To vacation or not to vacation?

There has been some talk recently at our home about going on a vacation later in the summer. Frankly, I find the idea of this more than a little daunting. Seriously, we are the poster people for "Traveler's Aid" as well as "Dysfunctional Family-palooza".

First there is the decision making process. Where do we go? How long should we/can we stay? What would the kids enjoy? Should my parents (my children's only grandparents) come along? Then there is the reservation making- hunting down deals on hotel rooms and dining so we can be vacationers on a budget. These are the easy parts.

Even packing isn't too difficult once I've managed to attack Mt. Washmore with a fiery vengeance. (And speaking of laundry and fiery, they mean it when they say don't leave home with your dryer running. Just ask my friend who was seen throwing the charred remains of her towels onto her driveway late one night after discovering her laundry was in flames.)

The real trouble starts once we get in the car. There is the invariable bickering over which DVD the kids will watch. Once that is settled my father begins reading billboards to us. Every. Single. One. He once read every billboard on a 7 hour drive between our home and San Antonio. There are never any problems deciding what route to use to get home because my 73 year old father begins planning this the minute we arrive at our destination.

Speaking of San Antonio, this is where the "Traveler's Aid" would have come in handy. We were stuck there in a hotel room on the Riverwalk during the 100 year flood of October 1998. Did I mention that we also had a 4 month old baby with us and our room was on the ground floor? Our trip consisted of watching the river rise outside our window and wondering how we would ever get out since the entire downtown area in which we were staying was completely underwater.

Of course, also in the annals of trips to remember would be the one where my cousin and I headed to Florida in 1989 with her 2 small children and our luggage on the roof. Sure, you see where this is going, don't you? Dallas, TX. 5:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. Our belongings were scattered across 6 lanes of traffic on BOTH sides of the median. My cousin drove the SUV slowly along the inside lane while I ran behind her picking things up and the children sat in the back pulling them into the vehicle. Never let an amateur strap your luggage to the roof- that's how I lost my Spuds McKenzie nightshirt.

We usually discuss going to a coastline somewhere for vacation, but realize that a Katrina-like hurricane would in fact hit while we were there.

We all manage to get along fairly well for the first 50 miles or so. Usually until someone has to go to the bathroom or asks for a drink from the cooler. Then ugliness ensues. This is made worse only if we are stuck in traffic. Traffic jams drive me crazy and my mother frequently does as well. In a traffic jam in Atlanta I threatened to put her out of the car and let her catch a Greyhound back to Oklahoma. My mother is an "angry huffer" and thus we were all treated to the sounds of her heavy breathing for the next two days.

Don't get me wrong. Most of our vacations manage to be more than moderately successful and are always memorable- though usually in a strange way. My mother and I line danced with the children and a cast of Disney characters at "Mickey's Backyard BBQ" and that is the one dance of my life that I cherish the most.

I used to have.....

I used to have an idol. It was Jessica Savitch. I read her book in 8th grade and I was hooked. I wanted to be a journalist. Okay, so things didn't turn out so great for her. She got into drugs and died a horrific death in a car filled with water, but at one time she was considered "golden".

Things haven't necessarily turned out all that great for me either. I'm not on drugs- recreational ones anyway, nor am I a famous journalist. What I have become is a mom who finds herself plunging toilets and tending to loads and loads of laundry and dishes. It's not exactly what I had in mind for a career.

What I did think of myself doing was writing. Writing endlessly and emotively and reporting the facts from war torn countries or areas of natural disasters. In my mind I was writing words that would not only move people to tears, but change minds and change the world. Such are the dreams of teenagers.

Instead I found myself trapped in a terrifying world of severe panic attacks and depression. I became walled in by constant fears. Somehow, in some unknown way I managed to muddle my way through it and overcome the worst of the symptoms. Throughout the years the symptoms would expand and contract like I had been touched with hot or cold. They became worse as I experienced the devastating loss of 2 of the most important women in my life within 3 months, but then I found myself healing and the symptoms abated somewhat.

Now, at age 37, I find myself mildly plagued once again. I have no college degree since the fears interfered with my ability to attend classes. Have I simply wasted the last 20 years of my life? Where have they gone and what is there to show for them but 2 beautiful children? Someone told me yesterday that it is never too late. So I am going forward. I can have my degree in a few short years.

I used to have a dream that I would write the words that would inspire millions. Maybe I will after all.