I learned that we can travel for thirteen hours in our Swagger Wagon without hurting one another, especially during a three hour nap:

I learned that, much as Peter and I love Chipotle, our kids prefer different fare (although they did greatly enjoy the techno music in the background):

I learned that I read less on vacation than I do at home and thus did not need to pack three novels and ten magazines.

I learned that you should never assume your spouse brought the bag with the bathing suits to the beach:

I learned that vacation with three young children and no babysitter and another family with three young children is better described (as our friend Corey put it) as "intesivacation." A week away helped me remember all the reasons child-rearing is tough–sleepless nights and whiny voices and poop all over my clothes (that was Marilee) and "Why aren't we home yet?" thirty minutes into our return trip. But it also reminded me of all the reasons I adore my children–their sweet smiles and funny statements and their wonder at water and friendship and their love of family:

I learned some things about travel and packing and the need for a vacation from my vacation. But most of all I learned that, much as I long for those days of reading novels on the beach and long walks and cocktails and sleeping in (and much as I started planning for the next time Peter and I can go away without our children!), I love our children even more.