In this case, being with
friends is a real vacation

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

It looks like — dare I say it out loud without jinxing it — that spring has finally sprung! After a winter that seemed never-ending, can it finally be time to put away the snow boots and sleds, and break out the tank tops and thongs?
And by thongs I mean open-toe shoes with that annoying little piece of material rubbing between the little piggy that went to market and the little piggy that stayed home. This should not be confused with the other type of thong with that annoying piece of material rubbing between your . . . well, I think you get the picture.
Time to shed those winter blues and wrap yourself in the joy of knowing that summer is just around the corner. Time for us moms to sign the kids up for swim lessons and order the latest bathing suit from Lands’ End that offers "the most comfort and coverage no matter what your body type." Time to buy stock in the company that makes sunless tanner and time to plan the family vacation.
Ahhhh, the family vacation, that elusive dream of summer where we love nothing more than quality time with the kids intermixed with romantic stolen moments and furtive glances with our spouse. Which, in reality, comes to a screeching halt before the overloaded minivan, newly stocked with snacks, DVDs and a pee bucket, is even out of the driveway.
Like every family, we have our share of vacation horror stories as well as our share of those rare treasured times of familial harmony. The "Honey, quick get the camera, no one’s fighting and I a need a picture to prove it" moments.
We happen to have dear friends with whom we have shared many a vacation over the years. He is a respected surgeon in the community who would be embarrassed if I went on to tell of the countless philanthropic deeds he has done — under his gruff demeanor is a heart of gold.
His wife is an uber-capable woman who can do anything from baking the perfect wedding cake or planning the perfect party to cooking the perfect lobster — and still looking like she just stepped out of a Chicco’s catalog while doing it. And she does it with such poise and grace that you couldn’t even hate her if you tried, which is one of the many reasons I love her.
She also has a job with the State of New Jersey yet still managed to find time to come over to my new house when we moved in. She volunteered to clean the bathrooms. She cleaned them to such a shine that her husband could have performed an appendectomy on the spot should the need have arisen. Now that’s what I call a friend. And friends we are, despite countless hours spent waiting for delayed flights, arguing with car-rental people and accommodating the various needs, wants and desires of their four kids plus our three.
They are easy people to be with, patient in adversity, good in emergencies. And smart enough to laugh when the absurd occurs. Which, for reasons we’ve yet to figure out, happens often when we are all together. Their kids are the type of kids that other parents (like us) look at and say, "How’d they do that?" Their oldest daughter is a classic beauty who has not rested on her laurels. She not only is graduating from Wake Forest this month but in the fall she’ll be heading off to Harvard graduate school. Their twin boys are no slouches either, having followed in their big sister’s footsteps, all the way to Wake Forest, where they are now known as "the hot twins." Their youngest beauty is a little spitfire with a gleam in her eye that lets you know she could get away with murder if she wanted to, but knows better of it.
Over the years we have created many a vacation tradition, such as our "paparazzi night," where we get all dressed up and take family pictures, some of which turn out to be that year’s Christmas card. Or our "water sports day" when we rent Jet Skis and learn by way of a few too many near-misses that the ocean may not be big enough for all of us.
So, with the sun finally showing its face again, I can hardly wait for this year’s vacation. For the mishaps and the laughs and the time spent with family and friends.
Until, that is, we pull out of the driveway. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net