"Vacation"

Almost every year since we moved back to Kansas, we've gone on "vacation" with my mom and dad to one of their timeshares at the Lake of the Ozarks.

This year is no different. Currently, I'm sitting in an outdated, yet surprisingly spacious condo. Because I only have the use of a three-foot ethernet cord to gain internet access, my computer is precariously balanced on the couch's faux suede armrest while I awkwardly type away.

[Sidenote: No matter which condo we get, it always seems to have the same builder's grade teal carpet with flecks of pink, aqua, and tan zigzagging through it. Why is that?]

Every three minutes, I find myself saying, "Step over the cord!" (with an occasional "Go under the cord!" thrown in for variation's sake). My three rambunctious boys seem to have gone deaf--or just can't hear me over the reverberating echo of their own shouts--but I stubbornly adhere to my mantra as any other distracted mother would.

I knew my uncharacteristically optimistic hope for this trip was far-fetched to begin with: This would be a week to relax, to regenerate, to reawaken my creativity so that, at the end of the week, I could go back home and produce works of utter genius.

However, after three days, a little bit of reality has set in--under the guise of a three-foot ethernet cable and a rainy afternoon.

I suppose, at this point in my life, these vacations are really for the kids, and though that might mean letting go of my hopes for personal rest and relaxation, I'm certainly going to take full advantage of vacation mentality and eat chocolate chip cookies with a little less guilt . . . and maybe even chase them down with a 12-pack of Coke.