My Summer Vacation...

Last Wednesday, the three kids and I left San Antonio and headed to the island town of Galveston, a coastal town south of Houston for a family holiday.

I grew up in Galveston. Well, on a penninsula just east of Galveston, in Crystal Beach...but that's not really the point.

The point is, that I have been going to Galveston my entire life. My parents and grandparents owned a house down there, right on the water, and we'd spend endless days there during the summer.

The house wasn't much to speak of. Built the year I was born, in 1976, it had the basic comforts of home. Electricity (although after Hurricane Alicia in 1983, the electricity only worked sporadically), a full kitchen (a tricky fridge couldn't be held open for more than a few seconds, though, as it would lose its temperature), a long dining bar, a couple of bedrooms and a front porch that spanned the width of the house.

We didn't have a phone or a TV. We had a microwave for awhile, but again, Hurricane Alicia did her number on it and after that, we just kept it around as a bread box.

The linoleum was orange and yellow and was throughout the whole house. The only bathroom was done in a lovely shade of avocado green (indcluding the toilet!). We did have a bathroom downstairs (the house was one story, but was on stilts and had a storage room on the bottom level), but the toilet was reserved for my dad and grandpa and the stall shower was a breeding ground for praying mantises and other creepy crawlies.

We had a few ceiling fans, but my tall grandad (tall by my midget-sized family's standards, at least) stretched a few too many times and knocked off a couple of blades, so none of the fans were complete. One fan only had one blade. What was the point???

The barstools made hideous creaking noises, as they had premarturely rusted in the salty, humid air. The windows stuck in the moist environment and the air conditioning worked much less than 50 percent of the time.

I know it doesn't sound like it, but our beach house was heaven on earth.

My happiest memories were spent in that house, doing nothing and doing it well.

Mornings would bring me out of the room I shared with my sister and onto the porch where my mom and dad would be sitting, hand in hand, just chatting. The smell of coffee was stronger at the beach, somehow, and I still can't inhale the scent without it taking me back for a moment or two.

We'd have breakfast and harrass my dad to take us to the water slide. This slide was absolutely nothing compared to today's standards, but to us as kids, it was wet, cold and fun...all we needed during a Texas summer.

After the slide would be a snow cone at the adjacent shack and then back to the house for lunch.

A good nap always followed (something about the beach always made us sleep so well) and then we'd head down to the water to play in the surf, build a castle and collect sea shells.

Back at the house was the traditional chips and dips and to this day, Fritos and cream cheese is still an absolute delicacy to me.

Mom and Nana (her mom) would begin with dinner, which was usually burgers grilled by Dad and Poppa (mom's dad), baked beans and some freshly sliced tomatoes with salt and pepper.

But the best part of the day was after dinner. As the sun began to set, relieving the beach of the blistering heat of the day, we would set out for our nightly walk. As cooler breezes blew in, it was almost as though you could feel the world renewing itself, settling down for the night and resting before taking on another day.

I must have walked up and down Crystal Beach a thousand times with my mom, dad, sister and grandparents...but I never remember getting bored. It was the same houses, seaweed, the same driftwood, but somehow, it was always intriguing.

After a good, long stretch of the legs, we'd return back to the house for some quiet time on the porch. Just us, sitting, talking and laughing in the night breeze. In August, we'd watch the Leonid Meteor Shower and when we weren't doing that, we were singing or telling stories. My dad would often sing Mo Bandy's, "Cowboy's Ain't Supposed to Cry," and I'd immediately burst into tears. To this day, at age 31, I still can't help but get teary-eyed when I hear it. If you were at my wedding, you know what I mean.

We'd all get into our bed, sleep to the lullabye of the waves crashing only feet away and wake up only to do it all over again.

It was bliss. It was perfect. It was the very best part of my childhood, along with every Christmas Eve I can remember. Of the six of us (my family, plus my grandmother and grandfather), three are gone and the house was sold when I was in high schoo. But my family and our beach house all live in my heart and I am reunited with them every time I visit Galveston.

So taking my kids down down there was very special for me. We went two years ago, when Devin was two, and it was wonderful then. But adding a couple more children to the legacy of my youth makes it even better.

We joined my dad, stepmom, her four daughters and their families (for a total of 20!) in Galveston for a few days of fun. We spent a lot of time at the resort pool and beach club and lounged in the sun, grilled out and slept in (sort of).

Todd was only able to take Friday off, so he flew into Houston after work on Thursday and it was great to be reunited with him. The kids just loved seeing him, of course...as did I.

We took turns taking Devin to the pool and to the beach while one of us stayed with the girls during their nap times. It gave each of us some good, quality time with Devin while the other got some quiet time back at the house. It worked out well.

The girls, however, were not impressed with their new environment and barely slept the whole time we were there. Todd and I had a balconey off of our bedroom and we took turns rocking the girls to sleep out there, hoping the ocean's dull roar would do the trick. It did and while I was pretty tired the whole time I was there (their need for rocking usually came around 3:00 a.m.!), I couldn't help but love holding my little ones in my arms, just as my mom and dad did with me when I was little.

Saturday night we grilled out at the pool and afterwards, as the girls got sleepy, my dad offered to take them home while Todd, Devin and I stayed back. He said, "Go take a walk on the beach. It's important."

He's right. A walk on the beach doesn't sound like much more than a nice idea, but the fact of the matter is, it's a part of my history and something my family did without fail every night we were down in Galveston. It meant so much to me that Devin, Todd and I were able to walk along the surf as a family and that I got to pass along that legacy. I can't wait to go back when the girls are old enough to go, too.

My dad knows me really well and I appreciate his thoughtfulness so much.

We returned, tired and crispy, yesterday afternoon. It seems that Faith and Grace are getting back into a good routine and Devin looks like he just arrived from Hawaii or something -- he's so tan!

My ankle is feeling much better, although it still hurts when I overdo it or twist around too quickly. I'm staying away from the Vicodin, too. ;)

Here are some photos, courtesy of my dad. I had some others of the rest of the family that I wanted to put in here, but I couldn't get my computer to cooperate. So here are just a few of the many.

Dad got into a picture! He's usually the one behind the camera!


Gracie


Kaelin


ZZ, Brian and Addison


Faith


Presley and Kaelin


Amanda, Devin and Todd. What is Todd doing to that poor shark? :)