It could be a fit of madness. It could be the best decision we’ve ever made. My hubby is taking three months off when the wee ones arrive, and we are going to end it with a bang. We’re going on a holiday.
We’ve booked a week at a beach cottage on the shores of Lake Huron. For those who don’t live near the Great Lakes, you might be surprised to know the region is littered with beautiful sandy stretches (and they come mercifully free of the jellyfish, sharks, sea-lice and rip tides of my Aussie homeland).
Why am I so excited? In possibly the cutest baby-plan so far, we are continuing a longheld family tradition. My husband was just weeks old when he went on his first family holiday to Port Elgin, and the town has formed a solid, unchanging part of his life ever since.
The place is dotted with his stories — the roads he and his childhood friends used on borrowed bicycles as kids, the house they turned into a rock venue as teenagers, the snow-drenched beach he stood on one New Year’s Eve before he met me, all interspersed with ice creams and house parties and long, lazy days on the sand.
It’s also where we’ve enjoyed our own family holidays with my stepsons. Now, we’re renting a cottage big enough to fit us all: parents, adult sons and fresh babies.
“Are we nuts?” I wondered, as I scanned the cottage rental listings. The twins will be about three months old by the time we pack the car and drive north. That doesn’t really scream “perfect holiday scenario.”
But a quick Internet search and a few chats with friends revealed that we are, if anything, aiming too low.
Holidays with newborns? Perfect! They stay where you put them, don’t need much apart from diapers and access to milk, and won’t argue about spending their days in the shade.
If anything, the first six months seems the ideal time to go away. One friend took her newborn to New York City. The authors of the Travel With Twins blog travelled Europe when their girls were four months old.
A Great Lakes beach? Piece of cake. And after that, who knows? One day we might have the chance to holiday at my childhood beaches Down Under, filled with my own stories of sunburn and adventure.
Until then, though, it’s Port Elgin all the way, and we’re planning to do absolutely nothing while we’re up there. Can. Not. Wait.