Dear Elli,
Well, we pulled off another family vacation without a single soul being physically assaulted. We even upped the ante by adding some new family members this year. Thirteen humans and three dogs this year. In one house.
The thirteen humans included three kids under 6, a teenager, two drunken Irishmen, two stone-cold sober adults, my mother, my mother-in-law, Aunt Lonie, and your father and me (I decided not to include myself in the drunken Irishman category this time.). Sound fun? It was!
Your cousin Paityn (the teenager) hid in her room and took 46,793 selfies while snapchatting with her friends all week. She was spotted a few times, usually when hunger or the need for sunlight drove her out of her cave. She smiled twice. Neither time at me. I'm joking. She's a pretty good kid when she's not glaring in hormone-induced rage at everyone over 21.
Paityn tried to teach me "The Whip" at the pool one day. I suck at line dances, and the "whip" and the "nae nae" and the "stanky leg" and the "superman" are all combined together in that damn dance. It's far too complicated for me when I've been drinking. So we did the "cupid shuffle" instead before she rolled her eyes, called me old and lame, and went back to taking selfies on Snapchat with her friends.
You little kids behaved marginally. None of you listen and I had to fight the urge to use violence against all of you at one time or another. I succeeded. You guys act like total idiots, but I love each and every one of you. Except when you whine or don't listen. I want to strike you in a violent manner when you whine or don't listen.
So we flew kites and swam and ate and shopped and swam and jet skied and caught sand crabs and fished and swam and ate some more. I probably gained ten pounds. My pants don't fit anymore and I feel bloated.
Your cousin Issac had an accident and peed on the floor in the bathroom, which you proceeded to slip and fall into. What is more demoralizing than slipping and falling into a puddle of urine? Probably nothing. And I tried not to laugh hysterically while you were crying. I really did feel badly for you, but you've got to admit that it's funny.
The puppy had an accident and peed on Grandpa Mike while they were both taking a nap. I did laugh at him when he came stumbling outside looking for sympathy with puppy pee all over his shirt.
I managed not to pee on anyone, and also to avoid anyone peeing on me. I did, however, have an accident with a baby gate. The damn thing fell on the back of my foot. No big deal, right? How could a plastic baby gate cause any real damage? I'll tell you. The stupid thing managed to sheer every single inch of skin from my Achilles tendon. It bled for two days, and I limped around like a moron for the remainder of the week. Ever try swimming in salt water with an open wound? Awesome.
Your Aunt Lonie was a first timer. I think she spent most of the week wondering why in the hell she agreed to come with us. We're a very loud and chaotic group. We argue and yell and make fun of each other. Our children are heathens. We speak like we live in the gutter. And it takes us two hours to get our shit together enough to decide what we're eating for dinner. She loves us.
I am a bad ass sand crab catcher. Your Uncle Jeff is my partner. We circle them. He comes in from the ocean side and I come in from the beach side with the flashlight. On my signal, we run full speed at the crab and ambush the thing before it knows what hit it. Then we throw it in a bucket. When we have about ten of them, we let the kids tip the bucket over and we all scream and jump around like little girls when they run in different directions to get away. This is my idea of a fantastic time.
You got sea sick from riding with me on a jet ski. In addition to my crab catching skills, I am a bad ass jet skier. I like to do donuts and jump giant waves. My skills are too much for your juvenile stomach.
You should've ridden with Nanny. She putted around like a grandma. But she is a grandma, so I guess that's okay. I probably shouldn't have done repeated circles around her, forcing her to hit our wake. It made her uncomfortable. And it made you sick.
Your father thinks he knows who his daddy is. Grandma Becky forgot to tell him about the Pakistani milkman she had back in Akron in 1977. Seriously. What white boy gets that tan? It's ridiculous. And I'm jealous.
So we did it! We had another fantastic family vacation! And I can't stop smiling because we have the kind of family that can do this and still be on speaking terms at the end of the week. We're lucky, kid. Really freaking lucky.
I love you. And I love our family.
Mom
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