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West Michigan seems unusual to me for a couple different reasons, but one in particular is the mass exodus to Florida and Gulf Shores the first week of April. Part of the reason this seems so foreign, is that the thought of sitting on a beach for a week in the hot sun would be akin to torture for me. (That and paying out-the-nose to see a sporting event.) Also, I grew up taking trips with my family, and never once did we go to a beach or head south for a week. But, just because I'm still working, and it's 34 and rainy here, doesn't mean we're not having a vacation! We're now just half way in, and we've had dinner parties for 16 people, several play dates, an orthodontist appointment, gone to the movies, biked, played basketball, started several house projects, hosted one sleep-over, and I almost gave myself a concussion walking into a beam outside our house (perhaps the highlight for me, though I can't quite remember it.)

My parents were both teachers when I was growing up, and somewhere along the line I came to assume that everyone got their summers off. (Imagine my surprise when I found out this was not the case!) Because of this, and because my grandparents lived 19 hours away, we would spend a week visiting them in Iowa every Christmas, and two weeks every summer. But that left many summer weeks for other trips to places like Montana, Washington DC, Prince Edward Island, Knoxville (TN), British Columbia, and The Black Hills.

I also came to assume that everyone traveled like we did: four people in a two-door un-airconditioned Mazda, leaving at midnight, stopping only when my dad had to get gas or pee (which was not very often at that point in his life). We moved fast, peed quickly, and saw an awful lot. My brother Josh and I would split the back seat mentally (or physically with blunt force), and we'd each get to take one travel bag of necessities including Archie comic books, games, and a notepad to journal our adventures and annoyances with each other. I don't remember ever stopping at a hotel, though we must have, right? But because we didn't want to tie ourselves down, we never made a hotel reservation. (Also grew up assuming a reservation wasn't an option.) So, we saw a lot, walked a lot, visited family and friends a lot, and did it all without television, though Josh did once audio record an episode of Mr. Belvedeer on a cassette tape so we could listen to it in the car.

Greg loves nothing more than a road trip. He's driven back and forth from California to Michigan a handful of times, usually straight through, once with a 6-week-old Kate and a sleep-deprived me--we stopped in Denver to visit his aunt and uncle for three hours, then continued on our way. Greg loves the idea of being able to do whatever and go wherever on a moment's notice. (His ultimate dream, which will sadly never happen as long as I'm still alive, is to buy a pimped-out extended van in which to travel North America.) Since this is how I grew up, I'm fine with this way of travel, but my butt is getting kinda sore, figuratively speaking of course. I've lost the love of sitting in a car for endless hours at a time.

Our family of four has taken trips to visit family and friends in Colorado, Georgia, Virginia, Tennessee, Iowa, California, and Ontario, Canada. Tennessee was actually a side-trip on our way home from Georgia, and when I asked Greg if we should take the extra days and hours of driving to visit one of my best friends, he said, "You never regret going out of your way to see friends and family." And he's always been right on this one! But we wanted to try something different several years ago and take a trip and not see anyone we knew, so we took the train into Chicago for two nights.

We saw Cirque de Sole, walked what the kids called "A LOT!" and enjoyed some quality family time. But I dare say our ideal vacations will almost always involve visiting with friends and family.

The thing I love about family vacations is the memories. I mean, I vaguely remember Mount Rushmore, George Washington's farm, Anne of Green Gable's house, and Old Faithful, but I can very clearly remember when my mom got pulled over for speeding (and she told us not to tell Grandpa), when I hurled my beloved stuffed animal at Josh and it flew out my mom's window (and we had to back-track several miles on the highway to find it again), when my dad got sawed in half at magic show on PEI, and walking through central park at dusk (and my mom saying, "Just look ahead kids!"). My kids still talk about the time we flew to California one spring break. Our flight was delayed so much that by the time we got to LAX all the shuttle

busses were gone, and we didn't get to our final destination until 3am.

We also love to remember one trip to Colorado. We (of course) drove through the night, which wasn't a problem because Greg had just started taking Adderall for his ADD. So, fifteen hours, two Red Bulls, and some legal speed later, we were surprised to wake up to Greg shouting, "COWS--Lookatthecows kids!" (There actually were cows, thankfully.) Moments later he pulled up to the drive-through at Burger King, started talking super fast with his hands, until the lady finally said, "Uh, I can't understand what you're saying, why don't you just pull up to the next window." The day before we left to return home, we took this picture at a park,

about 20 minutes before Elia threw up all over her aunt. We had to pick up diapers on the way home because we couldn't keep pulling over. Ahh, the memories.

So, I think I've just proven why, whether you decide on a staycation, or an actual, legitimate vacation, any confined time spent with people you are related to and/or love, is always worthwhile! If only for the stories alone.

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