this time even I underestimated her ability to cram a month of activities into a few days.

Our vacation began at a car dealership in St. George. Kate had sized up the luggage, four kids, and two tag-along Phillip’s siblings, and decided our oversized Expedition was no longer adequate for our needs. She had told me of our “need” the week previous, and after a few days of my standard “you’ve got to be kidding me” and “this is ridiculous” and “we cant afford it” and “you are being irrational” I relented to the pressure and drove as a willing participant to the dealership. Kate, after a few upgrades, change in color, and four test drives (this will have to be another update in and of itself) found the car of her dreams. She was so happy. I am so broke.

The eight of us (Kate and I, four kids, and two in-laws) and our luggage crammed into the new Yukon XL and headed for California. The sting of the butt kicking I had just endured at the car dealership was starting to wear off, the DVD was playing, kids were semi quiet, and I felt amazingly comfortable behind the wheel of this multi-ton death trap.

Upon arriving at our destination (or the destination as determined by our new yet slightly dysfunctional navigation system) I found myself staring at a beach and the ocean, but no hotel. The navigation kept blaring “make the first available legal u-turn” as I edged along hoping somehow the sand would suddenly produce our hidden beachside villa. Cars were honking from behind and passing me on both sides at high speeds. I then noticed a train approaching between the highway we were traveling on and the beach. My wife began talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying as the train rumbled past us on the tracks. At this point I stopped in the middle of the road in a bewildered stupor. “Where is the hotel?” I asked. She pointed to the opposite side of the road and asked me politely to make the u-turn. Turns out our beachside villa was not so beachside. It appeared to me, in order to reach the beach from our beachside hotel, we would have to exit the hotel driveway, traverse four lanes of highway, railroad tracks, a security fence, and a small campground! Not exactly the backdoor onto the beach I had envisioned!

Although it was late, Kate and the kids had to try the beach. I stayed with the little one as the four of them headed out. I watched from our balcony in terror as they maneuvered their way to the beach. To my delight, none were struck by the freeway traffic or the Amtrak trains! The mood was dampened later in the evening when the crew returned to report that the sandy beach was not so sandy. In fact my oldest was limping from a rock he stepped on in the water and wife’s toe had sustained a direct hit to the coral. Any optimism I may have still had was now gone.

Upon reviewing the itinerary I realized the week was a busy one, with trips to Lego Land, the San Diego Zoo, Old Town, Deep Sea Fishing, a Padres Game, and a trip down the PCH. While away on one of our numerous side trips, the relatives found a new beach five miles away. With the exception of the five minute drive, half mile trek down the mountain, dollar an hour parking fee, and the rip tide, the beach was fabulous! I even found time one day to suntan (which will have to be another update as well…).

We arrived back home at 3:30 am on Saturday morning six days later, tired yet content. I have definitely had my fill of California for at least another season!