Monday, July 28, 2008
Next week CBW, CBW's Son, CBW's Daughter, Mother, Father and Sisters will be traveling to the beach for a family "vacation." Aside from last year's trip to Georgia, The Chesapeake Bay Family has not vacationed together in over 7 years. I am starting to get nervous about this vacation. Extremely nervous.
One of the very first times the Chesapeake Bay Family rented a beach house was one very interesting experience. My son was just a toddler, so I was hardly on any vacation. I had to drive Chesapeake Bay Toddler by myself all the way from Northern Virginia, which took exactly this long: WHAT A NIGHTMARE. Son did not want any part of a car seat for hours on end, plus he had to eat every two minutes, or he needed a sippy cup or he needed another diaper or whatever. I drove most of the way with one hand on the wheel and the other wiping tears from my eyes as I reached backwards to tend to Son, when what I really wanted was my own private sippy cup. Filled with California's finest.
I spent the entire week practicing to be a pack mule down the Grand Canyon. All I did each and every day was haul a thrashing child and all the assorted paraphernalia back and forth from the beach to the house and back again and rinse and repeat over and over ad nauseum. It was definitely no vacation.
Anyway, Little Sister brought a friend with her, a friend from high school, a friend I didn't really know that well. I don't have many rules in life, but one of my Vacation Rules is I don't vacation with people I don't know well. But I didn't have a choice this time, and I didn't have an opportunity to read the Vacation Rules to Little Sister because I was too busy playing pack mule and actually didn't consider this a vacation. It was just a change of scenery.
In spite of my Vacation Rule about strangers, Little Sister's Friend quickly started to blend right in, and she was beginning to understand all the quirks and eccentricities inherent to Chesapeake Bay Family. One incident, however, she could never have prepared for.
Every night we fixed a great big supper and sat around the table which had magnificent views of both a bird sanctuary and the ocean. It was a great place to relax, drink from your sippy cup and eat seafood. We were all sitting down waiting for my mother, who had been tinkering around in her bedroom. Imagine our surprise when she showed up at the supper table wearing a pair of shorts and her bra. No shirt. A bra with a floral print on it. No shirt. She sat right down at the dinner table. Wearing a bra.
Now ordinarily I might have shrugged this whole incident off, but we were on vacation with a near-stranger. And Mother was sitting down to the supper table in a bra.
Unable to control my shock and disbelief I said, "Is that a BRA you're wearing?" CBW's Mother said, "Yep. Pass the shrimp."
Evidently her book of Vacation Rules is different from mine.
Did I mention I'm starting to get nervous about next week? I am.