Postcards from a family vacation: wish you weren’t here!

Postcards from a family vacation: wish you weren’t here!

Posted on June 24th, 2009 by Nancy DeGregorio

I’m packing my bags for a vacation. This trip is different from others I’ve taken in recent years because this time, I’m vacationing with my entire family. That’s right, the whole clan: the parents, the siblings, and their families. Ten personalities trying to peacefully coexist under one roof, for one week. My father has decided that the theme of the week is “tolerance.” I’ve decided that the theme of the week is “homicide.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to have my family. There’s nothing more comforting than having people who love you, even if it’s because they have to. My family can be a lot of fun. They also can be bat-shit crazy. I’m not sure I’m going to survive one day, let alone one week, with them. Here’s the run-down on the main players:

Father: Picture Jackie Gleason in The Honeymooners. That’s my dad.
Mother: You know those mothers who left little notes in their kid’s lunch pails? Messages like “Have a great day” and “I’m so proud of you.” My mother is not one of those mothers.
Brother One: The man is intense. We’re talking Tom Cruise circa 2005, during the infamous “glib” interview with Matt Lauer. That’s intense. Or crazy.
Brother Two: The guy is friendly with everyone. He’s got so many friends that I doubt he remembers all of their names. He doesn’t remember my name, and I’m his sister.
Me: Trying to maintain some semblance of sanity, but often failing miserably.

The first thing I’m going to do when we arrive at the vacation destination is hide the knives and blunt objects. I am going to spend the remainder of the time acting as the official voice of reason. Here’s an example: My parents’ main concern for this vacation is that we will run out of food. They are convinced the grocery stores will be too crowded and the food will all be gone by the time we arrive. Therefore, they want us to make meals beforehand and bring them with us. I have assured them that the supermarket shelves will be stocked where we are staying, and plenty of restaurants will gladly serve us dinner. Frankly, the rest of us don’t care if we eat pizza three times a day for the entire week. The prospect of eating twenty-one meals of pizza, however, is not going over so well with my parents.

This example is only the tip of the iceberg. The family’s got a lot of conflicting opinions, and I’m already trying to mediate every one. I haven’t even finished packing, and this trip has gone from a relaxing vacation to a hellish nightmare. Rest assured, I won’t be sending any postcards bragging about how much fun we’re having. I just hope no one discovers where I hid the knives.