Marriage means mixing more than just music collections. I’m learning a little every day about the mechanics behind combining families and histories, even though The Husband and I are quite similar as individuals.

Current events example: We’re headed out to California, TH’s homeland, tomorrow for a week. TH likes spreadsheets, and while I have no interest in ever learning how to use Excel, the Type-A control freak in me loves his dedication to organization. But when he presented me with a Vacation Itinerary, I explained to him that those two words do not go together.

If forced to compose an itinerary of a lifetime of my family’s vacations, it would look like this:

Wake up late. Drink coffee and read individually and silently. Head to beach with cooler. Sit on beach for hours. Come back to house and open wine. 

This schedule involved uncaffeinated/non-alcoholic beverages, dribble castles, and wave-riding when I was a child, but was otherwise the same over the years. So when TH comes at me with a vacation spreadsheet, I get a little anxious. I tell him of the value of doing nothing. Of the dangers of overstimulating children. Of the inherent worth of a bucket, some sand, and salt water. Of how cute our kids will look in their sun hats and swim trunks, especially when they are walking back and forth from the house with ice-cold drinks in their chubby little hands to deliver to us.

But he grew up on the West Coast, the land of theme parks and tourist destinations and a cold ocean. Californians and Southerners vote and vacation at opposite ends of the spectrum. Thus, our Years of Vacation-Melding Compromises begin. And though pregnancy may render me drinkless, it arms me with an ever-ready excuse to rest like I vote: early and often. So if you don’t hear from me in the next few days, send a rescue team to Legoland–and make sure they know the way to the nearest beach.