8:52 am: Three suitcases, backpacks stuffed with toys, a few bikes, two joyous children, and one sleep-deprived mother hit the road for one last Summer adventure.

8:55 am: Contorting to retrieve a spilled juice box, I narrowly avoid catastrophe as I pinball my way out Seven Lakes gates and point the minivan towards the Atlantic.

9:03 am: Passing an idyllic rural homestead populated with goats and chickens, I reconsider my choice of residence.

9:04 am: Waving to the sun-kissed farmer spreading fresh manure, I decide that life in the ‘burbs ain't so bad.   

9:15 am: Demonstrating uncanny diplomatic grace, I deftly negotiate a truce and my children agree which DVD movie they'll watch.

9:35 am: Losing interest in the movie, the kids resume kicking each other for entertainment.

9:40 am: Hoping a sugar rush will alleviate my headache, I hand out bowls of dry breakfast cereal.

9:41 am: A sweetened honey puff is launched past my head.

9:41:0004 am: Threatening to return home, I suggest an alternative vacation plan of spending the week cleaning up bedrooms.

9:42 am: Peace prevails for ten sacred minutes.

9:52 am: One hour, mark.

9:54 am: "Are we there yet? How much longer?"

9:55 am: "Hours! Mommy, how many minutes are in hours?"

9:59 am: "I dropped all my cereal on the floor. Can I have some more?"

10:01 am: "Jack ate my cereal!"

10:02 am: "Waah! Mommy, Jack hit me when I grabbed his bowl."

10:03 am: "Can we watch a movie?"

10:05 am: After another intense period of negotiation we settle on listening to a CD of "kids music."

10:10 am: "Can you play that song again?"

10:12 am: "Can you play that song again?"

10:14 am: "Can you play that song again?"

10:15 am: I decide that investing in two iPods, or at least liberating a few old Walkmans from storage is probably a wise parenting decision.

10:26 am: Pretending the car stereo is broken, I suggest we try a different CD to see if it works better.

10:28 am: The kids sniff out my plan to inject my music into the player and demand Hannah Montana.

10:31 am: I fantasize about ways to torture Billy Ray for creating this corporate pop rock drivel. I'll Achy Breaky your...Wait, hey that song she's singing is kind of catchy.

10:32 am: "Who would have thought that a girl like me could double as a superstar, yea, yea, oh, oh, oooh."

10:52 am: Two hours, mark.

10:59 am: "I'm hungry! I want lunch. Me too! Yeah, Mom, when are we gonna eaaaat!"

11:00 am: Assuring my children that somewhere ahead there must be a town of some sort, I silently pray to the hamburger gods.

11:03 am: "I'm so hungry! Mom, I'm starving to death. Look at my tummy, see?"

11:04 am: "I see a gas station. Mommy, let's eat there."

11:05 am: "Kids, we are not eating at a place called Uncle Buck's Truck & Pluck. I'm sure we'll see something soon."

11:32 am: Redemption dead ahead! Ah, nothing like the nutritious goodness of grease and salt at the drive-in window.

11:42 am: "I dropped my soda, Mommy. Wow, neat! It's making really cool bubbles on the floor!"

11:52 am: Three hours, mark.

11:54 am: Arriving at the ocean, I contemplate throwing myself in. I settle for a cool drink and decide to throw the kids in instead.

Yes indeed: nothing like a trip to the beach to relax and unwind.  

Laura Douglass writes for the Seven Lakes Times where this column originally appeared.