Now, I will say, after (and during) our beach trip with my family, I was more than a little miffed about the fact that no one seemed to understand how group vacations work. Apparently, my girls and I are the only ones who go on group trips together and 1) do stuff together (isn't that the point?!?!) and 2) share the food burden (bring stuff for everyone, split the grocery bill for "common" items, etc.). Anyway, not to get off on that sidenote...
We decided to re-instate the Girls' Trip this summer after a brief hiatus, and we were so excited, so pumped about this trip... but we were not prepared for the events that were to come...
THE HISTORY OF THE GIRLS...
I was raised in Clemson Country... going to games, wandering around campus, thinking orange and white were the only two really good college colors... but when I started looking at colleges, I became hellbent on going to the other public university in the state, the University of South Carolina, despite the fact that Toad (my dad, fellow Clemson alum and retired Clemson employee, and one of the spiffiest people in the entire universe) turned pale and excused himself every time I brought it up.
I was going to USC to become an advertising and public relations hot shot.
Well, that was until my dad figured out how to stop me.
He -- who never denied me anything that I truly wanted -- told he could not pay for me to go to school there. "You can go," he said, "but I cannot write a check to that school."
Well, I knew I hadn't saved a dime toward buying a book, much less paying for a semester, so I panicked... and did the only thing I could think of to do.
I applied to Clemson.
I got my acceptance letter less than two weeks after applying. (Did I mention that my dad is very smart and sneaky? Most of my friends had waited for months -- and were still waiting -- for acceptance letters. He knew how my wittle mind worked, even back then... If they accepted me, I probably wouldn't look anywhere else, since I knew he'd pay for me to go there.)
Did I also mention that my scholarships (not to brag) exceeded my tuition... so I could have gone anywhere? And that he knew all of this was likely during the debate over where I'd go to school?
That Toad...he's a tricky one...
Despite my determination to go anywhere but Clemson, to go far away and learn to live on my own, to go somewhere that people wouldn't know my family, I decided to go to Clemson and continue the family tradition... on the condition that I could live on campus.
(Never mind that my dad's office was a stone's throw from my dorm...)
Now, I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, and as long as I live, I will swear under oath that God led me to Clemson despite my rebellious ways because I was meant to find my girls.
(And so that my dad could take care of me and bail me out of trouble because I got myself into enough of it.)
So, in the fall, I moved into Young Hall with my BFF Kelley. Kelley and I had been inseparable -- save one small falling out during our 6th grade year that involved my scary friends threatening to jump on her scary friends (and vice versa) in a very dramatic, very middle school type of disagreement-- since 5th grade, so it seemed natural that we would room together.... never mind that we were about as different as two people could be and still get along.
She was neat; I was messy. She was very conscientious; I flew along by the seat of my pants. She was a bit more quiet and reserved; I was a bit more loud and obnoxious.
You get the picture.
On our first day of Freedom (after our parents helped us move in with our disturbingly matched comforters and towels), we met Megan.
Megan is from Greer -- but she's not a redneck, she's quick to tell you. We met Megan because there was a policeman outside her door when Kelley & I came back from lunch. Kelley and I were convinced, of course, that we were living next door to some hardened criminal. Turned out that we were living next door to Megan, who is about as far away from criminal (minus a few fake ID incidences) as anyone can be.
When the policeman left, Kelley and I went next door to investigate and met Megan of G-Town fame. The policeman had come in response to a hang-up call to the local 9-1-1 dispatcher, only to find out that Megan accidentally dialed 9-1-1 instead of 9-1-864 while making a long distance telephone call.
Maybe I should mention at this point that the above incident is typical of Megan's luck. At my rehearsal dinner, for instance, I had a bridesmaid cake with 13 tiny charms attached to ribbon streamers hidden in the cake. Megan's fingers were crossed for the ring, which meant she'd be the next to marry. Instead, she pulled out nothing. The ribbon she chose had somehow become detached from the charm. You see the pattern here.
Anyway, at this point, it's Kelley, Megan, and me. Kelley and I realized that an old friend of hers lived upstairs in our dorm, and at that point, we met Bess. Bess lived with Kelley's elementary school friend and -- turned out -- that she and I had actually worked together at a local newspaper over the summer. Due to some... awkward (?) roommate issues, Bess started spending a lot of time in our rooms, and that was that. Our group grew to four.
Finally, we met Teri. Teri and Megan, like Kelley and I, had been BFFs since way back when. (And can I just say -- who gets to use BFF TWICE in one blog? Life is good). Teri came to Clemson our sophomore year, and just fit right in to the gang. At that point, we also had a couple of other temporary members who came and went as time passed, but the five of us... well, we are permanent.
THE HISTORY OF THE TRIP....
Once we had all graduated, we decided that we needed to start a tradition... like a trip or something... once a year.
We already had a yearly Christmas get-together, but we wanted to do something in the summer since we all taught. (Two elementary, three high school English, thank you.)
The first year, we went to Savannah. Bess didn't make the trip that time, so it was just the four of us.... Megan, Teri, Kelley, and me.
The next trips were to Tybee Island, just off the coast of Savannah... and at some point, we started bringing the kids.
We didn't go last year because I had just had Laney, and Megan and Teri were pregnant.
Once we'd birthed all the babies, we decided to resume the trip.
HOW WE ENDED UP GOING TO LITCHFIELD...
Five adults. Nine children. Is it a surprise that we couldn't find anyone to rent us a house on Tybee that didn't cost five million dollars per night?
And I'll sign off here. Tune in tomorrow to hear every parent's worst nightmare...
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