Summer Vacation, part 2

"Summertime, and the livin' is easy."

Yeah right, and so is losing the last ten pounds of your diet.

Maybe once, long ago, in some idyllic time and place, summertime was, indeed, a time to relax, kick back, watch catfish jump (aren't they bottom-feeders?), and work on the tan. The only thing I'm watching jump these days is gas prices. I see the numbers rise and rise each day as I chauffeur three kids to and from two summer camps. I see those intimidating numbers as I race from store to store, trying to complete my errands before it's time for the early pick up.

I have my routine down to a science. The kids are out the door by 9:00 am for my baby's drop off, I head straight to the park for the big kids' drop off, get my errands done in an hour and a half, run home, make a "peana-jelly sanich" for the baby, pick her up, feed her in the car, get her home, put her down for a nap, get stuff done around the house for the next couple of hours until it's time to pick up the big kids.

It's a lot of running around, but I'm enjoying it. I'm getting more time to myself, and the kids are having a ball. The baby has stopped crying plaintively, "I want my mommy", when I leave her at camp. Now she just gives me a "huggy" and a "besito", and runs off to play. The big kids don't even bother with hugs or kisses. They're off and running the moment I park.

Who can blame them? I'm doing the same thing! Once they're signed in, I peel out of my parking space, cackling with glee. I'm freeeeee!

It's hard to believe that only a couple of weeks ago, we were in Wisconsin, spending a couple of days in the Dells, relaxed, laughing, enjoying playing and just being together.


The Dells is an interesting place. It's an entire region dedicated to various types of water recreation: fishing, sailing, and the major source of tourist dollars: indoor and outdoor water parks. In fact, the endless string of hotels and motels all boast expansive, elaborate, and outrageous water slides and rides. We found a hotel with a small indoor park designed for the little ones. The kids played for hours without getting tired or bored. Even the baby enjoyed the zero depth water, and gentle slides.

She was fearless running through the spitting turtles and spraying dolphins, but she always checked to see that daddy was nearby...just in case.

I am hard-pressed to remember my kids having a better time in their lives. It reminded me of my family vacations when I was young. Trips to South Padre Island or Miami Beach were heaven for me. The freedom of playing in water for hours was almost as wonderful as having my Daddy around to jump on, swim with, and hang on to.

I saw the same bliss in my kids' faces.

The next day, we took the kids to an amusement park, Mount Olympus. We were told that it had the best rides for little ones, and we weren't disappointed. The girls were too short for most of the rides, but we found plenty to do.

The boys made a bee-line for the go-karts. My son looked nervous, but thrilled tearing down the track with his daddy. The girls anxiously waited and watched. They wriggled impatiently, waiting for a turn of their own.

We found plenty to do in the "Little Heroes" section of the park. Airplane rides, big swings, and spinning teacups kept the girls and their big brother happily entertained.



More than anything, they wanted to ride the giant log-ride with their daddy. I was hesitant. They'll be terrified when it gets to the top! I pleaded. "It will go by too fast for them to be scared." My husband reasoned. I wasn't convinced. Let's see if they can handle the kiddie roller coaster first.

To my delight, they managed the kiddie roller coaster just fine. But I still wasn't sure they were ready for such a big, grown-up ride as the log-ride, a roller coaster in water that begins deceptively, as a gentle boat ride through a calm channel, until it reaches the steep incline where it ascends and ascends slowly to a ridiculous height, and then plunges the riders almost straight down into the splash pool below.

Decades ago, such daring rides would have thrilled me. I used to love the highest, fastest, scariest roller coasters I could find. Today they make me sick and terrify me. I'm ambivalent about my children's new found fearlessness. I want confident, brave kids, but I want them to be safe and smart, too. Am I asking too much?


While I worked up some nerve, I sent my family on some more docile rides: bumper boats, kiddie go karts, and, of course it wouldn't be the Wisconsin Dells without water slides. Once again, the kids wanted the biggest, fastest, and highest rides. I hesitated with my usual worry: they'd get to the top and panic, but their daddy reassured me they'd be just fine. I sat at the bottom, anxiously awaiting my hubby and the two kids shooting down the end of a mammoth slide. I fully expected to see white-faced terror on my kids' faces, but ten minutes passed, and I didn't see them coming down. Did the kids panic? Did they change their minds?

After another five minutes, my very disappointed looking daughter, came over to me. "I wasn't big enough." She pouted. Aaaw, I'm sorry. Next summer! I responded hopefully, while inside, all I could think was, Thank goodness! My hubby ran back up the ten story-high structure to catch up to our son. I waited and waited again. Finally, they came careening down the windy shoot with great big smiles on their faces. I was so proud of my big boy, who immediately went racing off to...

Ride the racing slides? Are you nuts??!!!

"He did it before while I took his sister back down!" My husband responded incredulously. The racing slides were six water slides that must have been three stories high, and came down at a fast slope. My sweet seven year old baby couldn't possibly have come flying down that death trap!

Could he?

I ran over there to see it with my own eyes, ready to whisk him off in case he needed his mommy for comfort and security. Finally, I saw him at the very top, clutching his rubber mat, next to a line of adults and a bigger kid. He looked so small, so vulnerable. I was terrified for him, but I clutched my camera and got ready to make a record of his gutsy ride. The lifeguard at the top motioned for them to start, I started the camera rolling. I watched as the grown-ups in the lane next to him flew down the watery slides. My son jumped down, headlong toward the bottom, but his 52 pound frame as far too light to pick up much speed. He came down grinning from ear-to-ear, and stopped two-thirds of the way down, unable to get enough momentum to finish the ride. I stifled a giggle, and ran to him, beaming with pride.

The funniest sight of the day had to be the kiddie go karts. They were designated for 5 and up, but my 5 year old was not too experienced a driver, yet. Try as she might, she had a tough time steering the car, but she didn't seem to mind, even as her big brother went zipping past her.

The kids spent another thirty minutes at the outdoor kiddie water slides, and then we decided to start the four hour journey back to Chicago. But they weren't about to be dissuaded. "You promised we could ride on the log-ride!" They reminded me. I reluctantly gave in.

We waited and waited and waited in a line that didn't move. It didn't take long to discover the culprit: the boats kept stalling out at the bottom of the incline. My children were so eager to go on the ride, they begged their daddy to stay in line and see if the problem could be fixed, but after half an hour, with rain clouds forming over head, we decided to forgo the log-ride and go home.

My disappointment surprised me. As much as I wanted to spare my kids the feeling of dread I was certain they'd experience at the top of that great big drop, I sensed how important it was for them to be so brave. I couldn't have been more proud of kids and their derring-do, or derring-almost-done.

It's hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago, we were so carefree and relaxed. Today we're back to running around like hamsters in a rodent wheel. My husband is busy with his summer research assistanceships and his Negotiations class, and I'm back driving the family "limo" to and fro.

Even though my routine hasn't changed much from springtime, summer just feels different. there's no homework to force my son to do, I'm not even pushing him to practice piano, although I suspect I should. Heck, I even bought the kids chocolate pudding for their camp lunches! Something strangely indulgent and permissive has gotten into me. Maybe it's those extra couple of hours I have to myself three days a week. Maybe the feeling of summer camp freedom is rubbing off on me.

I'm schlepping as much as ever, and the last ten pounds still won't come off. But it's summertime, and goodness, sake, the livin' should be easy, at least for kids.