Beachbound

As of this moment we were supposed to have three whole minutes before we started the car and pulled down the long driveway to begin our journey to the beach. Instead, I am sitting her at the computer in my soft blue bathrobe, finishing up bills and uploading some baby photos onto Google's server. Just in case our place catches fire while we're gone. I have fears like that. More and more often.

The kids are still asleep, Jeff is crankily changing oil in the cars somewhere, next door at my in-laws' I think. He was the one chanting the “we leave at 8:00!” mantra, I was more like, eh, we leave when we leave. It is the beginning of a RELAXING vacation, right? RIGHT?

I packed up the kids clothes, and haven't even began on ours yet. I am hesitant about what to pack, Jeff's sister and cousin are tiny, petite, and in the summer time always bikini-clad with such a nonchalant attitude that it surpasses confidence. I, however, am the one who cares more about my cover-up than my swim suit since that's what I'll have on all the time. I worry about being compared to others, even though every one else thinks that is just so silly and foolish. My silly and foolish mind gets concerned though, imagining sitting beside Jeff's cousin and chatting and laughing and then picturing us: her small, blond, tan, sitting at ease in her bikini, and me, pale, awkward, cellulite-clad, uncomfortable. Hopefully I will get over that mess and just BE, be there, in the moment, in the sunshine, playing with the kids without a care to the world.

So, shortly, we'll be off, headed to the Gulf of Mexico for a week of massive family fun, sun-soaking, sand-coated, and hopefully, blissfully unaware of the outside world.