(Part 1 can be found here)

Dear Summer,

Well THAT was fast.

You blew in here three months ago in the bright eyes of my kids. You brought many high expectations with you -- some of them we exceeded, others we missed by a mile. We had some togetherness that ended in rollicking good laughs, and we had some togetherness that ended in imaginary lines being drawn the backseat. We saw an ocean, a canyon and a wizard. Your humid, healthy air fertilized both my hydrangea and my twelve year old -- both of them seemed to grow a foot.

When I was a teenager, my dad was strict. He was, I would’ve told you back then, unreasonable, over-protective and stubborn, and I would’ve rolled my eyes to illustrate my point. (Seeing as how those same eyes were thickly be-decked with Clairol Electric Blue Mascara, my moral authority should have been taken with a grain of salt.)

He almost never raised his voice. He was gentle and respectful, but he made himself clear.

Late last night we pulled into our driveway after a 3,600-mile drive to the West Coast in a mini-van which, remarkably, seemed to grow smaller the longer we drove. (I’m kidding. It was a great trip, and our four kids were real sports about the long drive. Still, the van is smaller.)

We’re a fan of long road trips. We enjoy the stops and scenery along the way almost as much as we enjoy the final destination, and we feel like the time together builds unity (even if it occasionally sacrifices sanity). Even when our kids were really little, we weren’t afraid to pile in the car and drive long distances. It was sometimes challenging in those preschool days, but it also helped them learn good traveling skills from the earliest age.

How much stuff does a family of six need to pack in order to drive across the country?

A lot of stuff, it turns out. A LOT.

We prepared for this vacation of ours with a little too much confidence, I’m afraid. It’s our first major driving trip without a young preschooler. We don’t need pacifiers, sippy cups, diapers, diaper rash ointment, baby shampoo and playpens. And as much as I loved all the baby sweetness that came along with all that gear, I’ve been a little giddy at the thought of traveling with just my people and their clothes. I might’ve even bragged to a friend with little ones how easy it was going to be to hop in the car and just GO.

Yes, it’s true. I managed to exist for nearly 37 years without ever visiting a major water park. It just somehow kept slipping off my radar screen. My growing-up years were spent in a small rural town where our idea of sophisticated aquatic recreation involved a rope swing and a creek. As an adult, having all these babies in rapid succession led me to deduce the following:

Four young children + only two parents + large crowds + deep water + tall ladders = not a good idea.