Despite my incessant pants-shitting about traversing mountainous sand dunes while single-handedly hauling toys, children, towels, snacks, and drinks...our vacation ROCKED. It rocked so hard that not only did M whine when it was time to go, so did I.
My biggest discovery during the midst of all this beach fun? No, it wasn't that getting a tan will erase about seven years from your face. Or, that if I lay on my back and have one of the children placed strategically in front of my midsection, I can still work a bikini like it's 1999. Exhibit A
Exhibit B (Exhibit B is technically from our trip to the Outer Banks. I am sitting up in this picture and have since learned that laying down produces even better results.)
It's that if I scoop the giant doody out of my drawers every now and again and just let shit fly, vacations -- and life -- are really, seriously fun.
P.S. My husband looks smokin' hot in his board shorts. He made me say that.