Aside from Selena getting sick while we were in Maui, and Zach refusing to leave the safety of the sandy beach and venture out more than a foot and a half into the water for fear of his very life, our first vacation in Maui - with the kids, wasn't all that bad.
More to the point... we lived to tell about it.
While the whole idea of being back in Hawaii was really exciting, one of my biggest fears in taking the kids so far from home was that one of them could get sick or hurt, and would need medical attention. We'd figured out from a previous trip to Maui that the only hospital was clear on the other side of the Island from our hotel. It was a two hour drive IF you knew where you were going.
Well, we faced that fear two days into our vacation when Selena woke up with a high fever and sore throat. Fortunately, we found out there was a clinic that accepted walk-ins just a couple blocks from our hotel - no car needed. She had gotten a nasty case of strep throat, for which the on-call doctor prescribed an antibiotic. My throat immediately felt swollen and inflamed upon hearing the words "strep-throat", but I wrestled the hypocondriac in me to the ground, and killed it right then and there.
Selena lost a day in Maui lying in bed, texting friends, playing on her iPad, watching tv, eating ice cream, and sleeping, all with room-service just a phone call away. (It was really, really awful for her). We, of course felt terrible, and called her every thirty minutes from our cabana on the beach. The next day she was up, the fever was gone, and she was ready to venture out for some fun in the sun.
When Scott and I go to Maui, we usually spend the majority of our days on the beach. We snorkel, swim, and soak up as much sun as we possibly can. But having the kids with us meant we had to figure out some other things to do. So, while we spent some time at the beach, we also went to the aquarium, the park, the library, the courthouse, and the old Lahina jail where Scott tried, unsuccessfully, to lock the kids up in an old jail cell. We shopped at the mall, and ate at a few of our favorite restaurants on the island. Several of them, actually. Ok. All of them. We ate at all of them.
There are three things you say over and over while in Hawaii. "Aloha." "Mahalo." And "I'm never eating another thing as long as I live."
Between the four of us, we gained about twenty pounds. It would have been more, but for the fact that Zach actually lost weight. I've told you about "Picky-Eater-Zach", right? Pineapple? Mellon? Fresh Fish? You may as well have offered him dog-poop. Dog-poop. And fresh-dog-poop. Seriously. This child won't eat anything unless it looks, smells, and tastes exactly like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Protein, fruit, and whole grain. Yes. We are THOSE parents and I don't even care anymore. This kid will most likely, one day, turn into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I. won't. care. Damnit to H. E. Double Freakin' Hockey Sticks!
GAH! ... Seriously. I. Don't. Care.
Scott and I - with complete resentment, contempt, and absolute downright refusal from both kids, are actually toying with the idea of moving to Maui. It's warm. It's beautiful. And it's a little slice of paradise. What is wrong with these kids that they don't want to pack their bags and board a plane right this very minute - I do not know. But I am practicing that whole "I don't care" mantra, and well, I think it's starting to work. I'll let you know how things progress. I mean, there are worse things in life than lying on a beach in Maui, and eating fresh poop... er, I mean fish... don't you think?