This Ain’t No Griswolds Vacation

A couple months ago I started a new job. And we all know what that means…I won’t be vacationing anywhere anytime soon. Instead, we had to figure out a way to be creative with our relax time while I slowly build-up my vacation time again.

So when we’re unable to pack-up in the family Suburban to knock out some good old-fashioned Griswold-style vacations…this is what we do:

Pitching a Tent In the Living Room

No…not THAT kind of tent. The kind of tent where the little nippers gather their sleeping bags, a few of their thousands of stuffed animals, some games, and act like their camping in the most luxurious, temperature-controlled, bug free campsite in existence.

First time we did that I thought I was having an acid flashback from my teen years as I witnessed my kids actually getting along for reasons other than to score ice cream or get mommy “taste this without looking at it first.”

You Flaming Marshmallow!

Some of the most killer nights we have as a family is outside in the backyard sitting around the fire pit making S’mores. After tossing some lighter fluid on some logs while the kids aren’t looking so they continue to think daddy makes the most amazing fires ever, we settle in with a beer, juice boxes, and enough chocolate and gram crackers to send the kids into a sugar coma.

Some nights it ends with a section of the backyard on fire, but every night it ends with slap-happy kids who just had a killer time with their parents.

Ferris Bueller Did It, So Can I

Minus the skipping of school, Ferrari, parade, homerun catch, driving of the car through an historic garage, and kick-ass use of 1980s electronical equipment – we’re huge fans of being a tourist in downtown Chicago just 15 minutes from our house.

Wrigley, Art Institute, Field Museum, Millennium Park, Sears Tower, great food, great events, you name it. I even point out the random hookers to the boy just to make sure I’m being a thorough father.

Damn You Smell Like Fish

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the luxury of being just an hour’s drive from bum-f*ck. Within an hour’s drive we can be standing just off some cornfield, throwing a line in the river, grilling hot dogs, and hanging a piece of hay out of our mouths with coyotes howling off in the near distance and shotguns randomly firing at peaceful wildlife.

The Broken Home Vacation

This vacation is one the wife refused to miss. The one where she drives from Chicago to Greensboro, N.C. with the kids to be with her family for a week. I know, I know…your heart breaks for me that I would spend an entire week alone, with no kids, no wife loving (yelling at) me, and just a fridge full of beer, veggies, and good wine.

But, I do miss being in North Carolina with everyone. I miss seeing old school friends. I miss seeing family.

Instead I’ll be busy cranking away at work, being thankful and reminiscent of the great weekend vacations I’ve been creating with my family all summer.

Why Is Daddy Crying is a father, husband, runner, drinker, swimmer, obsessor of music, biker, random tripper in public, who’s often caught drooling and making a fool of himself. Visit my blog here:

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