Last updated on July 1st, 2024 at 04:26 pm
My wife and I took our first vacation with our twins in early August. We would be heading to the Outer Banks in North Carolina for a relaxing beach vacation, just like we’ve done many times in the past. This year would be no different, I told myself, except that we’d have our nearly 12 month old babies with us. No biggie.
In years past, we’ve shared a house with a few other couples and a few dogs. We spent most of those vacation nights in the house, so I wasn’t concerned about missing out on any adult fun once the babies go to bed. Visions of good times at the beach helped me wrap up the school year and get through a month of teaching summer school.
At this point, the only potential obstacle I considered was that none of the other couples we would be vacationing with had children. In the year that we’ve had our boy/girl twins, we always brought them with us to get-togethers with our friends, and they’ve all been very accommodating and loved to play with the babies. I imagined that this week at the beach would be no different.
Ignorance is bliss.
I fully embraced the role of Vacation Dad and began the strategic planning that would be necessary in order to fit all of our stuff in the car. To fit two babies, two dogs, and two adults safely (not comfortably) in the car, I organized rooftop cargo storage like a champ. Because we would need to bring two pack and plays, two high chairs, two pool floats, and a ton of other baby stuff, we were forced to leave the bicycles and surfboards at home this year.
We packed our cooler with breast milk instead of beer. My ignorance should have begun to fade here, but I neglected to see the symbolism.
In order to beat traffic, we usually make the seven hour trek from New Jersey to North Carolina around midnight. We usually get breakfast and wait until the house is ready for us. This plan still worked for us, and even more so now, because it guaranteed that the babies would sleep for the majority of the car ride.
After the usual amount of arguing that takes place when we try to pack the car and leave on time, we were on the road, and only 45 minutes behind schedule. Not too bad. Babies were snoozing, Dad was awake and alert, and Mom was pumping, just like she does whenever we’re in the car for more than 30 minutes. North Carolina, here we come!
We met up with our caravan in Virginia and stopped at a fast food joint for a breakfast picnic about two hours after sunrise. We all sat on the smallest blanket in the world and had breakfast. Okay, it was actually a dog bed that we were sitting on, but whatever, it worked.
Our champion babies were in great spirits as we got back in the car and drove the final two hours to the beach house, which was ready for us as soon as we arrived. Let the relaxation begin!
Nope, not yet Dad.
Unpacking the car was a circus act, complete with juggling babies, wearing bags and straps on every available limb, and multiple trips, up multiple staircases. But when it was all piled in our room, we were one step closer to that relaxation I mentioned earlier.
Once unpacked, Scout and Griffin did what they do best: Successfully locate every electrical socket, electrical cord, and flimsy lamp within a 25ft. radius.
So I did what I do best: Pick them up and move them five feet away, only to have them crawl right back to the dangerous source of entertainment. Dad of the Year, people.
Eventually I wised up and followed Mom’s advice, which was to unpack their toys. In the blink of an eye, the beach house was full of toys, puzzles, blocks, and dolls. This was no longer a beach house for thirty-somethings.
It belonged to the kids and we were merely tenants in their world. Ah, feels like home.
But we quickly adapted to the new setting and tried to stick with most of the routines that we’ve followed for the past year. Some flexibility was required though, and our twins were more cooperative than we could have imagined.
The last thing we wanted to do was commandeer this vacation and make others change their plans just for us. So we worked with the group’s schedule when we could, and if we couldn’t, then we did our own thing. At home, 7:00 is bedtime. On vacation, 7:00 is going-out-for-dinner time. This flexibility is what allowed us to have the most normal vacation possible.
Being the only couple with kids wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but before I knew it, I was repeating phrases like:
“Sorry, but can you please just slide your drink to the center of the coffee table so these two don’t grab it?’
“Here’s your phone. She put it in her mouth. Sorry.”
“Hey, whose sunglasses are these? Were they already bent like that? Sorry.”
“I’m just glad no one heard them crying this morning. Oh, you did hear them. Sorry.”
But our friends were good sports and we all got along fine. I think.
I had visions of relaxing on the beach, while the kids played alongside my blanket. That didn’t really happen. Most of our time on the beach was in shifts and in 30 minute increments.
If the babies were napping, I would stay home and Mom would go to the beach for some quiet time in the sun. And honestly, alone time in a quiet house was just as nice, so I was thrilled with this arrangement.
When were able to go to the beach together, we packed a ton of stuff, only to have the kids play with a single bucket, or a stick that we found.
Yep. A stick. After all of our packing and planning, a stick stole the show.
But that’s usually how it goes, isn’t it? So, I quickly changed my frame of mind for bringing the babies on the beach.
I knew that they would likely last five minutes on the beach, so anything longer than five minutes would be a bonus. There’s no chance I would be relaxing on a towel, so I stopped bringing one. I knew I would be covered in sand and water as I played alongside them, so I planned accordingly. We would sit with them near the water’s edge, dig holes around them, pour buckets of water over their legs, and all was right in the world.
Even though all of our routines at the beach were vastly different than our routines at home, we survived. The vacation was all about making them happy and shifting gears as soon as they weren’t.
That’s probably not the best parenting advice, but to keep the peace, we had to keep our twins happy. Our childless house guests deserved at least that much. If I refused to give into a screaming baby and left him crying on the floor just to teach him a lesson, I would likely disturb everyone within ear shot.
In fact, the most normality of the whole vacation was one day when Mom and I were at the end of our rope. The babies were fussing and nothing was working. All I wanted was to be home, doing stuff that we do at home.
What kind of stuff do we do at home when we’re all together? Run errands mostly.
So we packed up the kids, drove to the grocery store, and put them in the cart. Instantly, they were happy. Happy to share the seat with each other and happy to look at people and balloons and grocery displays. It was just like a day at home with Mom and Dad, and they needed it. We needed it. We walked around the grocery store for an hour and didn’t even buy anything. And it felt so good.
This weeklong vacation with our twins was basically a summary of our entire first year with twins. It was so much better than we ever imagined.
Keith Lex is a high school teacher who loves distance running, home brewing, and being a dad of twins, although he hasn’t accomplished the first two since he became a dad of twins. He and his wife Megg have been married for eight years and enjoy spending time with their five month old boy/girl twins, Griffin and Scout, along with their bulldog and golden doodle. They have become multitasking aficionados and love their new lives as parents of twins. They are lifetime New Jersey residents and hope to entertain people with their twin blog.. You can follow him on Instagram and Facebook.
