Return to Gulf Shores.

Some of my fondest childhood memories took place at the beach, but not just any beach. Every few years, in June or July, my parents loaded up our suburban top to bottom with a week’s worth of swimwear and groceries for our roadtrip to Gulf Shores, Alabama—a setting that became synonymous with a snowman-shaped pool, crawfish étouffée eaten on balconies, and four-quarter Cadillac played around the dining room table. I’m not sure whose idea it was to venture to this particular spot, but it stuck; each time, twenty or so of us on my dad’s side would share a couple of beachfront condos for a week of sand and surf. Still to this day, the smell of chlorine transports me back to Summer House.

It was there that I fell in love with the ocean, and Aunt Sonya taught Jason to swim. The older cousins would test the limits of their inflatable boat (named after Jenny from Forrest Gump) in the roaring tide, and us younger kids would relish in catching sand crabs after dark. Dad always gathered starfish from just beyond the sandbar, and Mom collected seashells along the shore.

The tradition of these (almost) annual trips began way before I came along—from the time that my oldest brother was an only child in the mid ‘80s—and continued up until my second year in college. Ten years ago(!) marked our last voyage to Orange Beach.

So, this past October, when my brothers were in town to meet Ayla, I threw out the idea of returning to Gulf Shores once again. It would be mine and Scott’s first big out-of-state adventure with the kids, and the thought of sharing this special place—a place that brought me so much joy as a child—felt like coming full circle. Besides, Jude (our natural-born swimmer) had not in all of his two-and-a-half years even come close to the ocean. I knew he would feel right at home in the salty waves, and I was right.

For 2-3 hours each morning, he’d accompany me and Scott in the water or build sandcastles with Pap. Ayla was not as crazy about the beach as her big brother, but she loved splashing in the warm resort pool every afternoon. Back on land, she even crawled for the first time! And by the end of the trip, we had TWO speed demons on our hands.

Between beach visits, you could find us sippin’ on my dad’s frozen piña coladas, delighting in the shenanigans of the next generation of cousins (#4 coming January 2023!), and playing our own big kid games once the babes were asleep. Scott and I even treated ourselves to a lunch date at Don’s Seafood Shack (home of the world’s best fried shrimp) the day before heading home.

Coordinating nap times with two kiddos on completely different schedules was interesting, but within 48 hours, we had carved out some semblance of a routine. Ayla would nap in the morning at my parents’ condo while we were down at the beach with Jude, and then Scott would put Jude down for his nap at our condo while I fed and entertained Ayla. In the afternoon, once the babies (Ayla + cousin Jax) were up from their second siesta, we’d all head to one of the pools for a pre-dinner dip.

Was it the most relaxing beach vacay I’ve ever taken? Ha, not by a long shot! But this was to be expected, and all things considered, our first trip as a family of four was well worth the effort. (I’m beginning to understand just how much my own mom and dad did—and are still doing!—so that us kids could enjoy so many carefree vacations through the years. Parents are superheroes.)

Honestly, the most difficult part of the whole week was the 11-hour drive there and back, divided in half both ways by a pretty miserable hotel stay. Hate to say it, but sleeping in the same room with a toddler and an infant is a lot harder than it sounds. In hindsight, I probably would have opted to fly instead; but now we know!

I’ve heard it said that there’s no such thing as a vacation with kids. And while there’s definitely truth to this—parenting littles is a full-time job, after all—I’d argue that the experience of traveling with young children is even more magical than any trip we could take by ourselves. Having the opportunity to see this big beautiful world through the eyes of someone experiencing it all for the first time is truly what it means to know joy.

Of course, this girl would never say no to an adults-only getaway! (Crossing my fingers for one in October, actually—just the thought of which makes me relax a little.) But there’s a season for everything, and this one, while challenging, is also the sweetest.