|Welcome to my I-Land|
After six months of writing about escaping from Mommyland I finally did it. Sort of. I packed up my things and flew off to a semi-deserted I-Land (oops, I mean Island) of my very own. Or at least that is what I like to imagine happened. In reality, my husband had to bail on our family vacation at the last minute so I was faced with either taking our two kids on our already booked and paid for vacation alone or canceling the whole thing. Or calling my mother in tears and begging her to take time off work and tag along on our vacation as our pseudo nanny/maid.
Needless to say, I choose option #3.
Thankfully, my mother has not had a vacation in years and lives far enough away that she is desperate to see her grandchildren, so the thought of spending a week changing sand-filled diapers and cooking for four didn’t send her running in the other direction. This, combined with the fact that my in-laws live on the said semi-deserted island allowed me to spend a few precious afternoons and mornings away from Mommyland in my own personal I-land.
Although I was only there for a short while, I must say it was heavenly. I swam in the ocean, I tanned on the sand, took random photos, jogged, ate when I wanted, and didn’t wash a dish the entire time I was there (thanks Mom). I have included some of my random photos here, not only for your enjoyment, but as evidence to prove to our inland-dwelling readers that a lakefront (no matter how Great) is NOT a beach.
|This is a REAL beach|
This is something that has plagued me since moving inland – people keep saying to me that they are going to ‘the beach’ when the mean they are going to the lakefront. A lake and an ocean are two very different things people. A Great Lake, especially lake Ontario, to which the people I am talking about are usually referring, is not a lake or an ocean, just a cesspool of filth that only serves the purpose of looking pretty, holding up boats and giving ear infections to those stupid enough to venture into its waters.
|That tiny dot in the centre is my mom|
A real beach on the other hand, should smell salty and kind of fishy. It should have tide pools, weird seaweed and old crab shells that your kids can use to creep you out. It should be deserted of most living creatures, except for flies which dwell there in surprising numbers, not crammed full of people and stuff for sale. It should be full of sand (not rocks) that will get into crevices you didn’t even know you had and make you wish you didn’t have them. And most importantly, the only thing you should catch from the water is seafood. (BTW, see if you can find my mom in the pic on the right - it really gives you perspective on how huge the beach was).
|Simba's favourite cliff|
Anyway, aside from a the occasional bug bite (which freaked Prince out to no end when I told him what it was) and trying to convince Simba that is was not a good idea to try cliff diving at his age, things went surprisingly smoothly. I managed to read an entire book in two days (which I hadn’t done since post-babies) and I think some of my gray hairs actually turned back to brown. So I am officially rested up and ready to take on another season in Mommyland. Poopy diapers, temper tantrums, skinned knees… whatever, I say Bring.It.On. Just not all at once, ok? I-land vacations don’t come cheap and my mom is out of vacation time.